#they set the christmas tree up without me this year and all bought one another presents apart from me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

liuvli · 11 months ago

Text

Critical Darling

pairing: eddie munson x fem!goth!reader

summary: It's your senior year. You're a "goth freak" and you definitely stand out, but it doesn't bother you. You're proud of who you are, and nobody is going to change that. Not even the person that motivated you to be so proud in the first place. Eddie "The Freak" Munson.

warnings: she/her pronouns, slow burn, cursing, alcohol, smoking, eventual smut, minor use of y/n, slightly bitchy reader, work in progress

tags: first meetings, pov second person, s4 doesn’t happen, goth!reader, tradgoth!reader, fluff, angst, eddie & chrissy friendship, reader is a little fruity

all fic chapters & a03 link

chapter wc: 8.3k

Chapter Seven: Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

Although the two of you had made plans to meet up and spend time together before Christmas, you didn’t end up seeing Kace over the weekend, all thanks to one person and one person only; your mother. She had spent the weekend doing nothing but complaining at you for the posters stuck onto the walls of your room, sending you on endless errands that she was more than capable of running herself, critiquing the way you and April decorated the house, being on your back constantly about grades and homework, insisting you had to set a good example for April, who already had A’s in most classes as a Freshman. Truthfully, you knew you had started to reach your limit with it all.

Christmas Eve had finally arrived, and almost as if it had become a daily task for her, your mom was sitting on the couch filing her nails as she complained about the decorating again. To be more specific, she didn’t like the “hue of the lights” (lights which she had bought a few years back), the color of the tinsel (a color she was obsessed with the last time you heard her express any kind of interest in anything), and the tree looked “anemic”. What did she mean by that? Nobody was to know. Truly one of life’s biggest mysteries.

She kissed her teeth as she didn’t bother to lift her head to look up at you from where she sat on her armchair, thick lashes casting a dark shadow on her eyes. You switched which leg was crossed over which, readjusting yourself on the couch next to April, TV remote in hand.

“With all due respect, Mom, you leave April and me home alone for months on end for ‘work’. We keep the place tidy, and we put the decorations up without you having to ask. You could decorate the house yourself if you were here all the time, but you’re not. So, really, what gives you the right to complain?” That ‘tch’ sound again, switching to another nail and filing the edges again.

“...Tidy apart from the housephone. Remind me, how did that end up broken?” Letting out a huff, you uncrossed your legs, leaning forward as you looked over to her.

“I told you, I tripped over it. Must’ve slipped off the wall and I ended up catching it around my leg when getting a glass of water one night.” Silence, before just two words.

“Likely story.” That was it. Your last nerve, gone. Evaporated. Vanished. Missing person case reported.

Standing from the couch and instantly turning to walk away, you let out a quiet sigh, holding back from the things you really wanted to say.

“Okay, I’m going out. I’ll be at Kace’s.” Blowing some dust off of her nail, your mom still didn’t manage to even look up as she spoke.

“Mhm, do what you want. Just be back in time for dinner tomorrow. No later than 2 pm.” How predictable. It’s Christmas Eve, you said you’re leaving, and she couldn’t give less of a fuck. Love you too, Mom.

Stepping out of the house with just the clothes on your back, a simple pair of boots, and the leather jacket, you walked to Kace’s, which had thankfully never been too long of a journey. When you turned up at his front door after a short 10-minute trek, the sound of numerous voices inside brought back a memory from last Friday. You had been made aware that the group was having a Hellfire session at Kace’s house on X-mas Eve, but with all the shit your Mom had given you for the past three days, it had slipped your mind. Contemplating whether or not you should just go back home instead, spending the night with your family like most people did, you figured intruding on a Hellfire session would be preferable in comparison to the other option.

Not bothering to knock on the door, as you had grown used to being told to just let yourself in, you made your way into the living room, finding the boys all sat around Kace’s dinner table, shouting amongst themselves as Eddie chuckled devilishly. The first of the boys to notice you was Dustin Henderson, as he was standing from his chair and facing your direction, just raising a finger to point at you, the others instantly looking over as they all noticed one by one. Coincidentally, Kace was the last to notice as his back was fully turned to you, swiveling in his seat as he finally looked up to notice Dustin’s pointing. When he turned to face you, he lit up, making you remember that he had once said that he was always happy to see you, even if you broke into his house one day and came to brutally murder him in his sleep. His words.

Rushing over to you and squeezing his arms around you for a hug, he leaned back, his hands still placed on your shoulders.

“I’m so happy to see you, love. As always. What brings you here?” For a brief moment, your eyes flicked over to the rest of the group still seated around the table, and thankfully, Kace understood the awkward glance, shuffling the two of you into the hallway.

