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megamindsecretlair · 1 year ago

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It's a Little Warm, Part 1

Cross posted on @megamindssecretlair

Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4 | Read Part 5

Pairing: Bucky x Black!Fem!Reader / Plus Size Reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some making out, unresolved tension! Mentions of private parts but really mild. Cursing. Mild age gap. Reader is late 20s and Bucky is mid 30s. Soft Bucky. Part 1 of 5. Slow burn to smut though. Some sentences are intentional AAVE.

Summary: Sam Wilson is your play uncle and has invited you and Bucky to stay at a cabin with him, Sarah, and the kids. Bucky was sweet enough to help with your bags. You also found yourself up in the wee hours of the morning with him.

Word Count: 4,221k

A/N: I've been reading a lot of age gap fics at cabins and wanted to try my spin. Apologies if I miss any warnings or this is super corny. But here we go! While likes are awesome, please consider reblogging and commenting to help support writers!

“Kinfolk!” Uncle Sam yelled and shoved past people in his quest to scoop you into his arms and spin you around. You yelped, not used to anyone swinging you around like a doll. You were short but far from petite and the sudden loss of your feet firmly planted to the ground made your stomach flip.

“Put me down!” You yelled. You slapped at his massive arms but that only made him chuckle. Mercifully, he stopped turning and set you on your feet. “Look at you!”

You rolled your eyes. “I just saw ya’ll last week!”

His chuckle was quick as he threw his head back. “You barely come out of the house, I got to comment on the special occasion.”

You twist your lips and roll your eyes. “I see being Captain Chocolate has made you even cornier,” you said.

Uncle Sam laughed and threw his arm over your shoulder. “Oh, see you got jokes. I see working for that newspaper ain’t help with them lame ass nicknames. I thought you had a better vocabulary than that?”

“Somehow I always forget it when I come around ya’ll,” you said. Uncle Sam only chuckled. “Where’s your bags?”

“Got it in the car for now,” you said.

Uncle Sam frowned. “Give me a minute, I’ll come help you,” he said.

“I’m perfectly capable of bringing up my own bags,” you said.

“That ain’t what I said. C’mon and say hi to Sarah. She’s glad there will be another woman this week,” he said. You follow Uncle Sam through the cabin, weaving through close friends of his and Aunt Sarah.

The cabin had an open plan for the living room and dining room. People milled around watching a football game and sitting on large, comfortable couches. The dining room was cottage chic as a few of the elderly people sat around it talking and fanning themselves. Kids nearly pushed you over as they ran through the cabin.

“Say ‘excuse me’ next time!” Uncle Sam called after them. A chorus of “excuse me’s” rang out as you waved them off. Finally, you made it through the sea of people into the kitchen where various aunties were passing around bowls and spoons and tinfoil.

They smiled at you and you were passed around like the last piece of pie as everyone got in their hugs and kisses and well wishes. The last person to hug you was Aunt Sarah. She hugged you just as hard as Uncle Sam did.

“Damn, ya’ll would’ve thought I died or something,” you said.

Sarah laughed. “Oh my god! I’m just so happy it’s not just me staying here this week. Sam gets his puppy, I should get one too,” Sarah said and laughed, pushing her braids behind her ears.

Before you could ask what she meant, a booming grandfatherly voice called out for Sam. He told them that he’d be right back and headed out of the open side door towards the backyard. Smoke rose into the air as a full barbeque station was being managed by an elderly man with a cap and New Balance shoes on. You shook your head. Every time.

You opened your mouth to ask what Sarah meant by the puppy comment but movement to your left caught your eye. A man entered the kitchen in a soft burgundy shirt and jeans and large dusty boots. He scanned the room before spotting Sarah and broke into a wide grin.

He was simply gorgeous. It was the type of smile that could stop traffic. Perhaps even cure cancer if he grinned hard enough. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he approached.

“You must be Sam’s niece,” he said and extended his hand.

“Uh yes, nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes,” you said and took his hand. His hand was rough and calloused and slid across your soft palm, making your hand tingle.

He smirked and shook his head. “Ugh, Mr. Barnes makes me sound old. I’m not that old. Bucky is fine,” he said.

“You are that old, you old dinosaur,” Uncle Sam said, materializing right next to you. He clapped you on the back, making you jump. “He’s so old, Moses asked him to lead the choir,” Uncle Sam said and laughed.

The group laughed and Bucky rolled his eyes. “At least I don’t have any gray hairs,” Bucky said.

“Ay man, you take that back. That’s hurtful,” Uncle Sam said and smoothed down his faded haircut.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of Bucky Barnes. It had been wild hearing about the man from Uncle Sam and Aunt Sarah, but seeing him in person was an entirely different experience.

Aunt Sarah leaned her hip against the counter and looked between the two men. “See, Sam gets his puppy and I get another human being to talk to. Once you get these two started, they keep going on and on,” she said.

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head. “Bucky’s staying with us for the week too. It’s rare they come home at the same time these days. So we’re gonna make a thing out of it,” Aunt Sarah explained the unspoken question lingering in the air.

“Ah, gotcha.”

“Hey, we bring the sunshine and the good vibes. All day, baby. Now, pass over the keys,” Uncle Sam said and held his hand out.

You shook your head. “I can get it, it’s not a big deal.”

The cook for the festivities called for Uncle Sam again. He groaned and nodded towards Bucky. “Wrestle the keys from her so we can help with her bags and take it upstairs. She’s stubborn.”

“Stubborn doesn’t work on us, doll,” Bucky said and turned that mega-watt smile on you. You sighed and fought to keep all kinds of dirty thoughts out of your mind. Could super soldiers read minds?

“Hey, hey, hey! None of that. Paws off!” Uncle Sam said.

“Oh my god,” you groaned. Your cheeks instantly flamed and you were grateful for your darker skin. It hid the obvious signs of a blush. You turned to Aunt Sarah for help who laughed and shook her head. She gave you a pitying look as if to say she wouldn’t be any help. She looked Bucky up and down and winked at you.

“You’re not really my uncle, you know,” you said.

“I’m your uncle in the ways that matter. Don’t make me bring a hose in here. It’s hard enough keeping the aunties off of him.”

The cook called out for Uncle Sam again. He gave them a warning glare before you turned back to Bucky who held out his metal hand. It had intricate designs etched into it and seemed really, really advanced. You half wondered if it was from that famous Wakanda. You’d just about die to have a chance to go there one day.

