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corroded-hellfire · 11 months ago

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Time For Toys and Time For Cheer - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Collaboration with the El to my Max, @munson-blurbs

Summary: When Brittany’s Christmas presents for the boys come in, it’s evident that “it’s the thought that counts” doesn’t apply.

Note: Jingle bells, Brittany smells, please enjoy this fic today!

Warnings: mild violence, Eddie being a perv, Brittany being Brittany

Words: 2.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.”

Eddie lets the scissors drop down onto his mattress as you peer into the box he just opened. Seeing Brittany’s name on a box when you picked up the mail for your boyfriend was enough to irk you for the rest of the day—especially since Eddie wouldn’t open it until after the kids were in bed because it’s probably their Christmas gifts. The silver lining though, was that you saw Brittany is going by her maiden name again. You hope to God she changed it legally; she doesn’t deserve to be a Munson.

The box did contain gifts for the boys but as you look inside you see what pissed your boyfriend off. You reach in and pick up a box of Legos that were made for a kid half Ryan’s age. The Blue’s Clues coloring book that Eddie takes out is just as insulting. Should she get credit for knowing Ryan likes Legos and Luke likes coloring books? Not in your opinion. Not when she lived with them for most of their lives. Not when she gave birth to them and should know how old they are and that these presents are not age appropriate.

“Is this really a bunch of Lego kids on a bus? Oh look, they’re soccer players on a bus.” You scoff and roll your eyes as you set the gift back in the box it was shipped in. “Yeah, ‘cause Ryan loves sports so much.” Eddie’s eldest was in agreement with his father that sports are stupid. You think his mother would’ve known that. Then again, his mother is Brittany.

“He’d put that together in less than five minutes,” Eddie says, nodding towards the Lego set. He sets the coloring books back inside as well and pulls out a small white paper that got stuck to the bottom of the box. “Looks like they’re from Wal-Mart. Nice of her to send a gift receipt. Almost as if she knew her presents were shit.”

Any irritation you feel for Brittany doesn’t come close to the love you have for Luke and Ryan, and you’d do everything in your power to make sure they have a wonderful Christmas.

“Think Wayne will watch them for a few hours after dinner one night?” you ask, eyes scanning over the gift receipt before meeting Eddie’s deep brown ones.

“If we buy him a mug, he might watch them for the whole weekend.” Eddie puts the gift receipt back in the box and closes it. He looks over at you and an adoring grin grows on his face. “I fucking love you, babe.” He takes your face in his hands and presses a wet, smacking kiss to your forehead.

Eddie falls a little bit deeper in love with you every time you do something for the boys without any hesitation. And since it’s a frequent occurrence, it’s safe to say that he’s head-over-heels for you.

A few nights later, Eddie brings the car to a stop in front of his uncle’s trailer. He puts it in park and looks over his shoulder at his sons in the backseat. Ryan doesn’t seem bothered one bit that he’s being dropped off at his grandfather’s. Luke, on the other hand, looks like you and Eddie just told him he’ll never be able to eat another cookie again in his life.

When Eddie’s eyes meet Luke’s blue ones, the little boy groans and drops his head back against his seat, curls smooshing around his head like a halo.

“Why can’t we go with you?” he whines.

“Luke,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “You hate clothes shopping for yourself. Let alone anyone else.”

“Yeah,” you say as you turn to face him as well. “And I can take forever in dressing rooms. I can never decide what I like better.”

“Plus,” Eddie adds with a smirk, knowing a foolproof way to get the boys out of the car, “you really wanna come with us and watch us kiss the whole night?”

The moment Eddie leans in towards you, both boys groan and Ryan slaps his hand over his eyes. Checkmate.

Luke is quick to scramble out of the car, his older brother right behind him.

“Go!” Luke practically shouts. “Take your time! Make sure you get a nice dress.”

“Yeah,” Ryan adds. “Has to look nice for your work party.”

It’s hard for both you and Eddie to keep a lid on your laughter while the boys are all but pushing your car down the road to get you away from them.

“Be good,” Eddie calls out the open window.

“Yeah, yeah…” Luke mumbles as he trudges up the front steps of the trailer. Ryan follows behind him and gives you and Eddie a wave before they head inside the house.

The moment they’re inside, Eddie turns to you and raises his eyebrows.

“Can we buy you a new dress?” he asks.

“Why?” you ask with a laugh. “You’ll want me to buy a sexy one, then not want me to wear it out anywhere and let people see me in it.”

“Ah, fuck,” he mumbles as he puts the car in drive.

“Maybe after we return the baby-fied toys that are in the trunk and get the new ones, we can look at some lingerie, though?” you tease.

“Deal.”

The Wal-Mart parking lot is a madhouse; Eddie circles it three times before finally snagging a spot all the way at the back. He scoops the presents from the trunk and the two of you make a beeline for the return counter, with you holding onto his jacket sleeve to avoid losing him in the crowd.

“Okay,” Eddie says, once you’ve secured the gift card that contains the store credit. He looks at you with sheer determination. “We gotta divide and conquer. You shop for Ryan, and I’ll shop for Luke.”

You make your way to the Lego aisle; Brittany had the right idea, but the wrong execution. After perusing the shelves for something more age-appropriate, your gaze lands on a kit to build a Statue of Liberty replica.

Just as you grab it, you feel someone tugging on the other side. “Um, sorry, I’m taking this one,” you try to explain, willing your voice not to waver as it often does during confrontation.

The man who’d reached for it as well scowls at you. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” He yanks it from your grasp triumphantly. There’s a nasty sneer on his face as he looks down his nose at you. He’s around Eddie’s height, bald as a cue ball, and has a beer belly that’s larger than most pregnant women’s bumps.

“Hey! What the hell’s your problem?” The words slip from your mouth before you can stop them.

The man smirks menacingly. “What’re you even doing in this aisle? The Easy Bake Ovens are down that way.”

When he points to his left and lets his guard down, you seize the opportunity to pull the Lego set from him.

“What d’you think you’re doing, bitch?” He reaches out a meaty hand to snatch it back, but he’s jerked back by his collar.

“You calling my wife a ‘bitch’?” Eddie growls, eyes blazing with fury. You can’t remember the last time you saw him this angry. He shoves the man, now wide-eyed and fearful, into a display of Tonka trucks, which catches the attention of a security guard.

He marches over to the men, waving his hands and shouting. “Hey, break it up!” The guard pulls Eddie away from the man. “You two,” he looks between Eddie and the guy, “get outta here!”

Eddie sputters. “Wha—no, he called my wife a bitch!” he tries to protest, but the guard just pushes him toward the exit. “This is bullshit!”

Despite the gravity of the situation, you can’t help but feel butterflies at the way he said, “my wife.” It has a much better ring to it than just, “my girlfriend” or even “my fiancée.”

Your awestruck demeanor vanishes as you stare at the back of Eddie’s head in disbelief while the security guard leads him away. You’re left hanging in limbo, unsure if you should follow him out or buy the toy—he is going through a lot of trouble for it, and you’d hate for his efforts to be for naught.

As if he can read your mind, Eddie looks over his shoulder and gives you a wink. “You know what Luke likes, baby,” he calls out.

You can only nod as you hold onto the Lego box for Ryan.

“Meet you in the car,” Eddie says before turning back around, wincing when the guard shoves him out the door.

It’s hard to shake off the fact that Eddie just got kicked out of the store and proceed to shop as though nothing has happened, but you know you need to find something for Luke. Something that isn’t made for a preschool demographic.

“Okay, Legos for Ryan. Luke still likes coloring books. Just not Winnie the Pooh ones.” Brittany was at least on the right track with her gifts for the boys—just a good number of years behind.

The coloring books are a few aisles over and you chew on your bottom lip as you check out the collection. There are lots of Disney ones full of princesses and mice, but Luke only really enjoys the movies made by The Mouse, not any toys or games.

Scooby Doo catches your eye and as soon as you pick that one up, you see a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles book.

“Hmm…” you hum, but then chuckle to yourself. Of course he gets more than one.

You cradle those two books in your arm with the Lego set and also grab Pokémon and a monster truck one.

You’re welcome, Brittany, you think. You sent three but now he’s going to think you sent him four. None of this is for Brittany’s sake—both you and Eddie know that. The boys would be the ones disappointed, not their mother. There will come a day when they recognize her absence and carelessness, but you don’t want to help point it out; you just want to show them love and support.

On the way to the register, you do a double take when you see a mostly empty shelf of wrapping paper. Brittany didn’t bother to wrap the presents before she sent them, but that’s something else the kids don’t need to know.

Making sure to get a paper that’s very different from any of the ones back at the apartment, you add a Frosty the Snowman roll to the pile in your arms. This way, they’ll differentiate these from the presents left by Santa.

Most of the registers are crowded, which makes you huff, but you’ve had your share of fighting for the evening. Instead, you wait silently until the woman behind you in line starts speaking to you. “Last minute shopping for your kids, too?” she says with a laugh.

You nod. “Yeah, it’s been quite the adventure,” you offer, not wanting to relay the near-WWE match that occurred in the toy section.

“I’ll bet,” she chuckles, hoisting a toy Batmobile. “Boys or girls?”

The question catches you off-guard for a moment. “Boys. Two of them.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t imagine having two sons. I have one, and he’s a menace.”

You smile. “Yeah, but they’re my menaces.”

On Christmas morning you’re not entirely sure what’s up first: the sun or the boys. Eddie looks like a zombie as the two of you initially follow the boys out to the living room. Once they see the tree and the mountain of presents scattered about, their joy and excitement are almost as good as a cup of coffee in waking you and your boyfriend up.

Heaps of wrapping paper pile up as they tear open their gifts: action figures and Hot Wheels for Luke, books and science kits for Ryan, and a handful of VHS tapes for them to share.

Once the heap of presents begins to dwindle down to the last handful, Eddie stands up.

“Don’t wanna forget the gifts from Mom.”

The boys instinctively glance at you before they realize that their dad is referring to Brittany.

Eddie hands them the carefully wrapped packages, assessing their expressions to gauge their excitement.

“No way, this is the Lego set I wanted!” Ryan cheers, beaming at the toy.

Luke is equally impressed with his gift. “Yes! New coloring books!” He stands up and does a little happy dance that looks very reminiscent of something you’d see one of The Peanuts characters doing.

Eddie smiles, knowing all the bullshit of dealing with Brittany, in the past, present, or future, is worth it to keep his boys happy.

“You guys wanna call Mom and thank her?” Eddie asks.

They nod, racing each other to the phone so they can get back to playing as soon as possible. There’s a part of you—a petty part—that hopes their phone call wakes Brittany up from a peaceful sleep. Just because you play nice for the kids doesn’t mean you can’t have small moments of joy at the thought of that woman being inconvenienced.

“Your kids are crazy,” Eddie says to you, plopping back onto the couch and flinging his arm over your shoulder. “You should really rein them in.”

You give an exaggerated sigh and shake your head. “I’ve tried, but their father is even worse. Just enables the insanity.”

Eddie laughs, kissing your cheek before tilting your chin towards him so he can press his lips to yours.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas, Eddie.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #older!eddie #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS

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adore-laur · 1 year ago

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PINK VELVET

— an italian getaway full of sunshine & surprises 💗

——

SALERNO, ITALY

Crystalline blue waters sparkling under the sunshine, ornate architecture standing high among the cliffsides, and mopeds burning rubber on the cobblestone streets—it's all pure, unadulterated bliss.

Sharing that bliss with your boyfriend enhances the experience. Both of you have been staying at a villa rental for a few days already, and the surrounding greenery and stucco buildings on the precipice rocks of the Tyrrhenian Sea bring a much-needed sense of privacy. It's a getaway for your third anniversary with Harry, and while it's a more extended vacation than usual—two weeks to be exact—the mellow atmosphere makes you feel like you could stay in Italy forever.

Harry said he plans on wooing you with the foreign language, having bought a book filled with romantic phrases at the airport's souvenir shop. You're dreading it because once he starts, he won't stop.

It's four in the afternoon, and you're getting ready to kayak off the Amalfi Coast. The heat will be sweltering, especially out on the open water, so you put on jean shorts over your swim bottoms, leaving just your bikini top on. Harry is standing in the doorway of the master bathroom and tying the strings of his swim trunks. He's wearing a white tank top that you know will be taken off eventually.