“Argument with my Mom, obviously. I did tell you they were home, didn’t I?” Kace snorted, dropping his hands and taking a step back.

“Yes, during the brief phone conversation that we had on Saturday before she got back from the store.” You hummed, remembering it now.

“By the way, how are your parents okay with this? Hellfire having their meeting here, I mean.” The tall boy leaned against the door frame, smirking to himself.

“Eh, they don’t know. They’ve gone out for the night and just told me to meet them at my Aunt’s tomorrow for the family dinner. They’ll be spending the night at hers. Hellfire at my place, woop woop!” Laughing at the cheesy display, you nodded, understandingly.

Hearing a loud holler from the other room as Eddie called after Kace, hoping to continue with the session, you took it as a prompt to make yourself sparse.

“...I’m gonna go up to your room and chill for a bit. That okay? I just need some space.” Kace nodded, giving you a warm smile.

“Of course, you don’t even need to ask. We’ll be done soon, anyway, because the freshmen need to be home early-ish.” With one last tap on the side of your arm, the boy returned to the room next door as you made your way up to his bedroom, immediately bee-lining towards his bed.

Spending the next hour reading magazines that Kace proudly collected, listening to music, and letting his TV play quietly in the background, you eventually found yourself mostly forgetting about the shit you had been putting up with for the past few days, finally taking a moment to relax. Kace had popped his head through the door briefly to say that he and Eddie were driving the group home and that he’d return soon, so you found yourself anxiously waiting for that time to come, just wanting to spend some time with your friend before having to make your way home.

When he did finally return, however, he had Eddie lurking behind him in the doorway, his stature slightly smaller than the boy’s in front of him. The two of them stumbled to explain that Eddie had revealed he’d be spending the night alone due to his uncle working again, as usual, and that Kace had so kindly invited him to come back to the house with him, betting on the chance that’d you’d tolerate him just for the reason they had explained. Not wanting any sort of fight, you allowed it, Kace perking up as he ushered the three of you downstairs, beers in hand that he had been hiding in his room for the longest time, waiting for the best opportunity to finally drink them with someone.

As the three of you idly chatted about anything and everything, it felt like there was one topic that both you and Eddie had the urge to bring up, exchanging knowing glances every time Kace would be taking his turn to speak, and finally, you decided to pop that bubble of brewing tension.

“Who was that guy you spoke to when we went out for food a while back? You know, the one you keep letting your eyes follow when we see him in public.” As the question finally came out, Kace froze, the bottle pressed up against his lips tilted mid-air, his eyes widening before quickly placing it down on the coffee table, wiping anything away from his mouth.

“Oh, that one. Uh… steveharrington.” You and Eddie gave each other a mutually confused look as neither of you was able to catch what the last word he said was.

“Sorry, what was that?” Eddie contributed, also curious for an answer, despite already having his suspicions. The boy sitting across from you groaned, letting his head fall back and his eyes land on the ceiling.

“...Steve Harring-”

“STEVE ‘THE HAIR’ HARRINGTON? I fucking knew it.” The speed at which he raised his voice had taken you aback, as you held your hands up in surprise.

“...I still don’t know who this guy is or why it’s such a big deal.” This time, all eyes were on you, and you suddenly felt like you had been living under a rock all this time. Eddie shifted his body to face you, clasping his hands together in front of him.

“Harrington’s this douche that used to go to Hawkins. Would try and hit on any girl that would give him the time of day, after he and his girlfriend split, of course. Thinks he’s all high and mighty.” Eddie tried his best to enlighten you, but with your expression of ‘so?’, he felt the need to add one more piece of information.

“Definitely not the type of guy that would associate with anyone like me or you guys.” With this new understanding, you nodded, taking a sip of beer as Eddie redirected his attention back to Kace, who seemed thankful for a brief moment that he wasn’t being interrogated.

“You. How did the two of you even end up talking? What the fuck would you and Steve Harrington have in common?” Kace let the tips of his nails gently tap against the wood of the coffee table.

“Well… Tears For Fears was playing over the speakers and I overheard him muttering along to it, so I-” This time, it was your turn to cut him off.

“Hold on just a fucking minute, you like those guys? Our many years of friendship, and you’ve never told me that.” Kace just shrugged, averting his gaze, his fingers still idly tapping.

“I know, not my usual thing. But anyway, I asked him the same thing, not knowing it would be the type of music he was into either, and we just ended up… talking.” In the corner of your eye, you could see Eddie, slack-jaw, blinking in bewilderment.