“I can get it myself. You don’t have to bother,” you said. You backed away, bumping into random partygoers talking in the kitchen. The press of bodies seemed to double as you backed away towards the front door. You knew you should have brought your things inside earlier. But you were already running late and just wanted to unwind from the long drive.

Bucky stalked forward, patient as a hunter, with his arm still outstretched. His grin turned into a patient smirk.

“Right, being stubborn doesn’t work on you,” you said.

His answering smirk was enough to melt your panties. You looked away from him. If he couldn’t read your mind, he could at least read your facial expressions. And none of your thoughts were holy.

You dug into the back pocket of your shorts and slapped your keys into his hand. “Thanks, doll,” he said.

You had, hand to god, actual shivers run down your spine. His voice had the right amount of gravel in it to skate over your nerve endings. And you weren't even standing that close to him.

Bucky held out his hand for you to lead the way and you took the opportunity to calm your racing heart and nerves. He was a solid wall of heat at your back as you maneuvered your way to the front door. Your sandals slapped against the hardwood floor but even with his boots, he was silent. You felt like a bull in a china shop.

You gave yourself a pep talk. Somehow, someway, you were supposed to survive an entire week with that. You supposed it was true. You should never meet your idols. You might get the overwhelming urge to climb them like a tree.

Okay, thoughts like that weren’t going to help. You supposed you could limit your contact as much as possible. Hide out in the room or down by the lake. Anything. As long as it meant you weren’t right next to the man.

You led Bucky outside and towards the makeshift parking lot. A dizzying array of nearly every make and model crowded the rented cabin’s lawn and rocky driveway. You had to park a little ways away and walk down to the cabin. Making it to your beat up Honda, you waved to it.

Bucky smirked and popped the trunk. You had two suitcases, plus your laptop bag. You moved to grab one and Bucky tsked at you. He tsked at you as if you were a child!

“You don’t like people doing things for you, do you?” Bucky asked with a smirk. He bent down to retrieve your bags. He didn’t even grunt at the weight. This was your poor attempt to pack light. But since you were a big girl, your clothes didn’t roll up all cute and tiny. You had to adjust and shove things until they fit enough for the suitcase to close.

“I’m not used to it. Makes me feel weird,” you said.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. Makes me feel useless. I feel like I should help,” you said. He got the second suitcase down and slipped your laptop bag over his shoulders. You closed the trunk.

“So you were going to haul all of this to the cabin tonight by yourself?”

“Yes?” You hadn’t meant to make it a question, but he asked as if he were scolding you. You fought an eye roll and bit the inside of your cheek. He was being nice. But it still grated. As far as the City of Nawlins was concerned, you were a full growed adult.

“It gets pretty dark out here. It could’ve gotten dangerous. A random car could hit you or a wild animal could trip you up,” he said.

“You always so fatalistic?”

“I’ve had reason to be,” he said.

Right. Doofus. “I am so-”

“Don’t be,” he said with a smirk. “Once you fight scaly purple monster-aliens, it’s hard not to see danger everywhere. Just because you can do things by yourself doesn’t mean you can’t accept a little help. Okay?”

You nodded slowly, feeling like a proper idiot. Of course the man was fatalistic. You didn’t know everything about him. Most of it came from Antman’s book or Uncle Sam’s stories, and it wasn’t the whole story. Still, it was enough to know that Bucky had more than enough reason to be wary of potential danger.

You took a deep breath and avoided looking at him. He carried your bags into the house and up the stairs. He nodded towards a door a few paces down the hallway. You opened it to find a spacious room, decorated with a nautical theme. You smiled at the blue and white scheme, the anchor pictures on the wall, and the goofy full sized bed.

Bucky gently set your bags on the floor and your laptop bag on the small desk. As he leaned over, his shirt rode up a bit revealing creamy skin and subtle muscles.

“What’s that, doll?” Bucky asked as he straightened.

“What?” You asked, a little too loud. You looked at him and he put his hands on his waist as he surveyed the room.

“I thought you said something,” he said. Did he have to draw attention to his tiny ass waist? Seriously. This man couldn’t be real. It was like he stepped out of a smut book. He was the definition of sexy as sin. Everything he did was seductive.

“Figured you’d get the better room,” he muttered with a sigh. But you got the sense that he was teasing. You looked around and noticed the huge window. You went to it and peeked out over the backyard. Uncle Sam was leading the group dance along to a Tupac song.

You turned with a smile to tell Bucky but you noticed his eyes dart up to your face. Was he…?

No way. You shook your head. “Where’s your room?” You asked.

“Right across the hall. Just holler if you need anything, I’m a light sleeper.”

Your mind wandered to how he would look asleep. His dark hair tousled and floofy. You bet he slept without a shirt on. He seemed the type. Plus he was like a furnace. He probably got hot. Which meant…

“Uh right. That must suck. I sleep like a little brick,” you said. Your cheeks burned again.

“I haven’t slept that well since before the war,” he said and shrugged. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I probably just need some water. It’s a little warm in here. I mean outside. I mean today,” you said with a laugh. You looked at the floor and closed your eyes. Yup. Operation Avoid Bucky At All Costs commenced now.

“Well come on. We better get downstairs before Sam steals all the ribs like last time. I thought food lasted longer at cookouts?” Bucky asked.

You laughed. “Rule number one of cookouts: make your to-go plate before your real plate,” you said.

He backed out of the room with a grin. You followed and closed your bedroom door behind you.

“You’ll have to explain that one,” he said.

You explained the intricacies of cook out etiquette as you headed down the stairs and on the way outside. Bucky listened and didn’t interrupt no matter how many side stories and funny anecdotes you told. Once outside, Uncle Sam waved from the dance area.

Uncle Sam moved and shimmied his way through dances, making everyone around him laugh. He wore long, navy shorts and a light blue shirt. You shook your head as he tried to twerk and made everyone nearly fall out with laughter.

You stood side by side with Bucky as you watched. You kept all of your focus on Uncle Sam. You absolutely did not notice how heavenly Bucky smelled or how he blocked the sun for you.

Aunt Sarah called your name and you looked behind you. She sat at a table and waved. She pointed to a plate she made for you. Your stomach chose then to grumble. You waved back to acknowledge her.

“I better…”

“I’ll catch you around,” he said with a small smile. He headed off into the swarm of people with ease saying hi and clapping people on the back.