A cooler packed with snacks and drinks is by the front door. Once you reach downtown, the journey to the kayak launch takes about fifteen minutes, so you and Harry will drive in the vintage Cadillac he insisted on renting and park on the street before walking the rest of the way.

"Ready?" Harry asks, giving your ass two pats as he walks by.

"I guess," you say flatly.

He smirks and steals a scrunchie from your makeup bag to put around his wrist. "That's enough out of you."

You hoist the cooler over your shoulder, sling a beach towel over the other, and then stroll through the spacious villa rooms toward the door. When you open it, a blast of humid air immediately hits you. Harry brushes past you while jingling the car keys, a drawstring backpack on his back. You lock the door before heading toward the luxurious car you don't want to know the cost of.

Harry swings the passenger door open for you like a gentleman, but you decide to mess with him by ignoring his gesture. You open the driver's side door and smoothly crawl over the console until you're in the passenger seat. Harry slowly shakes his head, reaching forward to pluck your bikini strap with his fingers and lightly snap it against your skin. He throws his backpack under the seat before sliding behind the steering wheel.

The engine roars to life. Harry's hand places itself on your headrest, his body twisting around so he can carefully reverse down the circular driveway. You take his hand and set your interlocked fingers in your lap. He glances at you and smiles, his hair blowing beautifully in the wind and the sun casting a golden hue over his face.

When you arrive downtown, Harry parks along a random street. He removes his hand from yours and claps once. "Okay, here's the game plan. I reckon we should rent one kayak for both of us. It'll be cheaper and more fun, and we can work together like—"

"Absolutely not."

"Pardon?"

"I'm sorry, but being stuck in a kayak with you sounds like my personal hell. You'll somehow manage to tip us over or get us lost." Harry can live in a world of his own sometimes. You really want to avoid ending up stranded in the deep, expansive ocean.

"Baby," he says, looking at you with wounded eyes. "What if I drift away and we lose each other? I need you. I'll do all the work while you sit back and relax."

You can't possibly say no to him when he looks like a literal Greek god basking in the Italian sun, his lips irresistibly pink against his tanned skin.

"Fine," you surrender. "I'm not letting you do all the work, though, because we'll probably end up in a different country. Also, I'm sitting in the front seat. Deal?"

"Sì, amore mio," he says, passion dripping off his tongue. "And, um... I may have already paid for just one kayak when I booked the reservation yesterday. Well, singular ticket."

"You're unbelievable." Stepping out of the car, you stretch your limbs while Harry puts his backpack on and grabs the cooler. You hold onto his free hand and begin walking to the beach. Many people are out and about—vendors selling gourmet cuisine, kids riding bicycles through the alleyways, and tourists stopping at attractions.

At the waterfront, kayaks are stacked on racks, shimmering under the sun. Since Harry booked a reservation ahead of time, he walks toward the man who appears to be running the operation. You watch them shake hands and converse. Harry knows enough basic Italian to navigate through any language barrier yet to come.

Eventually, they both wander over to you, and the man caresses your hand and kisses your cheek. You smile and shyly mutter an Italian greeting. The man then excitedly leads you to the kayaks, taking a maroon two-seater from the bottom rack and dragging it toward the water. While following him, you notice only a few people are on the beach today. Only a couple of other occupied kayaks drift in the ocean, looking like mere silhouettes from where you stand.

"You know the rules, yes?" asks the man as he pushes the front of the kayak into the shallow water.

"Yes, I've done this before. I'll teach this guy," you say, pointing at Harry while draping your towel over the seat.

Harry smiles mindlessly, placing the cooler and backpack between the two seats. The man briefly leaves to grab life jackets and oars, leaving you and Harry to get into the kayak. You let him go first since he's sitting in the back. As you grip the side so it doesn't rock, he removes his tank top and hands it to you before steadily climbing in and bending his long legs to fit in the restrictive space.

You're next. Harry plants his foot in the sand to keep the kayak balanced and then offers his hand to grasp. Once you're situated, you sigh relievedly.

"This sucks," Harry mutters, nudging his knee against your back. "I can't even see your face."

"You could've solved that problem if you got us two kayaks."

"Yeah, but I wanted to be close to you," he says, sliding his shoes off. "Just look behind you every once in a while so I can get my fix."

You laugh, looking at the water that endlessly expands past the horizon. The man comes back with two life jackets, and you clip one to your body as sturdy oars are placed across your and Harry's laps. The man gives a thumbs up and slowly maneuvers the kayak away from the shoreline.

"Grazie!" Harry shouts, waving to him as the both of you drift further from land.

"Ciao! Stai al sicuro!" he shouts back.

The destination of the cliffs is a short one; their imminent height is visible far out to the left of the coastal village. You begin paddling, alternating sides to stay on a straight path, while Harry opens the cooler to take out a package of crackers and a bottle of water.

"Please tell me you know how to properly paddle," you say, taking a break to sip some water while the kayak naturally rides the ripples.

"Obviously. I'm kind of the backbone of this kayak, so I know what I'm doing," Harry replies with faux confidence, still not picking up the paddle.

"That's funny, considering I'm literally doing all the work right now. Get to paddling, or I won't turn around so you can get your fix."

"Calmati, bellissima," he murmurs, snatching a handful of crackers before finally helping.

A comfortable silence ensues, with only the sound of water splashing and the slight creak of the kayak that comes with each movement. Harry whistles a tune every so often. A content smile pulls at your lips.

However, it doesn't last long because if there's one thing Harry loves to do, it's acting like a child sometimes. He disrupts the long stretch of peace by pretending to tip over the kayak by rocking slightly back and forth in his seat, gasping like he's not doing it.

"Harry, I swear," you say with a nervous undertone, holding on to the edge of the kayak so you don't actually tip over into the vast ocean, infested with who knows what. "You're like a five-year-old!"

He listens immediately, apparently noticing your anxiousness. He settles back in his seat, stretching his legs next to your body and nudging his foot against your thigh as a silent apology.

"It wasn't me. I think there's an animal under us," he says, playing with your hair to distract you. It doesn't help, because you know that there are probably massive creatures swimming below you. He knows one of your biggest fears is drowning, so he should feel like a jerk now after his little charade.

"Are you going to sit there and braid my hair, or can you help me get to our destination before it gets dark?"

"Sorry," he murmurs, grabbing his paddle and helping you turn left toward the rock formations. They aren't too far away now.

"We're almost there," you encourage softly, dialing back your slight attitude. Harry is quiet, so you turn around to see him pouting softly. "Why are you sulking?"

"Am I being annoying? You sound annoyed with me," he says, avoiding eye contact and setting his paddle down.

"No, honey. I just want to get there as quickly as we can and swim for a bit. We have wine tasting after this, so we can't dilly-dally."

"Dilly-dally," he repeats, laughing at your chosen phrase. "Okay, I'll behave. Kiss?"

You capture his lips with yours, tasting the tomato and basil crackers he's been munching on. He kisses you back and reaches out his hand to push some hair behind your ear. Pulling away, you see the cliffs only about two hundred feet away. You both begin paddling again in serene silence.

At the side of the cliff, you stop the kayak by a large, flat rock that peeks out of the water and appears safe to stand on. You hold onto it; the waves are more active in this area, and you tie some rope around the post provided. You assume it's there for other kayakers and cliff divers to take advantage of.

Once you climb onto the rock, you offer your hand to assist Harry and pull him up. "We made it!" you exclaim, lifting your arms. Harry high-fives both of your hands and bends down to kiss you.

You unclip your life jacket, then do the same for Harry. Free from obstruction, your arms naturally loop around his waist for a hug. He embraces you, his large hand cradling the back of your head. You stay like that for a while, watching waves crash against the rocks as the sun starts painting the sky with blue and orange streaks.

"Wanna do something stupid?" you say into his chest before lifting your chin to look at him mischievously. He has more freckles due to the hours spent sunbathing.

Harry peers at you with furrowed brows. "What?"

"Let's jump off that rock," you say, pointing your finger behind him.

He turns you both around, still trapping you in his arms. A tall, cliff-like rock surrounded by several smaller rocks makes it easy to reach the top. You don't wait for Harry's answer and pull your shorts down, revealing your cherry-red bikini bottoms. Venturing your way up, you glance back at Harry. He grins and immediately follows suit, walking behind you with outreached arms in case you slip.

At the top, you both stare at each other with knowing smiles. This is exactly where you're supposed to be.

Out of nowhere, Harry experiences a burst of spontaneity and quickly lunges forward, cannonballing off the cliff and into the water. He emerges after a few seconds, shaking his hair and letting out a loud holler, probably caused by adrenaline or the cold water.

You shuffle toward the edge and get ready to jump. Harry's gaze never wavers as you daintily leap off, plugging your nose and closing your eyes on the long way down. When you hit the water, a powerful sensation rushes through your body. You glide to the surface and find Harry swimming toward you, his drenched hair plastered to his skin.

The water is at an uncomfortable temperature, so you move briskly to climb back up on the rock the kayak is tied to. Shortly after, Harry lifts himself up, droplets dripping from his body. You dry off with the towel, then hand it to him. Once he finishes, you take your phone out of the backpack and tell him to pose. He presents both middle fingers, sticking his tongue out with a smile. The breathtaking evening view in the background makes the picture ten times more perfect.

"Let's head back," you say after soaking in the skyline. "The wine tasting is at six, and it's a little after five right now."

Harry nods, and you both put your life jackets back on before situating yourselves in the kayak. You untie the knotted rope, push off the rock, and then head toward the coastline. He helps paddle the whole way there, kissing the back of your neck every so often.

Bliss, bliss, bliss.

——

After returning the kayak and packing all the stuff in the car's trunk, Harry says he's going to find a nearby bathroom so he can change into his outfit for the wine tasting. He hands you one of his sweaters out of the bag—a gray crewneck. It's your favorite and still smells like him, no matter how often you've worn it.

You have no idea what outfit he brought; he manages to take it out and quickly runs into a shop while you're distracted by the lively village. Waiting with anticipation in the car, you cozy up, growing tired from the strenuous paddling and calming atmosphere around you.

Five minutes pass before Harry appears, and you immediately laugh at the sight of him. Not because he looks silly, but because his outfit is too fancy for less than an hour of wine tasting in some restaurant's cellar.

"Harry," you say breathily, taking in his outfit. "I'm wearing a sweater, and you're wearing a suit. Where did you even get that?"

It's a bubblegum pink suit left open over a plain white button-up. White dress shoes are on his feet, and he must've fixed his hair in the bathroom mirror.

"Eh?" He spins around. "You like it?"

"You look very handsome, but now I feel severely underdressed. Why didn't you tell me to pack a dress?" You obviously don't have the time to go back to the villa and change, but you're curious as to why Harry didn't say anything about the apparent dress code for tonight.

"I wanted to surprise you, darling. Plus, I know you would be worried about spilling wine on something nice. It's a private tasting, so no one will see you but me and the chef I mentioned."

Harry had booked a wine tasting with a man he'd met when he last visited Italy, the friendly owner of a family-owned restaurant in the village. He has always been able to leave unforgettable impressions on everyone he meets, so the man gladly moved some things around so that he could have you two come to the cellar for an intimate experience.

You sigh, realizing there's no point in arguing. They won't care, so why should you? You have no doubt that Harry will make you feel comfortable once you get there.

"You're right. Hopefully, he doesn't care that I look like I just crawled out of a lake."

"Basta. Sembri un sogno," Harry says, grabbing your hand and tugging you out of the car.

You assume he said something incredibly charming. Your face naturally warms as you distract yourself by picking nonexistent lint off your sleeve before walking the bustling street toward a restaurant called Dahlia. The man Harry knows is waiting by the arched front door with a jovial smile.

"Ciao, Signore Styles!" he greets enthusiastically. "Ah, la tua ragazza. Benvenuto!"

Harry shakes his hand. "Che bello rivederti. Questa è la mia ragazza, sì. Cominciamo, va bene?"

"Yes, yes. Seguitemi, cari."

The two of you follow him through the small, packed restaurant and descend a narrow flight of stairs that leads to a wine cellar. Harry is behind you, his hands on your shoulders to ensure you don't take a tumble. His dress shoes click against the polished wood with each step.