“...Really didn’t take you for a Harrington kind of guy. Truly.” This earned a shrug from the suddenly quiet boy. Noticing Kace’s unusual demeanor, not his usual confident self, you tried to throw in your two cents.

“Personally, I can see it. I don’t know much about this Harrington guy, but doesn’t sound… too bad. Go for it, love.” His attention caught by the nickname you sparingly used for him, Kace finally lifted his head, giving you a sincerely thankful smile, to which you returned one. Eddie opened his mouth to speak again, which worried you, hoping he wouldn’t say anything to put your friend down again.

“You got a thing for this guy then, huh… Well, Chrissy’s holding a New Year’s party, if you two feel like coming. Pretty sure her Mom is going away with her new boyfriend to start the new year off and Jason somehow convinced the poor girl to take the chance to host a party. Most likely because hosting it himself would do wonders for the good-boy reputation he works so hard to maintain.” Both you and Kace looked over at the brunette, unsure how this was related to the previous topic you were all on.

“What I’m saying is that seeing as it’s a party with mostly… normal people, who knows, Harrington might end up showing his face. Hot girls and beer? What guy would miss out on that?” You let out a fake gag as you rolled your eyes, but this piece of information had Kace perking up instantly, leaning over the table with a hopeful expression.

After each of you had gotten through a few more drinks, and you got the chance to briefly discuss the issue with your Mom, something you tried not to dwell on, it was time you called it a night. Of course, Kace wasn’t going to let you make your way home whilst drunk, and he wasn’t going to risk his license driving you home, of course, equally drunk. You had somehow found yourself cuddled up next to Kace on the couch, your head resting on his slumped shoulder, with Eddie sitting across from the two of you on the armchair, his shoes kicked off and his legs tucked under him. The shape of his brown, frizzy mane was just barely distinguishable as your eyes struggled to remain open, just barely paying attention to the words he was quietly speaking to Kace.

“Man. It’s weird, don’t you think?” The boy next to you gave a questioning hum, his body subtly vibrating as he did so, Eddie continuing.

“Just a couple of years ago…” Again, Kace hummed, this time with a gentle nod, as if he knew what Eddie was trying to say. He took one last swig of beer before placing the empty bottle on the floor beside the couch, leaning back against the cushions.

“I get you. She’s changed a lot since then. Who knows, maybe subconsciously due to your influence?” Eddie laughed, unsure.

“Right. Sure.”

With the sun shining directly into your eyes from the gap in the curtain, you woke up and are immediately aching, sleeping on the couch always working wonders for your body in the long term. At this rate, you’d be needing a cane by the age of 25. However, the second thing you noticed was just how claustrophobic your legs felt, slightly wiggling them around and feeling restricted. Shifting out of the way of the beam of light blinding you, you forced your eyes open, the sight of Eddie still asleep on the other end of the couch taking you aback. What.

Finding the clock on the wall, it read 12:05 pm. Briefly looking around the room, you searched for Kace, but weirdly, no sight of him. As you slumped back down onto the couch, you looked forward, being met by the sight of Eddie with his eyes now slightly cracked open. His arms were crossed over his abdomen, and his hair was unstyled, draping down the back of the couch.

“...Good morning, Munson.”

“Merry X-mas, doll.” You scoffed, being saved as the sound of Kace stepping down the stairs captured your attention, the boy appearing at the bottom step wearing a long nightgown over a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt you were 90% sure was from summer camp in 7th grade.

“Dude, did you sleep upstairs? In the bed?” With the biggest case of bedhead you had ever seen, Kace trudged over to the kitchen, pouring a cup of black coffee, and shrugging.

“Well, duh. If the option to sleep in a nice, warm bed is available, I’m taking it. Besides, you seemed… comfortable on the couch.” He snorted as you let out a loud groan, untangling your legs from Eddie’s and throwing the blanket that was draped over the two of you into his lap. You looked down.

“Did you really sleep in jeans?” The still sleepy-eyed brunette looked up at you, stretching his arms above his head.

“...Would you of preferred it if I didn’t?” Holding your hands up to block the view of his face, you began walking away.

“Ew, no. Nevermind.”

Walking into the kitchen, Kace slid a mug over to you, and you graciously expected without a second thought.

“You good to drive me home before heading to your Aunt’s?” He sipped his coffee, wrapping both hands around the warm mug.

“Yup. But don’t count on me to come get you if shit bombs at home. You know I’d usually drop everything to come save you when you need it but… my family, you know how they can be.” You nodded, not having to ask further because you indeed did know what his family was like.