You took a deep breath. Maybe food was exactly what you needed. If you were too busy stuffing your face, you didn’t have time to think about Bucky Barnes.

You were burning up. For such an open room, the southern heat was eating you alive. You had already kicked off most of your pjs, leaving nothing but an oversized T-shirt and your panties. In a minute, you were going to take that off too, but you desperately needed some water.

You got out of bed, fumbling around in the dark. You stubbed your toe on the corner of a dresser and bit the inside of your cheek to keep from yowling. You danced in place until the sharp pain subsided.

You had no idea what time it was but after the party, cleaning up, and trading stories around the kitchen table, everyone peeled off for bed around two or three in the morning. The sun wasn’t yet up so you only managed to get an hour or so of sleep.

Your tongue was dry and thick. You moved it around, trying to get your spit going. That last tequila shot definitely did you in. You sighed heavily as you padded down the hallway and the stairs.

The silence was near deafening as you crossed the wide open space. The cabin was dark but there was enough ambient light from the open curtains letting in moon light. You could see enough to cross the living room towards the kitchen.

You opened the fridge door and bent over to look for leftover water bottles. You danced a bit as you tried to focus long enough to find a bottle. The fridge blew cold air that washed over your flushed skin. You scratched absently at your bonnet.

Finally finding some water, you uncapped it and stood up to down nearly half the bottle. You turned around and screamed, jumping back into the fridge door. Bucky sat at the kitchen table. The light from the fridge gave him an otherworldly appearance.

Bucky stood up instantly and crossed the small space towards you. He held out his hands to steady you. “You okay? I’m sorry,” he said.

You slapped him away and scrambled for the nearest light switch. “You scared me half to death!”

Miraculously, you drank too much for the water to slosh out of the bottle so none of it spilled. You clutched the cool bottle to your racing heart. Your hands shook and you took deep breaths to calm down.

Bucky had the good nerve to wince before closing the fridge door. “I’m truly sorry,” he said.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked.

Bucky chuckled. “Well, I wasn’t trying to scare you. A random voice in the night would’ve scared you more,” he said.

You flopped into the nearest kitchen chair. You were too hot and too shaken up to care that you wore a bonnet around Bucky. There was no need to avoid him now. You were about as sexy as a paper clip.

He dropped back into his seat. Now that you were calming down, you noticed that true to your daydreams, his hair was pleasantly tousled. He didn’t wear a shirt but he did have dog tags hanging from his neck. His metal arm gleamed in the low light.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” You asked.

He smirked. “Not really,” he said.

“Nightmares? Want to talk about it? I’ve been told I’m an excellent listener,” you said.

He absently rubbed a spot on the wooden table. “Wasn’t a nightmare this time. Actually had a dream. For the first time in a long time.”

You looked at him as he held a smirk, but there was no humor in it. You sat patiently, giving him the space to talk about it or not. It didn’t seem like he was inclined, so you sipped your water and listened to the subtle animal sounds from outside.

“It wasn’t anything fancy. Quite boring actually. I dreamt I was back in Wakanda. It was peaceful there,” he said softly.

A million questions danced in your head. But you nodded and smiled at him to continue. “There was a small lake where I used to sit for hours and just be. I didn’t get a lot of chances to do that in my life. Being here just made me miss it, I guess,” he said.

“I get that. Dream freaked you out enough to come sit in the dark by your lonesome?” You asked.

He chuckled and nodded. “I can’t always trust what’s in my head. Sometimes I need to ground myself and I’m still getting used to how soft beds are these days,” he said.

“Oh, they make them firmer. Like sleeping on an ironing board,” you said.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve slept on worse,” he said.

“Ugh, no thank you. Give me the softest bed you can find. I wanna disappear into an infinite void of clouds and pillows and blankets,” you said.

Bucky grinned and looked at you. “Don’t you have to be this tall to even climb into the bed?” He held up his hand to exaggerate how short you were. You stuck your tongue out at him.

“Next to you, everyone’s short,” you said.

“And yet you’re still the shortest,” he said and laughed. You leaned up and slapped his regular arm.

“You’ve been hanging around Uncle Sam too long,” you said.

Before you could pull back, Bucky grabbed your wrist and prevented you from moving back. He rubbed lazy circles as he looked at you.

“Why do you call him Uncle?”

Your heart rate sped up for different reasons. His touch was feather soft and sent all kinds of crazy signals to your belly.

“I grew up around their family for years. But when Sam joined the Air Force, I called him Uncle Sam as a joke. Kind of stuck. He already saw himself as my older brother so we kept it. Sarah felt left out so I called her Auntie,” you explained.

Bucky hummed and nodded. He glanced down at the circles he was making on your wrist.

“Where’s your family?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Deadbeat, emotionally abusive parents. I ditched them a long time ago and I don’t talk to them.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“S’okay. Good riddance. Sam and Sarah and the boys are all I need. If you’re gonna keep coming around, I guess that includes you too,” you said.

Bucky chuckled and finally released your wrist. “You should probably try to get some sleep. Apparently, Sam has plans scheduled for the whole week,” Bucky said softly.

“Sam loves his plans. You gonna get some rest?” You asked.

“I’ll try,” he said.

You nodded. You stood up and moved to walk past him. But you stopped and bit your lip. You reached up and stroked his cheek.

“I hope you get some sleep,” you said. You didn’t quite want the spell to break yet. It was early morning and the house was quiet. In the moments you spent down here, your body had cooled. However, standing so close to him while his clean soapy scent enveloped you, your body heated up for entirely different reasons.

You slid your fingers under his chin and made him look up at you. His lips parted as he looked from between your eyes to your lips. He sighed as he trailed his fingers along your thighs. You made a squeak as the cold metal of his arm touched your heated skin.

He skirted his fingers up and beneath the hem of your shirt, but he didn’t press further. He drew more lazy circles into your skin.

Fuck it. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He sighed again, against your lips, and tugged you closer until you were straddling his thick thigh. You braced one hand on his other thigh and the other around his metal shoulder.

He devoured you in a strong kiss, teeth clashing against each other. His tongue swiped against your lower lip before you opened for him. His tongue dived inside and slid against your own.

His metal arm wrapped around you to keep you steady. His hand was better than a brace as it kept you from slipping off of him. His other hand came up to stroke your jaw before wrapping around your neck.