At the bottom, you turn down a dim hallway. Endless wine bottles are meticulously stacked on shelves against the walls. There's a table and chairs, and two wine glasses and napkins are already set neatly on the surface. There's even a plate of bread.

You sit, and Harry does the same. He immediately begins shaking the napkin out and placing it in his lap, like he's done this a million times before. You cross your legs and angle your body toward him, admiring his features in the low, yellowish lighting from the antique wall sconces. He grins handsomely.

The man brings over two bottles of expensive-looking wine, and you think of your preconceived notion of what wine tasting would be like—rolling hills and vineyards in the countryside, getting wine drunk with middle-aged moms wearing patterned blouses, gossiping about their cheating husbands.

Where you are right now is undeniably better. Who wouldn't want to be in a cramped room with their boyfriend, who's wearing a pink suit and looking at you like you're the only thing that exists?

The man fills the wine glasses with an adequate amount of blood-red liquid, then stands back to observe your reactions. Harry spins it around in his glass and sniffs it, acting like he's all fancy. You want to laugh at him, but keep it inside so you don't seem disrespectful. Instead, you bring your glass up to your mouth and take a small sip, tasting wild berries and a hint of an unknown aromatic herb. Harry sips his next, eyes locked on yours the entire time. He smacks his lips after swallowing and exhales, obviously pleased. You roll your eyes at him secretively. He's acting like he owns the place, and it's shameful that you find it attractive.

You rip off a piece of bread from the loaf in front of you and eat it, the buttery dough instantly melting on your tongue. Harry smiles at you, resting his hand on your chair as you rip some more off and offer it to him. He puts it in his mouth and mouths a silent swear, then picks up the entire loaf of bread and inspects it like he's Gordon Ramsey.

"I need the recipe for that," you whisper humorously.

Harry, of course, takes it literally. He beckons the man to come closer and places a friendly hand on his shoulder. "La mia ragazza adora cucinare il pane. Potrei avere questa ricetta per favore? Questo è sorprendente."

"Ovviamente! Tornerò," says the man while hurriedly going upstairs.

You turn to Harry with confusion, needing help understanding the exchange.

"He's getting the recipe for it," he explains. "You can make it before we go home."

"Harry," you say with a sigh. "Stop being so nice. I could've just found an online recipe. What if it's a family recipe that's super important to him?"

"Stop worrying, my love. He doesn't mind."

Before you can respond, the man returns with a tattered recipe book. He opens it to a bookmarked page and sets it in front of you. "Fai una photo, caro. Fammi sapere com'è quando lo fai," he says, pointing at the bread drawing—not a picture—on the weathered page. Was this recipe from medieval times? Goodness gracious.

You can't understand him, so Harry takes your phone out of your pocket and snaps a picture of the handwritten words on the paper. You can't believe this man you just met is so willing to give you a recipe from his own restaurant.

"Grazie," you say shyly. Harry smiles at your sudden bashfulness, scooting closer to you and kissing your head.

The wine tasting continues for the next hour. Throughout the various sips of eclectic flavors, Harry amps up his lovable antics—slowly and dramatically reeling off flavors he gets from the wine and spinning the liquid in the glass so quickly that it spills onto the napkin in his lap.

Anything to see you smile.

After what feels like gallons of wine, you and Harry thank the man for his graciousness and ask if he could drive the car back to the villa since driving back yourselves while tipsy would be idiotic. Harry offers to pay a hefty amount for the favor, and the man happily obliges, saying he will drive it back when he finishes closing the restaurant. Harry hands him the keys before you leave, shaking hands and kissing cheeks with the other chefs on the way out.

You're both wine-drunk—arguably the best kind of drunk—and stumbling on clumsy feet with cheeks that won't stop smiling. It's dark out now, and the streetlights guide you to the Corvette. Harry calls for a taxi, speaking in full Italian, which makes you weak in the knees.

Harry removes his suit jacket after hanging up the phone, leaving the white button-up in all its glory, his tattoos and chest hair peeking out from the few buttons undone. You take your belongings out of the trunk, set them on the ground, and then stand beside Harry. You kiss his chest, nuzzling your cheek against it and closing your eyes. He rubs his hand along your back and begins swaying with you under the streetlight.

You look up at him with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, admiring his matching appearance. "How do you say 'pretty' in Italian?" you ask, getting lost in his gaze.

Harry pouts, thinking. "Patatina," he replies after a few seconds.

"You're patatina," you say lovingly.

He snorts at your cluelessness, smearing a kiss on your forehead.

"What?" you ask, looking at him with confusion. "Is that not what it means? That's not nice, Harry. What did you just make me say?" You gasp. "Is it something dirty?"

He's still giggling, with crinkled eyes and deep dimples carving his face. You poke his ribs to get him to answer. "Sorry," he says, breathing out a final laugh. "No, it's not dirty. Patatina is a term of endearment I read about in the book I bought. It means little potato."

You stare at him with a deadpan expression, thoughts about why you decided to date this boy running through your head. "Little potato... it's actually kind of cute," you admit, shuffling closer to Harry's warm body. "If you're a patatina, what am I?"

"Cipollino," he murmurs, cradling your face. It translates to 'little onion.' The book said it pairs well with patatina, and we're, like, a pair."

Your nose scrunches. "But an onion, out of everything? That's probably the least romantic vegetable. I want to be rhubarb or something, you know? They taste sweet, and I think... I think I'm pretty sweet. Right, Harry?" The wine is making its way to your dizzy head.

"Correct," he says. "And I'm patatina, not Harry."

"Shut up."

"Kiss me, then. Shut me right up."

You don't question him, lurching forward to give him a searing kiss, fingers hooking in his belt loops. He returns the kiss with the same, if not more, passion. You can taste the residue of wine on his cherry-colored lips, opening his mouth with your tongue to suck on his.

You suddenly hear tires rolling up and turn to see headlights shining on your figures. Great timing, taxi. You part from Harry's swollen lips, short of breath, and hastily pick up your stuff. You hope no one witnessed anything too wild.

Harry hands the driver a wad of cash before he climbs in the backseat. You follow suit. The vehicle drives off into the night, and your head rests on your lover's shoulder the whole way back.

——

The villa looms exquisitely under the starlit sky. You're relatively sure you fell asleep five minutes into the drive. Harry helps your sleepy body out of the car after grabbing all your belongings, then walks you up the driveway. He sets you on the outdoor sofa surrounding the fire pit before disappearing through the sliding door. The whispering breeze makes you shiver and burrow deeper into his sweater, which still clings to your figure.

Harry returns with two wine glasses and a bottle of... cranberry juice?

"If I have any more wine, I'll puke. So, cranberry juice?" he says, his voice rising to a higher octave.

"Sitting by the fire and drinking cranberry juice out of a wine glass with you," you say dreamily while scooting over to make room for him. "I can't think of anything better."

You soak up his company. When he went inside, he changed into grey sweatpants and a matching hoodie, and he looked like such a boyfriend. It's ridiculous. He's always so inviting and lovely. You find yourself wanting to touch him and absorb the warmth he exudes.

Sleep overtakes you again while you're tucked into his side. The next thing you wake up to are silk sheets on the king-size bed. You instinctively curl up to Harry's body beside you. He must have opened the vast bay window that provides an impossible sea view because a beautiful breeze flows over your skin. It has you sinking further into the mattress.

"Want me to get your pajamas?" Harry asks quietly.

You sleepily shake your head, perfectly fine with sleeping in his sweater. However, you do slide off your shorts and bikini bottoms.

You're dozing again when Harry clears his throat. You open your eyes, feeling his heart rate speed up under your cheek.

"I have something special planned for our anniversary tomorrow. It's in the evening, so we have time to do other things. Just letting you know."

"That makes me nervous, but I trust you."

"Tomorrow will be even better than today. I promise."

"Can't wait." You yawn. "Goodnight. Love you."

"I love you more than anything," he says, lightly scratching your back.

You grumble an incoherent response, drifting off to your dreams, which always pale compared to life with the man next to you.

——

The following morning's ambiance consists of Harry's snoring and glorious sunshine pouring through the wind-blown curtains. You must've slept like a rock because the bedside clock reads nine-thirty. You decide to abandon the soft sheets and let Harry get more sleep.

You wrap yourself in your satin robe and pad down the hallway toward the kitchen. One glance at the oven, and you remember the bread recipe from last night. It'd be a pleasant anniversary surprise for Harry, considering his surprise for you is shrouded in mystery. Plus, making bread is oddly therapeutic—the kneading, the delicious smell, the endless possibility of flavors. Luckily, all the simple ingredients are in the pantry, so you can start making the dough.

By the time it's in the oven, Harry is still dead to the world, and the time is nearing eleven. Some days, he'll wake up at the crack of dawn to go on a stupid run, or he'll sleep until noon on the weekends after a long week of work. There's really no in-between.

While the bread bakes, you clean up the mess on the counters before sitting at the kitchen table to aimlessly scroll through your phone. Another twenty minutes pass before you hear feet shuffling against the hardwood floor. You glance up to find a puffy-eyed Harry rubbing his face. He's wearing black swim trunks, and that's about it, except for the sunglasses on top of his head.

He bends down and kisses your cheek. "Buongiorno, mio piccolo cuoco," he says, his voice as raspy as the slight mustache above his lip that seems to have grown overnight.

"More like good afternoon." You shut your phone off and set it aside. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mm, the best I have in ages," he answers, scratching his stomach. He then smiles lazily, his eyes looking more awake. "Happy anniversary."

"Three whole years. I don't know how I've gone putting up with you this long."

"Hey. I can go back to bed if you want," he says, pointing his thumb toward the bedroom.

"No, stay," you plead softly. "By the way, I'm making that bread recipe. It's my present to you for being an average boyfriend."

"Being sassy this morning, are we?"

"You love it."

"Got that right," Harry mutters, nosily peering into the oven. He sniffs the bread dramatically and whistles impressively before shutting the oven door. The mouthwatering aroma reminds you of wandering the Italian streets yesterday.

"Going for a swim?"

"Yeah. Join me?"

"I will once the bread is done." You stand and send him on his way with a peck on his lips. "Go ahead. I'll make you a fruit platter."

"Dragonfruit, please?" he requests, opening the sliding door that leads to the infinity pool.

"Got it. Don't forget to put sunscreen on!"

He gives you a thumbs up, leaving the door open to welcome the pleasant breeze. You grab hot pads and take the finished bread out, setting it on the cooling rack before turning the oven off. While it cools, you change into a swimsuit, tie a chiffon wrap skirt around your hips, and then arrange a platter.

You gather the cubed fruit you've both been eating the past couple of days—cantaloupe, watermelon, strawberries, and, per Harry's request, dragonfruit. He wanted to buy some after his wonderful mother grew it in her garden. Then, you precisely arrange the fruit in a circle on a floating breakfast tray that can go in the pool, keeping the middle open for slices of buttered bread. You sincerely hope it tastes close enough to what you ate yesterday.

Lastly, you fill glasses with orange juice before carefully heading outside to keep Harry company. You see him floating on his back, arms open, and eyes closed. You set the platter down on a table and tiptoe to the edge of the pool.

To hell with it. You're going to scare him to get him back after trying to tip the kayak yesterday. It's only fair, right?

He's oblivious to everything around him, a peaceful glow on his face. You almost feel bad for deciding to disturb it—especially on your anniversary—but what good is a relationship without a bit of havoc?

You mull over what you could possibly do to frighten him. Maybe throw a cantaloupe piece at him or pretend the car came back destroyed. These are two vastly different ends of the mischief spectrum, and ultimately, the latter is the obvious choice—and the most fun.

"Harry?" you say quietly, changing your expression to make it seem like you're distraught.

"Yeah?" he replies, keeping his eyes closed.

"Um, your friend from yesterday just dropped the car off. Harry, it's—"

His eyes snap open, picking up on your wavering and anxious tone. He stops floating and swims over to where you're standing by the edge.

"What's wrong? Talk to me. Did something happen? Are you okay?" he asks worriedly, his eyes darting between your face and body to check for any signs.

"The car," you whisper, mustering up fake tears. Harry instinctively holds your ankle, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. "It's destroyed. It looks like it got into an accident. What are we going to do?"

"Seriously? What the hell? How... I don't..." He heaves himself out of the pool and begins walking around the villa toward the driveway. He looks like he's about to punch something, so you suppress your laughter and decide to end the game.