Finishing your coffee, you offered to help Kace tidy the place up before heading home, and despite his insisting that you didn’t have to, you ended up doing so anyway. Once the living room was returned to its former glory, all three of you piled outside, saying your goodbyes to Eddie. You rested your arms atop the roof of the car as Kace turned to speak to the boy.

“You doing anything nice today?” The metalhead shrugged, letting his keys dangle between his fingers.

“Nah. Wayne’ll be home later tonight and we’ll probably order takeout but you know what work’s like.” Kace sucked in air through his teeth, giving you an awkward side glance, and you chewed the inside of your mouth, not knowing whether you should say something or not. With just a single wave, the two of you piled into his car as Eddie got into the van, driving down the street as you and Kace sat, awkwardly.

“Why do I feel bad for him?” You questioned, not realizing you had said it out loud. Kace looked over at you, turning the engine on.

“I do, too, love. If there was something I could do, I would. But again-”

“Yep, know what your family is like.”

As you arrived home and said goodbye to Kace, dinner was just being plated as you made your way into the house. Mom standing in the kitchen, her back turned to you and not a single ounce of acknowledgment, Dad sitting at the table already, reading the newspaper, and April practically leaping over to you, hugging you as if it had been years since you had left.

“Thank God you’re back. That woman is a pain to be around without you here.” You snorted, hushing her as you made your way over to sit down at the table next to your Dad.

“Sorry for leaving, by the way… but we both know it was smarter for me to leave rather than stay.” She nodded, twirling the end of her knife against the tablecloth.

“Well, true. Can’t blame you for that.”

Despite the awkward silence, only being broken when your Dad had something to say about what he had read in the morning paper, dinner was… nice? If there was one thing your Mom was good at, which obviously wasn’t her warm parenting skills, it was cooking. On the rare occasion she was home and would cook a meal for everyone, it never failed to give you a bittersweet feeling; remembering what it was like when you were younger, when she felt like an actual Mom, the kind other people had. But these meals always left a sour taste in your mouth afterward, metaphorically speaking, as it was a stark reminder of what things were like now.

When everyone had finished eating, April had taken notice, quietly placing her cutlery down as she prepared to ask a question.

“...Can I go see Edith?” What the fuck? What kind of question is that?

“It’s Christmas day, April. Why on Earth would you need to go and see one of your friends right now?” The girl dropped her head, fidgeting with her hands, nails clicking against each other.

“Well- I got a gift for her, and I just thought since she got to go out last night-” You leaned forward, waving your hands out in front of you.

“Woah, woah. I went out last night because… I needed air. It’s not the same.” As if you had committed some sort of grave betrayal, the younger girl gave you a look, her eyes flicking over to your mom expectantly.

“It’s kind of the same. You went out to get away from Mom, I want to go out to see a friend. I think my reason is way more valid.” Noticing the head tilt your Dad made as April spoke, your Mom huffed, the legs of her chair screeching against the flooring as she stood up. Getting more desperate, April revealed another trick she had hidden up her sleeve.

“I’ve been doing my homework! And my room’s tidy, you can check!” You groaned as you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms.

“Oh, now you’re sucking up to her. Only when it benefits you, right? Screw our sisterly bond-” Silenced by the sound of her hands clapping together, the two of you finally remembered your Mom’s presence less than a meter away. “April, go see your friend. Don’t be home late.” Without a second thought, or a moment to let your Mom change her mind, April stood up from the table and rushed up to her room to get ready to leave, your mom collecting the empty plates and dishes. You followed her over to the kitchen, frustrated by the situation.

“You would’ve NEVER let me go out on Christmas to see friends when I was her age.” The older woman turned to face you, one hand resting against the edge of the sink.

“You didn’t have friends at her age. Besides, if it gets her out of my hair and stops you two from bickering…” You took a step back.

“Right. Merry Christmas.” Dad gave you an understanding look as you walked back into the living room, giving you the go-ahead to slip the first pair of boots on that you grabbed and wrap yourself up in the only jacket you had hanging up in the hallway.

Stepping out of the house, not caring that the door accidentally slammed behind you, you let your head fall back as you looked up, the sky a solid white. You blinked a few times, letting out a deep sigh, and as you looked down again, ready to start walking to a park, or something, you were greeted with a sight. A very familiar one, by now. The van. As you walked over, Eddie rolled the window down, leaning out slightly with a grin.

“Need something?” His eyes flicked over to the house briefly.

“Figured from what Kace was saying earlier that you’d need saving. You getting in?” Contemplating your choices, you looked back at the house, watching as April stepped out and made her way over to where you were standing, looking up at Eddie in the van.