Not even you could keep the needy moan from escaping your lips. His lips moved over yours with expert care. Your hands came up to feather into his hair and trail down to the nape of his neck where you lightly scratched him.

A shudder moved through him that you felt all the way to your pussy. You shamelessly grinded on his leg. There was nothing but his sweatpants and your panties keeping you from skin on skin contact but you were sure he could feel how damp you were already. You’d be embarrassed except your thoughts were consumed with him. With touching him and feeling your nipples rub against his bare chest.

As soon as the kiss started, Bucky pulled away from you. Your harsh breaths mingled with his as you both panted. He plucked your hands from around his neck and held them in between you like a silent prayer. He got a faraway look in his eyes as he stared at your hands.

He leaned down and kissed your fingers before leaning back and staring at the ceiling. Almost as if he were staring straight into Uncle Sam’s room.

“You should go back upstairs,” he panted.

You wanted to be angry. He didn’t get to just dismiss you. You practically threw yourself at him and that realization was enough to dump ice water in your veins. How embarrassing.

You got up slowly and nodded. Without saying another word, you left the kitchen. Cool air hit the sweat along your face and neck and you shivered from the lack of heat. His heat. But you were a grown woman. You would be okay.

You trudged all the way to your room and closed the door before falling face first into bed with a soft groan.

What, the actual fuck just happened?

Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4 | Read Part 5

There is now a follow up! It's a Little Cold

#marvel #bucky #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #bucky fan fiction #Bucky x Black!reader #bucky x plus size reader #Bucky x reader #Bucky x you #The Secret Bucky Files #Megaminds Secret Files #It's a Little Warm Series #x Black reader #Bucky x Fem!reader

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etherrreal · 2 years ago

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“creep(er) into my heart”

Pairing: kenma x gn!reader Genre: fluff, friends to lovers Summary: two gamers walk into a fancy restaurant and it goes as well as you’d think. WC: 4,220 Warnings: N/A A/N: This is part 2 of “would you be mine(craft)?” with an even cornier title. You can probably read this without reading the first, but maybe read it for context? (also, i joke that applebee’s sucks but their “bourbon street chicken and shrimp” lives rent free in my head everyday) -Luna

Dates are meant to be anxiety-inducing, whether it’s a stomach full of butterflies or ruthless tornadoes.

So, it’s an odd feeling to be so calm and collected during the days leading up to a big date, especially one with Kenma. You assume it’s because the stakes are so low, knowing that if the spark isn’t there, you’ll still see him on Minecraft, probably that same night, to help with his iron golem farming idea like nothing ever happened.

What’s even weirder is that both of you have continued to not discuss the date at all since he asked you the weekend before. You don’t know if it’s because it’ll be awkward to break the ice of the discussion or if he’s procrastinating figuring out the plans for that night, but you both continue to play games and watch anime together during the week without even grazing the topic.

If it wasn't for the Google Calendar invite reminding you 48 hours before Saturday that your date was in fact coming up, you would still believe that him asking you out was something you happened to imagine during your post-date funk.

Thankfully, come Thursday evening, not long after you get the notification, he sends you a text letting you know that he’ll be taking you to a restaurant in the city. It’s one you’ve passed several times before, which is how you know, without having to check their Instagram tags, that it’s a semi-formal, if not fully formal, dress code and dining experience. It’s an abnormal choice for Kenma to willingly select a place where he’d have to wear anything that buttons, let alone a full suit, so you have to imagine that the place must have glowing reviews for him to settle on it.

Now all you have to do is find a whole entire formal outfit with only two days’ notice and minimal time after work to shop. No biggie.

But you manage to do it in time—although barely since you had to rally together the group chat to help—and by the time Saturday comes, you’re actually feeling a bit of nerves start to pool in your stomach as you’re getting ready for the night. Although it all dissipates when you get a series of texts from Kenma, minutes apart, realizing that he may be experiencing the same kind of jitters that you’re feeling.

‘I dont know how to tie a fucking tie, time to cancel the date’ ‘This is harder than finishing Dark Souls’ ‘I got it, but Kuroo made fun of me and is a terrible teacher and now my feelings are hurt’

You zoom through getting ready, and with about 30-ish minutes until your 7PM reservation, the 25-minute Uber ride leaves you with just enough time to be early. And you’re given quite the shock when you step out of the car and you already see Kenma in front of the restaurant, head hung low as he scrolls through his phone. As you get closer, you notice he cleans up nicely in his smart black suit with his hair pulled back into a bun except for a few face-framing pieces. You make sure to call his name to get his attention, his head snapping up when he hears your voice.

“Wooow, look at you, Mr. Snazzy,” you comment, reaching up to straighten his tie. “I’ve never seen you so gussied up before. Must be quite the date for you to dust off your one and only suit.”

“I have a second suit,” he says defensively. “It’s gray because Kuroo says that’s a better color to wear for the daytime.”

“When did Kuroo become your fashion stylist?”

“When my publicist politely said that I looked like a scrub in all my other clothes during meetings.”

“...She never said anything about your hair, though?”

Kenma glares at you, definitely offended by the implication that his excessively grown out roots are unprofessional, to which you offer a small smile, hoping that he knows you meant it with love.

“Let’s just go inside before I get insulted again tonight.”

He pulls the door open for you—like the gentleman that he pretends to be—and steps up to greet the host before you can say anything.

“Hello, I have a reservation for 7PM. Kozume.”

Normally, you’d joke about him finally being able to speak to a server by himself, seeing as he still has to hype himself up sometimes before asking for extra ketchup when you’re eating out. You remember there being a time when he ordered marinara sauce with his cheesy bread from Domino’s and when it wasn’t included, he was fully prepared to leave and eat his bread dry to avoid talking to anyone. You ended up having to take the receipt up to the cashier and fixing the mistake so you didn’t have to see him somberly eating his sauceless bread.

The jokes slip your mind, however, as you take in the decor of the place. A few chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, sparkling under the low light from the sconces on the wall. Each table is decorated with a crisp white tablecloth and set with dark green trimmed plates, long-stem wine glasses, and folded cloth napkins around a simple floral centerpiece.

You’re observing the attire of the guests, feeling a bit underdressed, but also overdressed considering how effortless and chic most of the outfits are. The meals they’re eating look especially small, probably only a few bites on the giant plates. It’s a place definitely out of your comfort zone, one that you’d think would be nice to attend, but probably never would because it’s so bougie and you’d feel out of place.