You grab his wrist, spinning him around. He stares at you with panic, and now you feel bad. "I'm kidding, baby. I'm just messing with you. The car is fine. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you repeat, clasping his cheeks and laughing.

His jaw drops. "You're so mean."

"I'm just getting you back for yesterday. Them's the rules."

"Yeah, but you've been quite sassy all morning, hmm? First, you called me an average boyfriend. Then you didn't even kiss me good morning. That hurts my heart."

"You were completely passed out. How would you have known if I kissed you good morning or not?"

"I can always tell. They bring me back to life."

"Shut up," you scoff, grabbing the platter. "Here's some fruit and homemade bread as a peace offering. Take it or leave it."

"Feed me in the pool, and I'll consider your offer."

"Fine. I'm not getting in, though. I want to sunbathe for a bit.

Harry dramatically rolls his eyes and dives back in. When he emerges, he swims to the edge. You sit down with the platter and let it float next to him before putting your feet in the tepid water. You pick up a slice of bread and hold it to Harry's awaiting mouth. He places your legs over his shoulders, his arms hooking around your upper thighs.

Someone's needy today.

He tosses the bread into his mouth, his eyes rolling back like they did in the wine cellar yesterday. He borderline moans at the taste, his jaw flexing with each chew. After he swallows, he leaves grateful kisses on your thighs. "Deliziosa," he murmurs, paired with more nipping and kissing. You know he's not talking about the bread. The 'a' he added to the end of the word makes it feminine. He's not slick.

Before you both get carried away—wanting to save your pent-up tension for later—you feed him a plethora of fruit before deciding to make both of you an actual meal. You're starving, so you'll catch some sun later.

Harry whines at the loss of contact. You use your foot to push his chest until he's floating on his back again. He throws you a peace sign before you head back inside.

As you whip up a quick breakfast, you watch your boyfriend from the door, appreciating his sunkissed body and tattoos. You smile and think about how time has flown by with him in the most remarkable way.

Three years, and hopefully a lifetime more.

——

You're nervous.

You don't have the faintest idea what Harry's surprise is. All he's said is to dress nicely and not eat anything yet. Maybe he's taking you out to dinner? Or perhaps you'll walk downtown together and stop at vendors. You're stumped. He's annoyingly good at keeping secrets.

It's nearing seven as you add the finishing touches to your makeup. Harry is in the bathroom spraying cologne on his neck, looking casually handsome in a flowing, off-white button-up. He's paired it with matching cotton shorts and sneakers that need washing. You keep telling him to clean them, but he ignores your pleading and claims the dirt gives them character.

A short cherry-colored dress with puffed sleeves adorns your body. Red lipstick to match. Hair loose. The necklace Harry bought you for your last anniversary is glimmering against your neck.

Harry comes behind you in the vanity mirror as you apply a final coat of mascara and starts soothingly scratching your upper back. He can probably sense you're feeling nervous, knowing you don't particularly like surprises. However, you think he looks undeniably handsome, with his new tan and stubble pulling you into his coziness. Somehow, just looking at him eases your nerves.

"Gorgeous," he whispers.

You smooth any remaining wrinkles out of your dress. "Thank you. I'm almost done."

"Take your time," he replies, squeezing your shoulders. "I'll start the car."

You make sure your makeup is smudge-free and then shut the bedroom light off on your way to the front door. Harry is waiting by the passenger side of the Corvette with a distracted look on his face. When he finally sees you coming, he opens the door for you. This time, you accept his gentlemanlike gesture.

He drives to an unknown destination, taking the backroads. You can't even guess where you're headed since everything outside the villa is unfamiliar.

Ten minutes later, Harry slows down and turns right toward what appears to be a small seaside forest. He drives along the path leading through the trees until a hidden beach area eventually reveals itself. He parks the car while you're speechless at the sight before you. The only things on the sand are a round table with two chairs surrounded by tiki torches.

No one else is here. If Harry tells you he rented the entire beach, you'll kill him.

"I rented this portion of the beach for the night."

Of course.

"You're ridiculous," you say, taking in your surroundings. "Thank you, Harry. This is a wonderful surprise."

He ducks his head bashfully. "C'mon, let's eat."

You follow him to the table and sit on the wicker chair across from him. In front of you is a plate of stuffed ravioli with a side of roasted asparagus, cooked just how you like them. Harry has vegan fettuccine Alfredo with peas—a lot of peas. A gagworthy amount.

"I'm floored right now," you say, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. "I can't believe you did all this without me knowing."

"I'm a sneaky guy. There were lots of secret phone calls while you were in the shower or swimming in the pool.

You take your sandals off and enjoy the cool sand between your toes. "Yeah, I bet. I'm not even going to ask how much it costs to rent this part of the beach."

"It's not important," he says. "Let's eat, shall we? And talk me through this little outfit you have on. Why on earth haven't I seen you wear it yet?"

Then, both of you eat, talk, and watch the waves glide on the shore. The sun is dipping past the horizon, turning the sky a violet shade with splashes of fading orange. You talk Harry's ear off about random stuff in your life and humorous anecdotes since the trip started. His body naturally leans toward you to give you his undivided attention. He listens the entire time, eyes on you with his chin in the palm of his hand, except for when he pops some spearmint gum into his mouth after finishing his truckload of peas.

After you finish rambling, you wait for him to start talking your ear off. He can usually drone on and on about anything for hours, but right now, he's just sitting and staring at the sunset.

"You're quiet," you point out, gently poking his arm with your fork.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

He sighs longingly before saying, "I know we still have more than enough time here, but I kind of don't want to leave. I love it here so much. This is the happiest I've ever been."

Your heart melts. "I feel the same way. I could stay here forever and never get bored of it. Especially with you by my side."

Harry finally looks at you, his eyes holding something unreadable yet powerful. He stands abruptly and reaches his hand out. "Let's walk for a bit," he says with a tone that kicks your anxiety into high gear.

You grasp his hand, and he leads you along the shoreline, your feet getting wet whenever the tide washes up. It's quiet except for the pesky seagulls, crashing waves, and salty breeze. Where you are right now makes you want to bottle up the memory so you can keep the feeling forever, replay this trip, and relive the most joyous moments of your life.

Harry eventually stops, facing you with both hands holding yours tightly. He looks... pale. Are his hands shaking, or are you imagining things? Is he about to pass out from sunstroke? Did he eat too many peas?

He clears his throat and visibly gulps, squinting at the sky and exhaling quickly. His feet shuffle nervously. An incomprehensible thought zings to the front of your brain.

Is he about to do what you think he's about to do?

"I might cry and possibly throw up, so please bear with me," he says, his voice shaky.

You just stare at him, unable to say anything. Then he begins lowering himself on one knee, and you just about go down with him.

He removes his hands from yours and takes something out of his pocket. It's a velvet ring box, pink and delicate.

You gasp as Harry opens his mouth, his watery eyes trained on nothing but you. "I love you with all my heart. I'm weak for the things you do, and it consumes me to the point where I feel like I might burst from loving you so much. Every word you speak or smile you give me makes me fall for you deeper and deeper. And you love me back. You love me better than anyone. And I realized when we first met that you're someone I not only want in this life but also need. You're the only one for me, and I'll take care of you, support you, and love you so thoroughly until you get sick of me. I'm rambling now, so I'll shut up and cut to the chase. I want to be your husband. Will you marry me? Please? Il mio cuore è solo tuo. If you want it, it's yours."

Harry finishes his speech by opening the ring box to reveal a silver oval-cut ring that takes your breath away. A tear trails down your cheek as your lips wobble. You nod your head what feels like a thousand times. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. Holy shit."

He laughs beautifully, his eyes squinting so much that the captured tears in his waterline spill over. He stands and shakily puts the ring on the correct finger. It fits perfectly.

You cup his cheeks and bring his face toward yours. "I love you," you say while kissing his flushed and tear-stained cheeks. "You're so sneaky. I wasn't expecting this until you looked like you were going to pass out in front of me."

"Be glad I didn't throw up on your dress."

"That's true." Suddenly, everything hits you. Harry, we're going to get married."

He smiles with unbridled happiness, nodding before picking you up and running into the sea. The splashes he makes strike you with cold splatters, and you squeal, but it quickly turns into uncontrollable laughter when Harry spins you around and dips you toward the water. You squirm with resistance and manage to escape his arms. He stumbles from the waves but remains upright, then stares at you intensely for three seconds before kissing your lips like they're his life source.

"My fiancée," he says, kissing down your face to your neck. "I adore you."

"Can we"—you whimper breathily—"go back to the villa and celebrate? Some wine, dessert, and... maybe some other things."

He can't propose to you while looking this good and expect you not to jump his bones.

"Sì, mi amore."

——

At the villa, palpable tension lingers in the air and throughout your body. The adrenaline from what just happened is still coursing through your blood as Harry makes a beeline straight to the master bedroom. It's only right to follow with shallow breaths and a hammering heartbeat.

Approaching the bedroom, you see Harry already taking off his shirt. You walk over and lie on the bed, waiting for him to initiate the celebration. You're usually the one who likes to be in control, but being the sexually dominant type calls for preparation and the right kind of mood. Now, at this moment, all you want is to writhe in pleasure on silk sheets and feel Harry's touch everywhere.

You're already impatiently aroused because of Harry's teasing on the drive back. His fingers were stroking the inside of your thigh, traveling up, up, up until they reached dangerous territory. He'd start to pull away after realizing how wet you already were, but you would trap his hand with your thighs, making him groan. Two could play at that game.

Now, Harry saunters over to you in nothing but his cotton shorts. His tanned skin looks tempting in the muted lamplight. The rest of the lights are off, and the moon is brightly shining in the indigo sky.

"Ready for me?" he asks lowly, hungrily glancing over your body.

You nod and bend your knees. Harry lies on his stomach and gets between your legs, his hands gripping your upper thighs with fervor. He must've put his rings on when you weren't looking. He knows you love the feeling of them. You're not picky as to where.

"Gonna let me take care of you?"

"Please. Please, Harry."

"Patience, my love. Let me see you."

"I'm right here. Do something. Please, I need you."

He shushes you with a soft timbre, scooting closer to where you need him the most. He lifts your dress, bunches the material up by your stomach, and then readjusts his grip on your thighs. His lips trail closer to your lace underwear, and he looks at you under his eyelashes. His eyes ground you, make you nervous, and leave you spellbound. Maintaining eye contact with him is hard when you know you'll come undone way too quickly from just his intense gaze. You're not giving him the benefit of that. Not tonight, at least.

Instead, you stare at the vaulted ceiling and gasp when his lips graze over your underwear. Soft, purposeful movements have you closing your thighs around your head as a reflex. Open-mouthed kisses over your wet lace drive you crazy. You're clenching and internally soliciting for him to just do something.

"Stop teasing," you say firmly, still not looking at him.

"Don't be bossy."

"I'm not being bossy. You're my fiancé, so you're supposed to be nice to me."

He moves your underwear to the side. "Yeah? Does my fiancée want me to be nice to her? I'm always nice, baby. I'm always good for you; you know that."

"You are. It's true. The nicest man I've ever known. No one has even come close." You squirm with impatience. "Just take them off."

Harry doesn't waste any time, propping himself up to slide the material down your legs. You lift your ankles above his head to fling them off, then plant your feet back on the mattress and spread them wide open so he can resume.

His mouth immediately latches onto your clit, sucking it, and his nose fits perfectly above it. You moan loudly, your back arching and your hands grasping his neck. You have to look at him now and watch him take care of you like only he knows how. When you do, it's like a sight straight from heaven. His brows are drawn in, his eyes shut, and his pink lips bring you pleasure in the most intimate way.

Harry continues sucking before soothing his tongue along your entrance. Without warning, he removes his mouth and replaces it with his fingers. He dives two of them in, curling them in a way that makes you inhale sharply. His mouth occupies itself with kissing the inside of your thighs, biting little marks so you can remember this experience.

The feeling of both his fingers and mouth is overwhelming, and your hand can't help but involuntarily pull his hair.

"God," he mumbles against your thigh. "Do that again, baby."

