#happy too early valentine's day I guess

[savyir-genesizz-the-wizard]

A guy who has always hidden his emotions behind sercasm feels positive emotions for someone? Terrible, kill me

[todayisafridaynight]

now that it’s valentines day here’s a reminder that mine and daigo got to share one last valentine’s (and maybe also white) day together before mine game ends himself

[malfoys-demigod]

The Valentine's Day Dance

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: A banter between you and Logan on the topic of Valentine's Day leads to an unexpected connection, revealing hidden feelings and new beginnings. A/N: I truly do believe we need more Wolverine fluff! I just love reading fluffs on him because he can be such an adorable cat! Word Count: Around 2k

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The X Mansion had a cozy, community-like feel, especially around the holidays. The holiday that was coming up so soon was Valentine’s day. 

You were a literature teacher who secretly loved the idea of love, but found Valentine’s day too commercialized and corny. Why? Because you believed that love should be celebrated every day, not just on a specific date dictated by tradition. You kind of felt that the holiday puts unnecessary pressure on people to express their love in a particular way, rather than allowing for spontaneous genuine expressions of affection. 

You had seen the school decorations starting to overfill around the mansion as early as your first class of the day had started. There were pink and red hearts everywhere. You were secretly pleased that love was all around, but maybe the over-the-top decorations were a little too much. 

While during lunch break, you were carrying a few Valentine’s day cards from your students, reading them on the way to the kitchen. 

Logan, who had just finished his classes as well, came out of his classroom and passed you in the hallway. He smirks and says, “You actually celebrate this corny day?”

You looked up to see Logan taking a peek at one of your cards, assuming he was jealous since he wasn’t holding any cards at all. “Sounds like you’re lonely and have no one to spend it with,” you resorted. 

Logan had moved on a long time ago from the fact that Jean and Scott were meant to be, and he healed from that, knowing it was fine. While you walked into the kitchen, you left Logan slightly annoyed but also intrigued by your comment. 

You were now in the kitchen along with Jean and Storm, sitting around the dining table, enjoying a cup of tea and reading through Valentine’s Day cards they’ve received from students. 

“Dear Ms. Grey,” Jean read a card out loud, “You’re the best teacher ever. Happy Valentines’ Day!” “These kids are too sweet.”

Storm smiled, “I’ve got a few myself. It’s nice to feel appreciated, even if it’s just for one day.”

“I agree. I love today,” you grinned, “It’s like everyone’s a little more open with their feelings, you know?”

Logan walked into the kitchen, grabbing a cup of coffee, overhearing the conversation. “Feelings. Great. Just what we need more of around here.”

“Oh, come on, Logan, don’t tell me you didn’t get any Valentine’s day cards?” you asked, playfully, knowing quite well he didn’t. 

“I’m here to teach history, not to win a popularity contest, bub,” he said, smirking. 

“Maybe you’d get a few cards if you lightened up a bit,” Jean recommended. 

With mock seriousness, Logan replied, “I’ll leave the charm to you, Jean. After all, you’ve got Scott to shower you with affection.”

There was no hint of hurt when Logan said that, but you looked up at him with a small show of concern. Even if it was ages ago when Logan accepted things, this was a joke you wouldn’t sit well with if you were in his shoes. But maybe he was really okay with things and this was a way of showing it?

“Real funny, Logan,” Scott laughed, coming into the kitchen, “Speaking of which, we’ve got the Valentine’s Day dance coming up, and guess who’s chaperoning?”

“Oh, I love chaperoning! It’s always so much fun!” you said excitedly

Logan groaned, rolling his eyes. “Please tell me I’m not on that list.”

“Actually, you are,” Jean said, “We just got the assignments earlier and since Scott and I are a team, and Storm’s with the professor…”

“That leaves you two as partners for the night,” Storm finishes for her, pointing at you and Logan.

You were up for the challenge actually. It felt like it was Christmas and you were paired up with the grinch, whom you wanted to un-grinch for the night. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, Logan,” you smirked at him. 

Logan sighed, “Fantastic. My favorite holiday, and now I get to spend it surrounded by hormone-crazed teenagers… and you.” He looked at you with a deadbeat face.

You sat up from your chair, taking a step towards Logan. “Look, just say you’re jealous since you didn’t get any cards.” You teased him again with that fact. 

Logan raised his eyebrow, “Jealous? Please. I’m just looking forward to watching you try to keep up with those kids on the dance floor.” He said, taking a closer step towards you. 

“Oh, I can keep up just fine. The question is,” you said, making a bold move, “Can you?” The two of you were just inches away from each other, and possibly a verbal match. 

Jean started laughing lightly at Storm, “This is going to be an interesting night.”

“I’ll make sure to bring popcorn,” Storm smiled.

Logan, with his super-hearing senses, grumbled, “Great. Just what I needed. A front-row seat to the Valentine’s day circus.” He said, taking a step back from you, drinking from his cup. 

“Don’t worry, Logan. I’ll make sure you have fun, whether you like it or not.” You had a hint of challenge in your voice. 

A few days later, the dance commenced. 

As the students start to dance, along with Jean and Scott slowly swaying their way into the center of the dance floor while Storm and Charles are making conversation… 

You found yourself standing alone near the back. I mean, that was part of being a chaperone right? You were just having a punch, taking small sips from time to time. That was when Logan, who saw you from the other side of the room, alone as well, approached you. 

He tried to keep up with his usual snarky attitude. “I’m surprised you’re not out there dancing with the kids, spreading all that ‘love’ you believe in.”

You were secretly thankful that there was company now, even if it meant it was from Logan. You grew a smirk on your face, which Logan noticed. It was starting to become something he didn’t mind getting used to - and to his surprise, doesn’t mind getting used to.

“Maybe I’m just waiting for someone worth dancing with.”

Logan pauses, not expecting that response from you. It was as if his snark falters. He looks around, and seeing no one is watching, boldly offers you his hand. 

“Or maybe you’re just bad at dancing,” he joked. 

The sight of his hand out surprised you. There was a moment of hesitance from you, but you had to do something. You took his hand, and you both stepped into the dance floor. 

The swaying at first is awkward, as expected. There’s a tension between you, a mix of uncertainty and something unspoken. But gradually, after a few sways, you both fall into a comfortable rhythm, moving together more naturally.

“Hm, you’re not as bad at this as I thought, darl,” Logan softened, almost without realizing it. 

“Careful, Logan, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

Logan chuckles softly, shaking his head in mock exasperation. He then smirks, “Don’t get used to it, Y/N. I’m just trying not to step on your feet.”

Now, there was a brief pause as the banter between the two of you started fading as the music slowed down. The closeness between you and Logan… felt different, more real. His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and you notice the way he’s looking at you. It was not with the usual teasing glint you were used to, but it was with something gentler… something almost vulnerable. 

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” You said quietly, meeting his gaze. 

Logan was shaking his head. “No… it’s not,” he replied, barely above a whisper. 

As the song ends, the air between you and Logan had changed with something unspoken. It was as if the room suddenly felt too crowded, too loud. 

“Do you want to…” you spoke softly, almost hesitant, “step outside for a bit? The garden’s always so quiet this time of the night.”

Logan nods, not breaking eye contact. His hand was still loosely holding ours as you both made your way toward the exit. The sounds of the dance had faded behind the two of you as you stepped into the cool night air, for the garden was waiting for whatever comes next. 

You both find a quiet spot in the garden, away from the noise of the dance. You felt the cool air refreshing you, after the warmth of the mansion inside, and the two of you both stood in silence for a moment, taking it in. 

“You know, this whole Valentine’s Day thing... maybe it’s not as ridiculous as I thought.” Logan broke the silence. 

You laughed at his comment softly, “I’m shocked to hear that from you.”

“Don’t get too excited. It doesn’t mean I’m about to start throwing rose petals around, Y/N.” He said with a teasing smirk.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. But you have to admit, it has its charms.”

“Maybe... or maybe I’ve just never had a reason to see it differently... until now.”

You looked at Logan, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. For the first time, you saw a different side to The Wolverine, one that was not hidden behind sarcasm and snark. 

“Are you saying you’re not as cynical as you pretend to be?” you asked gently

Logan flashed you a smile, a real one this time. “Maybe I’m just tired of being lonely.”

Logan’s smile starts fading, turning into a more thoughtful expression with the silence between you two growed heavy with unspoken emotions. You both stand close, the cool night air wrapping around you. 

There’s a moment of hesitation from both of you, as if neither wants to be the first to break the silence or the tension. But then, almost instinctively, Logan’s hand reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. His touch is surprisingly gentle, considering the tough exterior he usually presents.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were waiting for this all night, sweetheart.” Logan softly said with a teasing edge. 

“And what if I was? Would that make you run the other way?” You replied playfully

He chuckles softly, the sound low and rumbling, before his hand moves to cup your cheek. The world seems to narrow down to just the two of you at that moment, the space between you growing smaller until there’s none left at all.

Then, slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative kiss. It’s hesitant at first, as if both of you are testing the waters, unsure of what this meant. But as the kiss deepens, there’s a shared realization of how much you’ve both been denying. The kiss turns into something more intense, filled with the unspoken feelings that have been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest against each other, both of you slightly breathless. Logan’s thumb gently caresses your cheek, and there’s a soft smile on his face that you’ve never seen before—one of pure, unguarded affection.

“You know, I think this might be the first Valentine’s Day I actually don’t mind.” He whispered

“Maybe there’s hope for you yet, Logan.” 

The next morning at school, the usual routine feels different. You’re both back in your respective classrooms, but the memory of the previous night lingers in your thoughts.

In the hallway between classes, you spot Logan. There’s an undeniable warmth in his eyes as he catches your gaze. The teasing smirk is still there, but it’s softer now, more playful than sarcastic.

“Try not to get too distracted by thoughts of me today, Y/N.” He passed by with a low murmur

“I’ll try, but no promises.” You smirked back and as you walked away, you felt a flutter of excitement in your chest, realizing that something big had changed between the two of you. The banter continues, but now it’s underscored by a mutual understanding and a shared affection.

Later that day, as you’re packing up your things in your classroom, Logan approaches you. There’s a slight awkwardness to his movements, as if he’s debating something internally.

He then handed you a small, slightly crumpled Valentine’s card. It’s nothing fancy, just a simple card, but the gesture makes your heart skip a beat. 

You open it, finding a short, handwritten note inside: “You were right. Maybe next year, I won’t be so lonely.”

You look up at him, a smile spreading across your face. Logan’s usual tough demeanor is nowhere to be seen; instead, he’s looking at you with an expression that’s almost vulnerable, like he’s just taken a leap of faith.

“I’ll hold you to that, Logan.”

“You’re on, doll.” He nods, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. As you both leave the classroom together, there’s a sense of a new beginning, a promise of something more. The banter may continue, but now it’s laced with a mutual respect and an undeniable attraction that neither of you can ignore.

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

Taglist: @notanotheroldman @imjustatiredpersonsposts @inumakisriceingredients @ravenslvt @miralunaela @shiawaseorii @hughverine @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @sunroxic @fandomsunited @thatonedepressedpansexual @letmeapologise @laila347 @studentmysterious @clean-and-claire @fromarabellawithlove @ittacookie @eljaynosine-triphosphate @fluffy-b33z

I hope I was able to tag you guys well!

[familyvideostevie]

it's your turn for choosing

this was born out of a prompt request from my dear, dear, @softlyspector. this is for you, becca!

getting asked out via a smudgy scribble on a coffee cup | valentine's day prompts

joel miller x reader

summary/warnings: joel stops by your coffee shack every day. it's not your fault you're a little in love with him because of it. | modern au, fluff, flirting, jesse and cat and ellie cameos, game!joel in my head. i have not been a barista so sorry to all baristas if this reads wildly off-base. | 5.6k

a/n: it's giving rom-com! happy valentine's day. a bit different from my usual fare but hopefully it makes your heart warm. love u. thank u always to @macfrog and @bageldaddy for your eyes.

___

7:32 am. It’s helpful in this line of work to know exactly when you’re fucked. 

The espresso machine has been on the fritz all week and despite how much you want your current method of fixing it to work – banging a fist on the top until it stops wheezing – all signs point to today being a very bad day indeed. 

You’ve only been open for two hours. 

Here for three, awake for four. God, you’re tired.

Anyway – you’re fucked. And there’s nothing you can do about it. 

You call the time of death on the machine and search for something you can write on.

The Zone – a stupid name, but you can’t be bothered to change the sign that came with the place – is a coffee shop that sits between towns. 

Your coffee shop. 

It's more shack than shop, not really a zone of anything, just an order window and a five-drink menu. It's the kind of place that appears like a mirage for tourists right before they get on the highway at an ungodly hour and serves as a quick stop for everyone else. You open earlier than any other place around to get the truckers and the farmers and close when you stop being able to keep your eyes open.

The faded brown clapboard building is no bigger than an RV. The paint is chipped and the roof is a too-bright shade of green and you serve your drinks and the occasional sweet treat when you can get a good deal off of the baker two towns over through a window. It’s not a fancy chain, it’s not a drive-thru. You’ve got a bathroom and a few rickety cafe tables and chairs and no fucking common sense since you like it. 

You even love it, some days.

And the craziest part is that it works. Even on mornings like this one, when your espresso machine breaks during the lull between rushes and your part-time help calls in sick and you’ve spilled coffee all over your apron twice – it works. 

You tear off the lip of a cardboard box and write in big block letters: NO ESPRESSO TODAY. Maybe Tess, the baker, knows someone who can fix it. She knows everyone.

“Fuck you, you piece of junk,” you say. You give the machine another smack for good measure. 

Someone clears their throat and you whirl around, makeshift sign in hand. 

You’ve been doing this long enough that a handsome customer doesn’t phase you, but the man standing at your order window makes your stomach swoop for just a second.

“Morning,” you say, summoning your smile. “Hold on a sec, let me just –”

You lean out the window and wedge the piece of cardboard against the napkin holder on the ledge.

The man’s gaze drops to read. You take the opportunity to look at him. 

He’s tall and broad – if you had to guess, you’d say he works on one of the farms around here. He’s tan, dark hair threaded through with grey. His arms are crossed and you wish he wasn’t wearing a jacket so you could see his forearms. His denim shirt is undone at the top and you fixate on the chorded column of his throat, on the teasing glimpse of chest hair underneath.

The guy looks tired. 

Bone-tired, the kind of exhaustion you see when you look in the mirror. It comes from hundreds of early mornings and late nights, from hours on your feet and plenty of worry. He’s got lines at the corners of his eyes and a few around his mouth and you find yourself hoping they’re from laughter. 

“No espresso,” he reads, slow and unhurried. His drawl fits in with most of the folks around here, but you’re sure you haven’t seen him before. You’d remember. 

“Hope that doesn't scare you off,” you say. “Still got everything else.”

“Everything else being…” He glances at the chalkboard that serves as your menu.

DRIP COFFEE. LATTE. CAPPUCCINO. TEA. HOT CHOCOLATE. All written in your blocky hand in white paint. 

“Three options.”

Trial and error have taught you that simple works best. You’ll make anything people ask for, so long as you know how and have the supplies, and if they’re nice about it you won’t charge too much extra.

“Can I get you one of those three options?”

You’re not trying to rush him, but the next wave of people is bound to show up any minute.

“Black coffee will do,” he says. His mouth tugs up at the corner into a smirk that makes your face feel hot. “If you have that.”

“Thank you for taking pity on me,” you say, going for teasing and missing the mark by a mile. You just sound tired and genuine. “You just made my morning.”

He looks amused and you turn from him, unable to hide your grin. You pour a steaming cup and snap the lid on.

“Pretty shit morning if this is makin’ it,” he drawls.

You hand him the cup and your fingers brush. 

“You have no idea.”

He eyes the sign again and then your stained apron. “I got some notion.” He tugs his wallet from his back pocket and pulls out a $5 bill. “Keep the change,” he says.

You want to refuse, to thank him, but a few more cars pull up and Mr. Black Coffee just raises his cup to you and heads back to his truck.

Well, shit. You hope he comes back. A tipper like that, and hot? You sure wouldn’t mind if he became a regular customer. __

You call Tess that afternoon and she does know a guy, so the espresso machine gets fixed and things go back to normal. Your part-time help returns in the morning and nothing else breaks. 

Today is uncharacteristically warm for the season. The inside of The Zone is almost stifling, always at least 15 degrees warmer than outside, and you keep wiping your sweaty hands on your apron as you make espresso after espresso for the lunch crowd.

Cat, a spunky girl who likes to practice her latte art when it’s slow, takes orders at the register. You keep half of your attention on her and half on the four drinks you’re working on. 

“Black coffee, please,” someone says to her. Someone whose voice you recognize. 

“Can I get a name for that?” Cat asks. It’s busy enough that calling names is easier than calling orders, no matter how small your menu is.

“Joel,” he says. You let the milk steam on its own and pour the black coffee before Cat can do it.

“I’ve got it,” you tell her. “Can you finish up those drinks?”

She shrugs and you swap places. You know you’re sweaty and coffee-stained but you smile at him and hand over his coffee.

“Hot coffee on a day like this?” you tease. He – Joel – is sweaty, too. The collar of his work shirt is dark with sweat and his hair is a mess. He must be here on his lunch break. He takes the cup from you and slurps a long sip as a reply to your question. 

You laugh. Joel looks pleased. 

“Operatin’ a full menu, I see,” he says, pulling out another $5. “Glad you got it fixed.”

“It’s still a piece of junk,” you shrug. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”

He waves off your offer of change and raises his cup at you, taking a few steps backward towards his truck.

“Thank you,” he says. He eyes the tag on your chest and tacks your name on at the end. It sounds good from his mouth.

“Bye, Joel,” you say. His lips twitch but you barely have time to think about it before you have to take the next few orders. 

The line dies down and you step away from the register to help Cat with some cappuccinos – your least favorite drink by far due to all the damn foam they require – and she eyes you.

“Dude,” Cat says. “What the hell was that?”

If it wasn’t already a billion degrees in here you know your face would feel hot. 

“What the hell was what?”

She can’t reply for a few seconds while you grind beans for some espresso.

“I didn’t even know you knew how to flirt,” she muses, tapping a frother full of milk a few times. “That was pretty bad flirting if you ask me –”

You turn the grinder on again to drown her out.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you yell. She rolls her eyes at you until you turn off the machine.

You tamp down the grounds and slot them into the machine.

“I mean, not my type at all, for like, so many reasons,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Way too old for me, for one. Man, for another. But I see the appeal, I guess. Seems like he likes you. And was that a five-dollar bill? Black coffee is two bucks, last time I checked –”

“Can we get back to steaming milk, please?” you snap, more embarrassed than mad. “I am not taking flirting advice from a teenager.”

“I’m twenty!” she sputters. “Wait, so you admit that you like him?”

“Milk.”

Cat is right, though, and you know it. You just don’t see any harm in having a crush on some guy who comes to your coffee shop. Running this place means you see hundreds of people every day. You know their names, you ask them about their kids and their pets and their jobs, and you smile at them even on your bad days. It’s just part of the job. The daily interactions keep you afloat, make you feel more solid in your own life. People see you, they recognize you, they know you – even if it’s just because you make them coffee. 

Maybe Joel will keep coming back. Maybe he’ll become one of the regulars you know things about.

And if you have a crush on him? 

No harm done. He’s nice to look at.

And he tips well.

__

Joel stops by again. 

And again. 

And again.

He comes in every morning – sometimes at lunch – and orders the same thing. You learn the rumble of his truck by ear alone, the crunch of his boots on the gravel. Sometimes people in line say hi to him and a smile works its way onto your face on instinct when his voice reaches your ear. It’s never slow enough to have a proper conversation but he smiles at you, tells you he likes the flowers, your new apron. 

All of it is flirting but maybe not flirting. 

Maybe he’s just being polite.

Also, he keeps overpaying. 

One day, almost a month since you first saw him, he doesn’t come in the morning.  When you don’t see him in line at lunch, either, you’re a little disappointed. The weather is perfect – not too hot, not too cold, the sun shining – and you want to see him in the sunlight.

The day crowd is long gone and you’re only an hour or two from closing when his truck pulls up.

“I was getting worried,” you call as he walks over. Usually, he’s got some kind of dust or paint or something on them – Joel is a contractor, you’ve learned through your brief encounters, not a farmer – but today his clothes are clean and un-ripped. 

“I’m honored,” he says. 

You have his cup ready by the time he reaches the window. 

“I’m just surprised you can get through the day without a cup of coffee.”

He snorts and hands you his cash. 

“I can’t,” he says. “Had shitty home brew this morning.”

He takes a sip of your coffee and sighs. Your heart picks up and you don’t hide your grin.

“What’s with the schedule change?” you ask. 

He smirks. “Miss me?” 

You scoff and cross your arms. Heat rises in your chest and you feel almost giddy. 

“Just curious,” you say. “Don’t let it go to your head, but you’re my favorite customer.”

Joel laughs and scratches the back of his neck. 

“Reckon that’s the tip.”

“Actually, ordering a cup of black coffee is the way to any barista’s heart.”

Joel’s eyebrows climb up his forehead. 

“Ah,” he says. He takes another sip, his eyes dancing with mirth. “‘Course.”

“Nah,” you say with a teasing smile. “I’d never be so shallow.”

There’s no line behind him but you expect him to go back to his truck, anyway. But here he is. Talking to you.

You grab a rag and wipe down the counter to keep your hands busy. 

“I’m, uh. Meetin’ one of my kids here,” Joel says. The sudden shyness that accompanies his admission is a surprise. 

Your eyes dart to his hand but you see no ring, nor the pale shadow of one. 

“Both of ‘em moved to the city recently. Ellie – she’s comin’ up for the night.”

“I’ll bet you miss them,” you offer. You’re not sure why he’d want to bring his daughter to your coffee shack, but you’re not complaining.

Joel smiles at you. It’s a sad smile but still a good one. The affection in his eyes is raw. 

“Sure do,” he says. He tucks one hand in his pocket and takes another sip of his coffee. “But it’s good for them. Sarah – she’s a little older – is in school and Ellie is workin’ on her music and whatever else she’s into these days.” The pride in his voice is clear. 

“Well, I’m honored you want to bring her here.” You gesture to your slightly sad sitting area and the empty lot behind him. 

Joel looks ready to argue with you when a faded, older version of his truck pulls up. Music leaks from the open windows and the driver bops her head to the beat a few times before shutting it off and hoping out, thumbs flying on the screen of her phone. 

“That’ll be her,” he says drily. “Hey, kiddo.”

Ellie looks up from her hands, tucks her phone in her back pocket, and grins at Joel.

She doesn’t look a thing like him, but the connection is obvious. She moves like him, her shoulders set like she’s ready for a challenge at any moment. Joel sets his coffee down at the window and meets her halfway for a hug.

You look away and busy yourself with restocking whatever you can get your hands on.

“Dude, you come here every day?” Ellie asks. “Joel, this is so far from –”

Joel talks over her.

“Drive go okay? Sarah said they’re doin’ shit on the 35 –”

Ellie huffs.

“Yeah, yeah, some traffic getting out of the city ‘cause of the fucking lane closure, but otherwise fine.”

“Good.”

You turn to face them, a genuine smile firmly in place. 

“Hi,” you say. Joel picks up his coffee again, which Ellie eyes with a scowl. You introduce yourself to her. “You’re Ellie, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Ellie frowns. Behind her, Joel’s mouth twitches but he says nothing. It’s a lie, obviously, but something tells you he doesn’t mind and she believes it.

“Really?” She throws him a glare and then rolls her eyes. “You gotta stop telling strangers about me, man.”

“Someone’s gotta warn ‘em,” he says. 

She laughs. “Hey, fuck you!”

“Only good stuff,” you say. You like her. “Joel says you’re working on your music?”

Ellie’s eyes light up. “Oh, yeah,” she says. “I’ve got an audition next week.” She turns to Joel. “I brought my guitar ‘cause I have a fuck ton of songs to play for you.”

He puts a hand on her shoulder and she settles a little.

“I bet they’re real good.”

Ellie flushes and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well. You have to hear them first.”

You feel a little off-balance again, like you’re on the fringes of something you shouldn’t be seeing. The love on Joel’s face is clear as day. 

“Do you want some coffee?” you ask her.

Joel winces. Ellie gags. 

“No offense,” she starts, eyes darting between you and Joel. “I know Joel is fifty percent coffee on a good day, but it’s not my thing.” She looks at the menu and narrows her eyes. “I had a mocha the other day and didn’t hate it. Do you make those?”

“Look at that,” Joel says. “You’re convertin’.”

“Am not,” Ellie says. “It’s got chocolate in it, dude. No shit, I like it.”

“Yeah, give me a few minutes,” you laugh. “I’ll put lots of chocolate in it.”

They sit at one of your tables and you hear their laughter in the background as you make her drink.

It’s strange to see Joel like this – to build up on the man you’ve imagined him to be in your mind. Father never occurred to you. It makes sense, though, like a missing piece of him slotted into place. But it also makes the crush feel a little more real. Now that he’s more than your favorite regular customer. Now that you know a piece of him, of who he really is. 

It makes you want to know more.

You finish her drink and call Ellie’s name. They both stand and Joel digs in his wallet again.

“Don’t you dare pay me, Joel,” you say. You direct your next words at Ellie. “Really. I’m just honored you stopped by.”

She eyes Joel and he eyes her right back with the same look. She must have learned it from him.

“Yeah,” she says. “Me too.” She grins at you with all of her teeth. “Joel loves this place. Talks about it all the time.”

She takes a sip of her mocha and her eyes go wide.

“Wait, this is fucking good. Man, I see why you drive –”

Joel clears his throat.

“We’re off,” he says. “Thank you, as always.” He sounds softer than usual as if being nice to his daughter is the best thing you could do for him.

You suppose it is.

“You’re welcome, as always.” 

Ellie knocks her shoulder with Joel’s as they head back to their trucks. She must be whispering something to him because he swats her away with a groan and she cackles. 

They both wave at you as they drive away. 

__

Joel keeps coming in the mornings, and your conversations return to their fleeting cadence. Even so, it’s hard to deny that your crush on him has kicked into high gear.

You try not to let your gaze linger on his lips, on his throat. On his hands when he takes the cup from you, how your skin brushes and it makes you warm all over. You think about how he laughed, how relaxed he was around Ellie. You want to know what he’s like outside of your small daily interaction. You want to know what he eats for dinner, how he spends his weekends, what he listens to on the radio.