Kenma’s hand on your lower back startles you out of your thoughts, and suddenly, you’re being guided toward the middle of the restaurant, a server in front of you to lead the way.

The server pulls out your chairs, providing menus and telling you that he’ll be back when you’re ready to order. Polite smiles and thanks are given as you settle in, draping your coats over the backs of your chairs and picking up the menus.

If you thought you felt out of place when you walked in, you’re definitely feeling it now. You scan the menu, trying not to look too stressed when you see the prices and can’t recognize or even read the foreign names of certain dishes, but from what you can read, nothing is sparking joy. You’re trying to get a read on Kenma, glancing up to see if he’s also having trouble picking something from the menu or if he’s confident about what to order, but his stoic face gives nothing away.

In an attempt to put out some feelers, you clear your throat before saying, “I’m not really sure what to pick. How about you? See anything you like?”

“I’m still looking, but nothing so far,” he responds, trailing off at the end as he watches a server bring some morsels of food plated on a bowl of rocks to the table next to you. It’s only then that can catch his eye and in them, you’re seeing the same feeling of bewilderment and unease from being in this setting. But it’s gone in a second, back to his normal flat expression.

But you definitely saw it, so now that you know the feeling’s mutual, you feel less bad about feeling it yourself. You let a few moments pass, with the menu held in front of your face, high enough that only your eyes peek out from over the top before you let out a suggestion.

“....You know we passed by a Domino’s on the way here, and now all I can think about are their wings.”

Kenma nearly slams the menu onto the table, eyes wide and ravenous for some food. “I want some of their cheesy bread so bad.”

“Wanna make a run for it?” You’re trying to be low-key when looking around for anyone that could be watching, gently setting the menu down and grabbing the collar of your coat, looking back to Kenma for confirmation. He’s already shoved one arm into the sleeve of his blazer and is scooting back his chair to stand, making sure to give you a nod so you know that it’s go time.

You’re not as graceful as Kenma is in your escape, nearly spilling someone’s drink while putting on your coat on the way out. You pick up your pace, ignoring Kenma’s glance and snickers. He reaches the door first, holding it open for you while you finally get your coat on. There’s a beat while you stand there before you both burst into giggles, nearly keeling over with laughter and tears in your eyes.

Finally, standing up straight after a few minutes, you gesture behind you. “Ready to go get a gourmet meal?”

With an excited nod from Kenma, you walk side by side down the streets. You use the time to clown him for not knowing how to tie a tie, even suggesting that you’ll gift him a clip-on for future uses so he doesn’t hurt his little gamer hands trying to tie a knot.

To which he responds with, “And I’ll light your Minecraft house on fire using my little gamer hands if you don’t shut up.”

Suddenly, you’re silent.

The Domino’s is a bit farther than it seemed while in the car, but eventually, you see the glowing blue and red symbol high up on the square building, rushing ahead to rip open the door so you can quickly usher Kenma inside and order as soon as possible.

Too much money later, you’re skipping out of Domino’s, wings and cheesy bread secured along with other impromptu boxes of goodies to take home. You’re both waiting at the corner while you pull open the Google Maps app to figure out the best place to catch a cab when you notice a spot nearby that piques your interest.

“Did you know there’s an arcade around the corner?!” you nearly scream, shoving your phone in his face to show him Google Maps.

“No, I didn’t know that,” he says, moving your phone at least a few inches away from his face. “Want to go there?”

“Won’t our food get cold though?”

“That’s what microwaves are for. Duh,” he jokes, grabbing your hand to guide you down the block to the illuminated storefront. You run in like children, making a beeline to the token machine. You begin reaching for your wallet when Kenma lets go of your hand, shoving your wallet away and aggressively pulling out money from his own.

You stare down at your palm in the meantime, feeling little tingles spread throughout it, flexing your fingers and no doubt looking like a weirdo.

Kenma has done his fair share of dragging you away from places, usually when you're glued to the glass window of a store that has anime knick-knacks you want but have absolutely no damn space for, but usually he just grabs your elbow or wrist. You could be overthinking it, but he must've grabbed your hand on purpose. Or you're just that desperate for physical affection.

He shoves a handful of tokens into your open palm, putting his own into his pockets. The arcade suddenly feels so overwhelming, with lights and noises all around you. Should you try the crane games first? Or maybe some skee-ball? You could probably dominate him in that…

“Want to start with some air hockey?” Kenma suggests, pointing over to a free table in the corner.

Yes. Air hockey. An easy win start. “Oh hell yeah, let’s do that.”

You shouldn’t have been so confident. It’s not turning out in your favor, not in the slightest, and you should’ve guessed that, going up against a guy who was the brain of his volleyball team. In your defense, you did win the first game, rubbing it in Kenma’s face and doing a dance like a sore winner. Then he absolutely demolished you for the next three rounds and had the gall to be humble about it like he didn’t just embarrass you in front of the many elementary school kids around you.

You would’ve kept going, being stubborn as hell and telling Kenma, “Best 5 out of 6?” until you got into double digits. But suddenly he has to “go use the bathroom,” which sounds like an excuse to you.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go too far,” he warns you.

And, to be fair, you don’t go too far. You only walk about twenty feet away to the anime crane game that’s hiding behind a row of other crane games that would be blocking Kenma’s view to you if he comes back the same way he left. He has a phone that he could use to text you if he really can’t find you.

It’ll be fiiiine, you think as you slide in a token and get ready to win the anime figure.

The time passes quickly, not that you notice it. All you know is that you’ve gone through maybe half of your tokens while trying to get the figure to fall between the two bars, only asking the staff to help you reposition once because you managed to mess it up that bad.

It’s funny to think that you were more worried about sticking out like a sore thumb at the fancy restaurant than you are now at the arcade, surrounded by people of all ages in sneakers and jeans while you stand there at the claw machine in dress clothes with your nose nearly against the glass. Maybe they’ll think you’re an important business person coming by to decompress after a very long, busy day at work.

Then you squawk when you finally score the prize after only several more dollars worth of coins, and the facade promptly sails out the window.

It’s only after you have the box in your arms that you decide to check the time, realizing you’ve spent at least ten minutes straight playing. What’s weirder is that Kenma still hasn’t returned yet, and you have no messages or missed calls from him asking where you’re at, which means he's either still in the bathroom–and if that’s the case, you’re deeply worried for his bowels–or he got distracted on his way back from it.