You pull harder, and a deep, raspy moan leaves his mouth. He begins kissing across your body while his fingers continue to bring you to your peak. He adds a third as he nips your waist, his head exploring under your bunched-up dress. He props one arm up to hover himself over you. You look at him with lustful eyes, your mouth parted, and soft moans escape when he hits a particular spot. He smears a messy kiss on your lips, and you try your best to return it as his fingers thrust in and out of you.

An orgasm quickly forms in your lower stomach. Harry massages your clit with the pad of his thumb to bring you there, knowing your body and when you're about to let go like the back of his hand. He grinds against the bed to soothe his own arousal. He's been hard since your act in the car, having felt your thighs clench around his hands, his fingers so close to his favorite spot. He apparently couldn't help himself.

When Harry hits that final spot that has you crying out, you arch your back and let go. Your eyes squeeze shut as you moan from the delightful pressure freely flowing out of your body.

Harry places his mouth back on yours as you finish, removing his fingers from inside you and gripping your hips, leaving a coat of your arousal on the love bites left there. Your body is strong enough to lift yourself on your elbows and leave marks on Harry's neck. He grunts when you bite the sensitive skin below his earlobe and grinds against the bed once more, stilling and then shuddering through a fierce release.

Oh. He came from that one touch.

He falls flat on the bed, cupping himself and breathing heavily. There's a damp spot on his shorts. It's a filthy sight.

"That was embarrassing. I'm sorry," Harry murmurs, his cheek pressed against the pillow. "I thought I'd be able to last."

You brush some sweaty hair off his forehead. "It's fine. I don't have to do any work now."

"Hilarious," he says monotonously. He suddenly jumps up from the bed and shuffles to the bathroom, confusing you. You hear him wash his hands and then turn on the jacuzzi. He returns with a clean pair of boxers and smoothly lifts you from the bed. Your dress covers your exposed state, yet it doesn't hide the slick feeling between your legs. The warm water will feel amazing.

Harry gently sets you on the sink counter as the tub fills up. He grabs a washcloth and dips it under the faucet before cleaning you. It's comfortably silent, with only rushing water in the background.

When the jacuzzi is adequately filled, Harry helps you stand and remove your dress. Once naked, you quickly go to the bathroom while Harry removes his boxers. He then leads you to the jacuzzi to sit down. When he climbs in, you cling onto him for a cuddle as sleepiness washes over you. Harry presses a button to turn the jets on. Everything feels so lovely.

"I can't believe you said yes," he says.

"You knew I would. How could I possibly say no to you after a speech like that?"

"Dunno. We're, like, together forever now." He rubs the ring on your finger. "Well, not yet. But when we actually get married, it's a lifetime with each other. It's wild to think about, but I want nothing more."

"I get what you mean," you say, scrubbing the red lipstick stains on his neck with the pads of your fingers. "I want this with you too."

When you softly rub around his lips, he kisses your finger and looks at you with disbelief. You pluck his swollen bottom lip with your thumb, then lean in to plant a truthful kiss there.

Everything with him is so simple. Every touch is meaningful. Every unspoken word holds the weight of a million words. Every laugh leaves you teary-eyed with a heart full of love.

He is pure love. What he gives so naturally is exactly what he is.

Once your skin turns wrinkly and the water becomes lukewarm, you and Harry get out and dry yourselves off. He retreats to the bedroom to grab pajamas. When he returns, you put on an oversized shirt and walk out of the bathroom after draining the tub, running toward the bed and bellyflopping on it like a kid. Harry shuts the bedroom light off and flops beside you, letting out a long and blissful sigh.

"I'm hungry," he says.

You snort. "You ate a million peas not even an hour ago. How are you still hungry?"

"Sex makes me hungry. And stop making fun of my love of peas. Hey, can you get the cantaloupe? I'm knackered."

His rapid change of topics makes you laugh. "Anything for you, pea boy."

You hear him faintly whine at your new nickname for him as you stroll into the kitchen. You open the refrigerator to grab a bowl of cantaloupe cubes and then return. Harry's eyes are fluttering shut, and his limbs are spread out on the mattress. You climb over him, sitting against the headboard, as he blindly reaches his hand for some fruit. He chews against the pillow, his cheeks squishing adorably.

"Thanks," he mumbles with his mouth full.

"Mm-hmm. I'm going to sleep. I'll put the bowl on the nightstand for you."

Once you've moved the cantaloupe, you scoot down and lie on your back. Harry keeps reaching for the bowl without moving his head, sometimes missing entirely and waving his hand around to find it. You eventually close your eyes, a smile making its way to your face when you realize you'll wake up tomorrow as an engaged woman next to your future husband.

Harry finishes all the fruit in the bowl and then turns off the lamp. He tugs you against his chest, and you exhale happily, his warmth effortlessly pulling you under into a deep sleep.

——

Two Weeks Later

After situating yourself in the airplane seat, you pull out your phone and open Instagram. You and Harry are on your way back from Italy. It was an unforgettable two weeks together, and not one day went by without you making new memories.

You had told only the closest people to you about the engagement—your parents and Harry's. No one else knows, so you decided to announce the news with an Instagram post. You wanted to wait until after vacation to worry about making phone calls and giving details about how it happened.

Now, you start creating a post on the fourteen-hour flight to California. You already know what picture to use—Harry cutely holding a bottle of wine along the lusciously green countryside, ready for a picnic date in a park. Also with an impressive mustache. Throughout the ten days after the engagement, Harry decided to grow his faint mustache into a full-fledged one. You don't know how it grew so fast, honestly. You also didn't know how to feel about it at first, but you're accustomed to liking it now. It makes him look mature.

How it feels between your thighs—well, that's a story for another day.

Harry has chosen to post a picture of the ring, gleaming brilliantly in the pink velvet box. And with him being the artsy, moderately strange social media poster, he had to add something extra to the picture—a paint swatch. Both of you spontaneously went paint shopping one day when you got bored in the villa. You had been talking to him for months about redoing the bathroom at the house, so you went to a local paint store to look at different options. Harry, being the sentimental and cheesy man he is, suggested painting it the color of the ring box he proposed with. You remember thinking the diluted pink would complement the white tiles and granite counter of the master bathroom perfectly.

You couldn't possibly refuse the idea, especially since it would always remind you of that special evening on the beach.

You had searched with him to find a color that resembled the box, all while goofing around and laughing at the bizarrely specific names of the swatches. You pointed to a light green swatch appropriately named Peapod and told Harry he should paint the kitchen that color since he loves peas so much. He pouted at you and dramatically walked down another aisle. Typical. And so sensitive about his peas!

Harry is sleeping beside you, his head snugly settled on a pillow propped against the airplane window while soft snores escape his mouth. You'll wait for him to wake up so you can both post at the same time. As for now, you rest your head on his shoulder to also take a nap. Harry stirs and drowsily slaps his hand onto your knee to keep you close.

You'll miss Italy's golden sunsets, good-natured people, and ethereal views. However, the thought of going home and beginning a new chapter with your fiancé doesn't sound too bad.

Bliss, in all its glory, takes hold once again.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles #adore-laur #pink velvet

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anpanbun · 6 months ago

Text

Nearly Forgotten

(An AU of @liloinkoink's Lamplight AU..... inspired by that one tumblr post about ancient tattoos and forgotten gods)

It was after school and young Martyn was on a mission. He stood on his tip toes to reach up, and, with all the gentleness he could, shifted the right rabbit ear of the antenna the slightest bit further along. The staticky noise of the TV faded as his favorite channel sharpened into view. However, instead of his favorite after school cartoon, something that would forever change his life came onto the screen.

-----

Martyn wasn't an anthropologist, he was maybe the furthest thing from it. A prospective radio host finishing his broadcasting degree, but, when he was a child, one documentary forever sparked his interests beyond that. The documentary was about ancient humans and societies, which should have been torturously boring to a small child. Instead, he was drawn in by the whole program. In particular the story of a mummy found in the Alps with a unique tattoo.

The tattoo was on the mummy's chest, over his heart, eight lines in a starburst pattern and four squiggles in the middle. The program had claimed it was used for some sort of ritualistic purpose.

Little Martyn didn't think much of it at the time beyond the pattern being cool, but over the decade or so after he found that the design had stuck with him.

In school it was what he doodled in the corners of his homework. It was the pattern he looked for in noise. When he was bored it was the thing he looked up.

So it only made sense that in the fall, after his first internship in university gave him a little extra cash jingling in his pocket, Martyn found himself outside a tattoo parlor.

And now, a week later, he's staring at the starburst and squiggles first tattooed on the chest of a man thousands of years ago.

"This looks perfect. Thank you so much, man!" Martyn fist bumped the artist, a man, with some of the coolest hair and tattoos Martyn had ever seen, named BigB.

"Not a problem, just remember the care instructions I told you before we started and it should be healed up in no time."

-----

When B had said "no time" he hadn't been joking. It being fully healed in a couple of days felt almost too fast, but maybe that's just how it worked?

As he was examining the healed tattoo in the morning light of his bathroom, he got the sudden feeling that something was off. He couldn't put his finger on it, but if he'd looked closer it was almost like it was easier to see the tattoo in the mirror than it should have been with the bright morning light streaming in from the window behind him. Almost like the tattoo was faintly glowing.

-----

Martyn was very fortunate that the old apartment he rented had a gas stove. It had taken him a while to adjust to using it, but recently he had finally gotten the hang of it. Water boiled quick, nothing ever boiled over or burned, and he managed to cook everything to perfection.

-----

It was early winter when something noticeably changed. The first bad snow fall of the season was expected to roll in, so his friend Jimmy and Jimmy's roommate Tango, who rented an actual house with a woodburning fireplace, invited him to stay over.

"Thanks again for letting me crash here, Tim."

"It's no problem Martyn! What kind of friend would I be if I let my buddy freeze to death in his apartment!"

They were sitting in front of the fireplace enjoying the extra warmth. The power was still on thankfully, but the snow was really picking up outside.

Tango was in the middle of a story from his engineering class when, out of the corner of his eye, Martyn swore he saw a form flicker in the fire, a hand reaching out.

His head snapped to the fire, his voice sounded startled, especially when he saw it was still there, "Do you guys seen that?"

Tango and Jimmy followed his line of sight. The moment their eyes met the fireplace, the hand melded back into the rest of the flames.

"See what?" Tango asked.

"The flames, they looked- they looked like a hand," the moment he had started the sentence Martyn realized that what he saw would sound insane, "so.... I thought you guys might have seen the optical illusion too? But I guess you missed it?"

"Huh guess we did, that sucks! It must have looked cool!" Jimmy answered.

The conversation moved on after that, and eventually Tango and Jimmy retired to their rooms. The both of them wanted to take advantage of the power being on a little longer to sleep in their own beds while they could.

Martyn sat in front of the fireplace for a while longer on his own. His knees were curled up to his chest and his head rested on them. He was looking out the glass patio doors into the swirling snow.

It was in the quiet moment alone that it reappeared. Martyn noticed the firelight in the peripheries of his vision brighten significantly, so he turned his head. That's when he saw it again, the hand, made of fire but reaching out to him.

Maybe it was stupidity, maybe he was tired, maybe it was some of the million of other excuses he could make up. The truth was, though, that something came over him, he was enthralled by the flames. Looking at them made a warm feeling rise in his chest.

He reached his own hand out to meet the fire.

Jimmy's door opened with a creak, shockingly loud in the bated breath silence that had been there before. Martyn snapped his hand back.

"Oh good, you're still up, I think the power finally went out," Jimmy said as he flopped onto the sofa behind Martyn, "it started getting cold in my room."

Tango joined them not long after saying the same thing, and the three settled in to sleep.

Martyn kept a close eye on the fire until he finally fell asleep. The warmth of the fire outside and in his chest finally lulling him to sleep. His mind replaying over and over again the moments before Jimmy had opened his door.

Martyn's hand had met the fire's, his hand had met and it hadn't burned.

-----

After that realization Martyn did the thing any sane person would do. He went camping.

He waited a week or so, of course, for the snow to melt, but he went camping.

Because where else was he going to get a bonfire?

-----

Staring at the towering flames in front of him, Martyn only then took the moment to consider if this was actually a good idea, but only a moment. He needed to know.

A warmth in his chest had slowly risen up as he had built the fire, from excitement or nerves or anticipation he guessed. It didn't take long though. Within 30 minutes or so of the fire reaching its full height, the hand reappeared for the third time. This time Martyn didn't hesitate, the instant he saw the hand reach out of the wall of flame he lunged towards it.