You want him.

Business is busy, which helps. A kid from a few towns over – Jesse, he’s called – signs on to work part-time, mostly for the second half of the day. He’s been a barista before so the training is minimal, but it still changes the flow of things. He’s a charming guy and the regulars take to him easy enough.

It’s you who is distracted. 

One morning, Joel comes in as expected. Jesse is working, too, trying to clock some extra hours this week.

Joel is on the phone in line, his attention somewhere else. He’s frowning, a deep crease between his brows as he waits in line. All it would take to smooth it away is the press of your thumb. 

You try not to stare and probably fail, but manage to take and make the orders ahead of him without making any mistakes, though your whole body feels alight.

He hangs up right as he gets to the window and sighs, giving you a tired smile.

“Howdy,” he says. You set his coffee down in front of him and he pulls out a ten-dollar bill instead of a five.

“Joel –” you say, but he interrupts you.

“My brother called and said he needs breakfast,” Joel grumbles. “Y’got any of Tess’s bear claws?”

Right, they work together, you remember. He’s mentioned Tommy in passing. 

“I think so, just hold on a sec.”

“Take your time,” Joel says. It sounds like he means it, even though there’s a line behind him and he probably needs to get to work. 

You do find a few bear claws in the box Tess gave you early this morning when you stopped by the bakery.

“You’re in luck,” you say, putting it in a paper bag. “Well, Tommy is.”

“Savin’ my ass,” he tells you when you hand it to him. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

The word sends a jolt of lightning through your whole body. He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s said it but your world shifts slightly on its axis. Sweetheart.

He turns on his heel before you can give him change for his cash, his phone ringing.

“Jesus, Tommy, I said I’d –”

You let him fade into the distance and smile at your next customer.

“How can I help you?”

A few orders later you end up next to Jesse making some lattes.

“Was that Joel Miller?” Jesse asks. “Before. The guy with the black coffee and bear claw?”

You startle. “Um. It was. How do you –”

“I didn’t know he was a customer here,” Jesse says. “Does he come in a lot?”

You unpack a few more cinnamon buns that Tess gave you this morning. “Yeah, every day.”

“Damn,” he says. “He must really like your coffee.”

“Are you trying to say it’s bad coffee, Jesse?”

He huffs a laugh. “No, boss, ‘course not.” He grinds beans for a few seconds but continues once he’s done, steady hands tamping down the results. “I just know he lives like, a half-hour away. And that there are plenty of coffee shops there, too.”

You narrow your eyes. “How do you know him, Jesse?”

“His daughter, Ellie, is a friend of mine,” he shrugs. “Went over to their house plenty of times in high school.”

“Well. He’s a contractor, right? I bet he has a job out here.”

Jesse clips the espresso into the machine and starts on some milk. 

“I’m not saying he doesn’t,” he muses. “I am saying that it takes at least 30 minutes to get here from where he lives.”

It’s silly. You’re half-flattered, half-confused. Yeah, you like Joel, and yeah, you’re pretty sure you’ve been flirting every day for over a month. But you figure it’s convenient for him. Coffee and an ego boost all in one. 

But if he’s going out of his way to come to The Zone? Well, maybe it’s not just for the coffee.

“Your coffee is good,” Jesse stresses, seeing the gears in your mind turning. It looks like he’s trying to hide a grin. You need to stop hiring young people who have keen eyes and big mouths.

“I think the ice needs a refill,” you say, snapping back into focus. 

“He might be here for something else, too -”

“Go refill the ice.”

He throws up his hands with a smirk. “I’m going!”

__

7:24 am. You’re on your own again and you’re fucked. 

The espresso machine is working perfectly and the early rush has ended. The weather is beyond shitty. Rain falls in sheets and the sky is so dark it feels like the sun didn’t bother to rise. It pounds on the roof and blows in the window every time you open it. The awning does nothing to shield customers as they shout their orders over the wind at you. Your fingers are going numb and your front is damp enough to set your teeth chattering. 

Joel’s truck pulls up and – well. You’re fucked. And he’s why.

You’re fucked because you can’t stop thinking about him. You can’t stop thinking about what Jesse said. What Joel said. Sweetheart.

A harmless crush turned into something more intense, something heavy in your stomach. You want him earnestly, fully, with every piece of you. 

And you still barely know him. But you want to. 

Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s the fact that you’re damp and cold and frustrated with your own heart and brain. But you see his truck and you decide to do something about this stupid crush.

You write your phone number on a cup with steady hands and set it aside for Joel. You scrawl on it as neatly as you can: Want to get a drink somewhere else sometime? 

It’s a bit of a coward’s way out. You should just ask him, say how you feel to his face. He’d probably like that better, anyway. But, well, this just feels safer. He could ignore it, he could throw it out, he could see it and decide to never come back. 

Sweetheart.

Somehow you don’t think he’ll do any of those.

The rain lashes against the window so hard you don’t open it until you see the lonely figure approach. The morning rush has been a morning trickle, a few brave souls venturing out for something from you.

Joel, it seems, is one.

You open the window and are greeted with a spray of mist.

“Gimme a sec,” you tell him. It’s so windy he leans in close to hear you. He’s wearing a jacket that’s ill-suited for the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead. Your fingers twitch with the need to brush it back. 

You quickly fill the cup you’ve set aside and pass it to him with two hands so it doesn’t blow over.

“Brave of you,” you say. He’s in the rain and you’re both getting soaked but you want to talk to him desperately. It’s a buzzing need at the front of your brain. “Thought the weather would get you, too.”

“Told you,” he all but yells over the wind with a flash of white teeth. “Shitty coffee at home.”

“Drive safe, Joel,” you tell him. He nods at you and jogs back to the truck, cup in hand. You won’t be able to see if he reads it from here, but you hope so. All you have to do is wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The rain stops.

You’re still waiting, phone silent.

Sunshine peeks through the clouds with a slightly surreal post-storm glow. A few more folks have made their way to The Zone but today has been slow. The clock ticks slowly towards 3 pm and your phone does not ring.

“Don’t be stupid,” you mutter. “He’s working.” 

You step out of the shack and into the slightly humid air, the gravel under your feet shifting wetly. The tables you’d set out this morning are, mercifully, still there, though they’re spattered with rain. You might as well close up now.

You’re bent over the last of the chairs, wiping them down with an old rag. You’re focused, so much so that you don’t pay much attention to the hum of an engine and the crunch of tires behind you.

A door slams but you don’t turn around.

“Sorry,” you call over your shoulder. “We just closed.”

“Shame,” he says. 

You whip around and find Joel, hands in his pockets. He’s in a different shirt than this morning and his jeans don’t look soaked. You’re still damp, water stains on your pants and shirt.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi, Joel.”

He smirks. ��Don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of that window,” he says, before jutting his chin towards the tables. “Can I help?”

You’re very aware of your whole body all at once. He’s looking at you, drinking you in like you’re his morning cup of coffee.

“Uh, sure,” you say. You want to ask why he’s here but the words won’t come. “They go in there, in the little closet on the right.” You point to the open door to the shack.

He dips his chin low just once and then crosses the distance between you in three big strides. He grabs the chair closest to you. The t-shirt he’s wearing shows his arms and you feel what he’s just said – it’s weird to be in the same space like this. You’re outside but he feels so big.

Joel’s arms flex and you swallow, following him with another chair. He stacks his in the right place and holds a hand out for yours.

“What did you write on it?” he asks, casually. 

The words don’t totally register. “What?”

He doesn’t answer. His arms are crossed, brow furrowed. Your mouth goes dry.

“On my cup. This mornin’.” He keeps his gaze on yours and for some reason, you can’t look away.

“Oh – you, you didn’t see?” 

He shakes his head. “Was rainin’, remember? Got smudged before I got in my truck.”

“Right.” 

You tear yourself away and leave him standing there. Maybe you should just lie.

But then you think about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when you make him laugh, and how he asks you how you are and how he brought his daughter here and how he tips and how he drives all this way for your – for you.

Joel waits, his footsteps the only indication he’s followed you.

You turn around.

“I wrote my phone number,” you say. “And I asked you on a date.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up and you think he’s…blushing?

He rubs a hand over his beard and you hope he’s hiding a smile. Your heart is in your throat, beating so loud you worry that he can hear it. All of your bravado sinks into the damp ground at your feet. Maybe you’ve read this totally wrong. Maybe he’s just a nice guy, maybe your coffee is just really good and your employees are fucking with you. He’s here to let you down easy, to tell you he’s not even available, not interested, not –

“Alright,” Joel says. He walks towards you and tugs his phone from his back pocket. “I’ll take that number.”

Oh.

He hands it over and you type it in, heart jackhammering in your chest. But you watch his face, see the quirk of his mouth and his blush and it makes you brave.

“And the date?” you ask, giving it back. Your fingers brush and your heart keeps pounding but your nerves take a sharp turn away from doubt and towards excitement.

“Well, you gonna ask again?”

You both seem to have found your footing with whatever this is. The flirt in him is back full force, and he’s looking at you in that way of his. You want to know all of his expressions. There is so much to learn.

“Are you going to say yes?”

“S’why I came back,” he admits. “Figured you’d be closin’. Hoped you’d be free.”

“So you could read the cup?”

Joel takes the other two chairs and heads for the door again. You trail him. God, his arms are distracting. 

“Most of it,” he says. “Couldn’t make out the last few numbers, though.”

“Well, once we’re done here, I’m free. If you wanted to go on a date with me.”

Joel turns and you’re in the small space at the same time, your chests almost pressed together. You must smell like sweat and stale coffee but you watch as Joel inhales, eyes on yours.

“I do,” he says. 

It would be so easy to kiss him, a quick, chaste press of your lips to see what he tastes like.

His pupils dilate and you sway into him for a breath before you realize what you’re doing and step back outside.

You take a deep breath of fresh air. “Great.”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand and you head for the tables. 

“Y’know,” he says. “Ellie’s been on my ass about this.”

You laugh, high and bright. “Has she?”

“That girl ain’t capable of missin’ an opportunity to stick her nose in,” he grumbles, but it’s affectionate. 

“Well, I think she’s smart,” you goad. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Reckon she is.”

Joel’s brows furrow and he takes a few quick steps into your space, so close the tips of your shoes almost touch.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi.”

“Hold still,” he says. He reaches for your face slowly, slow enough that you could pull away but you don’t. He brushes something from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Grounds.” His voice is a little hoarse.

“Thanks,” you breathe. 

He smirks but the flush creeping up his neck tells you he’s not wholly unaffected. It makes you feel…it just makes you feel. 

Joel Miller likes you.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” you say.

His eyes widen slightly and he leans in just a little but you slide out of his space with a grin.

“The sooner we finish up the sooner I can buy you a drink.”

Joel laughs, loud and full. “Oh, how generous of you.”

“You’re very lucky,” you say.

“I agree,” he drawls. He taps your chin with one knuckle.

His eyes sparkle and he smiles, looking luminous in the post-storm sunshine. You see a flash of a future – watching him drink coffee in a kitchen instead of through the window of The Zone. Your hands meeting over a shared table, fingers tangling, that smile directed at you in the morning light. 

Giddiness rises in your throat and spills out of you in a delighted laugh of your own. Joel just grins.

“So,” he says. “Where’re you takin’ me?”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[greynatomy]

too late

alexia putellas x reader

i know nothing about medical stuff except for the ones i’ve watched on grey’s anatomy

happy valentine’s day i guess

request here

———

The echoes of the heated argument lingered in the air as you paced around your living room. The tension between you and Alexia had reached a breaking point and you have no idea what to do next.

Alexia had left you alone in this big house — which isn’t really anything new — to god knows where. The trophies and medals that lined the shelves, displaying the accomplishments of your longtime partner, stares back at you like souvenirs.

Photographs covering the walls, showing the memories of the love she once held for you. Your fingers tracing the edges of the frame, heart heavy with doubt and sadness.

‘Where did I go wrong?’ You asked yourself.

That was almost three months ago. She had apologized and promised to make changes. The first week was a bliss. She’d wake you up with breakfast in bed, leaving breakfast in the kitchen when she had early training. Random dates throughout the week. You were living the dream.

Then, she won the world cup.

Interview after interview. Appearance after appearance. She was away more times than home. You don’t quite remember the last time you’d both slept in the same bed and woken up together.

—

It was Friday and you were in the kitchen waiting for Alexia to come home from training. You’ve cooked her favorite meal that Eli had taught you to make. You told her you had something to talk to her about so you hoped this meal could lighten the mood a bit.

Thirty minutes had passed so you thought she was just running a bit late.

Then an hour passed.

Another hour after that.

You’ve put away all of the food and prepared a plate for when she gets home to just reheat. Changing into your pajamas, you lounge around in the living room and check your phone. Right when you open up your social media, you were met with videos of your girlfriend and her team at a club.

You try to remember if Alexia had told you if she was going anywhere after practice, but she didn’t.

‘She probably just forgot.’

Hours later, Alexia came home to find you asleep on the couch. She stumbles into the bedroom and knocks out.

—

You’re at home in bed, staring into nothingness. You couldn’t do anything. At least not the things you used to be able to do. Even breathing became difficult.

Alexia was out so much she never noticed how much you’ve changed, how different you looked. She barely spared you a glance. When you do catch Alexia at home, she’s already asleep. You barely notice though because she’s been sleeping in the spare bedroom.

You slowly walk to the kitchen, steadying yourself against the walls. Grabbing a glass, you start to fill it with water when all of a sudden your vision starts going in and out.

Collapsing to the floor, darkness consumes you.

—

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” You ask as Alexia walked through the front door.

“I’m not even fully through the door and you’re already asking me to do things?”

“It won’t take long. It’s just something I have to tell—”

“Ay dios mío! I’m hungover and I just want to sleep. Talk to me tomorrow.”

Alexia walks away to the spare bedroom, knocking out instantly.

—

Alexia is at Mapi and Ingrid’s place with the rest of the team for team bonding. Alexia had an arm around one of Mapi’s friends that she invited over, the girl practically in her lap.

“Hey, Ale! Where’s the missus? Didn’t want to come today?” Mapi questions taking a seat next to Ingrid.

“Ooh, yeah! I miss Y/N, how is she doing?” Pina asks, the girl saw you as a big sister.

Alexia tenses, not knowing why. The girl on her shoves her arm off of her, moving to a different seat making Alexia frown in disappointment.

“Uh, she’s just at home probably. I don’t know?” She shrugs.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Mapi asks, eyebrows furrowed. “You were with her yesterday.”

“I was?” Alexia was confused because she definitely wasn’t. She was at some girl’s pla— her eyes widen. “I was! Yeah. She didn’t feel that well so she wanted to stay home. Yeah.”

Mapi and Ingrid share a look but drops the subject.

The team bonding became crazier that it was supposed to be. People were tipsy and Mapi was surprised they haven’t been yelled at by the neighbors yet.

“Alright.” Mapi stands up, catching everyone’s attention. “Me and Ingrid are going to run to the store, grab a couple things cause we’re running low.”

Everyone bid them goodbye, Ingrid following behind her girlfriend.

“We’re not running low on anything.” Ingrid states as Mapi starts driving.

“No, I just needed an excuse.”

“Excuse for what.”

“To check on Y/N.”

“She’s not home though. Told us herself.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t hurt to check. And we both know damn well Ale wasn’t with her yesterday.”

Arriving to yours and Alexia’s house, they knock on the door. Not getting a response, they try again, no response.

“Hey, Y/N? Are you home? It’s Mapi and Ingrid.”

After a couple of minutes with no response, Mapi uses the spare key she was given a long time ago. Stepping inside, it was quiet. The place was clean, almost too clean. It didn’t look like someone had lived in the place at all with how clean it looked.

Walking further in, Ingrid looks into the kitchen, finding a glass shattered on the floor. Walking around the kitchen island was a sight she didn’t want to see.

“Oh my god, María!” She immediately lays you on your back, placing two fingers on your neck. “There’s no pulse! Call the ambulance!” She starts slapping your face lightly, hoping to wake you up. “C’mon, Y/N. Open those eyes for me.”

“Here. Move.” Mapi pushes Ingrid away, handing her the phone. “You call for them. Wake up, Y/N. Don’t go yet.” She starts CPR, tears start flowing from her eyes, some dripping onto your face. “C’mon! Just wake up, damn it!”

Mapi doesn’t know how long she’s been doing CPR, but paramedics rush into the house, taking over. Ingrid pulls her into her arms where they break down, missing the looks that the paramedics gave each other.

They drive close behind as the ambulance speeds through the streets of Barcelona. Arriving at the hospital, Ingrid doesn’t bother to turn the car off, rushing to where you were being unloaded.

“What do we got?” Doctors rush out to the ambulance.

The paramedics just give a look to the doctors who immediately understand.

“Time of death…”

“Wait! What do you mean time of death? She-she’s fine right?”

“What’s your relationship to…”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. What’s your relationship to Y/N?”

“She’s my friend and I need to know what’s happened.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t give out any information, but I saw she has a wedding ring on. Can you contact her husband?”

“Wife. She has a wife.”

“Okay, can you contact her wife for us?”

Ingrid is the one to make the call. Mapi watches as they roll you inside the hospital.

“She’s on her way.”

Ten minutes later, Alexia arrives to the hospital, walking to where Ingrid and Mapi were now sitting at the waiting room.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. They won’t tell us but they’ll tell you cause you’re her wife.”

“Y/N Putellas. I-I’m her wife and I need to see her.” Alexia asks, no demands when she goes up to the nurse’s counter.

“Mrs. Putellas. I can take you to her body.”

“Body? What-what do you mean body.”

“Just follow me.”

Walking into the room, a bed is seen in the middle of the room, a white sheet covering it.

“What’s this?”

Alexia walks up to the bed, hand hovering over the white sheet.

“Take your time.”

The nurse carefully pulls the top part of the white sheet to reveal someone — you.

“Oh my god.” Alexia gasps, not expecting to see you in this state. Mapi turns around in Ingrid’s hold, hiding her face in her chest, Ingrid also looking away. “What happened?”

“I can help with that.”

Turning towards the door, a doctor stood just outside.

“May I come in?” Not waiting for a response, he walks right in. He walks towards where your lay, staring at your features. “Mrs. Putellas lived longer than I expected.”

“Okay, can we stop being so criptic and just tell me what’s going on?” Alexia was losing patience. She has no clue what’s happening. She was having a great time and now she sees her wife lying dead right in front of her.

“Y/N Putellas, age twenty-eight, was diagnosed with stage four cancer three months ago. There was nothing that could be done as it was caught very late. All we could have done was make sure she was comfortable.”

“But she refused to be admitted into the hospital to make sure that she was still at home for her wife, no matter how much I protested.” A new voice was heard by the door. Your sister. “Her wife that leaves when she’s still sleeping. Her wife who would rather be out partying than notice how sick she was, fighting for her life. Her wife that doesn’t fucking love her!”

Your sister was now face to face with Alexia, finger stabbing her chest.

“No, no, no.” Alexia mumbles. “That- that’s not true. I love her. I do! Why didn’t she tell me?”

“She tried to.” Your sister stated, voice now void of emotion. “She tried and you brushed her off.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Mapi spoke up for the first time in a while.

“Because it didn’t feel important anymore after the many times that Alexia brushed it off.”

“She visited us just three days ago. She was fine.”

“She wasn’t. I think she knew she didn’t have much time left, so she had me drive her around so she can say her goodbyes.”

—

“Alright. Last house.” Your sister stated as she parked the car by the curb.

“Yeah.” You exit the car, slowly making your way to the front door. After knocking on the door, you take a step back. The door opens revealing Mapi.

“Hey, Y/N! What brings you by?”

“Uh, nothing. Is Ingrid here by any chance?”

“Yeah, let me call her. Ingrid!”

Ingrid stands next to Mapi.

“No need to shout. Hey, Y/N. What’s up?”

“Uh, well.” You clear your throat in anxiousness. “I’m gonna go somewhere in a couple of days and just wanted to see you both before I go.”

“Oh? Where are you going?”

“Just- just to take some time for myself.”

“Well, I hope you have fun wherever it is you’re going.”

You give them a smile. “Thank you.” As they were closing the door, you push it back open, wrapping your arms around Mapi tightly. Your breathing is ragged and you can feel the tears forming in your eyes. “You’re my best friend and you know that I love you right?”

Taken aback, she wraps her arms around you in return. “Yeah, you’re my best friend and I love you too.”

“You too Ingrid.” You now wrap your arms around her. “I’ll miss you both.” You step away, walking back down the driveway, giving them one last smile.

The couple don’t think much about the weird interaction, closing the door as they watched your car drive away.

—

Mapi and Ingrid broke down even more, now knowing that your goodbye was the goodbye.

“Tried to say goodbye to you too, but you were nowhere to be found.” You sister shrugged, getting tired of speaking to Alexia now.

“Why don’t you look depressed?”

“I’ve got to spend my time with her. I’ve had time to prepare for the inevitable.” Giving them all a face, she moves to stand where you laid. “I’m gonna talk to whoever about the arrangements and stuff, I’ll leave you guys alone.”

Seeing how Alexia was unable to take her eyes off of you, Mapi and Ingrid decide to give her some time, leaving the room and closing the door behind them. Now all along, Alexia hesitantly steps up next to your bed, hand hovering over yours.

In the dimly lit room, her voice shaky as she uttered, “I don’t even know where to begin. I don’t know if you can hear me, see me, but I never thought I’d see you like this. I never thought I’d hurt you like this.”

She grasps at your hand, squeezing it to stop the tears from streaming down her face.

“I’m too late. Too late. I never realized how good I had it and I see it now. You are— were the best part of me and I was too blind to see it. I took you for granted and I can’t apologize for it.”

The room remained silent, save for the soft hum of chatter outside. Alexia’s heart pounded, waiting for a response that she would never get. Bending down, she gives your forehead a kiss, letting her lips linger for just a moment.

“I’m sorry and I love you.” She whispered before exiting the room.

Arriving at home, Alexia’s emotions finally hit all at once. She couldn’t step any further away from the front door. She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. The weight of her emotions become too much and the dam finally broke inside of her. Silent sobs racked her body as the vulnerability she had hidden so well crumbled away.

As the tears cascaded down her cheeks, memories of lost moments and shattered dreams replayed in her mind like a haunting film. Each drop carried the weight of unspoken words and broken promises, a wretched reminder of a love that once felt invincible.

The scars on her heart remained, the permanence of lost loves carved onto it, wondering how to face another day haunted by the ghosts of what could have been.

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Summary: After you attend Harris's birthday party, Eddie's forced to confront some big feelings, and a Valentine's date has the two of you navigating a much different type of big feeling.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), fingering, protected p in v, slight breeding kink, very fluffy smut, brief mention of parental abandonment

WC: 8.6k

Chapter 12/20

Eddie's card credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers Mixtape credit to @lofaewrites Divider credit to @saradika

The mingled scents of wood polisher, stale cigarette smoke, and old frying oil invade your nostrils the second you step into Hawkins Lanes. Bowling balls thud as they make contact with the fiberglass lanes, subsequently crashing into the waiting pins. You offer a smile at the exasperated teenager clearly nursing a hangover, holding back a dry heave as he sprays a pair of red and blue shoes with a can of deodorizer that, given the undertones of pungent sweat permeating the air, is likely well past expired.

“I’m here for Harris Munson’s birthday party?” It comes out like a question rather than a definitive statement, and you hold up the gift bag in your hand like it’s some kind of evidence.

The teenager jerks a thumb towards the back left of the building, not bothering to look up. “Party room’s down there,” he mumbles, and you thank him as you walk along the pink and purple carpet.

You’ve arrived a little early, hoping to steal a few moments with Eddie before the chaos of the day begins. Wayne is the only one in the small room, stretching to hang up a sign proudly declaring ‘Happy Birthday,’ each letter a different color of the rainbow. He grins when he sees you approaching, and you hold one end of the sign in place as he adheres it to the door frame with Scotch tape.

“Good to see y’again, darlin’.” Wayne greets you with a grin, taping your side of the banner. 

You put your arm down and return his smile. “You, too!” you chirp, glancing around the room. “Where can I put Harris’s present?”

The older man points to an empty table off to the side. “Right over there should be good,” he figures aloud. “Ed just took Harris to the little boys’ room, but they’ll letcha know otherwise.”

You nod, gently placing the bright yellow bag atop a table covered with a Hot Wheels-themed cloth. Amusement dances on your lips at the realization that Eddie must have splurged on decorations; it’s far better quality than one from the local 99-cent store. 

“Ms. Sweetheart! You’re at my birthday party!” Harris’s enthusiastic voice captures your attention, and you spin around just as he’s launching himself into your arms. A tiny human rocketship. 

“I am!” You laugh, motioning towards the gift table, “and I left your present over there.” 

Harris’s face lights up and he starts towards it, arms outstretched and ready to tear through the tissue paper, but the sound of his dad clearing his throat stops him in his tracks. 

“Remember,” Eddie says, keeping his tone calm but firm, “we’re gonna open everything once all your friends are here, after we eat cake.”

Harris juts out his lower lip in a pout. “But Daddy,” he protests, “I wanna open it now!” He stomps his foot indignantly, and you have to suppress a laugh at how silly it looks with the clown-esque bowling shoe on. 

“Harris, can you wait until you open the ones from your friends?” You phrase it like a favor, hoping to appeal to him that way. “I’m really excited about what I got you and I want them to see you open it, too.” Of course, you couldn’t care less about what a bunch of random four- and five-year-olds think about your gift, but you had to think quickly before the whine escalated to a tantrum. 

He releases a sigh of exasperation but ultimately concedes. “Okay, I guess I can wait.”

Eddie mouths thank you and winks as the four of you walk out to the lanes to wait for Harris’s friends. You feel a hand slip into yours, too small to be Eddie’s, and beam when Harris looks up at you with pure joy.

“Daddy! Grampa Wayne! I’m holding Ms. Sweetheart’s hand!” he exclaims, baby teeth on full display

Eddie ruffles Harris's hair. “I’m jealous.” If prompted, he’ll claim that he’s envious that his son chose to hold your hand instead of his. But you and him–and Wayne, let’s be real–know the real meaning behind his statement.

As Harris’s friends arrive and the birthday boy greets each of them with a hug, you and Eddie spring into action and line them up to get fitted for shoes. There are five kids, three boys and two girls, and though you recognize them as Ms. Marion’s students, you don’t know any of them by name. The bowling shoe laces are flimsy, and a few of them struggle with the fine motor skills necessary to tie them.