You’re almost at the bathrooms when you see Kenma walking towards you from the corner of your eye, definitely not coming from the bathroom as you’d expect.

“Where were you? I thought you said you had to go to the bathroom.” You notice he’s holding an overstuffed plastic bag. “What did you get? When the hell did you even have time? Or are you just that lucky?”

“Oh. This is, uh..” Suddenly, he’s sheepish, opening the plastic bag where you can see something fuzzy and pink in it. “I didn’t actually need to go to the bathroom. I saw a Kirby plush in a crane machine when we walked in and knew I had to get it for you.”

Before you could even say anything, he’s pulling out the plush and you notice it’s not just a regular Kirby, but one with a chef hat and pan. You make grabby hands at it until he hands it over, trying to hold it just with one hand and squishing it against your chest and face.

“I love him so much! Thank you, Kenma.”

Like a lot of things tonight, it’s different from your normal friendly interactions. Instead of your usual hugs where you go in at a diagonal or the lazier times when it’s just a side hug, your arms are now wrapped around his neck with his around your waist. It feels weird. A good weird. Like you’re feeling the subtle change from friendship to something a little more. It’s hard not to get your hopes up because although you’ve told yourself that you’ll be good with being ‘just friends,’ throughout the night, you find yourself quite hopeful for the chance to explore something romantic with Kenma.

You part slowly, him shoving Kirby back into the bag and insisting on holding it for you after you reach for it, which you suppose you could allow since he’s been such a gentleman tonight.

“Great minds think alike because I got you a gift, too,” you announce, handing over the box you worked so hard for. “I don’t remember her name, but I know you have a few that look like her in your room, so what’s one more to add to your waifu collection.”

“Thanks for the gift, and also, for saying that so loud. I’m sure the whole arcade liked hearing about how much of a weeb I am.” He gives you a smile, somehow managing to stuff the box into the already full bag. “Want to spend the rest of our tokens then head to mine? I only have a few more.”

You pull your sad six out of your pocket. “Yeah, me too. That crane game wasn’t kind to me.”

You have a blast with the remaining tokens, staying away from crane games and sticking more to the classics. You learn that Kenma’s strategic thinking in volleyball does not translate over to basketball when you watch him miss every single basket of the game except for his last one in which he threw the ball against the back wall in frustration and landed right in the net.

Even when ordering the Uber minutes later, he still has a frown etched on his face from losing, and as much as you want to rub it in his face that now he’s feeling like you were after air hockey, you leave him to sit in his feelings.

It’s a silent ride, at least on the outside. Internally, you’re an anxious, overthinking mess with your inner thoughts going a mile a minute. You spend the whole ride back to his place wondering if it’d be too forward of you to hold his hand that’s sitting on the seat between you two. It’s not like he didn’t hold your hand earlier tonight, even if it was only to drag you toward the arcade. Once you finally convince yourself that it’d be okay to try, the ride is over and his hand slips away to open the car door and you sigh as you lose your chance to be brave.

When you’re home, Kenma’s tie and shirt undone and your dress shoes thrown haphazardly by the door, you finally get to discuss your thoughts on the restaurant. About how stuffy it felt in your formal clothes and how ridiculous the plating looked for the meals because you didn’t know what they’d even be able to taste with a portion size that small. Kenma even thanks you for breaking the ice by bringing up Domino’s because if you never did it “you’d still be in that restaurant having your 12th course of the meal.”

You swallow your bite and take a quick sip of your drink. “Why did you even choose that restaurant in the first place? Doesn’t feel like a place you’d be at.”

Kenma shrugs, brushing off the crumbs from his hands. “I don’t know… I guess I didn’t want our first date to be just like any other night we’d had. I wanted it to stand out from the rest so you can know that I’m serious about you.”

Your heart just about bursts hearing his gentle voice say that. “That’s… So sweet. I don’t know what to say to that besides thank you. Never knew you could be so charming.”

“Don’t expect it too often,” he jokes, to which you respond with an elbow to his ribs. “I know today didn’t go as expected, so maybe we can try again with a different restaurant.”

“Maybe—and this is me just spitballing here—we should work our way up to the formal dress restaurants by starting with something simple like… Applebee’s.”

“I feel like Applebee’s is somehow a worse starting point than a place like McDonald’s.”

“Fiiiine. Since you have so much to say, then you pick where we’re eating for our next date. Just make sure I can get away with wearing sneakers and jeans, is all I’m saying.”

“Who said we were actually going on a second date? I don’t know if I want to date someone who eats wings like a toddler.” He reaches over with a napkin to wipe the corners of your mouth which you begrudgingly allow.

“Well, I don’t know if I want to date someone who waits until 48 fucking hours before the date to tell me that I have to put together a whole formal outfit for a restaurant.” Kenma looks away abruptly, but not before you see his shameless smirk. “Why the hell did you even take so long?”

“I had to use some connections to get a reservation there within the week, and they didn’t get back to me until Thursday, so you knew when I knew!”

“Hm… okay. I’ll let that one slide then. For now.”

“So, I can get a second date?”

“If you insist.”

Kenma puts what’s left of your food in his fridge with the promise of leftovers tomorrow. You help him tidy up a bit, taking your sweet time because it’s finally dawned on you that the date will be ending soon. You’re hit with a wave of disappointment, realizing just how much you enjoyed his company all day. And maybe it’s silly, but you don’t want it to end just yet.

When you’ve thrown away the last napkin, you slide in next to him in the kitchen, bumping shoulders with him before hooking your arm with his. “Wanna finish watching that anime you showed me? The one with the long title?”

He lets out an amused chuckle. “Glad you enjoyed it so much that you remember the name, but sure.”

He lets you guide him to the couch by his arm, plopping yourselves down on it while he grabs his remote to pick the show from his ‘continue watching’ section.

Halfway through the episode, you scooch even closer to Kenma so you can lean on him, your head gently resting on his shoulder to test the waters. He lifts his arm up to grasp you tighter, fingers trailing up and down your upper arm without looking away from the screen. You peer up at him to see a little smile on his face—hoping it’s because of your current position and not because of the atrocities happening on the screen. You’re rarely this close to Kenma. The closest you get to him on the daily is him leaning over you to fix some computer issues or you peering over his shoulder to watch him play on his Switch.