Like they had that night, the flames of the hand licked at his skin as they met. He couldn't help but laugh because he had been right. The flames fully consumed his hand but he only felt a warm tickle. The warmth in his chest condensed into a warm ball right over his heart, right where his ancient tattoo rested.

He was too busy being amazed to react in time when the flames, seemingly no longer content with just brushing up against him, tightened around his hand and pulled. He floundered, suddenly the warm feeling he had felt like a burning brand over his heart. He tried to pull away, but the fire overpowered him and the last thing he saw was bright white light as the entirety of Martyn was pulled into the bonfire.

-----

The white light faded after a moment, Martyn blinked away the lingering spots. A bit delayed, but his body continued the reaction it had been doing before and he tried to take a step back.

He was stopped though and finally he looked forward to where the fire had been.

In front of him, in place of the fire, was a man. The man's hand was wrapped around Martyn's in the same way the flames had been, holding him still.

The man had a wide, wolfish smile, and wild brown hair. He had some sort of animal ears, wolf maybe, Martyn thought. What stood out most though, were his eyes. They were the blue of the hottest flames a fire can have. They were mesmerizing.

"Hello Martyn," the man said, "I am Ren! I am finally able to speak with you, my only acolyte. My savior."

#lamplight au #anpan writes #inthelittlewood #martyn inthelittlewood #renthedog #rendog #trafficblr #traffic smp

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mamawasatesttube · 1 year ago

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“I know, I know, I’m stuck with you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” please!

"Thanks for coming on such short notice." Dick both looks and sounds harried, Bat-comm in hand as he ushers Kon in from the balcony. "I'll try to be back as soon as I can, but you never know with Arkham breakouts—also, there's some leftover chicken soup in the fridge, if he can keep that down it'll be great, and—yes, B, I'm on my way, I heard you the first seventeen times—sorry, Conner, it's a bit hectic, but—"

"Hey, man." Kon gives him a reassuring thumbs-up. "I got this. You go do your thing and let me wrangle the poor sickly scrunkle, yeah?"

Dick pauses on one leg, one shoe on, the other in hand. "The scrunkle?"

"Tim," Kon clarifies. "You know, 'cuz he's scrunkly."

"...I see," Dick says, not sounding like he particularly sees at all. But there's no time to explain; he flashes a quick grin, fires off a two-fingered salute, and calls one more "Thanks again!", and then he's gone.

Kon cocks his head and waits.

After seventeen seconds, the jingle bell he stuck to the outside of Dick's bedroom windowframe on his way in chimes, and he snorts to himself as he superspeeds right on over to the fire escape outside.

"Predictable, Rob," he says, lounging midair. Tim, staring at the bell in his hand with great prejudice, scowls; the effect is rather ruined by his adorable hot pink bird-printed pajamas. "You definitely have a fever if you fell for that one."

Tim folds his arms over his chest and glares at him. Coughs. Glares some more. "I don't need a"—cough, cough—"babysitter. I'm not that sick. Dick's just fussing."

Kon eases himself back in through the window, closes it against the night air, and presses his lips to Tim's forehead, ignoring the way Tim splutters. He's cute when he gets grumpy. "Mmm, well, that certainly feels like a high fever to me!"

"It's only a hundred and one," Tim mutters. And coughs again. Christ on a bike, he really sounds like death warmed over. The red flush to ohis face really isn't helping things, either.

Also. Christ on a bike? Really? Sheesh, Kon's spending too much time with Ma's friends on Bingo Sundays.

"Mm, yeah, so we're getting you back in bed," Kon informs him, and plucks him off the ground, sets him on his hip like the world's most disgruntled toddler, and carries him back over to Dick's bed, where he's clearly been being fussed over already, if the box of tissues, empty mugs, and cough drops are anything to go by.

"I'm not that sick!" Tim protests. Kon sees right through him, though; his wiggles of dissent are weaker than usual. "I can help. You heard Dick earlier, it's all hands on deck—"

"Which is why, if things get particularly dire, Dick already said he'll call me in," Kon says, and draws the blankets up over Tim's chest. "Seriously, Rob. The others have it in hand. And I," he grins, cupping Tim's face in his palms, "have you in hand."

Tim favors him with a very flat look, followed by a very pathetic sniffle. Oh, jeez, Kon wants to bundle him up and feed him soup and fuss over him forever. "Ha ha."

"I know, I'm hilarious." Kon squishes his cheeks before letting go. "Now, I'm gonna go get you some soup and your next dose of meds, and you're gonna stay right here in bed and not try any more escape attempts because you know I'm gonna catch you and bring you right back. And we are gonna watch your choice of 'Wendy', 'Star Trek', 'Star Wars', or 'Lord of the Rings', until you inevitably knock the fuck out because you are sick as hell, dude, and I do not mean in the Tony Hawk way. Got it?"

Tim heaves a weary, put-upon sigh that just sends him into another coughing fit; it sounds rough and scratchy and painful just to hear, and Kon winces in sympathy, leaning over to rub his back. Aw, Tim...

"I guess I can live with that," Tim rasps, his eyes watering. Kon is seized by the urge to kiss his forehead again, properly this time; he wants to take care of him so bad.

"Good! 'Cuz you don't get a choice." Kon gently ruffles his hair, eases him back against his pillows, and then tuts softly to himself and strokes the hair back from Tim's sweaty forehead. His poor Rob...

"Yeah, I know, I know. I'm stuck with you." Tim sighs again, closing his eyes. After a moment, though, he smiles ever-so-slightly, his eyelashes dark against his pale cheeks. "...I wouldn't have it any other way."

That's gotta be the fever talking—it's true, and Kon knows it's true, but Tim wouldn't just say it like that—but it makes Kon's heart flutter all the same.

He leans down and kisses Tim's forehead before he can lose his resolve. "Right back at'cha, Rob," he says, smiling. "Now lemme go get you your soup."

"Good luck," Tim mumbles, opening his eyes just slightly. "Don't fall in, have fun, et cetera..."

Kon laughs. "Will do," he says, and stands to leave.

(It's not until he's waiting in front of the microwave that he realizes: since the moment he left Tim's side, he's been—quite literally—walking on air.)

50 Prompts About Devotion

#timkon #tim #kon #rimi writes #huilannie #tim: is sick. dick: Come Here I Will Make You Soup. tim: oh you dont have to thats ok-- / dick: I Was Not Asking.#also nudging my dick & kon agenda forward again ever so slightly. but its mostly kon fussing <3 love kon getting to be a mom friend <3 #and also them both being stupid and pining a little. but mostly its about the mom friending

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blackgirlwhowrites2k23 · 1 year ago

Text

Summary: “Fair Date! A surprise invitation to go on a fair date with soccer player Rafael Leao. The fair has always been a delight, filled with laughter, delicious treats, and thrilling rides. Leao is able to spend his break playing games, taking cute pictures, and eating things he never really eats. Amidst playful teasing from the team, their connection grows stronger, culminating in a sweet moment under the twinkling stars.”

A/N: Let’s pretend I’ve been active this whole time! Anyways, here's a Rafael imagine because he’s so precious. In animes/manhwas there’s always a carnival/fair episode so here’s that with Rafael :). I also think I’m going to play around with third person writing more.

Immediately as she steps out of the car and makes way to the front where the pillars that hold the entrance sign stands, she’s brought back to many years past. The neon lights that have been flickering happily since she was a kid are still there. They seem to have faded a bit as time has taken its toll on them. They still flicker as if any moment they might give out, yet they never do.

Her gaze flickers all across the entrance of the lot taking in the absurdity of it all. Just two days ago she had passed by and all that was here was years old cracked asphalt that stretched for a few miles and old NewPort packages discarded like the rest of the lot. Now, not even a full three whole days later and there’s a whole other world built in its wake; that’s the thing about pop up county fairs, they’re always done in some random plot of land. Yet, here they are standing in front of Wonder World, the place of wonder. She cringes at the lack of creativity and how the letters seem haphazardly stuck up there, probably by some miserable teen working part time. She shakes her head and laughs it off, because it definitely fits the whole vibe of the place: mildly concerning yet comforting nonetheless —it’s probably the nostalgia clouding her judgment. Or, as Rafael would put it, the neon sinking into her brain.

She really couldn't believe her luck. It was truly a blessing that her college break, and her boyfriend's downtime would coincide perfectly with the time that the Fair she’s been visiting since she was a child would be back in town. She had been planning on dragging Rafael over here ever since he nonchalantly mentioned that he’d never been to a pop up Fair because one, that sounds super dangerous and two, he wasn’t sure if there had been any when he was growing up since most of his downtime was spent doing un-life threatening things.

As she arrived at the fairgrounds, her heart pounded with excitement. The sights and sounds were a delightful cacophony: laughter from children, the nostalgic jingle of carnival music, and the clinking of colorful lights illuminating the night sky. The aroma of cotton candy and popcorn wafted through the air, and the promise of fun filled every corner of the fair.

Rafael Leao greeted her with a smile that did not reach his eyes that immediately caused her to let out a snicker.

“Okay, you need to chill,” she had to put a hand to cover up her mouth in a failed attempt to stop herself from laughing at his expense.

“I’m chill. Who says I’m not chill. Super chill over here,” she casts him a sidelong glance as if to say yeah right and almost starts to laugh again until she notices the worry etched in his forehead.

Her hand immediately finds him and she sends him a warm smile, in the current lighting and atmosphere it’s hard for him to stay worried any longer from just how much pure excitement is radiating off of her.

“Are we going to go in or are you going to stare at me as we stand at the entrance,” he playfully rolls his eyes as he points with this thumb towards the rest of the Fair.

“Okayy! I wasn’t the one pissing my pants about a county Fair.”

“I was not pissing my pants.”

As the night progressed, they embarked on a whirlwind adventure, going from one ride to another. The roller coasters brought screams of joy, and high pitched screams of terror, which she was almost 99% sure came from her man who had a death grip on her hand. Each time they would get off and head over to the photos of the ride, they always consisted of her looking like she was having the time of her life and him holding on for dear life. In the end, he did end up wanting to ride them more than once.

The Ferris wheel offered breathtaking views of the twinkling lights below. The higher they went the more the outside world slipped away.

As the Ferris wheel gracefully ascended, her and Rafael found themselves in a cozy, swaying carriage, suspended high above the fairgrounds. The warm glow of the neon lights painted the sky with hues of green, blue and pink, creating a romantic ambiance that perfectly complemented the moment.

She couldn't help but giggle as she noticed the hint of nervousness in Rafael's eyes. "Are you scared, Mr. Soccer Star?" she playfully teased, nudging him with her elbow.

Rafael chuckled sheepishly, trying to hide his apprehension. "Maybe just a little," he admitted, glancing at the breathtaking view below. "But I must admit, it's not as bad as I thought it would be."

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" She said, her eyes sparkling with wonder as she looked out at the fair from their elevated vantage point. "I'm glad you're enjoying it, even if you were totally pissing yourself at first." She couldn’t help it, she had to tease him just a little, which earned her a playful nudge and wonderful smile.

As the Ferris wheel continued its gentle rotation, their conversation shifted to a different topic. "Can you believe it's been two years already?" Rafael said, his voice tinged with amazement. "Time has flown by so quickly."

She smiled, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "I know, it feels like we met just yesterday. But at the same time, it feels like I've known you forever," He was every bit as charming as she imagined. The rest of the AC Milan team had teased them playful about they’re outing so the groupchat would definitely be spammed with pictures of the night later, on Rafael’s behalf.

Rafael took her hand in his, his touch warm and comforting. "You've brought so much joy into my life," he said sincerely. "I never expected to find someone like you, someone who understands me and supports me unconditionally."

"And you've done the same for me," she replied, her heart swelling with love. "You make me feel special every day, and I'm grateful for every moment we've shared."

As the Ferris wheel reached its peak, the two gazed into each other's eyes, feeling the depth of their connection. Without a word, they leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender and loving kiss. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in each other's embrace.

In that fleeting moment suspended in time, they knew that this fair date was not just a celebration of their love but a promise of many more years filled with laughter, love, and endless adventures together.

But of course, the night wasn’t over. She had so badly wanted to play her hand at the fair games that she would never seem to win, so they weren’t leaving without winning a few prizes first.