“Can I help you with that?” you ask one boy, who nods and extends his leg towards you. You crouch down and rest his foot on your knee as you double-knot the laces. When you finish, you look up to see that the rest of the kids have formed a line for your shoe-tying expertise.

Eddie returns from dropping off the guests’ gifts in the party room, laughing when he stumbles upon the queue of children. “You don’t have to do all that, Sweetheart,” he tells you, using his hands to assess the weight of different bowling balls before distributing them to the kids.

You shrug as you finish tying the last shoes. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie has reserved two lanes for the party, and before anyone can figure out who will be bowling where, Harris is tugging on his Black Sabbath t-shirt.

“We wanna play in teams,” he reports matter-of-factly. You’re not sure who ‘we’ refers to, since you didn’t see him corroborating with any of his friends, but you don’t question it aloud. “Team Harris and Team Daddy.”

Eddie gasps with feigned offense, bringing his palm to his heart. “What? You don’t want me on your team?”

“Nope.” Harris shakes his head, curls swaying back and forth. “I want Ms. Sweetheart on my team.” He pauses as he glances around the group, eyes brightening when his gaze lands on the eldest Munson. “You can have Grampa Wayne.”

“Old man’s probably gonna break a hip.” Eddie grumbles teasingly, picking up a red marbled bowling ball and hoisting it up to his chest.

Wayne scratches the top of his head. “And yet I can still kick your ass.” He keeps his voice low so that little ears can’t hear, but you and Eddie can, and you tuck your lips into your mouth so none of the kids catch on.

Harris is up first, squatting down and using two hands to roll the ball down the lane. His method proves to be somewhat effective when he knocks down a few pins, and the scoreboard screen flashes a giant number 5. 

“That’s how many years I am!” Harris proudly announces, skipping back to where the rest of his team is standing. He cocks his head at the ball return’s open mouth for the neon green ball that Eddie had handed him earlier, eagerly scooping it up when he spots it. Assuming the same stance, he once again rolls the ball and successfully topples two more pins.

Eddie raises his brows incredulously. “Hmm, let me try that strategy.”

“I don’t think there’s enough pins for all of your years,” you quip, and Eddie sticks out his tongue in your direction before mimicking Harris’s approach, knees aligned with his toes. He draws the ball back between his legs and releases it a few inches ahead of him, smirking as it cascades down the lane.

His cockiness is apparently earned, since he gets a strike. He attempts a victory moonwalk, clumsily dragging one foot behind the other in a manner that would make Michael Jackson regret ever making the move popular. The heel of his shoe catches on the floor and he stumbles backwards, landing on his ass.

The kids burst out into peals of laughter, and you and Wayne join in once it is evident that Eddie’s not hurt, only embarrassed. You stoop down, clutching your ball between your palms as you grin. “That’s what you get for gloating,” you whisper in his ear, a joking lilt in your voice. “Try setting a good example for the kids next time.”

Unbeknownst to you, one of the kids, Kelly, strikes up a conversation with Harris while you’re up to bowl. “Is that your mommy?” she asks him, strawberry blonde pigtails softly swishing as she looks over at you.

“No, but she’s gonna be my mommy soon!” Harris replies happily. “She and my daddy are gonna fall in love and then she’ll be my mommy.” His voice lowers as concern mars his words. “But don’t tell anyone, okay? Because it’s my birthday cake wish and I need it to come true.”

Kelly nods, taking this obligation seriously, and she averts her gaze when she spots you walking back to the ball return. Since you’d only knocked down eight pins, you take another turn, slipping your thumb, middle, and ring fingers into the holes, frowning when you don’t get the spare you’d hoped for. 

Harris’s chipperness brings a smile back to your face. “Ms. Sweetheart, can you teach me how to bowl like a grown-up?” He blinks a few times, hammering in his naturally docile nature.

“Of course!”

When it’s Harris’s turn again, Eddie watches you go up with him. It’s noisy, but he zeros in on your sweet tone among the clattering of bowling pins and cacophonous conversations.

“See, you put your middle finger and ring finger here, and your thumb here,” you’re gently explaining. “And then you lift the ball back just a bit, bring it forward, and let it go.” You go through all of the motions without actually letting go of the ball, Harris’s eyes glued to your every move. “You try.”

Harris follows your instructions, pink tongue poking from his mouth in sheer concentration, and knocks down a single pin. Eddie braces himself for his disappointment, maybe even escalation to a tantrum, so he’s pleased when his son spins back with a wide, toothy smile.

“I did it! I knocked it down!”

“You’re amazing! I’m so proud of you, Harris.” Eddie’s posture softens as Harris runs into your arms and gives you a giant hug, tiny fingers digging into your biceps as he squishes the side of his face just below your collarbones. When he does this, Eddie notices that Harris’s cheeks have lost some of their chubbiness; his son’s baby-like features subtly disappearing to make way for attributes of the older child he’s growing into. It brings a slight pang to his heart, and he swallows the emotion and focuses instead on the bonding moment between you and the not-so-little boy.

There’s a shared love; more than that, there’s trust. Harris knows he can rely on you to teach him with kindness and patience, that you won’t berate him or yell at him for doing something incorrectly. You’re his Ms. Sweetheart.

Wayne takes note of the goofy smile adorning his nephew’s face, nudging him before he drops the bowling ball on his foot. “I know you’re in love with her, but she ain’t worth losing your toes over.”

Eddie’s face flushes pink, the tips of his ears burning now that he's been caught. “I’m not in love with her, Wayne.” At least, I didn’t think I was yet, but now I might be.

“Whatever you say,” Wayne mutters under his breath, taking careful steps towards the lane. “You, uh, might wanna wipe the drool from your chin before you take your turn, though.”

Team Harris ultimately wins, mostly because Wayne throws the game so the birthday boy can have a victorious moment. You, Eddie, and Wayne quickly corral the kids into the party room, seating them at a large rectangular table for cake and presents before anyone can take offense over the game results. The three of you breathe silent sighs of relief when you easily shift their focus to the next activity.

Eddie pulls his lighter from his back pocket, flicking it on and lighting the five thin blue and white striped candles unevenly jabbed through the chocolate frosted homemade cake. He picks up the plate, supporting it from the bottom as he leads the group in a hilariously off-key rendition of Happy Birthday.

Harris squeezes his eyes shut before blowing out the flames with gusto, a big grin on his face when he opens them again.

Feeling a hand clap on his shoulder, Eddie swivels his body to see his uncle armed with a disposable Kodak camera. “Let me get a picture of you and the birthday boy,” Wayne insists, peering through the little viewfinder and snapping a photo. Eddie’s crouched down, right arm slung over Harris’s shoulders. Both of them wear matching smiles; the only difference is that Harris is still sporting his baby teeth. 

“Now Ms. Sweetheart!” the little Munson declares. Eddie goes to leave, pressing his palms to his knees and standing up, but Harris grabs his wrist and pulls him back. “No, Daddy. You and me and Ms. Sweetheart together!”

You shuffle over to stand on Harris’s other side. When you place your hand on his upper back, Eddie’s slides over yours, the two of you and Harris chiming “cheese!” in enthusiastic unison. 

Blinking from the brightness of the flash, you extend your arm and make a ‘gimme’ motion with your hand. “Let me get one of the three of you,” you say to Wayne, who begrudgingly places the camera in your outstretched palm. 

Eddie pulls him in closer. “Alright, Munson men. Flex those muscles!” You giggle as the three of them bend their arms to show off whatever biceps they have. 

“Ms. Sweetheart, who’s got the biggest muscles?” Harris asks as you lower the camera. 

You scrunch up your nose as though seriously contemplating the question. “Um, me, obviously!” You smack your own bicep, sending Harris into hysterics.

“That’s so silly!” he cackles, glancing up at Eddie. “Daddy, isn’t Ms. Sweetheart so silly?”

You expect him to agree with his son, but he just puts his hands on his shoulders and gives a quick squeeze as he says, “Nah, she’s the strongest person I know.” Your stomach flip-flops when he peers at you through his impossibly long lashes. He picks up the plate and brings it over to the smaller, empty table. “Let’s cut this cake before the kids start revolting.”

The two of you use plastic knives and forks to divide the cake into slivers and toss them onto paper plates. Once all of the kids have their slices, Eddie licks the excess frosting from his fingers and hands you a plate. 

“Havin’ fun?” He carefully wraps the question in a joking tone, but you can tell that he’s genuinely curious about whether you’re enjoying yourself. 

You spear a piece of your slice with the plastic fork. “I am, actually.” The chocolate melts in your mouth, and your tongue glides over your lips to catch any crumbs. “I haven’t been bowling since I was a kid.”

“And it shows,” he teases, wincing when you flick his cheek. “Hey, now—violence is never the answer. What values are you instilling in these impressionable young minds?”

Harris pops up from his seat, waving an empty plate. Whatever cake bits were left on it have tumbled to the floor. “Daddy, I’m done! Can I open my presents now?”

“Jesus, did you inhale that thing?” Eddie wonders aloud, but ultimately agrees. He grabs a bunch of thin napkins and wipes Harris’s hands and face, laughing when the boy sputters as the paper presses against his lips. “Har Bear, you don’t wanna get your presents all messy.”

Once he’s all cleaned up, Harris grabs each of the gifts and brings them to his seat at the head of the table. He tears through brightly colored wrapping paper at lightning speed. Eddie tries to keep track of who gave what as his son unveils a Hot Wheels track from Charlie and his brother Brendan, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure from Kelly, a G.I. Joe from Emma, and—regrettably—a tub of Gak from Zachary. He makes a mental note to pick up a harmonica or a kazoo or something else noisy when that kid’s birthday rolls around. 

The last gift left is from you, and you twiddle your thumbs as you await Harris’s reaction. Should I have gotten him a toy?

“It’s a stencil kit,” you feel the need to explain, as though you wouldn’t be able to handle the embarrassment of him asking what it is. “So you can trace shapes for your art. It’s got all different ones: food, animals, holidays…” You clamp your mouth shut, willing yourself to stop talking. 

Your panic is short-lived; Harris’s brown eyes light up as he runs to you and wraps his arms around your legs in another giant hug. “I’m gonna draw you so much things!” he promises, gazing up at you excitedly. 

“I can’t wait to see what you make me.” A drawing from Harris holds a deeper meaning than you ever realized. It’s more than a simple display of creativity; it’s a symbol of love and acceptance into his life. 

He looks at his dad now with pleading eyes. “Can Ms. Sweetheart come to our house after the party so I can draw her a picture? Please?” He stretches out the last word so that it has at least five syllables. 

Eddie looks at you expectantly, a timid smile on his lips. “Well?”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Your response earns you another quick squeeze from Harris before he darts back to his seat to further inspect his gifts. 

Eddie’s warm voice is low in your ear, his fingertips ghosting the small of your back in a manner that lets you—and only you—know how starved he is for touch. “And you can help me get rid of that slime thing, too.”

Once the party has ended and you, Eddie, and Harris are back at their apartment, the cherubic boy takes the stenciling kit into his room. 

“I’m gonna do art in here so you can’t peek,” he declares, clutching the kit to his chest as though there’s already something to hide. 

Eddie chuckles, raking a hand through his curls. “Okay, bud. We’ll be out here, watching TV. You go be a little artíst.”

Once he hears the bedroom door click shut, Eddie puts the TV on a random channel and plops on the couch with a soft oof. You sit down next to him and he puts his arm around you, allowing you to snuggle in closer. The shirt fabric against his underarms is slightly damp with the day’s sweat, but you’re far too comfortable to even consider it an issue. 

Your unsuccessful attempt at stifling a yawn has Eddie grinning. “Can’t hang with the kids anymore?” he goads, lips flush against your scalp. 

“It’s exhausting being on the winning team,” you playfully retort, adding in an over-the -top fake yawn to drive home your point. “Not that you would know.”

“Oh, yeah?” He pulls you closer to pepper kisses across your neck and cheek until you’re a giggling mess. Satisfied with his handiwork, he allows himself to sink deeper into the cushions and lets out a yawn of his own. 

You rest your head on his shoulder, gently brushing his curls back so they’re not in your eyes. A hum of contentment escapes you as you fully relax for the first time today. 

You feel a slight nudge on your chin as Eddie tilts it upwards and kisses your lips. The gloss you’d applied before the party is long gone, a casualty of conversation and cake consumption, but he has no complaints. 

“Been wanting to do this all day,” he murmurs, shooting shivers down your spine. “And when I saw you helping Harris? Baby, I just…” he searches for accurate words. Nothing he can think of seems to fully convey the depth of his feelings, but he tries his best. “I’m so fucking lucky. We’re so fucking lucky.”

The feeling of your body against his relaxes him further; a marvelous white noise replaces the plethora of overanalyzed problems constantly buzzing through his brain. The heaviness of sleep falls over both of you, and you shift your body even closer to his in a primitive quest for the safety his presence brings. Whatever show is on the fuzzy TV set is now a dull hum until it’s muted by the dreams your subconscious brings.

Eddie only stirs fifteen minutes later when the bedroom door hinges give a soft squeak, ears trained to pick up on Harris’s innocuous noises that often precede chaos. Grogginess overpowers attentiveness, so he misses the smile on his son’s face and the way he whispers, “my birthday wish is coming true.”

Gray clouds cover Hawkins the next day, drenching the small town in cold rain. And while Eddie is certainly grateful that it’s not snowing, this means that he has to find indoor activities to keep his endlessly energetic son occupied. 

Luckily, Harris is still enamored with his birthday gifts, particularly the stenciling kit you’d given him. He sits at the kitchen table now, tracing an outline of a cow on a Valentine for his classmate. Eddie’s not quite sure of the correlation between the animal and the holiday, but he’s learned that some battles are best left unfought.

 “That looks great, Har Bear.”

“I know.” Harris agrees, not looking up from his drawing as he says, “Daddy, you should make a Valentime for Ms. Sweetheart.” Before Eddie can answer, Harris slides over a piece of red paper and a black marker.

“I should, huh?” Remembering a trick he learned back in elementary school, Eddie folds the paper and draws half of a heart against the crease. He has to use Harris’s blunted safety scissors, much too small for his fingers, to cut the paper. Pleased when he sees that it actually resembles a heart, Eddie taps the marker against his dimpled chin as he contemplates what to write. “You really like Ms. Sweetheart, don’t you?”

Harris nods, putting down the blue marker he’s using and reaching for an orange one. “Mhm. I love her, Daddy.”

Eddie’s heart soars at the confirmation of Harris’s adoration of you, but he tries not to make it obvious. “That’s, uh, that’s good.” He finally decides on a simple message: Be Mine, and he signs his name underneath with a dash. It feels a little less impersonal than “from,” but isn’t as strong as “love.” Do I love her? He wonders. No, it’s only been one date. He can’t fall in love this quickly. It’s not possible. “How’s this? Be mine,” he reads aloud, underlining each word with his finger.

“Oh, I like that.” Harris picks up a green marker and writes the same two words on a pink sheet of paper. The letters are a little too big for the paper’s limited space, and he ends up squishing the “e” in “mine” very close to the edge. “How do you spell ‘mommy’?”

Eddie’s throat goes bone-dry. “You wanna make a card for your mom?” Harris has never wanted to make anything for his mom before; never brought her up, really, but maybe that was changing now that he was in school and surrounded by children with present mothers.

But Harris shakes his head. “No, it’s for Ms. Sweetheart. I wanna write ‘Be Mine Mommy.’”

It takes Eddie a second to realize that Harris means “be my mommy,” and he massages the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Um, Har, you can’t just ask her to be your mom.”

“Why not?”

He doesn’t want to tell Harris that wants to make sure you’ll stick around, nor does he want to make a promise neither one of you can keep. “Because you…you just can’t, okay?” It comes out harshly, and he sputters to fix his tone when he sees Harris’s lower lip quiver.

“But it’s not fair! You didn’t have a daddy, so you got Grampa Wayne as your daddy. I don’t have a mommy, so I want Ms. Sweetheart as my mommy!”

Eddie flash backs to their zoo trip, when Harris had innocently asked him if Wayne had taken him out on father-son days. There’s no child-friendly way to articulate that Wayne had initially been legally obligated to act as his guardian. “I know, bud. I know you do–”

“Then why can’t I ask her?” His expression shifts from anger to confusion, brows pinching together.

Because she could say no, Eddie thinks. Because the responsibility of being a mommy was too much for your biological mother to handle; why would Ms. Sweetheart take it on? What if she doesn’t have a problem being your mommy, but she finds issue with the idea of being connected to me?

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Look, Har. I know you want her to be your mommy. And between you and me, I’d love for her to be your mommy, too.”

“But–”

“But, grown up feelings are weird sometimes,” he presses on, borrowing your verbiage from Thanksgiving, “and feelings like love take time. But I’m gonna make you a promise right now.” He sticks out his pinky finger. “I promise that if me and Ms. Sweetheart fall in love, I’ll tell you, and I’ll let you ask her to be your mommy. Is that a deal?”

Harris looks dubious, but ultimately hooks his pinky around his dad’s. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief that the crisis has been averted for now.

“Before we can ask her to be your mommy,” Eddie continues, “I need to figure out the perfect Valentine’s Day date to impress her. Wanna help?”

Harris purses his lips in concentration, resting his chin in his hand. “How about McDonald’s? They have a ball pit!”

Eddie has to tuck his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “A definite contender,” he finally manages. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Friday night. Valentine’s Day. 

You had been unsure whether Eddie wanted to do anything for the holiday; your relationship was still so fresh, and you didn’t want him to feel pressured. When he crept into your classroom Monday morning with a coffee and a heart-shaped note—far more conspicuous than he’d intended to be—you couldn’t hide the excitement on your face. 

The card reads Be Mine and currently resides under a magnet on your fridge, finding a home among the plethora of drawings from Harris. It’s got some creases in it that Eddie had explained were the result of Harris shoving it into his backpack that morning. You thought it was perfect as is. 

“Are you free on Friday? For Valentine’s Day?” he’d asked, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. When you answered in the affirmative, he visibly relaxed. “Great. I’m taking you out.” His smile lights up his face. “Wear something that you don’t mind getting messy, and I’ll pick you up at 6.”

You’d wanted to try and pry more information from him, but Carol Perkins and her son Frankie walked in just then, and you’d put away the heart as quickly as you could as Eddie scrambles from the classroom. 

You stand in your bedroom now in your Levis 501s and a fuzzy red sweater, taking one last look at your makeup in the mirror reflection. You scrape your fingernail along the bottom of your lip to wipe off any excess gloss. Underneath your outfit is a special surprise, wishful thinking if the night goes well.

At 5:55, you sling your pocketbook over your shoulder and make your way down to the lobby. You spot Eddie the moment you step out from the elevator. He’s pacing, hands shoved in his dark wash denim pockets and lower lip pinched between his teeth.

Your voice draws him from his thoughts. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him so your stomachs touch. “You look really, really handsome.”

“You’re…you’re beautiful.” He’s almost breathless as he says it, eyes roaming down your body and taking in the view. The way your sweater drapes the slope of your breasts has his heart leaping into his throat. He kisses you slowly before proclaiming, “My beautiful Valentine.”

You reach into your purse and pull out a tiny red gift bag, letting it sway and dangle from your fingertips. “I got you a little something.”

The tissue paper crinkles as Eddie rifles through it to pull out a silver lighter, much heavier in his palm than the usual plastic Bic he uses. “Sweetheart, this is…” He takes a closer look and reads aloud the engraved words etched on the front. “Fill my heart with song…”

“It’s from Fly Me to the Moon. Because of Thanksgiving, when you played the record, and Grandma…” you trail off, not wanting to get choked up, “and because you’re a rockstar. My rockstar.” You kiss his lips again, feeling his palm softly cup your cheek.

“I have something for you, too. Um, I didn’t get to wrap it, but I hope you like it.” He unzips his jacket, exposing the gray t-shirt clinging to his pecs. He digs into the inner pocket and clutches a cassette tape, handwritten label stating,“Ms. Sweetheart’s Mix.”

“‘S nothin’ crazy, just some songs that remind me of you.” There’s an array of genres and artists on there. Guns ‘N Roses, of course, as well as Frank Sinatra. There’s Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me, Un-Break My Heart by Toni Braxton, and a plethora of songs with ‘sweetheart’ in the title: Bob Dylan’s Sweetheart Like You, Bing Crosby’s Let Me Call You Sweetheart, The Spaniels’ Goodnight Sweetheart Goodnight. 

Tears prickle along your lash line, and you blink them away before you smudge your mascara. “Thank you, Eddie. I love it.” You hold the gift in two hands, giving it a small shake to emphasize your excitement.

A small pang in his chest has Eddie realizing that he wishes you’d ended that statement with you instead of it, but he tries to shove the thought down by kissing you, tongue parting your lips, hand traveling up your side. His hands aren’t even touching skin, only your sweater, yet it’s so electrifying that you feel your thighs clench in wanting.

“C’mon,” you urge him gently, “let’s go on this date before we end up making out in the lobby all night.”

Eddie cocks his head. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Eddie…” Truthfully, you’re thinking the same thing, but your desire for a romantic Valentine’s Day date with him propels you towards the door. You take his hand so he dutifully follows.

“Fine,” he relents with an exaggerated sigh, smile showing off the soft dimples in his cheeks. “But only because you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger, y’know that?”

“Oh, I know.”

Twenty minutes later, Eddie’s car pulls up to The Novice Chef. You’ve never been–taking care of Grandma didn’t allot you much time for hobbies–but Jess has told you about their incredible cooking classes. She and Robin went to one right before Thanksgiving and insisted that they’d perfected the art of turkey basting.

“Figured we could learn how to make pizza since we’re basically funding the local Surfer Boy,” Eddie grins, turning the key in the ignition. The car stills and the two of you unbuckle your seatbelts, pushing open the car doors. “Just, uh, no olives on my half.”

You find an unoccupied cooking station with two aprons on it, the venue’s cursive logo displayed on the front in an eager advertisement. You slip one over your head and Eddie does the same, twirling his finger in a turn around motion. You feel the brush of his fingers on the small of your back as he ties the strings in a bow. After returning the favor for him, you squeeze his waist, giggling when he yelps in surprise.

“What was that for?”

“I dunno; you’re just really squeezable.”

Eddie just shakes his head, already missing your touch after that brief moment. He slides a rubber band down his wrist and ties his hair in a bun at the nape of his neck before slipping his rings off of his fingers. He flexes his hands, almost taken aback by their nakedness, and you suppress a heaving sigh when you catch sight of the protruding veins, dark purple snakes that disappear amongst soft arm hair.

“All right everyone, let’s get started.” The unfamiliar voice brings your attention to the front of the room, where the instructor is standing behind his own station. “My name’s Argyle, and I’ll be your tour guide on our journey through Flavortown.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “First thing we’re gonna do is knead the dough.” He gives a demonstration and then invites the class to try on their own.

“Damn, that dude has some badass hair,” Eddie muses, noting the man’s long raven locks that are pulled back into a waist-length ponytail. He nods approvingly and flips the silver bowl of dough onto the table. A small puff of flour rises as it hits the surface with a thwack, and you’re very glad you’d heeded his warning not to wear something new.

Eddie presses the heel of his palm into the dough, kneading it with precision. Flatten, stretch, flatten, stretch, until he’s satisfied with the consistency. He shapes it into a thin circle, fingertips digging into the edges to form the crust. The movements are hypnotizing, and it’s not until he clears his throat that you bashfully realize you’ve been staring.

“Y’good, Sweetheart?” A sly, knowing grin stretches from one cheek to the other; now you’re certain that he’s caught you.

“Y-Yeah.”

The next step is to spread the sauce onto the dough, Argyle explains, and Eddie places the crust onto the pan and steps aside so you can take over. You dip the ladle into the pot, filling it to the brim. Bits of dried basil and oregano swim in a red tomato sea as you use the ladle’s base to evenly distribute it across the crust. 

“Y’got a little somethin’ on your face.” Eddie whispers in your ear, making you stop mid-swirl. 

“Huh? Where?” You use the back of your free hand to wipe at your cheeks and chin for any sauce that may have splattered, but a close inspection shows nothing. 

Eddie leans over you, his chest flush against your back. You fight the urge to press the curve of your ass to the seam of his jeans, wiping a sweat-slick palm on your apron. “Right…” he swipes his finger down the ladle’s curved side, catching some sauce and dotting it on the tip of your nose, “here.”

“Eddie!”

“Don’t worry; I’ve got it.” He leans over and licks the sauce off, a quick lap of his tongue on your skin. The unexpected sensation makes you giggle louder than you’d intended. You clap a hand over your mouth, surely smudging the gloss, but you’ve already drawn the instructor’s unwanted attention.

“Lovebirds, are we here to flirt or to make pizza?” Argyle punctuates his rhetorical question with an exasperated sigh. You duck your head in shame and Eddie just coughs to stifle his own mischievous laughter.

“All right, now for the cheese,” Argyle continues, dipping a hand into a glass bowl and retrieving the ingredient. “Some people think that ya just pile it on; the more cheese, the better, but there’s an art to–hey, not cool, man!” He’s looking right at Eddie, and you glance over to see your date drop a handful of shredded mozzarella into his open mouth.

“Sorry,” he mumbles through a mouthful of cheese, but you’re willing to bet that his apology is anything but sincere.

Argyle rolls his eyes, not even attempting to hide his irritation. “You got one more strike, and then you’re out.” He points one finger at Eddie and then jerks his thumb backwards to emphasize his point.

“Yes, sir,” Eddie salutes, and you elbow him in the ribs.

Once the cheese has been sprinkled across the sauce–whatever remains after Eddie’s impromptu snack, anyway–you reach for the mushrooms. Eddie’s sharp gasp makes you freeze up before you can grasp any.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, placing his flour-coated hands on his hips.

You flick your gaze from the bowl of mushrooms to his impatient face. “Um, putting toppings on the pizza?”

“Not that one, you’re not,” he argues with a disapproving shake of his head. “Vegetables don’t belong on pizza.” He picks up the bowl of pepperoni and starts layering the slices on top, either unaware or indifferent to the fact that some of them stick together in a double layer of cured meat. “This is more like it.”

You nudge him, triumphantly layering mushrooms around where he’s placed the pepperoni slices. “It’s called compromise, Eddie. It’s how relationships work.”

His jaw drops and he places his hand over his heart like a southern belle who’s just been presented with extraordinary gossip. “Oh, this is a relationship?” He snickers when you give him a small shove. “I had no idea. I just thought we were two friends who make out sometimes.”