You’ve never paid attention to his warm amber scent mixed with something floral, probably from his conditioner he told you he overpaid for because he thought it was on sale. How plush his hoodie is and how you’re definitely going to be “borrowing” it as a partner tax in the future. Or how the ends of his hair that’s tickling your face are really soft, no doubt because of that expensive conditioner, and you fight the urge to play with a few pieces. You could get used to being with him if this is what you’d be getting every day.

You manage to last another episode and a half before his soft touch lulls you to sleep, a smile mirroring his on your face.

You have a funny dream that night; you and Kenma are at an Applebee’s, both dressed in your grubbiest hoodies and sweats, while the subpar food sits untouched in front of you. He’s holding one of your hands on the table, stroking his thumb back and forth on the back of yours, the other hand keeping his head propped. You’re telling a story, laughing and waving your free hand around as you delve deep into it. To everybody else, you’re sure Kenma looks bored out of his mind, probably waiting for you to stop talking or at least get to the good part. But you know him better than that.

You can see the affection in his eyes as he doesn’t break eye contact with you, humming in acknowledgment wherever necessary so you know he’s actually listening. He’s squeezing your hand every now and again just because he can. His phone is face down on the far end of the table, most likely on ‘Do Not Disturb’ because you don’t hear a single vibration against the table.

You’ve got his complete and undivided attention until he decides to get off his seat to lean over the table. You quiet down immediately, unsure of what the hell he’s going to do until he tilts his head and gently kisses you on your lips, lasting only a second before promptly sitting down and telling you to continue your story as if nothing happened.

Non-dream Kenma would never do something so bold in public. At least, you don’t think so.

But, goddammit, even if it means writing a script and playing director, you’re going to try your fucking hardest to make sure it happens exactly like your dream during your second date.

Written by: Luna

we’ve got a taglist if you’re interested 👀

#kenma x reader #kozume kenma x reader #kenma kozume x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #kenma kozume #kenma imagines #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #hq kenma #hq x reader #hq imagines #haikyuu!!#our writing #luna writes

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bloomfish · 10 months ago

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so clapping when the plane lands is white culture (though id argue its white american culture bc europeans are far too bitter and antisocial to do something soppy like that) but I'll do you one better. once when I flew from the US to mexico it was full of americans on their tacky resort honeymoons and the captain decided to announce the wedding of two of the passengers so that everyone could clap and congratulate them. that was bad enough but a few minutes later they announceed ANOTHER couple who had obviously gone up to the stewardess to ask to be announced as well. like can u get any cornier??? and if THAT wasn't bad enough a few minutes later ANOTHER COUPLE WAS ANNOUNCED

#to be fair the americans on that plane were probably the worst and most tacky examples possible.#i cannot imagine the absolute lack of selfconsciousness needed to go up and ask for ur wedding to be announced to a plane full of strangers #also im not saying europeans are better for this because they are the opposite extreme #like americans are generally so friendly which is something i like about the US #whereas if you try and talk to someone on the street in europe they will look at you like you are insane #honestly every time i go back to the US i get culture shock abt how many people are randomly lunging out at me to pay me compliments

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houseofbrat · 3 months ago

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Comments from DataLounge...

The video is so stagey and artificial.

It reminds me of nothing so much as a television ad for a medication--all it needed was a smooth jazz soundtrack and for an announcer to list possible dangerous symptoms after taking the medication.

Did you catch my “I’m just an innocent little girl happy to be with her loving family” act?

Pretty convincing, right?

Thanks for your support.

Here’s to a brighter tomorrow.

Agree with R13. The video is the moving image equivalent of Canva-generated "graphic design" for frauen who own hand-made candle shops. Or Taylor Swift's "Folklore" album.

The ending wasn't ominous. The woman doesn't want to go back to work full time, ever. Now she has the perfect excuse in perpetuity. The pointlessness and fakery of it probably gave her cancer in the first place.

You think raising two future Kings, a hyperactive brat and a pint-sized psychopath isn’t work?

Nice free trips for treatment, I drove myself to each and every treatment, just for spreading her legs for a good for nothing. Aren't we beyond this

They played this all wrong from the very beginning and then used cancer as a way to get out of the hole they dug for themselves and guilt people into feeling bad for questioning the way they handled this. All they had to do was follow Charles' example, but they didn't.

What is the point of discussing your cancer diagnosis and recovery but yet refusing to disclose the kind of cancer you have. The royal family are such weirdos to a degree. King Charles isn’t but the kids are. Shit is fkin weird and borderline offensive.

R59 But then why discuss it at all. What shame is there in the public knowing what type of cancer you have as we are championing and cheering for a rousing successful recovery. It could make someone having the same type of cancer have more hope. That’s because there is some type of pretension behind it and she probably got cancer from Prince William being a whore.

Anyone know if there is a GoFundMe page?

Glad she’s recovered. And that her sweet kids seem to be coping. Clearly she won’t be doing too much in the future beyond attending the mens Wimbledon final and her Christmas concert.

But that video is awful with the cheesy costume changes and organised frolicking. It’s like a commercial for a feminine hygiene product made to air on the Lifetime networked and edited with Canva.

In my eyes, Catherine, Princess of Wales hasn't set one high-heeled, nude color pumps foot wrong. I'm one of her biggest DL stans.

So, it's saying something when I agree with r13, r23, r62.

I think it would have been so much more effective if she had gone back to the same setting of where she announced her cancer and just as forthrightly said what she said here.

I enjoy cheapo Hallmark and Lifetime moves, the cornier, the better, but I don't want the same effect from a Kensington Palace announcement.

I'm surprised Catherine OK'd this, unless the presence of William and the children is meant to divert from more serious stuff that they absolutely want to keep private.

That's the only explanation I can think of for releasing this awkward treacle.

A few comments from the British peanut gallery:

Mawkish. I find it gross and insulting to the enormous health inequalities and struggles millions face. Nothing inspirational or touching about it at all.

I was waiting for William to say something really cringy while giving Kate a piggy back ride.

Oh my! It feels like an advert to join a cult, or for sanitary products in parts.

It’s an absolute self indulgent wank fest.

The video looks like the Twilight films.

Are William and Kate Scientologists now?

I think it was a “soft” way,of indicating to the public that she won’t return to public duties in the same way again. ----So she's going to do even less than before? Good grief.

R72 But you aren’t a public figure. They are releasing videos to be seen for mainstream consumption. There IS a difference.

R77 The British peanut gallery is right. This video is so tone death.

[quote]Why do you need to know?