The fair games beckoned them with their colorful displays, and Leao eagerly challenged her to try her luck at knocking down the stacked cans with a softball. With a determined grin, she took the ball in her hand and threw it with precision. Cheers erupted from passersby as the cans came crashing down, and she won Leao a giant stuffed dragon. He had tried after her but he could never seem to hit the mark.

“Not everyone can be a baseball star, babe,” she sends a wink over his way which has him clapping his hands and holding his stomach from how much he’s laughing.

“Oh, so you’re going pro now, huh?” He calms down enough to wipe a tear from his right eye.

“Most definitely. You want me to sign that plushie for you or something?” She brings out a Sharpie from her purse in a faux attempt to sign the bear.

He has to hold onto the game booth to hold himself from how much he’s laughing.

As they strolled through the bustling stalls, she couldn't help but marvel at the variety of delicious treats. She savored the sweetness of caramel apples, the salty goodness of freshly made pretzels, and the indulgence of churros dusted with cinnamon sugar. All of which Rafael had to try first, you know, to make sure they’re safe for the Baseball Star to eat or whatever.

At one point, they stumbled upon a humble photo booth, and they eagerly piled inside. Laughter filled the small space as they posed for silly snapshots, capturing memories they would cherish forever. She felt her heart swell with happiness, and she knew this was a day she would never forget.

As they were about to leave they separated for a moment as she decided she would have to use the restroom before they make the long ride back home. Rafael immediately ran to try his hand at a ring toss game they had passed by, aiming for a shiny prize for his girl. After a few attempts, he managed to land a ring on a bottle, and she happily received a beautiful necklace as a token of their delightful day together.

As the fair drew to a close, the moon stood proudly in the sky as if it were watching the day’s events and filling the sky with a soft luminescent glow. They found themselves sitting side by side on a quiet bench, watching the sky in comfortable silence. He took her hand in his, and she smiled, feeling a sense of serenity in his presence.

In that magical moment, under the fading twilight, Rafael Leao leaned in and whispered, "You've made this day truly unforgettable." Her heart fluttered as she replied, "You're lucky I was able to free up because of my busy schedule. This was a cute little date or whatever."

“Yeah, the neon is definitely sinking into your brain. It’s making you delusional, babe,” she feigned offense for a moment before she sighs dramatically and looks away.

“Boy, you know you love me!” She’s definitely not fighting back a smile.

He softly grabs her chin and turns her to look up at him as they sit on the bench and the world fades away for the final time that day.

“Yeah, I really do.”

As the stars began to twinkle above them, she knew she had found something extraordinary in this unexpected fairytale romance. The night may have ended, but their love story was just beginning.

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hellfiremunsonn · 2 years ago

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maybe something soft like eddie comforting you after a difficult day? lol

YESSSSSSS ugh, I need this, you need this, we ALL need this.

soft, fluffy, flirty, baby boy <3

You got home about an hour ago, laying face down on your bed, work clothes still on, even your shoes. The day felt too long, and it really started to get under your skin, and it made you want to scratch it off.

After a few more minutes, you heard the front door of your apartment open, keys jingling, and the sound of quiet humming. "You home baby?" Eddie called out.

You and Eddie had finally gotten an apartment together. The two of you had been dating for a few years, and had been saving up for what seemed like forever to be able to finally move out, and get a place together.

you groaned in response to Eddie and you heard him shuffle into your bedroom, feeling the bed dip next to you. "Baby?" he said softly.

You rolled your head to the side, barely able to see him through your hair that now covered your face.

"Hi" you said quietly.

His hand came up to your back, rubbing up and down the lengths of it while he talked. "Bad day?"

You groaned again, shoving your face back into your mattress in protest of even acknowledging the day one more time. Eddie laughed at your small tantrum, continuing to rub his hand on your back.

"Need some help?" He asked, hand reading the bottom of your shirt and sliding under it, the palm of his hand warming the expans of your back causing your to shiver.

"You don't have'ta" You mumbled, turning your head back to him.

He brushed your hair away from your face, tucking a few strands behind your ear, his hand lingering there. "No, that's true" he said with a small smile. "But I'd like to if that's alright with you?"

You couldn't help but smile at him. Tilting your head and pouting your lips at him until he got the hint to lean down and give you a kiss.

"Okay" you said, and he was quick on his feet. You sat up to follow his movements. Going back and forth from your shared dresser and closet, grabbing different articles of clothing before coming back to you, kneeling in front of you.

"Oh Eddie I don't-" you started but he shushed you.

"Relax, I'm just untying your shoes" he said with a teasing tone and you blushed.

His fingers quick with the laces, slipping off your shoes and your socks before standing.

"Arms up" he instructed and you did as you were told, laughing when he forgot to unbutton the top button of your work shirt, causing your head to get slightly stuck in the neck hole.

"You trying to decapitate me munson?" You huffed once you were finally free from the fabric.

"Not today" he quipped. "Maybe tomorrow though, I'll have to check my schedule" He reached behind you, placing the smallest kiss to the tip of your nose while he unclipped your bra, pulling the straps off of your shoulders and flinging it across the room.

You sighed with the relief of your boobs finally being free, scratching at the intents in your skin from it.

"Lay back for me will ya?" He asked, pushing at your shoulder lightly until you giggled and laid back down. The sheets cold and refreshing under your back.

His hands fumbled slightly with the button of your jeans, popping them open with a "Ah-ha!" before pulling the zipper down, and grabbing at the sides of them by your hips, yanking harshly at the fabric until it slipped passed your butt.

Your laugh was infectious and Eddie couldn't help but join in as he pulled on each pant leg until you were left clutching your stomach now only in a pair of underwear. Grabbing at your ankles he pulled you to the end of the bed until he could pick you up, and throw you over his shoulder.

You squealed and kicked your legs. "Eddie!"

"Yes?" He said nonchalantly, which only made you laugh more. He placed you down gently on the cold tile in the bathroom floor, pushing your disheveled hair away from your face, holding it in his hands while he dotted kisses all over it.

"Bath or shower?" he broke his kisses to ask.

"Bath please" You said with a blush.

"Perfect, I'm going to wash your hair, and then you're going to curl up on the couch while I make dinner, and then I'm going to cuddle this shit out of you until you fall asleep, sound good?"

"Sounds perfect teddy, thank you"

"Anything for you my love, I'd do this everyday if you asked me to" He said leaning down to place a soft and loving kiss onto your lips.

#hellfiremunsonn #hellfiremunsonn blurbs #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson blurb #Eddie Munson blurbs #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson Stranger Things #Stranger Things Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Stranger Things fic #eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson fanfiction #Stranger Things fanfiction #Stranger Things fluff #Eddie Munson fluff

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halcy0ng1rl · 5 days ago

Text

growing pains | F.J.S.J

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ��─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Joey: R U OK? Susie: @ the lodge

3.5k words Susie Lavoie centric hurt/comfort

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Playlist𝅘𝅥𝅮 1: Growing Pains by Ethel Cain 2: Nara Dreamland by Nicole Dollanganger 3: Crack Baby by Mitski 4: Golden Age by Ethel Cain 5: Waco, Texas by Ethel Cain 6: Not a lot, just Forever by Adrianne Lenker

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

1996, Mount Ormond

The bitingly cold wind wafted through Susie’s hair as she trudged up the steps to the abandoned Mount Ormond Ski resort. It nipped at the static tears in her eyes and snuck through the gap of her sweater’s front pocket, hands stuffed feebly inside. She dredged her soaking canvas sneakers up the crumbling wood steps toward a room she knew all too well. The cracked frosted glass window of her sanctuary door welcomed her home.

She folded herself onto the painstakingly thin mattress and listened as the wind-beaten old frame sighed under her weight. The dark mauve dusk of evening settled over the inconsequential town of Ormond, and by extension, over Susie.

As she pulled the bed’s scratchy faded blue blanket over her nose, she felt the inevitable sting of tears fall from her burning eyes down her cold cheeks. Snot dripped from her nose, and she wiped it with her sleeve. She hated him.

Congested sobs bubbling up in her throat, hair the texture of dead straw sticking to her forehead, tonight’s altercation played on repeat in her head;

Her mid-term marks in her father's curled fist. Shouting. The deaf ring of flesh hitting flesh. More shouting.

‘How can my daughter be an idiot and a dyke?!’ Smack. ‘You ungrateful brat!’ Another. ‘Fucking useless’. Crunch.

She had managed to tune out most of it– his usual drunken stammering– but she couldn’t tune out the pain in her ribs or the throbbing ache under her left cheekbone or the coagulating, purple-green bruises on her shins. Some things she couldn’t escape. But here in this abandoned, snow-soaked castle, she could flee to her own kingdom of solace if only for a few hours.

Susie had first found the ski lodge with Julie last year when they were juniors at Fairview, first semester. They were out cruising in Susie’s “new” 1990 accord during the Christmas break, snow falling like puffy stars beyond the windshield. Old holiday jingles played over the beat-up speakers, and as they drove down a backroad on the way to one of their only rich friend’s parties, Julie spotted the large chain-link fence hidden in the thickets of frost-covered evergreens.

Susie parked the car, apprehensive as Julie ran her purple-manicured fingernails over the rusted NO TRESPASSING sign bolted to the fence. The words, emblazoned in crimson red, put a knot in Susie’s stomach.

She didn’t even want to go to this party, let alone break into a place where they could get in trouble, murdered, lost, or all of the above. But as Julie’s cold hand took hers, all of her worries melted away. So long as they were together, Susie could do anything.

Pulling her hood over her snow-dotted blonde hair, Julie whisked over the fence with ease. Susie followed suit, albeit less gracefully, and they stared at the forgotten wood monolith in awe once their feet hit the icy pathway. Julie broke out in a rush of excitement.

“Let’s go, Suse!”

Susie tried her best to keep up with Julie’s sudden burst of energy, her breath visible in the night air as she clamoured up the hill. Inside was a world of their wildest dreams.

They spent the night pouring over the dusty wood bannisters and abandoned vending machines, enchanted by the cavernous hallways and cracking upholstery, all left permanently as they were when the resort closed. Stuck in time. Moonlight and snowflakes filtered through a large concave in the roof and illuminated the large centrepiece fireplace. Cracked wooden beams stretched across the high ceilings for what seemed like miles.

It was the most beautiful place they’d ever seen.

Holding a hazy green bottle of champagne, Julie leaned against the water-ring-covered bar in the chalet. She dusted the cobwebs from the glass with her gloved palm.

The moon from the window behind her illuminated the contours of her like a halo as she smiled skeptically at Susie, raising the bottle. Susie felt a painful and sudden yearning to reach over the countertop and close the distance between them in response, but instead, she simply nodded. Stared into the beautiful, gleaming blue eyes before her.

Julie popped the cork.

“To the other resort that shut this place out of business,” she toasted, and lifted the bottle to her cracked lips.

They took turns sipping the bubbly drink, laughing like they hadn’t in years as they posed like 1950s pin-up girls on the countertop and talked like detectives they’d heard in movies. The sound of tipsy giggles filled the once-empty chamber of the resort and echoed back at them, sweet and melodic.

The world introducing Susie to this place was the kindest thing it had ever done for her right next to introducing her to Julie in the eighth grade.

When they finally made it to the party, it couldn’t compare to the fun they’d had at the lodge.

Even now thinking about that day made Susie’s tears quiet, and the thrumming of her heart steady. She held herself together, knees up to her chin, and closed her eyes. Thinking of Julie and snow. The gentle scent of her car's heat enveloping them in the dark cab when they drove back home, only faintly lit by the dashboard.

‘Too bad she’s preoccupied with he who shall not be named,’ she retorted to herself bitterly.

The warm visual of Julie in the snow morphed into Frank in the firelight, the underside of his jaw highlighted by orange as he pressed his thin lips to Julie’s, the scent of whiskey on her breath for the rest of the night. Susie could smell it when she hugged her goodbye.

Even so, she couldn’t be mad at him for long. They were cut from the same cloth and he had saved them from dying of boredom before senior year. But part of her was ambivalent toward the lodge no longer being hidden as the forest's best-kept secret. Upset that Julie wanted him over her, and that he returned the sentiment. The conflicting feelings she had for Julie made her want to buy a gun, shoot 30 people, and then herself. It didn’t seem fair.