“God, I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

An hour later, stomachs filled with pizza that might rival Surfer Boy’s, you and Eddie return to your apartment. A tense stillness fills the air when he walks you to your door, daring either of you to speak your mutual desire into existence.

You’re the one to break the silence. “I had an amazing time tonight, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” he asks almost incredulously, as though he doubts the truthfulness behind your words. He pushes the insecurity aside with a joke. “Even though I almost got us kicked out?”

The memory brings a smile to your face, though you would imagine that the annoyed instructor would not share the same sentiment. “I still need to get you back for that.” You lick his nose and giggle, knocking his hand away when he lifts it to his face. “Don’t wipe it off!”

“And what if I do?” Eddie takes a step closer, resting one hand on the small of your back and putting the other on your cheek. He kisses you and you lean into it, pressing your body against his. His tongue parts your lips, and you hook a finger into his belt loop as you melt into each other.

“Do you wanna come in? Or do you have to get back home to Harris?” You’ve pulled the trigger. There’s no turning back now, and though you’re certainly in a healthier place than the last time you’d made this suggestion, the fear of a similar reaction has your heart in your chest.

He shakes his head, nose rubbing against yours. “Wayne’s staying with him tonight.” He omits the fact that his uncle was the one who’d offered to babysit overnight, a not-so-subtle hint at his expectations of Eddie’s evening plans.

“All night?”

“All,” he kisses you again, “night.”

You fumble with your keys and unlock the door, Eddie wrapping his arms around your waist from the back as though he never wants to let go. As soon as you get it open, its grimacing creak mere background noise to the pounding in your ears, you’re kicking off your shoes and pulling Eddie into the bedroom.

Your hands on his shoulders pin him against the door, only moving them to the hem of his shirt to begin tugging it over his head. It proves to be a difficult task as you try keeping your lips on his neck, but he wraps his fingers around your wrists and stops you.

“Been dreamin’ about worshiping this body…you,” he clarifies, pupils blown so wide that they overtake his chocolate irises. “Please,” he adds, a slight break in his voice. His begging starkly contrasts the bravado that dominated his personality the night you’d met. There was no patience or tenderness, just teeth clashing and hands searching for the fastest and easiest way to bring pleasure.

You nod. “I have a surprise for you first.” You take off your sweater, drawing it slowly up your torso to build up the anticipation, and toss it to the side.

Eddie goes slack jawed at the sheer mesh bra that leaves nothing to the imagination, just as you’d expected him to. He quickly snaps his mouth shut and swallows, a last-ditch attempt to salvage his machismo before he fully loses his mind.

“It’s a matching set, if you wanna see.” 

“Uh-huh.” Eddie walks over, pressing kisses to your collarbones that leave your knees weak. His thumbs graze your breasts, slipping the bra straps down and unhooking the clasp. It falls to the ground and he stoops a bit, bringing his mouth to one hardening nipple and sucking it before moving onto the other. “Perfect.” He trails kisses down your stomach, dropping to his knees as he does. “Perfect.” He lifts one hand, kissing each individual finger right on the first knuckle. “So perfect.”

He remains on his knees as his nimble fingers, still cold from the brief walk to your building, unbutton your jeans, and you shimmy out of them eagerly. His eyes widen when he sees that your panties do, in fact, match your bra: a red-tinted mesh thong that has everything on display.

“Baby,” he moans, grabbing one ass cheek in each of his big hands and pressing soft kisses to your clothed pussy. “Baby…f’me?”

“All for you, Eddie.” Your breath hitches when you feel his lips graze your most sensitive spot. He’s not intentionally teasing you, but logic has no place in your current state.

He kisses down your thighs. “Lay down f’me, yeah?” You do as he asks, laying your head down on the pillow as your body sinks into the mattress. Eddie climbs on top of you, slotting one knee between your slightly open legs. He brings his lips to your ear, gently biting your earlobe and singing in a low murmur, “got it bad, got it bad, got it bad…”

You giggle, the breath from his whisper tickling the shell of your ear, and you tilt your head slightly so you can see his face. “Can I undress you now?” He nods, and you wrestle with his shirt to expose the pale expanse of skin. There’s a dusting of curls across his chest, thicker in the middle and thinner around his nipples. You plant a kiss on his left bicep and drag your palm down his tummy, practically concave during his teenage years but now has a slight softness to it, stopping when you reach the bulge in his pants. He groans at your touch, and you feel his cock twitch slightly. Eager to alleviate his pent-up energy, you undo the button and tug down his zipper, cupping his erection through his navy blue boxers.

“Not yet,” Eddie mumbles, “not done showing you how much I l–care about you. How much you mean to me.” With a burning in his cheeks from what he’d nearly admitted, he drags your thong, a wet patch formed on it, down your thighs and past your calves until it drops to the ground unceremoniously. He balances your legs on top of his shoulders and pulls himself in closer, nudging your clit with his nose as he licks a stripe up your folds. His lips wrap around your sensitive bud, brushing it with his tongue. Soft brown eyes peer up at you, desperately seeking your approval.

“F-Feels good,” you manage, words caught in your throat as pleasure seeps into your body. “Please keep going.”

Eddie needs no further convincing, reveling in your growing wetness against his face while slipping his middle finger into your pussy. You whimper at the feeling of him inside you, bracing yourself for a comment about how needy you are, but he just continues to draw you closer to your orgasm. His finger glides in and out, in and out, rhythmic but not too slow. The bed shifts ever-so-slightly, and you realize he’s rutting his hips against the mattress, desperate for relief.

Your hand finds purchase in the curls adorning his scalp, digging your fingers into them and giving a small tug. Eddie lets a second finger into your tight hole, curling them upwards and hitting your sweet spot over and over.

“Right there, th-that’s it, please, Eddie,” you beg, your moans barely audible over the sounds of him fervently fingering you and lapping at your cunt. “Fuck, Eddie, ‘m gonna cum!”

Eddie just lets out an “mmm,” in acknowledgment, the vibrations shooting through your core and bringing you right to the edge. Your release overtakes you and your thighs instinctively squeeze against either side of his head. He makes a mental note to ask you not to do that because he absolutely needs to hear every noise you make while you cum.

“Y’good?” he asks as you drift down from the high, still perched between your legs. He wipes his slick-glistened lips with the back of his hand before licking the taste of you from his fingers. “I can keep going, trust me.”

“Need you closer.” You try to sit up, but your legs fail you, and you flop back onto the bed. “I have condoms in the top drawer–”

“Brought my own,” he grins, reaching into his back pocket–now positioned just under his ass from the way he’d dry humped the bed–and pulls out three connected foil packages. “Ribbed, for her pleasure.”

“Such a gentleman,” you tease, but it’s the truth. The way he took care of you, made sure you were okay after, offered to continue eating you out despite the raging hard-on he’s sporting…his chivalry isn't lost on you. You watch as he strips down until his body is rid of any clothing, tearing one wrapper and rolling the rubber down his cock, and you bite your lip in anticipation of its delicious stretch. 

There’s an unspoken disappointment at the addition of the barrier, regardless of its practicality. You want to be as close as you possibly can without anything in the way, but neither of you are in any rush to give Harris a sibling.

Imagine it, though, Eddie can’t stop himself from thinking. Imagine the intimacy of filling her up every night until she’s carrying my baby. Taking any little bit that drips out and stuffing it back inside to make sure it takes. Imagine kissing her growing bump every morning to greet her and our unborn child.

He puts one thigh on either side of yours, looking into your eyes as he asks, “Yes?”

“Yes.”

Eddie lines up with your entrance, pushing in gently and keeping his gaze trained on the way you take him in. Inch by inch, he disappears into your wanting hole until he bottoms out. He holds your hips while he finds a steady pace, and as soon as you arch your back, he’s slipping his hands around your waist just above the curve of your ass. “I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispers. “You make me so fucking happy.”

Your hands grasp at his shoulder blades and you kiss him, tongues intertwining while you moan into each other’s mouths. “I’m always yours, if that’s what you want,” you promise, wrapping your legs around his.

“Of course, that’s what I want. Most beautiful girl in the world, asking me if I want her to be mine.” He grins cheekily, burying his head in the crook of your neck and sucking on it lightly before asking, “do you want me to be yours?”

“Yeah,” you exhale as his cock presses against your walls. “Yeah, I want you to be mine.” You smile, moving your hands to the nape of his neck and deepening the kiss. You want to be the only one he touches like this, the one who goes to bed next to him every night and wakes up next to him every morning. The one who celebrates his wins with him and brings comfort during the losses. You want everything that comes with belonging to each other.

Eddie thrusts into you, pulling wanton moans from your lips. “Say my name,” he pleads. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Eddie,” you pant, not able to fathom a single thought beyond the pleasure you’re feeling and who’s bringing it to you. “Eddie, ‘m so close. You feel too…too good.” Good is an understatement; perhaps a more accurate adjective would be euphoric, but finding a more elaborate term is low on your priority list.

Eddie’s peak is not far behind, with the feeling of your warmth around him bringing him closer every second. “Always wanna make y’feel good, baby,” he says. His face hovers just above yours, a bead of sweat sliding down the bridge of his nose onto the tip of yours. “I gotta–”

“Cum for me, Eddie,” you tell him, and with your permission, he pistons his hips a final time and spills into the condom. Your walls contract around his length as you finish with him.

Eddie stays inside you as the two of you catch your breath, smiling and stealing kisses from each other. He’s never felt anything like this before; for him, the thrill of sex is typically fueled purely by the primal instinct to get laid, but he’s in no rush to let you go. His cock begins to soften and he slowly pulls out, chuckling when you whine at the loss of fullness.

“Gotta toss this,” he says, removing the condom with a soft hiss and tying a knot. “Then I’m gonna hold you, mmkay?” Part of him is waiting for the post-sex adrenaline to wear off and the inevitable crash down when he realizes he’s mistaken lust for passion, urgency for belonging, but that doesn’t happen. As much as he’d love to be inside you again, hearing and feeling your satisfaction as you unravel for him, what he wants more than anything is to lay next to you and keep you safe. Safe from what, exactly, he’s not sure, but something compels him to protect you.

He takes you in his arms, the two of you a tangled, sweaty mess of naked limbs. Perspiration mats his sparse chest hair to his skin, but you press your cheek to it anyway and breathe in his scent. Your body grows heavier as sleep overtakes you, but Eddie’s low voice pulls you back for just a second.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

I love you. The words want to flow freely but come to a screeching halt on the tip of his tongue. It’s only your second date, and his mind is clouded with the sappiness of Valentine’s Day and oxytocin; what if he just thinks he loves you? Or what if he truly does, but you don’t feel the same way? Would you tell him, or would you pretend to reciprocate to spare him the hurt? Which is worse?

I love you. But it’s too soon to feel that, to know it for certain. And if he rushes things, he’ll get Harris’s hopes up–get his own hopes up–only to be met with heartbreak and disappointment.

I love you. And what would that admission accomplish, anyway? Where would you go from there? What would it change?

“Get some rest,” is what he settles on, biting the inside of his lower lip in shame. He kisses your forehead and watches you drift off, grateful when the exhaustion of the evening hits him and he follows suit.

I love you, is his last thought before he falls asleep, but he convinces himself that he’s not ready to speak it into existence. 

--

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[leaawrites]

Valentine's day kisses

Percy Jackson x Daughter of Apollo reader

Warnings: fluff, kisses, valentine's day mentioned,

Summary: Percy brings flowers in hope of getting a Valentine

For everyone who needs a bit of love today! I love and appreciate you all so dearly <3

Masterlist

The first thing she woke up to was a fresh Bouquet of flowers beside her bed. Y/n looked around the room, trying to figure out who the mysterious sender was. No one looked at her in a way that told her they were it, they all only looked at her in expectation. None of her brother’s or sisters knew who had smuggled the flowers in here. Or more importantly, who was crazy enough to sneak into the Apollo cabin before dawn to surprise someone.

Apollo kids were always the first to wake, but not today. Today it was someone who wasn’t too afraid of potentially getting caught, but too bashful to admit that they were it.

“Looks like you’ve got a Valentine,” Laura chirped in from across the other side of the cabin, making the others laugh.

Y/n looked down, flowers in her hand, cheeks growing red. Whoever it was, she wanted to know who they were.

“Are you going to find out who it was?” It felt like Laura could read her mind. That wasn’t the first time it happened. She already did it when Y/n stared into the distance at one of their traditional campfires.

“He’s cute, I know. But stop thinking about him,” she told her back then.

“Who are you talking about?” Y/n asked since she wasn’t looking at anyone in particular.

“The new kid. Peter?” Laura guessed his name wrong.

“Percy,” Y/n corrected her.

She guessed wrong on purpose.

Y/n looked at her best friend, she knew her all too well.

“Of course, I will,” she answered confidently. Even though she had no idea where to start. “But where?”

“What is with outside the cabin?” Another camper said as he walked through the door.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows at 1. How he knew about what they were talking about and 2. What he meant by it. The girl pushed her blanket away from her body, freeing her legs from the heat. The cold morning air hit her bare skin the moment she stepped outside the cabin. Everyone was watching her as she walked outside. She had no idea who or what would be outside, until she saw Percy Jackson leaning against the wall of Cabin 7.

“Percy Jackson,” she mused. “What brought you out here this early?”

“So, you like them?” He asked, partly answering her question, when only vague.

“You slipped the flowers beside my bed?” Y/n asked holding his gaze. She was always someone who would look the person she was talking to in the eyes out of respect.

“Happy Valentine’s day.” He smiled at her like a innocent boy.

Y/n laughed at him and his unusual shyness. He acted all relaxed when he was still leaning against the wall, but now that he’s face to face with the girl he secretly admired, the words left his mouth. There was no other sound coming from his vocal chords but a small laugh when he heard hers.

“Thank you,” she said, kissing his cheek in gratefulness. “What about, I get dressed and then we could go down to the lake or so?” She asked, trying to stop the tension between them.

“Yes,” he answered, smiling at her still. “Or you could teach me how to use bow and arrow?”

“I’m not sure if that will end well,” she said, amused at the memory of his first try with the gear.

“I mean, I’m a fast learner,” he shrugged, playing the embarrassing off with a cool facade.

“Sure you are,” Y/n said, before disappearing again into her cabin to get dressed for the day ahead.

[daisyblog]

Love Day

Our Story Masterlist Summary: Harry and YN celebrate their first Valentine’s Day as a married couple.

“Happy Valentine’s Day baby!” Harry whispered to YN, whose eyes were still closed as they laid in bed. With his hand resting on her now rounded tummy, Harry placed a small peck to her exposed skin, where his white t shirt at risen up her bump. “And happy Valentine’s Day to my other favourite girl!”. 

YN’s lips turned up slightly when she felt his lips kissing her baby bump, where their little girl was growing nicely. “Happy Valentine’s Day Mr Styles!”. YN tugged at his arm so he was now hovering above her, her hands sitting on his bare shoulders.

“G’morning Mrs Styles!”. Harry smiled into the kiss, their lips moving slowly against the other. Their hands gently exploring the others body. “God I love calling you my wife.”. 

Wednesday had started with a lazy morning for the newly wed couple, Harry had made them both breakfast in bed, which later resulted with their clothes being thrown on the floor and the pair tangled in between the sheets. 

Before they got out of bed, Harry pulled a white envelope from behind his back. “I know we said we weren’t going to do presents…but I couldn’t resist this one and it’s kind of for both of us”. 

“Harry!” YN whined and her now plump lips from a busy morning pouted. “We agreed”. She carefully opened the envelope and inside was an appointment card for a private baby scan dated for that day. “Is this a joke?”. 

“No…no joke baby”. Harry reassured her, as he smiled brightly, his white teeth on full display. “We’re going to see our baby!” YN pulled him closer and placed her lips on his whilst she mumbled ‘thank you’ over and over again. 

After showering and getting ready for the day, they headed out for the afternoon for a walk around London. They had stopped off at a small coffee shop for a drink and some donuts. They were sat at the back of the cosy vintage shop and Harry couldn’t help but smile as YN took a bite of her donut. 

“Whot?” YN eyed Harry suspiciously, wondering why he was grinning at her all of a sudden. She dabbed the napkin against her mouth quickly. “Do I have something on me face?”.

“No…I was just thinking about our first Valentine’s Day and now we’re married with our baby girl on the way”. Harry’s hand naturally went to YN’s tummy, where he could feel some movement of their daughter. 

“I guess our wishes did come true!”. 

---

12th of February 2012

As One Direction were on tour in Glasgow on Valentine’s Day, Harry had planned for YN to stay at the flat after their London show to celebrate early. He wanted to wine and dine her, but with YN still being seventeen it just wasn’t possible. So to Harry’s benefit, Louis was travelling to Scotland earlier than the rest of the boys which meant he had the flat to himself. 

Whilst YN was in the bath, and pampering herself ahead of the relaxing night they had planned, Harry was getting the living room ready with blankets, pillows, duvets, snacks and everything else they needed. He had just finished lighting some candles, that created a soft glow in the room, when YN entered. 

YN was cuddled on Harry’s lap, the film playing in the background as they both spoke, not really paying attention to the film. YN’s fingers played with the strings on Harry’s hoodie. “Do you ever think about the future?”.

“Yeh quite a bit actually” he confessed, as he moved his hand to YN’s exposed thigh. “Why? Do you?”.

She only nodded as her fingers continued to twist the cotton. “What do you want yours to look like?”. 

Harry scratched the back of his neck, whilst he thought. “I want to be happy…I’d like to have a wife and children…uh yeah keep making music and touring”. He could see YN try to hide her smile. He wanted to add that he’d like that life with her, but only being a few months into their relationship he was worried it may come across too much. “What about you?”. 

“Well I’m just going to be really forward…I want to be your wife and have a family with you”. YN said matter of fact. Harry could feel the pink appear on his cheeks as he tried to act cool about the conversation. 

---

Entering the small private clinic, Harry and YN were greeted with a warm welcome from the lady behind the reception desk. “Oh waw…you are glowing!”. She complimented YN as she stood in front of her. 

“Aww thank you…I think being pregnant is my new favourite thing!”. YN smiled and let out a chuckle at Harry’s raised eyebrows. 

The receptionist took some details from YN before they were both told to sit in the waiting room. They didn’t have to wait long until a young female called. 

“Mrs Styles?”. Her voice was soft and a warm smile filled her face. They followed her into a smaller room which had a bed and a few chairs by the side of it. “Come on in…I’m Jessica and this is Paula”. She pointed towards the older woman who sat on a chair near a desk. 

“Ahh so you’re the famous Harry that Jess is always talking about!” Paula revealed, a teasing tone to her voice, showing the type of relationship the two colleagues had. 

“Paula!”. The younger of the two gave her a warning look. But Harry and YN only laughed and reassured her that it was okay. “I am a fan…but I am professional and I wouldn’t reveal any of your details”. 

“You’re alright babe…it’s nothing I wouldn’t reveal myself”. YN’s laid back tone was enough to reassure her. 

YN laid down on the bed, Harry taking a seat next to the bed. They had been to a few scans already so it was like second nature to them both now. As Jessica got the probe ready, YN pulled up her jumper and lowered her leggings down that exposed her bump. 

Within a few minutes, they could see their baby girl moving her arms and legs around on the smaller screen. “Oh you have a very active little one”. 

“She’s following her Daddy!”. YN teased Harry. 

“You know you’re having a little girl…how sweet!”. Paula smiled over to the couple, totally in her element at the scene in front of her. 

“YN’s always said I’m a girl Dad…whatever that means”. Harry revealed, looking between the screen in awe at how much their daughter had grown. 

Jessica smiled down at YN. “She’s growing beautifully in there…she’s weighing about two pounds always so whatever you’re doing Mama, keep doing it.”. 

YN and Harry walked out of the clinic with bright smiles, new photos of their little girl, along with a few extra gifts from the two women, a teddy that played their daughters heartbeat and a free appointment for another scan. 

“The best Valentine’s Day yet…don’t you think”. YN spoke as they spoke drove home. 

“And next year will be even better!”. Harry looked down at YN’s bump. 

ynstyles

liked by annetwist, lottietomlinson, and 2,675,986 others

ynstyles Happy Valentine’s Day to my Husband and Baby Daddy❤️ View all 12,877 comments

harrystyles Happy Valentine’s Day Mrs Styles! X ⌞harryfan4 HARRY!! ⌞ 1dfan6 MRS STYLES!! 🥹🥹🥹 ⌞ harryfan9 hi Harry!!!

niallhoran Aww my three favourite Styles’😂See you soon xx ⌞ ynstyles Baby Styles is excited for her Uncle Niall’s tour 🫶🏼

gemmastyles Too cute 🥹

annetwist Love you three very much 🤍🤍🤍

lottietomlinson Look beautiful sis😘 ⌞ ynstyles It runs in the genes babes ❤️

louist91 Watch your hands Harold!!😂 ⌞ynstyles A bit late for that Lou, not sure if you’ve noticed but I’m already pregnant xx ⌞harryfan3 these two never fail to make me laugh😂😂😂 ⌞louisfan7 the best siblings❤️

louteasdale How are you married? I swear we were just on tour😉

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[ada7201]

what do the blue lock boys do for you on valentine’s day?（╹◡╹）♡

Shidou, Rin, Sae, Kaiser x reader (seperate)

→ part 1 ⭢ part 2 ⭢ part 3 on the way!

gn! reader, google translated German for Kaiser’s part

don’t forget to suggest me things if you have any ideas! happy early valentine’s day (๑>◡<๑)

Shidou Ryusei

he gets you a TON of sweets (which he eats half of)

Sae once told him that love letters were a common thing for valentine’s day, so he tried to make you one.

it was a piece of paper, which was poorly folded and drowned pink glitter glue. he used scented gel pens to write a few “i love you’s” and smiley faces… it’s the thought that counts?

wrapped a ribbon around his neck and called himself your valentine’s gift.

decided it would be fun to wear your lipstick and kiss your cheeks - staining your skin with kiss marks

for lunch, he brought you to the park where you both played around, and afterwards sat down somewhere on the playground and munched on sweets (of your choice!)

the two of you watched those romance dramas together in the evening and fell asleep on an episode you weren’t paying attention to

“come on sweets, it’ll be fun!” Shidou whined, clinging onto your arm like a monkey, smushing his cheek against your shoulder as he pouted. why wouldn’t you let him do your makeup? “im great at makeup! you know that! i’ll do a special valentine’s day theme〜”

“Shidou- no!” you groaned, attempting to pry the taller man off of your arm. “you will not do my makeup, and that’s final!”

“fine…” Shidou sighed dramatically, letting go of you and falling to the floor in a pathetic manner. “guess you just hate me… and you’d even do this on valentine’s day?”

you huffed. he could be such a pain sometimes…

“alright, you can do my-“ your voice was cut off by Shidou’s big hand on your lips, a grin on his face.

“no need to talk more, bae - let’s get started…” he’d chuckle, almost evilly, before pulling out your makeup bag from the pocket of his sweatpants.

“how did you—?” you were cut off once again by his hand, and that stupid smile on his face.

“ah-ah,” he’d wiggle his pointer finger, before poking your cheek.

“let me do my magic!”

by the end of that hour, your face was decorated with sparkly stickers and hearts drawn in pink lipstick. your eyeshadow was almost terrifying, with the way it was so bright - brighter than Shidou’s eyes.

“perfect.” he’d giggle, hand on his mouth as he tried to hold back from full on cackling in your face.

surprisingly, Shidou isn’t bad at makeup - he just wanted to be a little silly for you on valentine’s day!

he posted a photo of you and your makeup, along with cute photos of the two of you throughout the day - like one of the heart engraved onto a bench with your initials, or maybe the photo of you sleeping peacefully with a bow stuck to your forehead - totally not Shidou’s doing!

he also baked with you - but it didn’t turn out great so you both decided to order takeout instead.

takeout wasn’t the most romantic meal, but it sure best whatever you both made…

Itoshi Rin

poor baby didn’t know what to do at first.

he spent a couple weeks planning and brainstorming ideas in his free time - even considering asking Isagi for advice.

instead of turning to that lukewarm freak, he chose to go with what he thought you’d like the most.

he bought you a sweet and simple bouquet, assorted with flowers of your favorite colours and type.

he wrote you a card, and got a plus he’d toy with it too.

he placed everything next to you in the morning, since he wakes up considerably earlier than you do.

when you woke up, you were pleasantly surprised with everything. thanks Rin!

when he got back home, he made the two of you some lunch.

he didn’t want to admit it, but he had been waiting to use the cute little heart plates you had bought especially for valentine’s day.

“this bowl is so cute!” you’d smile, admiring the pretty white plate decorated with pink and red hearts. “is this the one i got you valentine’s day?”

he simply nodded, placing down his plate - and sitting on the chair opposite you.

posted a photo of the two of you holding hands, along with a pretty sunset you both witnessed on your evening walk.

he definitely wasn’t too embarrassed to include the photo he took of your plates! he just wanted to be the only ones to see them

yes, he took you out on a walk in the evening - and when he noticed you shivering, he was quick to wrap his scarf around you and drape his jacket over your shoulders - not realising he just exposed himself and the pink shirt you had gotten him.

his face turned the same colour as his shirt! cute!

“Rin, why is your face so pink? are you getting cold?” you ask him, worried gaze focused on the way his cheeks were pink. “do you want your jacket back—?”

Rin quickly cut you off with a small peck, cheeks blushing even more after the small gesture.

“i was just… blushing.” he mumbles, looking away from you as a teasing smile made its way onto your face.

“aww, you were blushing〜”

Itoshi Sae

bought you a bouquet of purple roses.

purple roses mean love at first sight. <3

he also got you a matching set of earrings, a necklace, bracelet, and an anklet.

along with jewellery, he got you a piece of fancy clothing that he saw you eyeing. (example: dress, suit, button up, tie, skirt, and more! your decision)

got you a pack of cupcakes as a desert for lunch (or any yummy food if your choice)

he spent most of the day taking photos of you and admiring how beautiful you were - even with morning hair, even if you were still in your cheesy pyjamas matching that Sae got you, even if you had your face stuffed with sweets - you were beautiful and Sae wanted to capture that moment. (this is a regular occurrence, but was feeling it a bit more today!)

either takes you to a beautiful and expensive restaurant, or hosts one at home with candles lit nicely.

this valentine’s day, he chose to eat out with you - and brought you to one of the newest and most expensive restaurants in town.