No one needs to know. But notice how no one knows what type of cancer Charles has, but he's not getting the same kind of smoke. It's called understanding how to deal with the public and not whatever the fuck is going on at the Wales house.

King Charles is not milking his cancer the same way and he is 80 something years old. They are just so fraudulent and fake.

Here’s a little starter for those of you new to the “Die, Kate, die!” threads:

She is obviously wearing one of those new Post Chemo Thinned Hair Look wigs - she’s completely bald under there.

My neighbor’s veterinarian’s fuck buddy just finished chemo and looks terrible - it’s all a ploy for sympathy. There’s nothing wrong with her.

The whole family except Kate is wearing her signature color of blue. Coincidence? I think not! She is signaling either her imminent demise or divorce. Or both.

No skinny jeans for Kate in this video - only loose dresses. Can you say “permanent colostomy bag”?

Just found one site that said she had 90 public engagements in 2022. That means she had 75% of days of the year with zero public engagements. (or more than 75%, assuming some days had more than one stop...)

So "stepping back" from that low level of work is extreme privilege no matter how one looks at it. I don't begrudge her but she is not exactly hand in hand with the vast majority of cancer patients who still have to worry about paying the bills.

Campaigning for more paid leave and other support for ALL cancer patients might be a good project for her in the future.

R118, careful there! I said something similar in one of the other Kate threads and got ripped a couple new assholes.

[quote]So "stepping back" from that low level of work is extreme privilege no matter how one looks at it.

The Princess of Wales is extremely privileged??

**gasps in shock and surprise**

They released an overly produced three minute video. We are allowed to critique it. She could have sat on a bench and read a statement. Her choice.

I don’t think the video is that bad and I don’t think it’s receiving heavy criticism. I think it was designed for a fawning audience, and it shows.

[quote] I didn't like the part in the video where William is straddling her on the blanket and kissing her on the neck. That was tacky.

I missed that part. Straddling her is over the top.

#my gif #critique #cancer schmancer #pr games #pr fail #“Celebrity” Catherine Middleton #kate middleton #Catherine The Princess of Wales #William The Weak #William The Terrible #William The Prince of OWN GOALS #Prince & Princess OWN GOALS #The Workshy Waleses #Workshy Will #William The Prince of Wales #prince william

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forget-you-morelike-fuck-you · 2 years ago

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Heartwork- E.M. Epilogue

You and Eddie settle into your new relationship

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 Masterlist

TW- none! Just fluff <3

Pairings- Eddie X Reader

Word Count- 847

(Gif not mine, credit to owner!)

As the weeks go by, you and Eddie settle into a new rhythm, exploring each other in new ways as your friendship transforms into something new. You come to adopt new rituals, like watching game shows on Fridays after work and eating at the diner together at least once a week.

Slowly, as you continue this new journey into romance, you notice Eddie picking up his old hobbies again. He just invited what remains of the Hellfire crew over to play a quick one shot over at his house, on a weekend, of course, and he’s been playing his guitar more and more. He pulls it out and strums idly as you lounge around together, sometimes humming new tunes as he plays. You smile to yourself every time you hear it, and hope he’ll let you into his world of music sometime soon.

You alternate weeks to have dinner with your parents and Wayne. Both houses are warm and welcoming, and the food is always good, but the conversation is even better. Wayne is a riot, always cracking jokes that make you snort with laughter between bites of food. You see where Eddie gets his sense of humor, even though he rolls his eyes at some of the cornier jokes Wayne makes. With your parents, it’s a bit different. They’re just happy to hear about everything you and Eddie get up to. They treat Eddie like part of the family, except now, they love him even more for making you so happy. And, of course, your mom is absolutely thrilled when you come in the first time holding hands. She jokes about what your wedding will look like, and while you do get embarrassed at her playful jabs, you do it with a smile and a laugh, as Eddie does.

When just after six months pass, you’re sitting at Eddie’s with him one night during one of your Friday night game show dinners. You’re both poking at your Chinese food, watching intently as you try to guess the puzzle on Wheel of Fortune. You figure it out, the phrase being “One in the hand is worth two in the bush,” and yelling at the TV, taunting the contestant spinning the wheel before turning to Eddie and laughing. His gaze on you is warm, those eyes you’ve come to seek most boring into yours as he laughs at your silliness.

“I love you,” He suddenly says, his eyes sure and stable on you. Your smile drops for a second, stunned at the confession. You would be a flat out liar if you said you had never thought about hearing those words, but still, it’s disarming to hear them so out of the blue like this. You’re not even 100% sure you heard him right. You stare back at him, your heart leaping in your chest, and Eddie’s eyes start to dart around the room, backpedaling as if he almost wished he could take the words back. The last thing he would ever want is to scare you.

“What did you say?” You ask breathlessly. The smile that starts to break out on your face is full of wonder, full of joy. Eddie’s mild panic cools when he sees it, and he takes a calming breath as he looks at you properly again.

“I- I love you,” He states again. There’s no trace of doubt in his voice. Just wariness that you might not say it back. Not that that wouldn’t be okay, but still, you’re sure he’d like to hear it. You let out a little laugh before throwing yourself at him, overcome with the need to be as close to him as possible. You pull him in for an earth-shattering kiss, legs tangling together as you lay on him, and he holds you tight against him, the embrace absolutely crushing in the best possible way.

When you pull away, your gaze is steady on those beautiful, deep brown eyes, hands going to hold his face as you feel the words building in your chest, pushing their way out like a new flower in Spring. “I love you, too.” Eddie’s smile blossoms across his plush lips as he pulls you in for another kiss. This one is a bit softer, but still, you feel like you could melt in the palms of his hands.

“You love me?” He whispers, his forehead laying against yours. You bite your lip, your eyes closed as you breathe this perfect moment in, and give a small nod.

“I think... I think I always have,” You’ve been remembering all the time you spent around Eddie and Y/BFF/N as a teenager, wishing to have what she had. It took you a long time to come to terms with the fact that you not only wanted what, but who, too.

Eddie rubs his nose gently against yours, and he kisses you once, twice, three times, feather light on your lips. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to catch up,” He murmurs against you.

“It’s okay,” You promise. “You were definitely worth waiting for.”

@corrodedcoffincumslut @haylaansmi @bebe07011 @callsignraver

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie the freak munson #eddie #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #dustin stranger things #pining #mutual pining #slow burn

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