She thought of them, toiling around on the dust-covered comforters in the next room over. A shared cigarette burning between parted lips, smoke funnelling into the air (Susie knew Julie wouldn’t object if he offered). They were probably glad she couldn’t come that day— it may have even been their plan. Julie knew she had a test that morning.

‘You’re my best friend. You know I’d never leave you out, right?’ And yet she did.

But then she thought of all the fun the four of them had together these past few months and flashes of Julie’s black-lipped smile brought forth that feeling of belonging she sought for. Her friends filled the gaping hole life had carved in her chest.

With a pang of guilt, Susie remembered her obligation. Tonight was a legion night, her legion night and she was spending it wallowing her pain away dreaming wistfully about a girl who would never love her back. Angry for reasons she had made up in her head. She hugged herself tighter. ‘Pathetic’.

Before this evening she had planned to rent a copy of whatever interested her at the video store and formulate her ideas whilst they curled up on the couch munching on popcorn, staring at Frank’s tiny box TV. Yet here she was. Ditching them.

They were probably all waiting for her.

Her phone buzzed, confirming her suspicion.

Joey: R U OK? Susie: @ the lodge

Immediately after she sent the text with shaky fingers, Julie’s number flashed across the tiny viridian screen. The phone vibrated, and she hesitated for a moment– then put it to her ear.

“Hello? Susie?” Julie’s voice cracked through the poor signal. Susie sat on the edge of the bed, picking at her leggings.

“Hey Julie,” her voice worked hard against the lump in her throat. Julie picked up on her tone immediately.

“Is everything okay? Joey said you’re at the lodge.”

“Yeah, I– uh,” Susie exhaled a shaky breath, watched it dissipate into the air. Julie would understand, surely, but putting words to everything she felt would be like having her teeth pulled. She ran her tongue along her braces and bit the inside of her scarred-up cheeks silently. The fear of being seen as a burden outweighed her need for reassurance.

The sickly-sweet voice on the other end broke her from her reverie.

“Are you there, Suse?”

She wiped her runny nose and teary eyes with her sleeve, murmuring a small “yeah,” in response.

“We’ll be there soon, okay? Don’t go anywhere.” She could hear Joey’s concerned whispering in the background; ‘What’s she saying?’ ‘Was it her dad?’ He was probably fluttering nervously over Julie, playing with his hands. Susie began to sob. ‘So much for playing it cool,’ she thought.

“Okay,” she choked.

“Love you, we’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“Love you too,” when Susie flipped her phone shut, she heard a snippet of Frank’s manic raving behind Julie’s soft reassurances; ‘We should get back at him, strike while the iron is still hot-’ and flopped back onto the bed, eyes on the ceiling.

She had thought of it before. Taking a kitchen knife to his throat in the middle of the night, beating him senseless and leaving him to starve to death in the closet under the stairs. Even petty things, like smashing the glass cabinet that held all of his ski trophies and snapping the gold-coated pieces of metal into unrecognisable specks of dust. She wanted so badly for him to hurt, to feel all of the pain he caused her. To let go of all of the rage she felt.

She would love to ply off his fingernails one by one.

However, every time the knife block in the kitchen whispered to her, a wave of nausea would settle deep in her stomach. She would be letting him win if she gave in to their pleas.

Every inch of skin sliding overtop of her bones shook with resentment and made her sick with a desperation to rip it all off.

The salty taste of anger fell into her mouth as she screamed into the pillow, tearing at her hair. She tore the choker off her neck and threw her shoes in the corner of the room, then collapsed once more and screamed until her throat felt the same texture as wood bark.

“Why are you like this Susie?” She mocked, lifting her face up. “Why are you like this Susie?” She straddled the pillow, picturing her father’s limp body in its place as she curled her hands into fists and threw blow after blow at it. “WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS, SUSIE?! WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS, SUSIE?!”

For the one time he caught her smoking,

For the one time she got a 40 on a science test,

For the one time he saw her ex-girlfriend kiss her in the driveway,

For every single time she simply existed and he took it out on her as if she had just committed a crime worthy of capital punishment, she threw her fist at the pillow.

…

When Julie walked into the room, she stumbled upon Susie sitting red-faced on the floor surrounded by feathers with her head in her hands. Smudged mascara had cascaded down her cheeks.

Immediately, Julie dove into the fluffy down and enveloped Susie in a warm hug. Startled– yet grateful to see her– Susie returned the favour and found solace in the warmth of her neck.

She smelled like the expensive perfume her parents had gotten her for Christmas last year: vanilla & sandalwood.

Her hands dug into Julie’s shoulders,

“I just want to fucking burn it all down.”

“I know,” she held her tighter “I know.”

Susie’s eyes locked onto Frank, leaning against the doorframe with a flashlight. An uncharacteristic look of sympathy contorted his pimpled face. His eyes told a level of understanding beyond words, but he was still tapping his foot impatiently against the hardwood floor, some sinister plan brewing behind his gentle gaze.

She knew what he was thinking of doing. Silently, she shook her head.

Joey stood right beside Julie, a soft hand on Susie’s heaving shoulders.

They had come to console her in one of her darkest times and were willing to give up their night to do so. Weren’t afraid of the hysteric wailing, or the uncomfortable silence that followed. The very thought of their sacrifice made Susie’s heart swell with affection.

When she finally calmed down and pulled away, Julie chuckled.

“Guess I know better than to ask what happened here,” she smiled and gestured to the decimated pillow. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Susie felt her lips curl into a sheepish grin. The room sighed.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she stood up and dusted herself off, kicking the feathers to the corner to join the dust bunnies. Julie threw her knapsack on the bed as Susie hastily embraced Joey and waved at Frank as he settled the flashlight on the nightstand, a silent token of apology. They all moved closer to the centre of the room as Julie unzipped the bag.

“We stopped by shoppers on the way here, sorry it took so long,” blurs of colour folded out of the bag and onto the bed “but we picked some stuff up for you.” Julie leaned against the bedframe to give Susie time to examine her wares.

On the dusty mattress lay a box of electric blue hair dye, a pack of menthol Newports, a crunchy chocolate bar, fluffy white teddy bear, and a cassette tape with ‘for Suzzie :)’ emblazoned on it in permanent marker. Susie was overwhelmed.

“Guys–”

Julie wrapped an arm around her from behind and pointed at her presents with a peeling manicured finger, “The dye, crunch, and bear are from me, the mixtape is from Joey, and the Newports are from Frank,” she jokingly scoffed and glared at him from the corner of her eye “because he obviously wants to kill you before we graduate.”

He flipped off Julie with a smirk and walked closer, “your favourite, right?”

Susie stuffed the pack into her front pocket, the familiar weight soothing her “Yeah, thanks– you remembered.”

Frank tousled her knotted hair, “Kinda hard to forget when you reek of mint every time you get to the caf.”

Susie punched him lightheartedly– eliciting a mock cry of pain from the boy– and bent over to caress the glossy cassette tape with her fingertips, brushing over the inscription of her name. There were little stars and lightning bolts doodled next to it in gel pen. On the back, it said ‘from Joey >:)’.

“That was supposed to be your Christmas gift, but I figured you should have it now.”

“It’s mid-November,”

“I like to plan ahead.”

She grinned at his obvious lie. “So what’s on it?”

Joey pulled a piece of creased notebook paper from his pocket, tracklist written in hasty scrawl “I had Julie help me out, you can yell at her if it's wrong.”

Susie took her time examining the note, most of it spent deciphering his handwriting– tracks from Aphex Twin, Nine inch Nails, and even some of the obscure techno artists she annoyed everyone else with were there. Her lips curled over her braces as she beamed.

“This is sick, Joey.”

“Really?”

“It’s perfect.”

His shoulders sagged like he had been tense for the whole minute this interaction played out. “I’ll bring my player up here at some point,” Frank shot him a wink, and Susie pretended not to notice, but it made her feel a little sick.

She loved Joey, but not that way. She didn’t know how to tell him that, though, and she also didn’t want to lead him on. Her heart only pined for Julie, who was waiting idly for Susie to pay attention to her. How the tables had turned.

Susie’s black nails gripped the polar-white teddy bear and stared into its beady brown eyes, bewildered by the care her friends had shown her. She wasn’t used to this. “How much of this did you actually pay for?”

Julie eyed Frank and put a finger to her lips “That’s classified.”

Susie wanted to kiss her right then and there. So many nights she lay awake and fantasized about it; how she would taste, where her hands would travel, if her braces would make it awkward. Would she whisper to her and throw her blonde hair over one shoulder so it wouldn’t get in the way? Would Julie taste the menthols on her tongue?

Would the nicotine on it drive her crazy?

Every night would end the same, with Susie going to bed alone in her cold bedroom, forever unfulfilled. Left solitary to wander the confines of her unsatisfactory thoughts, stuck at an impasse. Susie knew better than anyone that you don’t always get what you want, but why couldn’t she have this one good thing?

She’d have to settle with simply being her friend and the thought terrified her. Julie seemed like her only ticket to happiness, the cure-all for her woes. ‘Take me,’ she wanted to scream. ‘Just fucking take me already!’

The stuffed animal in her arms’ stitched-on mouth smiled as if to reassure her–which sadly didn’t work much. She tried to distract herself by imagining different ways to give it a makeover, she could glue on some googly eyes, patch on some fabric, spray Julie’s perfume on it–

Okay, maybe that angle wasn’t working either.

Julie’s voice poked through her dizzy trance.

“You wanted to dye your hair blue, right?”

“Hm?”

Julie shook the box of hair dye, “You wanted to dye your hair blue, right? You said something about it the other day.” Concern painted her perfect face.

“Oh, sorry, it’s—yes. I wanted to dye it blue—thank you, Julie–” Fumbling, Susie looked down at her faded pink tendrils: brown was steadily leaching into the strands. She dreaded the thought of being brunette again.

“Are you okay? You spaced out on me there. We can leave if–”

“No!” She blurted, “I’m okay, more than, I just wasn’t expecting all this. That’s all.”

Again, her heart filled with appreciation and her face grew hot with the embarrassment of being perceived. She took a split-second moment to lavish in the fact that for once, people cared enough to remember the little things, like her favourite brand of cigarettes, the music she listened to– even something as trivial as the colour she offhandedly said she wanted to dye her hair. It was such an unnatural feeling, to be revered. Her eyes darted around the room to look at the faces of her friends, all of a sudden so grateful for them—fuzzy warmth cascaded through her body.

Julie waited for her to continue, one hand on Susie’s arm. “I thought you’d come here to drag me out, get me back on my feet to continue the night’s activities– not this,” Susie’s eyes met the floor, full of guilt. How could she ever think so lowly of them? Julie’s brows furrowed, then softened, her eyes gentle.

“I would never force you to do anything you don’t want to, okay? Even if that means postponing legion–” she rolled her eyes at the term Frank had coined, “--activities. You come first,” Susie found herself in Julie’s embrace once more, inhaling that sweet scent on her skin. “We can’t stop that prick from hurting you, but the least we can do is be there for when he does.”

Frank tilted his head after a few moments of silence and put words to what everybody was thinking yet didn’t want to admit: “We could kill the fucker.”

Nobody laughed. Joey’s face turned to stone, and Julie only clutched the girl in her arms tighter. Thunder cracked outside and icy sheets of rain slammed against the window, as inside, the four of them raged with the same deadly force.

All they could do was wait for the storm to pass.

…

The next day, in Julie’s small bathroom, Susie sat on the tile floor with her neck craned over the bathtub, freshly bleached scalp covered in cerulean sludge.

“You’re gonna look like Marge,” Frank’s scratchy chuckle echoed.

“Oh, shut up!” Julie pushed him, then bent over Susie and smiled haphazardly. “You’re gonna look great.”

Joey, leaning against the countertop, put up a hand in defence, “Better than looking like a walking piece of bubblegum.”

“Hey, you all said it looked good pink–”

“Don’t listen to these morons, Suse,”

Julie tilted her best friend’s head back, smiled, and turned on the handheld tap with blue-stained fingertips.

I’m home, Susie thought, I’m home here.

#dbd #dead by daylight fan fiction #dead by daylight #fjsj #susie lavoie #frank morrison #julie kostenko #joey dbd #the legion #the legion dbd #julie x susie #susie lavoie x julie kostenko #fanfic

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