“wow, Sae! this is really nice!” you smiled, placing your fork down next to your plate before looking up at Sae, who was sat opposite you.

“you deserve 10 times more.” he’d respond simply, shrugging off your words with a slight blush on his cheeks.

he watched the way your smile grew. cute.

could it be the perfect time?

“y/n.” Sae said, almost quietly - before pushing his chair back and standing up.

his slim fingers reached into the pocket of his nice dress pants - and you couldn’t help but feel your heartbeat quicken. what was he about to do?

“i have loved you since the first day i met you.” he started, hand wrapping around a small velvet box, before pulling it out of his pocket - he wasted no time on getting down on one knee, eyes looking up at the way you stared back down at him. “do you think that… you could make me even happier, and marry me?” he asks with a small smile on his face.

im sorry, but i definitely feel like he’s the type to propose on valentine’s day!

on the drive home, you had to remind him to her his eyes on the road because he kept admiring the pretty ring on your finger!

bought you another pair of cheesy pyjamas - this time, they were pink cat onesies.

he took so many photos of you and your cute little smile!

he posted a photo of your hand with the ring, being held by his

it took him a good 15 minutes to decide what photo to choose for the ring photo

along with the ring photo, he posted a picture of the two of you in your onesies, a photo of his hand on your thigh as you were both in his car - along with some others of the two of you having fun

Sae was stood in the jewellery shop, looking down at each glimmering ring in the display case.

his cheeks blushed as he imagined each one of them on your pretty hands, how could he ever choose?!

he just could not wait to hold your hand, and look down at the ring.

“um, Sir?” the accountant could ask, waving a hand in front of Sae’s face - who was currently spacing out and fantasising about holding your hand.

oh, guess he got caught up thinking about you.

just then, his eyes caught the most beautiful ring. he could practically see the happy face you’d make when he presents it to you!

he wasted no time pointing to the ring, neutral gaze looking back at the woman.

“i want that one.” he says flatly.

no woman other than you deserves to even look at him. how dare that saleslady even talk to him?

(this wasn’t on valentine’s day, but he practically danced out of the shop when he finally bought the ring)

Micheal Kaiser

how bold of you to assume he’d get you something?

jokes!

he bought you a bouquet of blue roses (a little cliche, but you it’s his thing!)

like Sae, he bought you a lot of pretty jewellery.

got you the prettiest piece of clothing, one that would match an outfit he bought for himself.

he absolutely insisted that it was a coincidence.

for lunch, he brought you to a diner he knew you liked - but when you asked, oh you liked this place? he never knew!

made sure to show you off more than usual the whole day, saying things like “they’re the only person worthy of my love” and other egoistical love confessions, if you get what i mean

for dinner, the two of you dressed up in your matching outfits

he practically begged you to be able to do your hair. (he’ll never ever admit it though, not with his ego)

when you were both finally dressed, you went to a party that his team was hosting.

when the two of you got home, he basically fell asleep on you!

“i’m not falling asleep.” he’d huff, unconsciously nuzzling further into your stomach as her hugged your waist. he just … wanted attention.

“sure,” you’d tease, fingers threading through his hair gently. “is that why you’re cuddled up to me right now?”

“ruhig sein,” he’d huff. “or you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

ruhig sein = “be quiet” / “pipe down”

you simply giggle at his words, patting his head gently.

“i’m sorry.” you’d pout playfully, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Kaiser had always loved being babied by you.

it was somehow… comforting?

posted a mirror selfie of the two of you, and maybe, just maybe, a photo of your cute smiling face - if i felt like it!

The next morning, Kaiser woke up to his phone buzzing constantly - and you clinging onto his side. he couldn’t help but bask in the glory of being so famous. he had a pretty person next to him in bed and his post has most likely gone viral once again.

he reached over to the side table and picked his phone up, u locking it quickly to read the comments left on his newest post - which was of the two of you yesterday.

“best couple!” “they’re made for each other.” “y/n looks so pretty!” “they’re matching!?”

was very excited to have so many compliments.

he realised that he gets a lot more when he posts photos of you

[hansslut]

valentine's day with the yjs ୧ 💌 ୨

cw: pretty much just fluff !!! may have swear words included tho ??

a/n: made this for me and everyone else who's single on valentine's day too :l hope this make you all feel a lil better and ily mwah mwah, happy ( early ) valentine's day babes <3

NATALIE SCATORCCIO

- pretends she hates valentines day and everything that has to do it but deep down she adores it

- will stand awkwardly looking at the different kind of chocolates and sweets and being like "uhmmmm.....reeses are never a bad option i guess?" ALSO I FEEL LIKE she'd ask other people buying stuff for their partners what they're gonna get them cuz she's so confused 😭

- we all know she's a sucker for kisses, cuddles, holding hands, AAAANYTHING that has to do with physical touch but hates showing it so i think she'd use valentine's day as an excuse to be publicly affectionate a bit

- ok that's all i might add more later on

JACKIE TAYLOR

- she's OBSESSED with holidays and celebrations, whether it's valentine's day, christmas, anything

- waking you up at like 7am and being like "hi hi valentine hey you're my valentine it's time to wake up my valentine" while shaking you and smooching you all over

- she's never letting go of you on vday. always clinging by your side, holding your other hand while you're brushing your teeth, talking to you from outside of the door while you're on the toilet, hugging you by the waist when you're cooking

- wearing ridiculous matching outfits with her in PUBLIC. i feel like she'd have those shirts that say "their queen" AND YOU "her king/queen/monarch(☠️)" OR GETTING YOU THOSE SILLY LIL HEADBANDS THINGIES WITH THE JIGGLY HEARTS..

- knows exactly what to buy you and she's already gotten everything prepared😭 it's adorable cause she'll give you a gift of something you forgot you wanted and you're just sitting there standing like :O

SHAUNA SHIPMAN

- ditches you for jackie. end.

- JK. i think she'd just treat it like a regular day honestly

- gets you a chocolate and calls it a day but not in a bad way??? LIKE she already loves you and does a lot of things to show it so she doesn't really think valentine's day is necessary

LOTTIE MATTHEWS

- she's suuuuuuuuch a softie for showing you off and getting to shower you with gifts :(

- she wouldn't wanna go out too much, she'd probably have everything set out already. your gifts hiding in the closet, your sweets hidden in the fridge, everything prepared and on point

- i feel like since some of the yjs were mean to her and telling her to just stop talking and stuff, she'd be kinda closed off at the start and she'd be scared to show you how much she loves and adores you, but then when she sees that you accept and give her the same love back and even more she's SOOOO hyper

- writes you cheesy letters that you keep in your drawer forever and probably even little drawings of your favourite things or you and her 😭

VAN PALMER

- THE SILLY!!!!!MAI SILLY!!!DE SILLY!!!:DD

- arcade dates w them on valentine's day or going like on an amusement park☝️☝️

- they'd go print out some silly t-shirts for y'all... like "i love my van" with a picture of a van LMAOO and they'd make you wear it all the time

- if you want to do smth on that day, you BET you will. they'll never let you down i SWEAR they're the sweetest pookiest babiest to ever exist :(((((((((

TAISSA TURNER

- hates valentine's day more than anything... "what the fuck im NOT wearing that" when you ask her to match outfits with you but does it anyway

- she's miserable doing anything on valentine's day cause she thinks it's cringe but warms up to it when she sees how happy it makes you

- she's the girl that said "happy wife happy life" btw so she'll do anything u ask her to no matter how much she despises it which is.. a lot probably

- gets you a chocolate and takes 2 hours to decide if she should write you a corny letter with it and she scribbles down some ideas but then just puts :)

LAURA LEE

- as a christian we shouldn't be celebrating vday but im not really that religious so????

- but laura lee is so anyways she would be all like "im not going to sin, i don't want to disappoint my lord" 😭😭😭

- she'd still go on a date w you, well more like flower picking and stuff and she'd probably pull out the the bible and start reading to you but you love her too much to say no so you just listen

- ok yeah that's it end of post mwah mwah

[stevesbipanic]

@steddielovemonth Day 29: Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy @forgottenkanji

Eddie knew a lot of things about Steve. He knew he loved peonies more than roses and listened to folk music when he cooked. He knew he loved sledding in the winter and lake days in the summer. He knew every step of his hair care routine and loved head scratches the most. Above all he knew Steve loved Valentine's Day.

He remembered how Steve would always make sure every girl got at least one rose delivered to them in home room and loved decorating his locker. Always wrote his classmates cards to fill their love boxes and made sure the kids got plenty of chocolate. Watched some special girl get taken on a perfect date each year, wishing for a world it could be him.

He remembers there being no dates last year, Steve looking as forlorn as him. He would find out a couple months later it's because the golden boy had been harbouring an equally massive crush and they promptly got together.

Now this year he vowed to go all out for his sweet boyfriend and give him the Valentine's Day he deserved.

"Eddie you hate Valentine's Day."

"You said it was capitalist bullshit."

"You literally burnt a bouquet once."

Eddie glared at the other Hellfire boys, he'd asked them to the diner to help him plan the best day ever not be attacked.

"That was the old Eddie, a sad gay little teenager, adult Eddie has the prettiest boy in the world to please."

Jeff was looking at him fondly while Grant rolled his eyes and Gareth gagged.

"EW don't call my cousin pretty!"

"We literally perform a song where I do just that."

"GOLDEN GODDESS IS ABOUT STEVE!"

"Hush, Garebear, we have plans to make."

The plan began simple, Robin was to take Steve out for breakfast, well, Steve take her out after she begs. Convincing Robin of the plan was easy since she loves Steve and free food as much as Eddie.

Then, while the boys set up the final surprise, Eddie would meet up with Steve at the arcade with the kids.

"Can't wait til we're home and alone, Eds, nice to have someone on Valentine's Day again."

"Just you wait, sweetheart."

Max would then radio Steve asking him to drive her to the movies for her date (although she was refusing to call it that again) with Lucas. She was also easy to convince, liking free rides.

Eddie would quickly change and rush to Steve's apartment to make dinner, he'd told Max to delay getting ready til Steve got there to stall him. He figured he'd have just enough time before-

Eddie was only halfway through making dinner before he heard the keys in the lock. No, Steve was home early, the candles weren't even lit yet!

"Eddie?"

He felt caught and dejected, all his plans falling through his fingers.

Steve glanced around the apartment, rose petals and unlit candles and the dining table set for two with a bouquet of peonies in a vase. Steve's favourite, spaghetti bubbling away behind Eddie.

"Eds, did you do all this for me?"

There's a certain awe in his voice as he asks. Eddie turns, turning down the heat on the pot and steps towards Steve. He takes his boy's hands gazing at him softly, "Of course, sweetheart, you love Valentine's Day. You're always so busy making it special for everyone else, and you missed last year, I wanted you to get wooed for once."

Steve's eyes are a little misty but he's smiling so Eddie knows he's not upset, "You got home early tho, baby, I haven't even lit the candles or turned on the music," Eddie explained biting his lip softly.

"I'm guessing Max was meant to keep me busy? You didn't tell Sinclair and his mom picked her up," Steve laughed.

"Shit, I knew I forgot something."

Steve kissed his cheek, "I'm going to get changed, think that'll be enough time for you?"

"Knowing you'll take forever with your hair, yeah I'll be ready, angel."

Steve flicked him playfully, "Oi, you love my hair."

Eddie yelped but smiled coyly, "Love messing it up too," he said winking.

Steve blushed and went to his bedroom to change. Eddie quickly finished the food, turned on the radio and lit the candles hoping it all set a romantic mood. Like clockwork he plated the food just as Steve returned to the room.

"Smells delicious, baby, you made my favourite!"

Eddie helped him into his chair, playing up the gentlemen's act, "Anything for you, sunshine." He poured them wine and laughed together as Eddie explained the whole plan, including Gareth's protest which Steve's giggled at. They were now cuddled on the couch, not really watching the movie, more just looking at each other occasionally trading soft kisses.

"Thank you for today, Eds, it really means a lot."

"I want to make every day special for you, Stevie."

"I wanted to ask you something, was going to ask on our anniversary but no-one has ever seen me the way you do."

"You know you can ask me anything, love."

Steve took Eddie's hand, glancing down and playing with his rings, a habit Eddie knew he did when he was nervous, "I wanted to ask if you wanted to move in with me?"

A smile quickly crept across Eddie's face, thought about getting to come home everyday to Steve and wake up every morning to him. Thought about how home had become the boy sitting across from him, wherever he went Eddie always wanted to follow.

"I'd love to move in with you, Stevie."

Neither boy would ever have to spend another day, Valentine's or not, not feeling completely and utterly loved ever again.

[badasbebi]

the cupid project ➛ 2/2

part one

✦ pairing: bada lee x fem!reader

✦ summary: you and your long-term work crush devise a plan to win a company contest. in the end, you wind up going to extreme lengths to commit to the bit

✦ genre/au: fluff, smut MDNI!!, fake dating, videographer reader, bada's extra sweet here, slight friends to lovers

✦ word count: 7k

✦ warnings: isn't proofread. top!bada. bada carries a strap and im not talking about a gun. fingering.

✦ a/n: happy (early) valentine's day!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

When the two of you arrive, the bowling alley is mostly empty, save for the JustJerk employees milling around and a couple of people hanging out in the arcade. The staff member at the counter gives you a warm greeting and directs the two of you to the lane your friends are at. 

You walk up the ramp, scanning the area. The first person you spot is Hoyeon, who is sitting down, chatting with Minho. When she notices the two of you, her lips stretch into a wide smile and she raises a hand to wave. You return the gesture, and the two of you approach her.

"Hi," you smile, plopping down onto the seat next to her. Bada sits next to you, effectively sandwiching you between the two women.

"Hey, guys," she greets, a twinkle in her eyes.

"Did we miss anything?" Bada asks.

"Just the boys getting their asses beat by the girls,” Hoyeon says, glancing at the time on her phone.

"Sounds about right," Bada chuckles.

"Hey! We're not that bad!" Minho says, mock-offended.

"Sure, Minho," Hoyeon says, smirking.

"I don't know. I'm not that great either," you admit.

"Really? Why?" Bada questions.

"I guess I'm just not competitive," you shrug.

"Well you’re gonna have to start getting competitive. I can’t let you be the one who lets the boys get a hold on us,” Bada proclaims, nudging you.

“Why not? We could have a tie, then. Wouldn’t that be nice, Minho? For the boys to not be so embarrassingly outplayed all the time?" you suggest, earning a glare from Minho.

"Oh, shut up," he mutters, causing the three of you to laugh.

"Anyway, y/n, if you’re really that bad, don’t worry about it. I’ll help you out,” Bada promises, placing a hand on your knee. You try not to react.

"Okay, cool, thank you.” You nod, trying not to react.

“No problem,” she says, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. You were going to die before tonight was over.

You glance at Hoyeon, who, upon seeing the exchange, smirks. “So, I'm guessing you two are getting along well?"

"Yeah," Bada grins. "I think so."

"That's good," Hoyeon smiles. "I'm glad."

"Thanks," you reply, avoiding her eyes. You haven’t told Hoyeon that you were faking things with Bada. After the pictures dropped, Hoyeon was one of the first people to text you about it, sending you a flurry of messages full of profanities for not having kept her updated. You’re not sure why you don’t want to tell her the truth. You know she’d be able to keep a secret.

But a part of you knows that you’re enjoying the pretending a bit too much. If you fess up, it would make the reality of the situation more apparent, and the thought of that is starting to disappoint you more than the idea of losing the prize, altogether. 

“Hey! There you two are,” Youngj shouts, breaking your train of thought. He makes his way toward you, followed by Redllic wearing a sour expression on her face.

Youngj stops in front of your group, placing his hands on his hips. "You're late," he pouts.

"Sorry, boss," Bada apologizes.

"It's okay. You're not the only ones," he says, sighing. “Are you guys gonna come play or what?”

"We're coming, we're coming," Bada replies, grabbing your hand and pulling you up.

“Eat em’ up, girls!” Hoyeon shouts with a whoop, followed by loud booing from Minho.

"Let's go," Bada smiles, squeezing your hand.

"Right," you reply, ignoring the racing of your heart.

Bada drops your hand, walking over to the rack and grabbing a bowling ball. She turns around, giving you a thumbs up and a cute smile. You roll your eyes and she laughs, turning back around.

As she steps forward to take her turn, you catch a whiff of her perfume. It's intoxicating.

The ball rolls down the lane and knocks down nine pins. You close your eyes, resisting the urge to shout. Why was this woman good at everything?

Bada throws the ball again, knocking the last pin over and finishing her frame with a strike. The crowd applauds, and she does a cute little curtsy, which you find unreasonably adorable.

You watch her, transfixed, as she approaches you.

"Good job," you say, a bit too enthusiastically.

"Thank you," she smiles, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Now, it's your turn."

"Alright, alright," you say, making your way over to the ball rack.

You select a red ball, testing the weight. It's heavy, but not too much, and fits comfortably in your hands.

"Remember, use the guide, aim for the middle, and throw slowly," Bada calls, and you nod, not turning around.

You position the ball against your chest, lining up your feet. Then, in one swift motion, you push the ball forward and release it.

The ball lands directly in the gutter, rolling down and colliding with thin air. You groan, watching the screen count up the pins you hit, or lack thereof. Zero. 

"It's okay. Here, I'll show you," Bada says, placing her hands on your shoulders and guiding you over to the middle of the lane.

"First, you want to line up your feet." She says, standing behind you. "And then, you want to position your shoulders and the rest of your body."

You do as she instructs, attempting to focus on her directions.

"Then, the key is to relax and to keep your arm loose. If you tense up, your ball will go all over the place," she says, wrapping her hands around your bicep, massaging it a bit. "So, take a deep breath, and just throw the ball."

You breathe deeply, closing your eyes. You feel the weight of her arms leave your own, and then the weight of her hand on your back.

"Ready?" she whispers, and you nod.

"Okay," she says, patting you, signaling that she has moved.

You exhale, opening your eyes and swinging the ball forward.

You release the ball, and it glides down the lane, knocking eight pins down. You can hear the cheers, but the sound is muffled.

"You did it!" Bada exclaims, hugging you tightly from behind. You laugh, returning her embrace.

"You did most of the work," you say, grinning.

"You would have gotten it without me eventually.”

"Whatever you say," you say, not wanting to argue.

The rest of the night passes by quickly, with you and the girls absolutely destroying the guys, filled with laughter and smiles. By the end of the night, your stomach is sore and your cheeks are aching. When you’re not laughing with one of your coworkers, you’re with Bada, giggling at her jokes, listening to her stories, and being a part of her world. And in the moments when you think nobody is looking, she looks at you and smiles, her eyes soft and sparkling.

Toward the end of the night, you head to the bathroom, fixing your makeup and taking a few breaths. 

After you finish, you exit the restroom, walking over to the bar and ordering a glass of water. As you wait, you notice Bada talking to Redllic, their faces stern and serious. You can't hear what they're saying, but something about their expressions is making you nervous.

"Here's your water," the bartender says, handing you the cup.

"Thank you," you respond, accepting the drink. You take a sip, trying to act casual, but you're not fooling anyone. You knew Bada and Redllic had some kind of romantic history, but you weren’t sure how significant it was.

After a moment, Bada and Redllic separate, heading toward different ends of the bar. Bada makes her way over to you, her features still hardened.

"Are you okay?" you ask, concern filling your tone.

"Yes. I'm fine," she replies, her voice stiff.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you offer.

"Not now. Let’s just have fun, yeah?" she says, a forced smile appearing on her lips.

"Okay," you say, reaching over and squeezing her hand. She squeezes back.

"You know, you look nice tonight," she compliments.

"Thanks," you smile, blushing slightly. "You do, too."

"Thank you," she says, and a small grin replaces her false smile. "So, are you having fun?"

"Yeah, I am," you nod. "A lot of fun. It’s a good thing you dragged me out here, seriously. I’m actually good at bowling now.”

"I mean, you weren’t that bad of a student. It’s not like you needed much help. I’m almost wondering if you faked being bad," Bada teases.

"What?! Of course not. How could you think that?" you exclaim, feigning offense.

"Mhm, I don’t know, you seemed pretty excited when I came to help you out. I think I felt your heartbeat over there," she laughs, poking your arm.

Oh shit. You’ve been found out.

You cross your arms, stubborn and determined to get yourself out of this. "Well, was it necessary to get so handsy with it? Do you do that with all of your students?”

"Only the cute ones," Bada says, staring you down. 

Your heart races. This was escalating quickly. “Well, then, I guess I’ll consider myself lucky."

"You should," she says, a smirk appearing on her lips. “I could get much more handsy, if you wanted me to."

What the hell was going on? As much as you and Bada have casually flirted, it’s never gotten this bold. Whatever happened while you were in the bathroom must have seriously messed with her brain. Maybe she’s experiencing face blindness and thinks you’re someone else.

"Oh, how so?" you ask, playing along, testing the waters.

"I can show you," she says, placing a hand on the side of your face, brushing her thumb across your cheek. She moves her other hand onto your lower back, her grip light, yet firm. You shiver, leaning into her touch.

"What do you think?" she whispers.

"I think I'd like that very much," you admit, feeling her breath on your neck.

"Good," she murmurs, her eyes locking onto yours.

She closes the space between you, and her lips are on yours. She tastes like the fruity wine she had earlier and her chapstick.

You kiss her back, savoring the moment. Warmth and comfort is all around you, enveloping your senses. You pull away after a moment, catching your breath.

"What's wrong?" Bada asks, searching your face.

"Nothing. Everything's perfect," you say, kissing her again.

You don't care anymore. You just want her.

You move your hands, wrapping them around her neck and pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. Her hands trail up and down your sides, sending goosebumps up and down your arms. She bites your lip gently, and you gasp, tugging on her hair.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, you separate. 

Bada exhales, fixing her bangs.

You stare ahead blankly, your mind fuzzy. But, through the haze, you feel a wave of euphoria rush over you, and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning. There was not a single part of you that would've guessed that you'd end up kissing Bada Lee upon joining Justjerk. Really, you were surprised she even gave you the time of day in the first place. You'd spent months trying to work up the courage to speak to her, and when the chance came, you almost choked and avoided her, too overwhelmed by the mere thought of speaking to her. But, as the old adage goes, life's full of surprises.

Bada twists her head to the side, staring at something, or someone with a furrowed brow.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you ask, placing a hand on her forearm.

"Oh, nothing. I was just looking out for Redllic," she replies, her frown melting into a small, apologetic smile.

The smile that you were trying to hold back disappears, replaced with a cold, hard pit of dread. "What about her?"

"She's over there," Bada nods, tilting her chin. You don't bother to turn to look. "You know that conversation you saw us have? She came up to me and accused us of pretending to get together for the money. Said there was no way we actually got together that fast. I, of course, denied it. Hopefully that kiss will shut her up."

"Oh. That makes sense. Sorry for not being more helpful," you apologize, your voice coming out hollow.

"Don't be," she says, her words rushed. "I didn't tell you about it because I didn't wanna worry you. But, we're in this together, right?"

"Yeah, definitely," you say, attempting to ignore the lump in your throat.

"That's good. Now, what were we talking about?" Bada asks, grinning.

Were you even talking about anything? You can't remember, too preoccupied with the dull feeling in the center of your chest. It's not like you were expecting Bada and you to be an actual couple. You were well aware that whatever relationship the two of you shared was just a facade. But hearing the reason why she kissed you was like a bucket of ice water poured over your head, reminding you of reality.

"I can't remember. Actually, I think I'm feeling a little sick," you lie.

"Oh, are you alright?" she asks, her voice laced with concern.

"Yeah. Don't worry about me. It’s probably something I ate. I'm just gonna head home, I think. You don't have to come with. I'll catch an Uber," you reply, forcing a weak smile.

"What? No, don't waste your money. I'll drive you home. Let me just grab my stuff," she offers, but you shake your head.

"It's really okay. I don't want you to miss out on fun with your friends," you insist, the ache in your throat growing. Why'd she have to be so nice?

"No, I insist. I'll drop you off and come back."

"Bada-"

"Y/N, please," she interrupts. "You're important to me. You're my friend. Helping you out isn't a big deal."

Her words simultaneously break your heart and fix it, and, finally, you give in.

"Fine," you sigh.

She grins. "Now, stay put," she commands, a stern expression replacing her worried one.

"Yes ma'am," you salute.

"Good girl," she teases, and you just stare, your face turning pink.

Bada walks off, and you stare into your glass, the ice having melted. After a moment, she returns, her jacket and backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Ready?" she asks, and you nod, following her out of the bar.

The night is cold and dark, and the stars are shining bright. The sound of the wind fills the air, and your footsteps seem loud, crunching against the ground.

You get to the parking lot and walk over to her car. Bada unlocks the doors, and you open the passenger door before she can do it for you, ignoring the frown on her face. You slide in, put your seatbelt on, and she turns the key, the engine roaring to life.

The ride home is filled with an awkward silence, neither of you sure of what to say. Finally, Bada clears her throat.

"Listen, y/n. Are you upset with me, or something? If I did or said anything to make you mad you, I'm sorry," she says, her voice tight.

"No, it's not that," you assure, and she relaxes a bit. "I'm just feeling sick. Like I said."

"Alright," she sighs.

You arrive at your house, and you unbuckle your seatbelt. "Thanks for the ride."

"Of course. I'm glad I could help. Goodnight," she says, and you nod.

"Night," you say, exiting the vehicle.

You head up the path, the wind causing your hair to fly in your face. As you are about to reach the front steps, Bada pulls her car back, reversing. She rolls the passenger window down, sticking her head out.

"Wait!" she shouts, and you freeze, your hand gripping the railing.

"What?" you call back, confused.

"I-uh...ugh," she exclaims, her forehead wrinkling. "I can't just leave you alone. Not when you're sick. Let me take care of you. Please."

You blink. You just could not get rid of this woman. "I'll be fine," you reply, shortly, turning toward your building again. 

"At least let me walk you inside. Then, I'll leave," she offers.

You groan, stopping in your tracks with your eyes closed in frustration. It was too cold for this. "Fine," you mutter.

"Great," she says, and the relief in her voice makes you feel guilty.

"But only for a few minutes. And only because I know how persistent you are."

"Thank you," she says, and the sincerity in her voice makes your chest tighten.

She turns her car off, grabs her backpack, and hops out of the vehicle. You lead her into the building, and the two of you make your way up the stairs, eventually arriving at your door.

You unlock it, and the two of you enter. Your apartment is dark and silent, and the sound of your breathing is loud.

"Well, here it is. It's not much, but it's home," you shrug, flipping the light switch on.

"It's cozy," she smiles, and you can't help but grin, too.

"Yeah. Um, would you like some water, or tea, or anything?"

"No, thank you. I'm okay," she replies, adjusting her backpack straps.

"Alright, then," you say, standing in the entryway.

The awkward silence returns, and the two of you stare at each other, neither knowing what to do. Finally, Bada steps forward, closing the space between the two of you.

"Are you sure you're okay? You seemed pretty distant toward the end of the night," she asks, her features soft.

"Yeah. Like I said, not feeling great. Must have been the food," you repeat yourself  robotically, not looking her in the eye.

She frowns. "I'm sorry."

"Why? It's not your fault," you shrug, avoiding her gaze.

"It is, though. Isn’t it? You're my friend, and I care about you. So, if something is bothering you, I want to know and work it out,” she pauses, a guilt-ridden expression overtaking her features. "If this is about the kiss...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Your stomach drops, and your eyes widen. "What? Why?"

"Because," she sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. "I took advantage of the situation. I should've just told Redllic to fuck off. Or maybe even asked you if you were comfortable with it beforehand."

"You didn't take advantage of me," you argue. 

"Still. It wasn't right. I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry," she repeats, looking at the ground.

"You don't need to be sorry," you insist.

"Really?"

"Yeah," you nod.

"Okay," she says, the crease between her eyebrows disappearing. "Well, then, I guess I should go."

"I guess so," you agree, not making a move.

She hesitates, staring at you. You stare back, your heart racing. She reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Goodnight," she whispers, her voice soft.

"Night," you reply, her touch burning your skin.

She releases your hand, turns around, and heads out, the door closing behind her. You watch her leave, your brain going a mile a minute.

You don't know what's wrong with you. It was just a stupid kiss. It meant nothing. But, despite all of that, the pit in your stomach won't go away, and the thought of her lips against yours replays in your mind.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe it wasn't just a kiss. Maybe it meant everything.

Oh fuck it. Fuck it.

You open the door with a vigor that rivaled that of the Hulk's. "Bada," you call out, sprinting into the hallway.

A few steps down the hall, she freezes.

"What is it?" she asks, turning around, her eyebrows raised.

"Just-just, um," you stammer, your mouth dry. "Come back."

She stares for a second, then smirks. "Okay," she says, walking back with a pep in her step. 

Once she reaches the door, she enters, and the two of you stare at each other, unsure.

"What is it?" Bada asks, her face calm.

"I-uh," you start, then swallow.

Fuck. Why was this so hard? Why couldn't you just be honest with her?

"What?" Bada urges, the smirk returning. You look at the floor, the wall, anything. Finally, you take a deep breath, and look her in the eyes.

"I wanted to ask if...you could maybe stay a little longer," you murmur, your cheeks hot.

She raises an eyebrow, her expression a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

"You sure?"

"Yes," you respond, a little too quickly.

She grins, the smirk replaced with a genuine smile. "Then, I will."

"Okay," you breathe, letting the tension flow from your shoulders.

"So, what did you want to do?" she asks, staring at your lips.

"I don't know," you shrug, not taking your eyes off hers.

"Hmm," she hums, stepping closer.

"Uh, did you wanna, uh, watch TV, or something?" you offer, your voice quiet.

"No," she replies, shaking her head.

"What did you wanna do, then?" you ask, your heartbeat fast.

"Something else." She mutters, and without warning, her lips are on yours again.

She wraps her arms around you, and you immediately melt into her embrace, her scent clouding your senses. Like last time, you wrap your arms around her neck. Her tongue slips into your mouth, exploring, and her hands run down your sides, sending chills down your spine. You let out a moan, and she bites your lip, drawing another from you. 

Your hands tangle in her hair, and hers cup your ass, lifting you up. She carries you over to your bedroom, per your directions, and places you onto your bed gently. Her fingers graze your thigh, and goosebumps pop up all over your body. You pull away, and her eyes are dark.

"Do you want to do this?" she asks, her voice low.

"Yeah," you respond, and she grins.

She kisses you again, and her fingers inch upward, her hand sliding under the hem of your shirt. She traces your skin, leaving a trail of fire, and your breathing quickens.

"Can I take this off?" she asks, pulling at the bottom of your top.

"Yes," you say, lifting yourself off the bed slightly.

She slides your shirt up, and over your head, tossing it aside. She unhooks your bra and discards it, too.

Her eyes linger on your bare chest, and you watch her pupils dilate. You bite your lip, running your hands through her hair.

"Fuck," she growls, and she pushes you back down onto the mattress, her lips trailing from yours to your jaw, your collarbone, your neck, and finally, your chest.

She sucks and nips at the skin there, and you grip her hair tighter, eliciting a moan. She moves downward, kissing down your torso. When her lips reach the waistband of your jeans, she stops, glancing up at you.

"Do you want me to keep going?"

"Yes," you plead, and her mouth curls into a mischievous smirk.

"Okay," she says, and she undoes the button and zipper of your jeans.

She tugs them off and throws them aside, leaving you in just your underwear. Her eyes are on yours, and you're frozen.

"Please," you beg, and she lets out a deep chuckle.

"Begging already?"

"Shut up," you hiss, and she laughs, before her hands slip beneath the hem of your panties.

She pulls the material off, leaving you completely exposed.

"Fuck," she mutters, her eyes wide.

You squirm under her gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "What?"

"You're so fucking sexy," she breathes, her eyes filled with lust.

"Really?"

"Of course. Do you even know what you're doing to me right now?"

"N-no," you mumble, averting your eyes.

"Look at me."

You obey, her usually warm puppy eyes now darkened into something wicked, capturing yours.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"Good. Now, lay down," she commands, her voice firm.

You comply, relaxing your body. She climbs on top of you, her hand resting on top of your thigh. 

"Do you still want to do this?"

"Yes," you affirm, nodding.

"Okay," she says, and then, her hand is between your legs.

Her fingers slide along your wetness, and your breathing quickens. Her eyes are fixed on yours, watching your reaction.

"Shit," you groan, as her finger presses against your clit.

"You like that?" she purrs, her lips ghosting across your skin.

"Mhmm," you moan, her finger circling the sensitive bud.

Her finger slips inside you, and you cry out, throwing your arms around her torso. She pumps slowly, and her thumb brushes against your clit.

"More," you pant, your body trembling.

"Of course," she hums, slipping a second digit into you.

"Ah," you moan, gripping her tightly.

She thrusts her fingers deeper, hitting that special spot within. You gasp, your back arching. You're so wet you can hear the squelch of her digits moving inside you, and you slam your eyes shut, overwhelmed. Her lips meet your neck, her teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh, and your moans are muffled.

"Bada, please," you whimper, her fingers curling against that spongey tissue, the sensation making your toes curl.

"Please what, baby?" she murmurs, her thumb rubbing against your clit, the friction making you shiver.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm close, please," you gasp, your walls tightening around her. "Make me come," you choke, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"I will," she promises, and her fingers thrust harder, her thumb moving faster. You cry, the tension in your abdomen building.

"That's it, baby, come for me," she coaxes, and with one final brush against that sensitive spot, you shatter.

The orgasm rips through you, and you convulse, your vision blacking out. You gasp for air, trying to catch your breath. She watches you, a satisfied smile on her face as she caresses your sides with her other hand. 

"Did you enjoy that?"

"Yeah," you say, breathless. "But you didn't finish," you frown, your eyes trailing to her still-clothed form.

"Oh, I will," she says, a smirk reappearing. She rolls over, grabbing her backpack.

"What are you doing?" you ask, sitting up.

"I'm not done with you yet," she answers, her smile devilish. You watch, transfixed, as she pulls out a strap-on and a bottle of lube.

"Oh," you exhale, your core heating. This women was going to be the death of you.

"This okay?"

"The fact that you're casually carrying around a strap-on?"

She smiles, sheepishly. "I like to be prepared."

"But, yes, that is more than okay," you say, licking your lips.

"Great," she says, unbuckling her belt and shrugging her pants off, revealing black boxer briefs. She steps into the harness, pulling the straps tight. She squirts some lube onto her hand, reaching for the dildo, but you stop her.

"Wait-can I?"

"Go ahead," she nods, giving you a smile.

You kneel on the bed, facing her. You gather some lube onto your hand, then coat the silicone. Your hand runs along the length, and your eyes are fixated on the fake cock. It's large, and ribbed, and the mere sight of it makes your thighs squeeze together.

"Like what you see?"

"Yeah," you whisper, looking at her.

She grins, her hands tangling themselves into your hair, pulling you forward. Your lips crash into hers, and she pulls away, her hands tugging your head backward.

"How do you want to do this, pretty girl?"

"I-I don't know," you stammer, flustered.

She chuckles, releasing her hold on your hair. "Lay back down."

You follow her orders, laying back against the pillows.

"Spread your legs," she commands, her tone firm.

You do as she says, your pussy aching. She positions herself in front of you, and leans forward, her lips brushing against your ear.

"Ready?"

"Yes," you sigh, wrapping your arms around her again.

She guides the dildo into you, and the tip teases your entrance, the cool silicone sending shivers through you. She pushes into you, and you gasp, the ribbed surface scraping against your walls.

"Is this okay?"

"Yeah," you moan, squeezing her.

She hums and begins to thrust, hard, the silicone stretching you open.

"Fuck," you cry, digging your nails into her back. Her mouth reaches your neck, sucking, and biting, the sensations overwhelming.

She picks up the pace, your bed squeaking in response, and your hips buck, the pleasure building.

"Oh god, oh fuck," you whine, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

"So beautiful," she murmurs, her voice strained.

"Bada, please, faster," you beg, your muscles tensing up. 

"Fuck," she hisses, her pace quickening.

"Yes, yes," you pant, the coil in your stomach tightening.

"You gonna come, baby?"

"Yes, fuck, I'm so close," you moan, her words pushing you closer.

"That's it, come for me," she groans, her thrusts getting sloppier.

"Fuck, Bada," you whine, and you break, the orgasm consuming you. You scream as you ride the waves of ecstasy, her name tumbling from your lips. You cling to her, shaking, the intensity nearly blinding.

"Fuck," you whisper, the euphoria fading, and exhaustion taking over.

"That's it, good girl," she whispers, slowing her thrusts.

You let go, sinking into the bed, your mind hazy. She pulls out of you, and removes the strap-on, tossing it onto the floor. She lays down beside you, and you snuggle into her, your head resting on her chest.

"Fuck," you mutter, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"That was fun," she says, her tone teasing.

"Yeah," you sigh, nuzzling closer.

She strokes your hair, her fingers soothing.

"We should get some rest," she says, her voice low.

"Mhm," you hum, your eyes closing.

You feel her place a kiss on the top of your head, and a smile forms on your face. You drift off, a grin still on your face, and a certain someone's heartbeat the last thing you hear.

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Bada was nowhere to be seen. After you woke up to an empty bed, you searched your house, convinced she was playing a prank on you. No trace of her, her clothes, her bag. You tried to call her, but her phone was turned off. It was as if she'd vanished into thin air.

And so, there you sat, in your apartment, where you slept with her, alone, wondering if you hallucinated the whole thing. Maybe, the stress of working at Justjerk, the pressure of living up to your expectations had finally gotten to you, and caused a nervous breakdown. But, no. She was there, she was real, and she'd given you the best night of your life. The best week of your life. So, where was she?

As the days dragged on, your heart grew heavy. Your calls went unanswered, texts left on read. You didn't even see her at work. The other teachers at Justjerk asked around about her, but the only answer everyone had was that she'd called in sick. You were worried, confused, and mostly hurt. What had happened? Did she regret it, and that was why she disappeared?

In addition to that, your deadline was approaching. People seemed convinced enough that you two were dating at this point, but it probably didn't look good to show up to the Valentine's Day party without your supposed girlfriend. 

You're sitting at home, silently wallowing next to Hoyeon, who is lying on your couch after coming over to your house to edit because of her noisy neighbors. While you're aimlessly shifting your oatmeal around in its bowl, you hear her slam her laptop shut with an exhale. 

"Y/n, is everything okay?" she asks, her tone concerned 

"Yeah, I'm fine," you say.

She shifts on the couch. "Really? Cause it doesn't seem like it."

"It's nothing," you shrug, pushing the bowl away.

"Come on, you can talk to me."

"I just-," you start, before pausing.

"Take your time," she says, her voice gentle.

"I think something's wrong with Bada," you say, quietly.

"Isn’t she sick?"

"I don’t know. I don’t think so. I actually haven't seen or heard from her since, uh, last week. And she won't answer my calls or texts."

"Huh, that's weird. Why?"

"I-I don't know. She just up and left. We had sex, and the next morning, she was gone. Like she'd never been there," you confess, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"Hey," Hoyeon says, reaching over and rubbing your shoulder. 

"I'm sorry. I'm just-,"

"It's okay. You're allowed to feel this way. I mean, who does that to their girlfriend? That's horrible," Hoyeon huffs, a look of indignance crossing her features.

You cough. "We're not-we're not really dating. Well, I think we aren't," you admit. 

She stops her ministrations. "What do you mean?"

"We-uh, pretended to date. To win the contest."

She blinks, processing this in silence. Then, she lets out a loud guffaw, the force causing her to slip off the couch and land on the floor.

"What's so funny?" you ask in disbelief. 

"You-you are so ridiculous," she manages, her body shaking with laughter.

"Ridiculous? Why?"

"Do-do you not realize that the two of you have been pining over each other since the day you started at the studio?"

"Wh-what? No. We have not," you insist.

"Yes, you have," she giggles, wiping a tear from her eye.

"How could you tell?"

"It's so obvious! Listen, I don't know what kind of weird situationship you guys have gotten into but I don't think anyone is pretending to like anyone, here."

"But she left me!" you argue, exasperated.

"Maybe she was being stupid. Or embarrassed. Who knows? But, she definitely has a thing for you. She's been bothering the videographers forever asking for you. Were you the one who suggested you fake date?"

You blink. "No.”

She laughs again, picking herself up off the floor. "Exactly. Now, have you told her how you really feel?"

"What? No."

"Then, go do that! That's probably why she ran for the hills. Just go to her house and confess."

"I-okay. You're right," you say, standing up.

"Damn straight I'm right. Now, go get your woman," she grins, ushering you towards the door.

You give her a smile, and step outside, a new sense of confidence flowing through you. What were you so afraid of anyway? She wouldn't have done all that she did if she didn't care about you, right? You needed to find her, and tell her. Tell her everything.

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After driving to a random neighborhood and being hit with the realization that you had no idea where Bada lived, you receive a text from Hoyeon just in time with an address.

The sun was just beginning to set, and the sky was a beautiful gradient of blue, pink, and purple. You drive for a bit, eventually making your way to a more residential area, until you find yourself parked outside of an apartment complex.

You exit your car and make your way inside. When you arrive at her unit, the door opens before you can even knock.

"Oh, y/n, hi," Badi says, her voice raspy, her eyes wide. 

She looks unlike herself. Her hair is unkempt, her skin paler than usual. Her clothes are rumpled and her eyes are red, like she's been awake for days.

"Hi, are you okay?" you ask, worried.

"I've been better," she shrugs, looking away.

"Can I come in?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, sure."

She steps aside and you enter. The interior is what you'd expect from her; tidy, and simple.

"Are you hungry?" she offers, gesturing towards her kitchen.

"No, I'm good. Thanks."

"Okay."

You stand in the middle of her living room, the tension growing by the second.

"I've been trying to reach you," you start, tentatively.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, my phone's dead," she lies.

"Really? Because, the first few times I called, it rang," you say, crossing your arms.

She sighs, and walks over to the couch, flopping down. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, burying her face in her hands.

"Sorry? For what? Leaving me alone in bed, with no explanation, not answering my calls or texts for the past week, and lying to my face?"

"I didn't mean to-,"

"Why'd you run?"

"Because I was scared," she says, looking up.

"Of what?"

"This," she admits, gesturing between the two of you.

"You're not scared of anything," you scoff.

"I'm scared of you, y/n."

"Me? Why would you be scared of me?"

"Because I've liked you ever since the day you walked into the studio. I wasn't lying when I said I think you're amazing. And then I didn't want to ruin the friendship that we built."

"So, you pretend to be my girlfriend, sleep with me, and then leave without a word?"

"I'm sorry. I wasn’t initially planning on doing things this way. But you brought up the fake-dating and I thought maybe if we pretended, that'd be enough. It wasn't, and I let my feelings get  ahead of me. And, I'm sorry," she confesses, her gaze dropping.

You review that first meeting you had in the dance studio. For the first time, you realize that Bada actually didn’t suggest fake-dating you. You did. She just proposed that you approach things romantically, rather than platonically. Which could have easily been her attempt at asking you out. 

Whoops. 

You exhale slowly, sitting down next to her. "You know, it's funny. I was coming over here to tell you the same thing. You're really special to me. And, I didn't know how to express that for real. So, I thought, if I was in a fake relationship with you, then it would be easier to do that. Guess, I was wrong too," you say, smiling sadly.

"So, does that mean-,"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, Bada, I like you."

"Oh," she says, smiling, looking away again. 

You bite down on your lip. "So, what are we gonna do now?"

She fully turns toward you, a hopeful gleam in her eyes. "I guess, we can start over. If you want. Go on a real date?"

"Sure," you reply, a warmth blossoming in your chest.

"Cool," she says, her expression brightening.

"Cool," you echo, the two of you grinning, staring at each other like idiots.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please," you whisper, and she leans forward, her lips capturing yours.  You close your eyes, sinking into her touch, the worries, and anxiety of the past week disappearing. Who would've thought that a silly team-building exercise within your company would have ended up leading to this? You almost wanted to ask Bada to pinch you, but, the feeling of her hands cupping your cheeks, and the taste of her mouth, was enough to reassure you that this was real-that the whole thing had been real the entire time. And now that you knew it was, you couldn't wait to explore it further, and discover more about the beautiful woman next to you, who has stolen your heart.

Or, maybe you should give that credit to Cupid. After all, the Cupid Project turned out to be way more successful than you, or Youngj, could've ever imagined.

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Not. 

"How did we lose?!" You nearly screech, watching Hoyeon and Howl stand in the middle of the room with a check in their hands. 

Bada stares at them with a frown. "I don't get it either. Isn't Hoyeon a lesbian?"

Youngj appears out of thin air, sliding into your line of sight. More accurately, it is his bright red fuzzy sweater with pink hearts that captures your eye. "Irrelevant to the contest. Remember, this project was not meant to encourage new workplace relationships."

"But—"

"Nope," he pops the 'p', "You two are very cute, but you lost because you two idiots were already in love with each other, and were just too stupid to admit it. You didn't even need to be a part of the cupid project."

You groan.

"On the bright side, we have free heart-shaped sugar cookies in the corner. Congratulations, Y/n and Bada, on a job well done. Please don't break up, because I do not want to deal with any workplace drama. Goodbye." He disappears again, leaving the two of you staring at the ground.

You guess you were gonna have to say goodbye to that camera, as well. 

Bada turns to you, offering a small smile. "Are you okay?"

You shrug. "It's alright. I didn't need the money anyway. I got something much better out of this whole thing."

She blushes, her cheeks matching the color of her plain red sweatshirt. "Ew."

"Oh shut up," you say, swatting her arm with a laugh.

She rubs her arm, her bottom lip jutting out.

You sigh, pulling her into a hug. She buries her face in your neck, humming. "Well, I guess I don't need to give you the gift I got you for today, then."

"Gift? Wait, what?" You say, shoving her away in shock.

She bursts into laughter, raising a bag that she's been holding silently behind her back. "Of course. I couldn't not get my girlfriend something for Valentine's Day. I've been hiding it the whole time. Here."

You grab the bag, opening it. You pull the gift out of the bag, and a soft gasp leaves your mouth. 

It's the camera.

[bagerfluff]

Roses Remind Me Of You

Casper x Non-Binary Reader

Prompt - Flowers

Why was this so hard!

It shouldn’t be, really. All you needed to do was find some flowers for Casper. It was Valentine's day tomorrow so you thought that you should get Casper some flowers.

He had done the same for you, every time the sunflowers got a little droopy you’d see new ones in the vase just a few days later.

You loved them, it was the first time you’ve gotten flowers. So you fingered that Casper would like flowers too, something told you that he has never gotten flowers either.

One problem though, which type of flowers to get him.

You were currently in a flower shop that was a few blocks from your apartment. You were looking at all of the flowers and reading a sign that told you what the flower’s meant.

After reading the sign you decided that you wanted roses. You knew that they were simple, a staple of valentines day. But they were perfect. They symbolized love and beauty, that explained how Casper looked and how you felt about him.

Of course, that’s what red roses mean.

You didn’t like red roses, they were pretty sure, but they were a statement. Plus, they didn’t scream Casper, they didn’t remind you of him.

Casper had gotten you sunflowers because they reminded him of you. You wanted something that reminded you of Casper. But you’ve had yet to find a flower that reminded you of Casper.

They all looked pretty but nothing was good enough. It was also getting late, you had texted and told him that work went late and that you’d be late.

But you knew that if you were gone too long that Casper would start looking for you. You groaned and ran a hand through your hair. Why was this so hard?

You took out your phone, it was getting late. You sighed, placing your phone back into your pocket, after an hour and nothing. You felt saddened by your failed mission.

You turned around and were about to walk out of the shop when something caught your eyes. You stopped walking towards the door and walked towards the flowers.

You felt the air leave your lungs at the flowers you found. They were white roses with red tips. The end of each petal was dyed red. It was beautiful.

Plus they reminded you of Casper, the white for his hair and the red for his eyes. You reached a hand forward and held a petal in between your fingers.

You smiled, “hey excuse me, how much for a bouquet”.

You held the flowers in your hands.

You smiled, they were perfect. Though they were a little expensive, it was worth it. It was worth it for Casper. You brought a free hand up to knock on the door.

You knew you didn’t have too, but you wanted to surprise Casper. You knocked three times before going back to holding the bouquet with both hands.

A few seconds later the door opened, relieving Casper. Casper was about to say something but he stopped when he noticed the flowers. You held them towards him with a smile on your face.

“There for you, happy early valentines day”, you said.

Casper stared at the flowers, his face turning red. “Th-Thank you”, Casper said. Casper reached forward and took the flowers from you. “But I must ask, why?”

Casper said, looking at you. You shook your head. “Valentine's day is tomorrow so I got you flowers. You got me flowers so I thought I'd get you some. Those roses remind me of you”, you explained.

Walking into your apartment and closing the door behind you. You took off your shoes and hung up your coat. Casper walked past you, placing the flowers in a vase you had bought a few days ago.

Casper had wondered why you bought it, guess now he has his answer. “They remind me of you?” Casper said, not knowing how white roses with red tips could remind you of him.

“Well look at them”, you walked over and stood behind Casper, wrapping your arms around his waist. You placed your head on his shoulder, looking at the flowers.

“The white reminds me of your hair, white and soft”, you touched the petal with your finger. Casper followed, the petal did feel soft and a little rough.

Casper watched as your hand pulled away from the petal and move away. Then he felt your hand play with the ends of his hair. “The red reminds me of your eyes, sharp and deep”, you said.

Casper stared at the red, it was dark, it did remind him of his eyes. You turned Casper around, staring into his eyes. Casper blushed deeper and glanced away from you.

Casper felt your hand move away from his hair and wrap around his waist with your other arm. “See, they remind me of my babygirl”, you said sweetly.

Casper glared at you, “don’t call me that”, Casper said, despite the butterflies gathering in his stomach after you said that. “Okay, but I’m right. They remind me of you”, you said and Casper nodded.

They reminded Casper of himself. They also made Casper feel weird, this was the first time Casper’s ever gotten flowers. He felt giddy almost, Casper wanted to smile widely and gush over the fact that you got him flowers.

Was this how you felt when Casper got you flowers? If so, that just made Casper feel even better because he made you feel like this. “Thank you, they look beautiful.

That’s another reason why they remind you of me”, Casper said with a smirk. You shook your head, “yes, of course, my beautiful babygirl”, you said teasingly.

Casper shoved you away and walked out of your grasp. Casper crossed his arms and glared at you from the corner of his eyes.

You just let out a laugh and walked away to change. Casper watched as you left and looked at the flowers. Casper smiled as he watched them.

Turns out Casper loves getting flowers.

[xyziiix]

•𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙰 𝚆𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙽• VIII

•Pairing: Mid-honour!Arthur Morgan X Fem!Reader•

•Shit Summary: The gang hadn't been in Horseshoe all of one week, and already the boys were causing trouble in town•

•warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, SMUT: unprotected p in v, short but sweet fingering, not that graphic (probs is) reader is described as female with female biology and wearing feminine attire, no use of Y/N — and I plan to keep it that way for future chapters — reader can be lifted up? Other than that no detailed descriptions of reader•

•Long but important A/N at the bottom!•

•This is not proof-read as I was too impatient to post•

•series masterlist•

-ˋˏ━━━━∙⋆✫ ✪ ✫⋆∙━━━━ˎˊ-

-ˋˏ━━━━∙⋆✫ ✪ ✫⋆∙━━━━ˎˊ-

-ˋˏ━━━━∙⋆✫ ✪ ✫⋆∙━━━━ˎˊ-

←LatestChapter

This breeze was much more welcome than Colters gale, this one refreshing, more gentle — unlike the sharp, unforgiving winds that’d mercilessly flown through the glacial terrain, it was something you’d be happy to forget.

The day is dunked in warm pinks and orange hues from the setting sun, dusky fading light, the fingers of the trees sharp and black against the horizon. Horseshoe Overlook did have a stunning view, you’d give it that.

Pots and pans clatter near Pearson’s wagon, followed by a rusty voice damning the cookware to hell and back. The nearby fire pits crackle and glisten with heat. The faint scent of pine and smoke tickling your nose, and the quiet chatter of fellow gang members serenades the peaceful atmosphere of camp.

Well, mostly quiet.

Said peacefulness is cruelly interrupted when you hear a bark of your name, the familiarly rigid tone making your shoulders stiffen. And with a schooled, but validly wary, expression, you slowly swivel on your stool to see Miss Grimshaw stomping over to you.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Susan asks you, in a voice that’s hard, yet somehow shrill enough you worry that nearby glass would shatter.

Your brow lifts, and you stare at her, deadpan, as if it was a trick question. “What’s it look like I’m doin’?” You wave a hand over the heap of clothes on the table in front of you, a needle and thread held in said hand.

“It looks like you’re just starin’ off into space, girl.” She manages to speak so quickly that one might worry her tongue would tie itself into a knot. Should you be so lucky.

You give her a look, one she’s had to see on your face and deal with since you were a delinquent— a cross between a smile and a pout, as if you were just as clueless as her. With an exasperated sigh and a pinch on the bridge of her nose, she regards you with a weary shake of her head. “Those clothes ain’t gonna patch themselves.” The bite in her tone reappears, though you know it’s just for show, as she gestures to the clothes sprawled out in front of you.

“Guess I better get a move on then.” You make a show of gathering a worn shirt, fingers skimming over the fabric until you find the gaping wound in the fabric. The woman huffs, somewhat satisfied, chin jutted up as she strides away from you, probably to scream at someone else who wasn’t breaking their back or chaffing their fingers to her liking.

That same gentle breeze flows through camp, barely moving a few strands of hair away from your face. Bored, you place the shirt back on the scratched table, indents from five finger fillet scarred into the surface. You glance over your shoulder, eyeing the hitching posts where Artax was loosely tethered. Poor horse hadn’t left camp either, he was probably just as restless as you.

Arthur hadn’t been around since early afternoon, something about meeting the boys in Valentine. Meanwhile you were stuck at camp, had been since the gang settled into the charming Overlook.

It wasn’t that you were against doing your share of the work that needed doing, it weren’t like that at all… you’re just more… in your own element when you’re slinging a revolver at your hip, not fumbling with needles and thread or bent over a wash basin to scrub at stubborn stains.

Miss Grimshaw was also aware of that, which is probably why the woman was — not so discreetly — circling the perimeter of camp like a baited shark. You briefly calculate the amount of time it’d take you to reach your mount and surge out of the tree line, but an anticipating Susan would probably tackle you to the ground before that could happen.

The cadence of jingling spurs catches your attention, eyes flickering towards the source. And you’re shocked at what you find.

Arthur was a few feet away from you, deftly angled in a way that made it clear he was trying to sneak past you. He was marred by a thick coating of drying mud, he wouldn’t have been easily recognisable if it weren’t for the subtle, familiar swagger in his posture. He looks tense, frustrated. But you’re more concerned as to why your outlaw looks as though he’s been rolling around with the hogs.

“Arthur,” your voice is unintentionally shrill as you stand up, his lips twist into a tight line, face etched with lines of frustration and streaked with mud. “What the hell happened to you?”

He dismissively waves you off as he beelines towards the wagon, you’re hot on his tail and your needlework is forgotten on the table — Grimshaw be damned. He bats the canopy flaps out of his path upon entering the private space, and you quickly slip in behind him, the warm glow from the oil lamp a contrast from the evening sky outside.

“Bill and his incapability t’keep the bluster outta his mouth, that’s what.” Arthur practically growls, and you watch, dumbstruck, as he yanks his satchel off of his shoulder and drop it onto the side table — flakes of drying mud breaking off of him at every movement.

“That don’t explain why—“ you pause at the crimson that coats his knuckles, barely noticeable under the grime. “You got into a fight?”

“Weren’t me that started it.” He grumbles defensively, his back to you as he removes his hat, giving a half-assed attempt at shaking the dirt off of it before slapping it onto the table next to his satchel, and you cringe at his mud-caked hair.

“Arthur, we ain’t even been in the Heartlands one week,” your rant starts strong and exasperated, your hands perched on your hips and your brows furrowing so tightly together that Arthur resists the urge to smooth it out with his thumb as he turns to face you.

His expression remained unreadable as you continued to chide him, only a handful of your words registering to him as he instead took in your own appearance — his eyes drawn towards your bosom, and the way your hand placement accentuated the swell of your hips. Even when you’re looking at him like you could smack him upside the head, which he wouldn’t put past you, he can’t help but admire your… you.

“Are you even listenin’ to me?”

The snap of your fingers makes him blink back to reality, his brows slowly knitting as exasperation spreads over his chest at your lecturing, causing a lengthy sigh to be pulled from his nose. “I don’t wanna hear it, woman.” He tells you gruffly as he peels his jacket off with a grimace. “Gotta get this shit off’a me.”

“Why didn’t you get a bath at the hotel?”

“Didn’t wanna stick around after that shit-show.”

Your lips pursed as you watched him move around the small space, unsure what to make of the state of him. You’ve seen him in worse conditions, streaked with crimson rather than dirt, reeking of copper and gunpowder rather than the heady scent of earth, but it was still aggravating considering you’d cleaned up earlier just for it to get messed up again…

“You joinin’ me?” Arthur’s voice broke you out of your brief reverie, your brows inching up, searching for clarification, “gonna have t’go wash up by the river, ain’t I?” There’s an edge in his voice, one you can’t quite put your finger on, but the subtle glance he gives you is a hint.

The rest of the scolding you had for him dies on your tongue. Though, you try and feign an air of resignation — like you were doing him a favour, despite the way your heart skips a beat at the prospect of joining him to bathe.

“Fine.”

-ˋˏ━━━━∙⋆✫ ✪ ✫⋆∙━━━━ˎˊ-

The sun had since laid its head, the sky now spilled with ink and navy, dotted with countless stars that flicker over the dark canvas of the night. Tall, douglas fir, serve as an outcrop for the crescent moon in the far distance.

Arthur had opted to wait for the sun to finish setting, because while he’d rather not sit in his own filth and reminder of the fight he’d had, the Dakota river — though being closest water source to camp — wasn’t very secluded. And he wasn’t gonna take any risks.

Though the night served as privacy, and there’d be very little chance of any passers-by at this hour. Plus, if something were to happen, Arthur’s gun laid only a few feet away on the shore, along with the rest of his dirtied clothes, your own a growing pile as you had yet to enter the water.

Arthur was already in hip-deep, eager to scrub away his sins, his back to you as he cupped water, dragging it over his skin to wash away the grime and hints of dried blood — not all of it his own.

The smooth pebbles and stones were cool under your bare feet, though probably not as icy as the waiting water in front of you.

The air is crisp, carrying an earthy odour, perhaps from the river foam, or from plant material decay. There’s also tinge of something salty… but fresh is the most accurate description of your surroundings.

The tender breeze strokes your skin, while is being gradually exposed, your blouse falling into the pile of clothes by your feet. While you undress, your eyes are stuck to your lover like a magnet, taking in the way the pale skin of his broad back — a contrast to the sunburnt, more tanned, skin of his strong arms — seemed to look so smooth in the moonlight… there were a couple thin scabs littered over his shoulder blades, the curve his spine trailing down his vast back, dotted with two dimples at his lower back before the rest of him disappears under the waters surface.

Your chemise joins the heap, followed by your bloomers, the last barriers of clothing removed, bared to the world, to him.

Without further ado, you gingerly step into the lapping water by your feet. You swallow a gasp, your body taken aback by the temperature difference, though you acclimate to it quickly, your arms wrapping around your chest as you wade over to where Arthur was. The water grows deeper the further you go, the current pushing against your legs and thighs, though not strong enough to wash you away.

The closer you near, the more you can take Arthur in. Most of the dried dirt was off of him — save for a streak on his shoulder and neck — droplets of water racing down his forearm as he splashed water onto his chest.

The dark water lapped at your waist now, and you move around him so that you were facing him.

You frown.

Underneath the grime, you can see the aftermath of his fight. There’s an ugly, yellow and violet bruise blossomed over his ribs, another one splotched on his strong jaw, darkening the stubble that grows there.

Arthur seems to notice the worry spurting inside of you, of course he does, and his gaze lifts to meet yours as he scours the muck off of his forearm.

“M’okay, darlin’.” He reassures you, cupping the cold water to start washing the streak off of his neck, head tilted back slightly, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, “should see the other feller.” He adds, his cerulean eyes glued to you. His tone isn’t as curt anymore, his frustration having died down, plus, his appreciation for your concern softens him inside.

You still huff, not entirely convinced when evidence of his injuries was staring right back at you. Arthur’s lip twitches.

“C’mere.” He tells you, voice resonant as he drops his hand from his neck to instead hold both of them out to you, beckoning you with a twitch of his finger.

The water that’d been clinging to Arthur’s hands, callous and firm, rivulet onto your own skin when his palms curl over your sides, trailing down your waist, the curve of your hips… Arthur’s gaze chasing the droplets. So pretty…

Your own hands lay on his broad shoulders, fingers accidentally pressing into one of the thin, shallow, but still tender slices on his skin. He sucks a small breath through his teeth. You notice.

“What’re these from?” You ask, voice quiet, flowing with the gentle sounds of the running river.

“Got tossed through a window at the saloon.”

You lean back, brows jumping up, “what?”

“M’alright,” he repeats with a puff, hands tightening on your waist before sliding down to your hips.

“It ain’t alright,” you argue, your hands pressing against his chest, the wry hair on his sternum tickling your palms. “Dutch said we ain’t supposed to cause trouble—“

“I know what Dutch said, sweetheart.” he sighs, exasperated with you, though he only pulls you closer. He then adds, a vexed plea, “let’s just forget ‘bout it for now, hm?”

He doesn’t let you argue further, tilting his head to nudge your nose with his own, his breath — carrying the scent of cigarettes and the acidic tinge of whiskey — hot against your parted lips. His hands shift on your hips, splayed, coarse fingertips pressing into the meat of your ass as he kisses you.

He tastes of tobacco, as well as the liquor that you could already smell on his breath, his stubble scratching your face as he groans into your mouth, the noise snatched up by your tongue.

It was as though he was trying to devour you, swallow you whole, or perhaps he was just trying to distract you from giving him an earful.

A thread of saliva stretches between you as he pulls away for breath, catching the moonlight before snapping. You wet your lips, the taste of him lingering on your tongue.

Arthur glances around momentarily, before spotting a boulder that had risen from the rivers surface. Perfect.

“Arthur?” You rasp as he starts steering you backwards, the water sloshing around both of your legs. Though after a couple steps, his rough hands drop down to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up with a grunt and carrying you the rest of the way.

You hiss as the cold face of the rock meets your back, a few jagged pieces digging into your skin. Arthur’s lips are back on yours, tongue pressing into your mouth with another rumbling noise of need.

You throw your arms around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the sunny strands of hair at the nape. It’s grown out over the weeks, you think you prefer it longer.

You both reluctantly part to catch your breaths, lips swollen from his kisses and cheeks hot from the lack of oxygen. With one hand on your thigh, holding you up — the rock behind you holding most of your weight — Arthur presses a calloused thumb under your lips, gently prying them wider so he could roll his tongue over yours in one more brief, but deep kiss.

You can feel him, stiff and heavy against your navel, a hot and sticky bead of milky white smeared from the angry red tip.

“Arthur,” you whine, readjusting your grip on the back of his neck, both his hands back on your rear to keep you up at his level. Need burns between your legs, a blazing fire of want only he could tend to. “Please-“

“Please what, sweet girl?”

He damn well knows what. His eyes — darkened with lust — hold something knowing, something amused. He enjoys seeing you like this, it makes him rather smug, evident by the smirk he poorly suppresses.

Another whine, your cheeks and neck burning hotter than fire as you shift restlessly against him, ankles crossed behind his back. Was he really gonna make you say it?

“You know what I want.” You counter, though your breathless, needy tone bellies the demanding facade you tried to display.

Arthur wets his lips, and you unconsciously do the same, gaze drawn to the movement of his tongue. He makes sure you’re steady against the rock as he removes one hand from you, grasping his cock and dipping his chin so that he could let spit drop onto his length, slavering it over himself before nestling his hips more snugly against the warm apex of your legs.

But, instead of immediately giving in, he slips a hand between you, the rough pads of his fingertips inching down the thatch of hair between your legs, spreading your dewy folds and running a finger up the seam of your body.

He muffles your unsteady sigh with a lingering press of his lips to the corner of your mouth. “Gonna get you ready f’me,” he explains, the rumble of his voice vibrating against your skin, two thick digits nudging inside your cunt. “Don’t wanna hurt you, peach.”

It’s a sensible idea, but you’re already impatient. “Now, Arthur,” you plead, arms tightening around him, holding him to you, wanting more and more and all of him. “I can take it.”

He crooks the two digits inside of you, causing your breath to hitch, raising a brow at you in hesitation.

“I can handle it,” you insist, desperate. How could he ever deny you?

Slipping them free, he takes a moment to line himself up with you before adjusts his hold on you again, fitting underneath the curve of your ass and tugging you more securely against him as he pushes forward.

He slowly splits you open, his cock sliding into you and carving out a place for itself. Your head tips back against the boulder behind you, and he sinks deeper with a grunt. He bottoms out, balls flush against your ass as he tilts his hips upwards to reach an angle inside of you that has you seeing stars.

It punches the air from your lungs, being so full of him — a feeling you’ll never completely get used to. His grip on you tightens, blunt nails digging into the fat of your thighs as his head drops to the juncture of your shoulder, a throaty groan reverberating against your heated skin. He lets you take several moments to adjust to him, while he’s currently trying not to finish just from the feeling of being inside of you.

He brushes soft, wet kisses along the curve of your shoulder and neck, lowering his head to flutter his tongue over a pebbled nipple, pulling it between his lips, his mouth like liquid molten around the bud as he finally starts to move.

He draws back an inch or so before shoving his hips flush against yours again, the coarse hairs at the base of his cock pressed against the softer thatch covering your mound. The drag of his length, the friction, has your temples growing hot and thoughts even less coherent.

He does it again and again and again, his body fitting into yours like the last piece to a puzzle, the two of you moving in synch like a familiar song and dance.

The moan you’ve been holding back spills out of you, mingling with his own guttural exhale.

“God -“ Arthur grits his teeth, fucking you with deep, steady plunges of his hips, the rock face pressing harder against your back to the point you’re sure there’ll be bruises that you’ll proudly wear, you’ll wear it along with the marks his fingers are no doubt brushing into your thighs and hips. “Look at you, s’pretty like this, darlin’, my pretty girl.”

He really is enraptured by you right now… his breath ragged as he watches you with a slack jaw, taking this moment in, not daring to look away so it’s burned into his memory. Maybe he’ll sketch the view of you like this into his journal later…

The way your back arched against the slick rock he has you pressed onto, the way the droplets of river water — that had transferred onto your skin from his beard — rivulets down the curve of your neck, the valley between your breasts… slowing down at your abdomen before disappearing into the soft curls covering your mound.

…

Yeah, he was definitely drawing this later.

Arthur swallows your next whine, his tongue tangling with yours in a sloppy, uncoordinated and desperate kiss. Your hand buries into his hair again, eliciting another groan from him, your other hand pressing against the uninjured side of his jaw — the coarse stubble scratching your palm. He uses his grip on your ass to bounce you, grinding you against him, sending heatwaves rolling down your navel.

You can feel it, rapidly building inside of you. Like a Jack-in-the box, winding up taut until it unexpectedly bursts.

He breaks from the kiss, his pants mingling with yours as your foreheads press tightly together, your eyes fluttering shut as his eyebrows pull in concentration.

“Arthur, I’m —“

“I know,” a kiss is brushed onto your burning cheek, then he’s nosing against your jaw, breath ragged and a shudder running through his body — signalling he’s also near his peak, “I know, sweetheart… give it t’me, c’mon.”

There’s a certain demand in his words that has the coil pulling rigid, then it snaps.

You can only hear the blood rushing in your ears, not the sounds of the water rushing, not the wet smacking of his hips into yours, not even the delectable grunts being pulled from Arthur’s throat. Your body locks up, inner muscles constricting around his cock, coating the length, base and balls slick with your release. White-hot pleasure burns through your body, desire pulses in your veins and you feel like you’re melting. Turning into liquid ecstasy to be carried away in the current that laps at the both of you as well as the rock behind you.

Arthur isn’t far behind.

“Shit… atta girl,” he grunts in approval, the rut of his hips stuttering at the sensation of you coming undone around him, clenching down on him so hard it yanks a strangled gasp low from his chest. He tugs you flush against him, breasts pressed up against his chest, and he hitches your thighs higher up his hips, hoisting you back up before you can slip down the face of the boulder.

His thrusts shift into a vigorous grind, a whimper exhaled from your lips as the coarse hair covering his pelvis tickles your overly-sensitive clit. And at last second, he forces himself to pull out of your cunt.

Hot strings of spend shoot out of the weeping tip, splatting onto your abdomen, leaking down your skin and drying into a sticky mess. Arthur’s head falls back onto your shoulder, groaning and panting as his arms completely envelope you — one wrapped around your waist and the other following the curve of your spine, large hand cradling the back of your head, keeping you tucked against him as he empties himself.

Arthur isn’t a holy man, but by the way he’s chanting your name like a prayer as he releases, one would think he’s a devout believer.

Several moments go by, heart rates finally starting to steady, no longer beating against your rib cage like a wild animal trying to escape., Arthur gives you one last kiss, this one tender and affectionate, before he carefully sets you down.

You’re a little reluctant to untangle yourself from him, using him as an anchor to ground yourself, though you’re forced fully back to the present as your feet dip back into the chilly water, soles meeting the slick rocks under the surface, fresh water lapping at your hips again.

“Y’alright?” Arthur breathes, holding you steady until you use the rock behind you for support, legs feeling light and akin to jelly. Arthur releases a quiet groan as he rolls his shoulders, swallowing as he cups water to gingerly wash his softening cock, all the while keeping his gaze on you, ensuring you were fine.

“M’okay,” you reassure him, sighing as you shift your weight, getting the feeling back into your legs. You take a moment to also wash yourself, cleaning his release off of you, the evidence of your encounter carried down the gentle current.

He looks at you, his eyes softening, something that bellies the gruff outlaw he presents himself to be. He wades a step closer to you, calloused palm gently curling around your upper arm, guiding you towards him, hand sliding down to take yours.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to camp,” he murmurs, planting an affectionate kiss to the side of your head before starting to lead you back to the shore where your clothes laid waiting.

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ freezing.”

Arthur chuckles in agreement.

-ˋˏ━━━━∙⋆✫ ✪ ✫⋆∙━━━━ˎˊ-

*awkwardly* heyyyy guys… long time no see, huh?

-‘long time’? It’s been a fucking year bro

Yes! Yes I know! And I come bearing gifts and many apologies.

I will start by saying that writers block is a real mf thing. This has been in my drafts for ten months, and please believe me when I say I was looking at this every few days with the intention to finish it and post it… but as soon as I get it up my mind goes blank.

It’s also been more than that, I know a year is a really long time to go without posting, but, I’d like to think that over this year my writing has matured and evolved a little… had a bit of spice added to it 🤌— not that I think I’m the next goddamn Shakespeare, but I know it’s improved when I’m looking back at previous chapters and cringing while reading the shit I wrote.

I know it sounds like a piss take when I say this, but I have the full intention of finishing this story — I wish I could tell you guys the shit I have planned, shit that’ll make you happy, sad, horny, the whole works. But I ain’t gonna tell you cause I ain’t spoiling nothin’. It’s just hard for me to connect the dots and fill out the gaps between all the important plot points I have planned out, my head works in weird ways. All I’m gonna say is I promise I’m gonna try and get back into a regular schedule of posting this story.

Side note: sorry to others who come across this who have been waiting and sending asks about the other wip stories I have on my masterlist— I was really overestimating myself thinking I could be righting multiple series at the same time 😭🤦‍♀️ while I do have drafts (that need to be heavily edited) of these fics, I wouldn’t be expecting to see them anytime soon — because I’m prioritising this story for now. At least until I find the motivation to regularly post and not just once every six — or in this case, 12 months.

Also, I know this is gonna sound strange, because while I do know where this story is going and ending — as in the general direction — I’m still figuring out some things, like certain cannon points that I’m gonna incorporate reader into, reader and Arthur’s dynamic, who reader is personality-wise… there’s a lot going on up here rn *taps temple*

Oh, and one of the biggest things I’m trying to decide about Arthur is how I should go about his honour… for the first eight chapters he’s been leaning towards higher honour — at least that’s how it’s been in my head, though it might be hard to tell by my wack-ass writing for the last seven chapters — so I’m torn between making him dip down into low honour for a while… and splice things up a bit, maybe shake the dynamic of him and reader… or if I should just stick to high honour. Because I know that some people (I am some people) who prefer HH Arthur. Please share your thoughts via anon asks or commenting… I would love the advice!

One last thing! If I go about two weeks or more without posting WITHOUT a valid excuse, everyone has permission to bully and peer pressure me back into being active!

I’m very sorry my luvs here’s an Arthur edit🫶

-ˋˏ━━━━∙⋆✫ ✪ ✫⋆∙━━━━ˎˊ-

Tag list! (PLEASE LMK IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED IN FUTURE CHAPTERS):

@flw3rrr @vena91 @sickvictorianangel @sykeswrites @babyttsumu @rexibn

-ˋˏ━━━━∙⋆✫ ✪ ✫⋆∙━━━━ˎˊ-

[nicestgirlonline]

sneaky

Pairing: Bucky x Reader 

Warnings: None! Just fluff!

Summary: You and Bucky decide to keep your new relationship a secret with somewhat disastrous results…

Word Count: 3.7k 

A/N: Here’s my entry for @the-slumberparty week 2 challenge blast from the past! I don’t really have an old WIPs, I was trying to jumpstart my writing again with this sleepover. So here’s a little sequel to dumb dumb, since you guys really really seemed to like that one! Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome! <3 

part 1

That Valentine's Day was possibly the best night of Bucky’s life. He had finally gotten to express everything he had been feeling for you. Friday night bled into Saturday morning, neither of you getting much sleep. The months of yearning and pining all finally erupted into passion, lust and love.

Saturday morning quickly became Saturday afternoon, with lots of pillow talk, telling each other little secrets about yourselves, sharing childhood stories. A simple Postmates order and quick text to Steve meant no one to bother you, and no reason for you to leave his bed. 

Saturday night, or what Bucky was calling round two became Sunday morning and that brought about a little thing called the Sunday Scaries.  

Amidst the bliss and happiness there was a lingering thought that kept bothering you. The two of you lounged in his bed, enjoying each other's quiet company, the moonlight of the early morning making the room glow blue. 

You bit your lip. Time to rip the bandaid off. Real life was going to be starting too soon again. 

“Bucky I’ve been thinking…about us.”  

“Really? Me too.” He started to pepper your face with kisses. “I’ve been thinking about all the ways I can have fun with my girlfriend.” You giggled as he started to tickle your sides. You wiggled your way out of his grasp. You propped yourself up on your forearms and did your best to put on your serious face. Which was very hard when Bucky was being so cute. 

“I mean it! I’ve been thinking, maybe we should keep this private? For a while?” You tried your best to keep your voice soft, the face Bucky made broke your heart, which was what you were afraid of. He looked extremely scared. 

“What’s wrong, what’d I do? Was girlfriend too soon? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, ” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close against him. 

“No, no, you’re my boyfriend now.” You assured him. You took his face in your hands and he leaned into your palm in relief.  “I am really excited to be with you but we do work together. And there’s HR and office gossip and I don’t want that to affect us when we are still figuring out us. I guess I’ve never really thought about the power imbalance between us.” 

Bucky nodded albeit a bit reluctantly.  He untangled his arms around you so you were both lying on your side looking at each other. 

“I mean…I understand. You know I don’t really think of myself as a big superhero or something, but it is a ‘power imbalance’. Does it…bother you?” He asked scratching his face to avoid eye contact. You sat up, suddenly very confused. 

“What are you talking about, I’m the scientist who’s studying you? I’m the one abusing my authority here. It's all very unethical!” You exclaimed. 

“I don’t feel taken advantage of here, Doll. If anything, people are going to think I’m taking advantage of you.” Bucky chuckled. 

“Why?”

“I’m a bit older than you. I’m sort of famous for not so great reasons. I’m also literally more powerful than you?” He held up his left arm as if to show you proof. You dismissed it with a hand wave. 

“You don’t know that you’re more famous than me. I’ve been published in many academic journals.” You pointed out. Bucky shook his head. Gosh he liked you so much. He couldn’t even believe this was really happening to him half the time.  

“There were weeks of press coverage for my trial.”  You just rolled your eyes at that. Bucky was always so afraid that everyone saw him as a villain, but you’d never once felt any sort of danger from this sweet man. 

“Well, agree to disagree. But I still think maybe for the first two months we should just keep it quiet. So we don’t have to worry about anyone but each other. Just lowkey.” He pressed a kiss on the top of your head. 

“Yeah. You’re right, you’re totally right. We will keep things low key.” 

X

“Hey Steve, uhhh we’ve got a problem.” Bucky rushed into the breakfast room, thankful that Steve was the only one there. Steve queried his eyebrow at his panic stricken best friend. 

“What’s up Buck?” He asked. Bucky, seemingly slightly out of breath grabbed the side of the cabinets, he closed his eyes to try and get his 

“So you know how I told you about…on Valentines Day…and then we…so the weekend was…” He waved his hand to emphasis his pauses and Steve nodded along.  

“Of course,  I’m happy for you two, Bucky!” He said brightly, of course this must be some sort of post confession bliss the two of them were in making his friend act so strange.

“Well that's just the thing. Did you…tell anybody else about it?” He asked, his voice a bit strangled and his tone grim. 

“Uhhh was I not supposed to?” Steve asked, his face falling immediately. 

“Can you answer my question?”

“I told Sam about it. The two of you have been dancing around it for so long that we’re all just a little excited for you.” Steve started to explain but he could practically see the fury radiating off of Bucky in waves. His signature death stare was fixed on him. 

“Look, I really appreciate the um, support for my relationship. But here’s the thing, she doesn’t want anyone to know we’re dating.” He ground out, his teeth still clenched. “So we are going to be low. key.” 

“Look who it is. We were about to put out a missing person alert .” Natasha had slunk her way into the breakfast room, her voice dripping with self satisfied condescension.  “Getting provisions for the love nest?”

“God damn it, you told her too?”  He cried out. She shrugged, innocently looking away. Bucky grabbed his head, he was going to throttle Steve. 

“Oh come on, Y/N loves Nat. I figured she already knew.” Steve held his hands up in surrender, the captain certainly hadn't thought this was how his morning was going to go. Bucky turned his attention back to the super spy who was a bit too pleased with the unfolding drama. 

“Nat, did you tell anyone about this?” 

“Please, I’m a spy. I don’t just go around giving out important gossip with nothing to gain.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Romanoff!” He snapped back. 

“I’m still a bit confused why she doesn’t want anybody to know? Is that a modern dating thing, not telling people you’re dating?” Steve asked. It didn’t make much sense to him, what exactly did she think was going to happen if people found out? 

“She just doesn’t want the gossip and the pressure of everyone knowing about us to color the beginning of our relationship.” Bucky explained but his tone belated his true feelings. He absolutely did not want to keep this a secret. “So I told her I wasn’t going to tell anybody but I forgot I already told the biggest blabbermouth on the team.”  He quickly turned back to anger at his teammates. 

“I’m not the biggest blabbermouth…hm crap wait I forgot, Clint knows too.” Steve closed his eyes, wincing, ready for the smack upside the head he sorely deserved. 

“Loose lips sink ships asshole! ” Bucky was exasperated. 

“I didn’t know this was top secret information!” Steve countered. 

Nat stayed at the breakfast bar watching the two super soldiers argue, it was amusing but she had her limits. She had to intervene before Bucky had an aneurysm. 

“It's not so bad, we can do damage control. Tell Sam and Clint to keep quiet about it.” Nat said before taking a sip of her coffee. “And Wanda.”

“AND WANDA--” Steve looped an arm around Bucky’s waist before he could lunge at Natasha. 

x

Bucky Barnes: Hello Sam,  I am texting to inform you that Y/N and I are NOT DATING and please disbelieve the rumors to the contrary. Yours, Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson: please learn to text like a normal person

Sam Wilson: You know I saw you making out with her in the elevator on Friday right? 

Bucky Barnes is typing…

Bucky Barnes: Sam, please disregard my previous message and meet me in the training gym on level 5 ASAP. Yours, Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson: You don't have to sign your name I know it's you 

Sam Wilson: forget it

Sam Wilson: yeah I’ll be there

X Something wasn’t quite right. Your love life had never been better, Bucky was an amazing boyfriend, it was all you could do to not spend all of your time with him. The two of you would meet up after work hours and spend blissful hours back in Bucky’s apartment. But the rest of your work life, well it was starting to feel like people were avoiding you. 

Like the other day at lunch, you were sitting across from Bucky which wasn’t too unusual, you had been friends before you were seeing each other. The very tips of your shoes were touching, a special little secret way of holding hands. The two of you were discussing movies that were coming out, a totally neutral non flirty conversation. But then Steve walked in, looked at you then immediately spun on his heel and walked away. You furrowed your brow. That was a bit weird.

Or when you had bumped into Bucky at the gym on level 5. It had actually been a happy coincidence, you decided to do some yoga as you sorely needed to stretch your body out after being hunched over a microscope all day.  Bucky had been working out with Sam, Bucky lifting weights with Sam on the treadmill. You waved to the two of them and made your way over to say hi and Sam without saying a word jumped off the treadmill and started to jog out of the gym. 

Even Nat, which hurt the most, flaked on the movie night you’d wanted to have in the TV room. Then it was the domino effect, Steve dropped out then  Wanda and Vis dropped out too and soon it was just You and Bucky. 

“Oh nooo. What are we gonna do, watch the movie by ourselves? Just the two of us?” Bucky whispered in your ear as you were pouring popcorn into a large bowl. He grabbed you by the hips and waggled his eyebrows at you. You let out a little sigh and snatched the bowl before heading to the TV room.  You weren’t in the mood to flirt with him. The tv room was ready for what you had thought would be a big group. The lights were already dimmed and there were plenty of blankets and pillows around. 

You and Bucky settled next to each other on the couch. He grabbed a big fuzzy blue blanket and draped it over the two of your legs. He gave your leg a little squeeze beneath the blanket and winked. You just let out a sigh and grabbed the remote to fire up the Roku. Bucky frowned, this was certainly not what he thought their movie night would be like!

“What’s wrong Bambi? You seem down.” He asked, concerned. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his body. You let him cuddle you, resting your head on his chest 

“It just feels like all of our friends are avoiding me. I mean I thought we were friends. Co-workers I guess, you know I’m not great at reading people.” You sighed and buried your face in his chest. Had you grown more annoying these past few weeks ? He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up so you were looking up at him. 

“Honey, you’re great at reading people, don’t let your insecurity tell you otherwise. I’m not really a people person anyway so I was excited that it was going to be just us. Nobody’s avoiding you I promise. Want to just reschedule this night?” He offered. 

You shook your head. Rescheduling wouldn’t make you feel any better. Besides it was nice to be able to spend time with Bucky out in the open like this.  You still felt like your friends were all acting weird, but you trusted Bucky enough that you decided to let it go. 

“Well since it’s just you and me, we still have to watch The Princess Bride.” You relaxed into the couch, already pulling it up on the screen. 

“Sounds perfect.” 

X

You were working away in the lab, it was a little past lunch time but you simply couldn’t stop in the middle of your project. You could push yourself just a little bit and finish this in time to actually leave at a normal time tonight. You had a date tonight. You smiled to yourself. A secret date.

You were deep in the process, so much so that you didn’t even notice the secret date, arriving hours early in the lab. He gave your sides a squeeze making you yelp. You spun around to see your smirking boyfriend. 

“Bucky! Um, what are you doing here!” you asked, trying not to sound too excited. 

“I'm here to help you out with those samples you had requested from me.” He projected his voice around the lab. But it was for the benefit of no one, you were the only two there. You smiled, happily playing along. 

“Oh right! Those samples I requested.” 

“Those spit samples.” He grabbed the back of your head and crushed his lips to yours in a sloppy wet kiss. You slapped his chest as you pulled away from him giggling.

“Ew! Bucky, that's so gross, why would you say it like that!” But you couldn’t stop giggling. He smiled, clearly feeding off the laughter. 

“You’re the one who wants us to have this clandestine affair, I’m just trying to keep up appearances.” 

“"Why are you even here? You’re a little early.”

“It's my lunch break and I wanted to say hi and give you a kiss.” He took  one of your hands in his. You reached out and grabbed his vibranium hand as well so you were holding both. It made his heart flutter, how unperturbed by his arm you were. When he was with you it was like he was just a normal guy.

“Hi.” He murmured, rubbing his nose against yours. 

“Hi.” you breathed back. This time when your lips met it was sweet and soft. He slowly moved his lips against yours, you opened your mouth just slightly enough that his tongue could slip inside and ---

“So I’m pretty sure the Erskine notes were in here.” It was Bruce! Bucky felt a sudden rush of fear. Bruce wasn’t one of the inner circle who would just pretend not to notice their closeness. They could actually get caught!  

You quickly as hard as you could pushed Bucky away and he clamored backwards. You wiped your mouth, hoping somehow that would disguise yourself. Bruce poked his head in.

“Just looking for the Erskine notes. Uh, everything ok in here?” He took stock of each of you, freshly shoved apart. 

“Yeah, just leaving!” Bucky cried as he raced out of the lab. 

“I’m indifferent to him leaving! I’ll go grab the notes for you Dr. Banner!” You raced to the file cabinet not looking at anything but the ground. 

Bruce cocked his head at the strange interaction he just encountered. 

X

“Good morning Bucky!” You greeted cheerfully as he entered the breakfast room in the morning, Steve and Sam in tow. “Morning Steve! Morning Sam!” You quickly added as they filed in. As not to raise suspicion. 

“I get a good morning? Wow. Don’t I feel special.” Sam said with a smirk. 

“I say good morning to everyone. I’m just a morning person like that. How are you doing Sam? I feel like you’ve been so busy, I barely even see you these days.” You asked, trying to sound casual. You still felt like everyone was acting so weird around you. 

“Oh you know, mission after mission. None of them were in Hawaii either, it's all been Nepal, Siberia, whatever frozen wasteland they can dump me in.” He sat down next to you. You nodded along as he continued talking about his missions, eager to connect with your friend again. 

“Good morning troops. Ah and good morning Beaker. Didn’t think I’d see you this early on a Monday.” Tony Stark, sunglasses still on, his closes wrinkled like he’d just come in off a jet. It had been awhile since he was on at the Compound.  

You hoped you weren’t blushing at the comment. Bucky had talked you into another Sunday night sleepover, you were trying to be subtle about it but you were a morning person, it didn't make sense to pretend to show up later.

‘I didn’t think I’d see you at all Mr. Stark. It's been awhile, since you’ve hunkered down with us mole people in the lab.” You always had a professional but good natured relationship with Tony. He was your boss after all, which is why you found it a little weird to call him Tony. 

Tony let out a chuckle and started to make science small talk, about the lab and the projects you’d been working on. 

Bucky and Tony were not great friends. They had buried the hatchet, sure, but it wasn’t like the two drank beer and watched the game together. Cordial coworkers are best. 

Except Bucky didn't feel very cordial with Tony right now. Considering he had taken the only open seat next to you. He gruffly sat down at the table next to them with his coffee. 

You wanted to invite Bucky to come sit with you, or go over to his table, but that would probably be a bit too much for just friends. You peered over Tony’s shoulder to your grumpy boyfriend darkly having breakfast. You tried not to make it too obvious and still listen to his anecdote about building a mini laser. 

The two of your eyes would catch more often than not. Quickly turning back to whatever they were doing. Tony picked up on this immediately, he looked over his shoulder

“What do you keep looking at?” He spun around to look directly at Bucky who was frozen in place.  “What’s going on here? Are you two fucking or something?”

It was like everything happened all at once.

“Tony -- out of line.” “Uh HR?” “No no no you misunderstand.” “Which one of you told Tony?”

Everyone burst into action, all speaking over each other.  Wait what? You swung your head from pleading with Tony to your secret boyfriend.  The three soldiers froze. Sam took a deep breath. 

“I’ve had enough of this! Nobody told Tony. You two idiots are just so obvious that anyone could see it.” Sam said. As soon as he did Steve let out a huge sigh of relief, his shoulders rolling forward like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.  

“I won’t have this, no way, not on my watch. Y/N. My beloved employee. With Mancurian Candidate? Under my nose, in my own lab?” Tony said indignantly,  putting his hand over his heart as if he was scandalized. 

“Tony! That’s really not very funny. You shouldn’t call him that.” You said your face a hard frown. and Bucky felt his heart burst with happiness. But then your gaze turned to him and he felt your icy stare.

“I--I can explain. You see I had actually texted Steve before we decided to be lowkey. It was before so really if you think about it. I didn’t do anything wrong. And Steve and his big mouth told a few people. But it’s just the people in this room. And Nat. And Clint. And Wanda. But that’s all.”  Bucky tried to explain to you as best he could. His eyes were pleading, he felt weak in the knees. You remained silent, your arms crossed. 

“Yikes, you’re in troooouble.” Tony taunted. 

“So basically everyone! Everyone I see on a daily basis. I can’t believe this. So they’ve all known the whole time?” You looked at Sam and Steve who both sheepishly nodded. You turned back to Bucky, you let out a shaky breath. People knew, and nothing bad had happened. Your friends had actually gone out of their way so you two could have some privacy.  “Well I guess there's no point in keeping this up then.”

“Hm?”

“I'm having breakfast with my boyfriend now, so if you don’t mind gentlemen.” You grabbed your breakfast bowl and moved your chair so you were sitting next to Bucky. You grabbed his hand and placed it on your lap. 

“Ugh, I'm nauseous you two are so fucking cute. Guess that’s my cue.  Come on, Commandos, take a hint.” Tony got up signaling to the other two who also rushed out of the room, more than happy to get out of the tense atmosphere. Once you were completely alone, you finally spoke. 

“I can’t believe everyone knows. Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

 Bucky let out a deep sigh. 

“I mean I kept it a secret from some people. Tony being one of them. I just…I wanted to give you what you wanted. But I mean to be completely honest I did want to tell everyone. I’m all in.”  

“I’m all in too!” You cried clutching his hand and kissing his knuckles. “That's why I wanted to try and slow things down so I couldn’t mess anything up. Now it just all seems so silly. I tried so hard to be sneaky too!” 

He took his hand off yours and gave your thigh a squeeze. 

“I mean…we can still sneak around sometimes. If you want. ” He had a playful glint in his eyes. “I mean, I had plans, Doll, a lot of plans. I was fully prepared to take you on every inch of that lab table.” 

“Sergeant Barnes! ” You gasped. “I think we may be a bit too loud for that level of sneakiness.” He took your chin in his hand and rubbed his thumb down your lip.

“I’m sure we can find a way to keep you quiet.”

[werepuppy-steve]

april fic rec

a monthly rec list to help me handle my tbr

<- march fic rec ❀ more fic recs ❀ my ao3

jake from state farm - T, complete @matchingbatbites

tags: modern au, cheating (not between steddie), getting together, valentines day

After a moment the ringing stops, and a voice says "Hello?" "Uh, hi, is this Steve?" "It is, who is this?" "It's Eddie, Jake's roommate? I got your number from him." Well, from his phone when he'd left it unattended one day, but Steve doesn't need to know the details. "I really, really hate to be making this call, especially the day before Valentine's, but uh. Jake is cheating on you."

wrong number - G, complete @steddiealltheway

tags: modern au, texting, getting together, friends to lovers

Steve waits a few more minutes before he makes his way out of the house and goes to his own. Once he gets into his room, he pulls out the piece of paper and types it into his contacts - after messing up the password and struggling to find his contacts. Steve: So not a serial killer I hope? There’s instantly some typing back that worries Steve. Shouldn’t Robin be distracted by her date? Robin: Not a serial killer but you might be… who is this? You intrigue me. Not Robin. Steve’s heart races as he looks at the scrap of paper. Damn scribbled mess.

Baby, It's Cold Outside - T, complete @steviewashere

tags: established relationship, nightmares, ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff

He was blissfully asleep in bed when a sudden cold shock to his back awoke him. Steve yelped, “Jesus!” And turned around to see who had snuck into his house this early in the morning (it’s only nine) and came face to face with his boyfriend, Eddie. “Eds, what the fuck? Hello? Hi? What happened to those? Christ.”

Am I The Asshole? - N/A, 5.6k, complete cairparavels

tags: modern au, AITA, getting together, autistic eddie, misunderstandings, fuck chad all my homies hate chad

Eddie hates his best friend’s new boyfriend and believes it is proof that he is homophobic. He takes to reddit to find out.

We could plant a house, we could build a tree - E, 3.7k, complete what_about_the_fish

tags: breeding kink, established relationship, feminization

When Eddie's dirty mouth stumbles into an interesting kink that makes Steve moan, they have to explore it further. A messy smut filled ride through Steve's breeding kink.

Come on Baby, Eat the Rich - E, 4.2k, complete nativity_in_black

tags: mild exhibitionism, daddy kink, feminization, dom/sub

“Eddie, we can’t- you know how they are. Just a bunch of rich snobs who think they own the place. What if we get caught?”, he worried aloud, trying to keep his voice steady as Eddie smoothed his hands along Steve’s waist. “Mm,”, Eddie hummed in thought, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Clicking his tongue, he looked back up at Steve, “Guess we’ll just have to be quiet, then. What do you say, baby?”

Come Back To Me - T, 3.8k, complete @beetlesandstarss

tags: major/temporary character death, grief/mourning, angst with a happy ending

“Where— uh. Where are you gonna bury him?” Eddie asks. “We’ve got… We’ve got some of his stuff. A box. We thought maybe…” “That’s a fine idea, son,” Steve’s grandpa says. And then, “Next to his parents seems the most fitting.” And— oh. Oh, God. No. Steve’s parents are— Are they dead too? (Or, Steve dies. And then he comes back.)

Hazy Shade - T, 5k, complete weird_witchcraft

tags: season 2 compliant, canon divergence, eddie gets involved earlier

Eddie stumbles into Merrill’s farm late at night on Sunday, November 4th, 1984 and runs into the last person he’d expect to see: Steve Harrington.

Worth the Effort - T, 9k, complete @solarmorrigan

tags: post-s2, friends to lovers, eddie takes care of steve, sick fic, hurt/comfort

Eddie ambles up and drapes himself against Steve’s locker door, head tossed back and eyelashes fluttering wildly. “Oh, Steve,” he simpers, high and breathy, “aren’t you going to whisk me away for a whirlwind Valentine’s romance?” “I’d love to, but I’m pretty sure I have a stats test tomorrow,” Steve drawls, sending a sidelong smirk at Eddie. “Ugh. Romance is dead,” Eddie declares. - In which Eddie contends with his crush on Steve Harrington, learns what a migraine is, and gets a valentine, more or less in that order.

nice to meet you, where you been? - T, 3/3, complete @flowercrowngods

tags: modern au, tattoo artist steve, friends to lovers, ace steddie, transmasc eddie, i could scream forever about how lovely this fic is

When Eddie enters the tattoo parlour that Chrissy recommended to him, he doesn't know what'll hit him. Never in a million years would he have expected the pastel or the minimalistic decor or how really fucking polished everything about this place is. It's like an antithesis to Eddie's entire existence has been created with the makings of this shop. The absolute cherry on top is the man that walks into the room to greet him, though. Because there is no way that Steve Harrington, whom Eddie had the maddest crush on in high school, owns a tattoo shop. No way. Nuh-uh. Not dressed in pastel like he is. Eddie wants to hate it. But he doesn't account for how genuinely amazing Steve is, or how crushing on him is the easiest thing. Really, it's a losing game from the start.

Mutually Beneficial - E, 1.2k, complete @steddie-island | kintsugi_kid

tags: mean dom eddie, age difference, power imbalance, choking, bottom steve

It had started innocently enough, with Steve getting kicked out as soon as he’d graduated and with Eddie Munson, town outcast, advertising a room for rent and a kid who needed a sitter. Moving in would be mutually beneficial. It evolved into, “Pretty thing, you take care of me… and I’ll take care of you.” Really, how was Steve supposed to argue with that?

Love and Smoke - T, series, WIP @stevieschrodinger

tags: cottage witch steve, snake familiar eddie, fluff

She sighs, rolling over on the couch like Steve’s just committed a huge offense, “I just don’t understand why you're so against it.” “There are a lot of reasons why a familiar is a bad idea Robbie.” And because they’ve been over this what feels like a hundred times, Steve can list them easily, “it’ll be fur or feathers, so not only would they shed on my furniture, and I’ll have fur or whatever everywhere, you know I don’t do so well with bird dander. Makes me sniffly. They get separation anxiety, so they have to go with you everywhere. Not exactly going to be convenient if I pull a- a – dire wolf or something, and you want to go to the movies. And if I leave them home alone, it would be cruel.” “You might get something small and hairless! Like a- a frog!” Rob insists. Steve just rolls his eyes and huffs, “but I might not. So no. Also, a frog? Really?” Not that Steve has anything against frogs particularly, just...where the hell would it stay? The sink? “Steve!” “I said no Robbie, okay. I’m not lonely. I have my garden, my books, I have plenty to do. I see you at the weekend, I see plenty of people at Tuesday Market. I am fine.”

Can I Kiss You? - G, complete @transvampireboyfriend

tags: crushes, first kiss, fluff

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks, eyes glued to the side of Eddie’s face. Eddie is sitting on his couch and Steve is hanging out across from him, lounging on Wayne’s recliner. He gets to use it whenever Wayne’s at work, with his explicit permission and now priority, since Eddie was jealous enough to start a mock argument and Wayne took Steve’s side just to tease his nephew. So now Eddie has to give that place up whenever Steve’s over. Which, he almost always is, these days.

If Found, Return to Me - G, complete @steviewashere

tags: established relationship, couples t-shirts

He grips the hem of his shirt and tugs. Chin tucked into his neck so that he can read the text, which is bold and black and dark on the white background. ‘If found, return to Steve.’ Eddie groans. “Do we seriously have to wear these?” He whines.

fear the inky blackness of night - T, complete @griefabyss69

tags: post-s4, pre-steddie, steve getting over his fear of the dark

So when Eddie walks into his room, as he does, you know, like a person will just walk into the room he sleeps in, bed and dresser and guitars and all, he doesn’t expect there to just be… A fucking guy in there.

burgundy kiss - E, 6.5k, complete @hawkinsbnbg

tags: soulmates, modern au, dom/sub, under-negotiated kink, daddy kink, light breeding kink

Steve got Good boy inscribed on his butt, just on the right cheek. It would be funny if it was a tattoo Steve had gotten one time when he was too drunk and on a dare. Except it wasn't a tattoo. At all. Even though it kind of looked like one. In truth, it was the first word his soulmate would say to him.

Or, a meet-sexy story where Steve's soulmate is a man of culture.

dance with the devil - E, 2/?, WIP @sourw0lfs

tags: modern au, guardian angel eddie, monster steve, magic

The apartment is quiet around him, the only sound is the rush in his ears from the growing hangover, but it’s not so big he can’t find the owner. When he finally does, Steve actually throws up. If it weren’t for the smallest sliver of still clean blond hair amidst the sea of blood-clump strands, Steve wouldn’t even believe that the mangled corpse in front of him is the same guy as the night before. What the fuck happened? OR: The one where Steve turns 21 and his life turns upside down in the worst ways, complete with gaining the most obnoxious guardian angel known to man

go for it - T, 4.6k, complete @steveseddie | mseg_21

tags: flirting, getting together, pining, first kiss

Steve huffs. “What makes you so sure that you can convince me?” He asks with an arched eyebrow. “The kids have tried and failed and you know how relentless they are.” “Yeah, but I can be very persuasive.” He gestures at himself with a hand flourish. “You know, as a cult leader and all.” Steve hums. “Of course.” He leans his hip against the counter, only an inch away from Eddie’s thigh. “There’s gotta be something I can do to convince you,” Eddie says, moving his thigh until it touches Steve’s hip. “Something I can give you in exchange. To make it worth your while.” Steve’s eyes immediately dart down to Eddie’s lips. Eddie’s stomach swoops. There it is. or Eddie and Steve finally stop dancing around each other- too bad that the Hellfire Club is there to witness it

The Hawk - T, series, WIP @fastcardotmp3

tags: nancy wheeler centric, "the bear" au, multi pov, grief/mourning, character studies

A "The Bear" AU about the restaurant that falls into Nancy Wheeler's lap and the people that help her make it more than a burden. (Ensemble, Multi-POV)

the sweetest thing - E, 7/7, complete @cranberrymoons

tags: no nut november, established relationship, dom/sub undertones

It had started out simple enough between them, Eddie making some off-hand comment about Steve not being able to hold out for a whole month and Steve, ever unable to back down from a challenge, rising to the bait. “Whatever,” he’d said, rolling his eyes. “A month? Please.” He could do a month. Easy. He just hadn't counted on Eddie being – well. Himself. eddie goads steve into a No Nut November challenge; he never said anything about taking it easy on him

The Hole Story - E, series, complete @griefabyss69

tags: pre-relationship, fantasizing, slow burn, rimming

Steve wishes he hates the way he can't stop thinking about Eddie's tongue.

surface-level freak - E, 7k, complete @starryeyedjanai

tags: modern au, transmasc steve, werewolf eddie, human steve

Steve Harrington, Werewolf Fucker. He thinks he should be able to put that on his business card, but Robin says it's a little crass.

But My Heart Is Just A Little Boy - T, 2k, complete Atalia_Gold

tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, steve has dyscalculia

“Look, just carry on without me,” Steve muttered, and stood up quick enough that his chair scraped on the floor. “Steve -” Dustin started, but Steve was finished, striding towards the stairs and blinking back tears. He wasn’t going to cry in front of the kids, not over a fucking game, not over something his boyfriend loved so much. But they were coming faster than he could blink them back as he headed out of Mike’s stuffy basement and out to the driveway, the cold night air caressing his flushed face. This was supposed to have been a treat for Eddie. It was supposed to be fun, and Steve had ruined the night by being fucking stupid. ***** Steve wanted to surprise Eddie by joining in on D&D. Unfortunately, he's struggling with the math involved, and the kids aren't making it any easier.

Just a Shirt - T, 1k, complete @shares-a-vest

tags: established relationship, fluff, love confessions

Eddie makes Steve a customised Hellfire shirt, just for him.

The Taste of the Divine - E, 4.3k, complete tsmkeeler

tags: steddie as roommates, phone sex operator eddie, dom/sub, getting together

The exhale Steve was releasing staggered, and Eddie’s ears caught what sounded like Steve’s moan. The shuffling on the other side of the line reminded him he was on the clock and this was a good paying customer. He couldn’t just drop the line to handle Steve. He just needed to get him back in position and doing something, then he could get Steve out of there. He made a correcting noise. “On. Your. Knees.” Little brat thought he could do whatever he wanted for the pleasure. To Eddie’s surprise, Steve lowered to his knees. His chin tilted to his chest, hands on the tops of his thighs. He was sitting so pretty. What was stiff was now throbbing against the rough material of his dark jeans. “Yes, sir,” Steve replied breathily. Surely, Eddie was asleep and this was a night fantasy well beyond his best daydreams. There was no way. No fucking way. OR Steve and Eddie aren't only co-workers, they're roommates. While working his second job late at night, Eddie forgets to close the door and is pleasantly surprised by his roommates willingness to join him.

The Right Wrong Number - M, 8/8, complete @apomaro-mellow

tags: wrong number, getting together, phone sex, first meetings, modern au

Steve gets the wrong number and starts texting an interesting guy.

Kinktober 2023 - E, 19/19, complete @stevesjockstrap | deansdemondick

tags: kinktober, multiple pairings

Kinky Drabbles for October 😈

The End Of The Line - E, 6.4k, complete entanglednow

tags: post-s4, nightmares, (platonic) mutual masturbation, phone sex, feelings realization, fantasies, humor (like so much humor this fic made me laugh so hard)

Eddie knows better than to ignore a phone ringing in the middle of the night. After everything they've done for him the least he can do is be there for a friend in need.

Never Caught my Breath - E, 6.1k, complete @emchant3d

tags: established relationship, dom/sub, service dom eddie, role reversal (kind of), needy dom eddie, transmasc steve, daddy kink

“I know you had a long, long day,” he tells him, his touch tracing down, down, down, Eddie’s torso shivering beneath the ticklish drag of his hand, “so why don’t you just let me take care of you, huh? Does that sound nice?” “Yeah, baby,” Eddie says, barely more than a whisper. “Yeah, that sounds real fuckin’ nice.” Eddie works too hard. Steve helps him relax.

You're the Missing Piece - E, 7.9k, complete brokenpromisesandhope

tags: modern au, established stancy, polyamory negotiations, 5+1, stoncy endgame, exhibitionism,my first stoncy read and it made me feel Emotions idk

5 times Steve, Nancy and Jonathan had sex without each other and one time they did it together.