“Who are you?” Before you could answer, giving her an equally vague response as you did before, Eddie had taken it upon himself to do so, letting more of his body hang out of the window as he stretched his arm out to shake April’s hand, which she did hesitantly.

“Your sister’s new best friend. You the infamous Apricot?” She scowled.

“Ew. Yes.” The girl glanced between you and the boy, before landing her gaze on the van.

“Can you drive me to my friend’s house?” You turned to face her again.

“April, you can’t just ask strangers to drive you places.” A moment of silence before she replied, clearly finding herself hilarious.

“He’s not a stranger. He’s your new best friend.” Dumbfounded, and the metalhead laughing his ass off next to us, April began walking around to the opposite side of the vehicle, not waiting for an answer. Eddie looked down at you, wiping a tear from his eye.

“She’s funny.” You squint.

“You’re a dick.”

Accepting your fate, you followed April to the passenger’s side, sliding into the middle seat before letting the girl slide in after you, closing the door behind herself. After telling Eddie the address of her friend, he was already somewhat familiar.

“Got a friend who lives nearby. Gotcha.” As he began driving, playing his music on a lower volume than he usually did, April nudged you with her elbow, tilting her head toward you.

“Is he your new boyfriend?” You couldn’t help letting out a laugh, muffling the sound with the back of your hand before taking in a deep breath and regaining your posture.

“Who’s asking?” She pulled a face.

“Ew.” You also pulled a face.

“Ew, you.”

The van finally parked up outside of a house, and April climbed out the second the vehicle stopped moving, making her way around to the driver’s window, Eddie rolling it down.

“Get a new air freshener for your van. It smells weird.” Before Eddie could reply, she walked away and up to Edith’s house, the boy rolling the window up and pulling away from the curb.

“Nice kid. She get it from you?” You just hummed, muttering your next words.

“She thinks you’re my boyfriend.” This short sentence had Eddie choking on air as you fought a smile, taking notice of the way his fingers began nervously tapping the steering wheel.

“We should act like I am to prank her.” You kissed your teeth, shaking your head.

“What’s wrong with you?” The boy shrugged, briefly glancing over at you.

“Your loss. I’d make a great fake-boyfriend.”

“Uh-huh…”

Not thinking to ask where you were even going, you were surprised when the van pulled into the parking lot of Family Video, the movie rental store halfway across town. Eddie had stopped the engine and stepped out without saying anything, and you watched as he walked around the front of the van to reach the passenger door, opening it for you.

“My angel.” He held a hand out for you, and you scrunched your brows together, a smile on your lips.

“‘Great fake-boyfriend’ my ass. I just puked in my mouth a lil’ bit.” Grabbing his hand as you stepped down, you looked over to the Family Video building, trying to think of any reason as to why you’d be there on Christmas day.

“Enough about your ass, we going with the fake boyfriend thing or��?” Confused by what he was saying, you looked down, instantly recoiling as you pulled your hand out of his.

The two of you made your way into the store, and you looked around, feeling slightly lost.

“Look for a movie you wanna watch, I’ve got something I need to do.” With a shrug, you watched as he walked over to the counter, starting a conversation with the girl standing behind it, a girl with short, brassy hair. Five minutes later, Eddie was signaling you to come over to him, a VHS tape in your hand. The girl behind the counter looked down as you placed it in front of her, reading the name on her badge.

“Gremlins? Good choice.” Eddie laughed, realizing what you had chosen.

“Really? That’s what you went for? Out of literally everything here.” You shrugged, and he laughed again, shaking his head.

Just a few more minutes later and the tape was in your hands again. The two of you began to leave as Robin said one last thing to Eddie.

“I’ll talk to him for you. Merry Christmas, guys.” The boy smiled and nodded, before leading you out of the store.

“What was that about?” You asked as you walked over to the van again, Eddie opening the door before you had the chance to.

“Oh, nothing. Just me being the best wingman there ever was.”

The rest of your day was spent on Eddie’s couch, watching the movie you had chosen and eating chips with dips that the boy had picked up for the two of you. You didn’t speak much, as you were still feeling tired from last night at Kace’s, and from the previous week you had been dealing with your mom and thankfully, Eddie had sensed this. He only really spoke when commenting on something happening in the movie or when you spoke first, plus occasionally asking if you needed a refill of soda. Putting personal opinion on Eddie aside, it was one of the most enjoyable Christmases you had ever had.

At the end of the day, Eddie drove you home just as it was approaching 8 pm. The van arrived outside your house, and you waited a second before turning to leave. Eddie cleared his throat, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel again.

“So… you coming to Chrissy’s party?” You took a moment to think about it, unsure.

“Mm, yeah. May as well, seeing as I don’t have any other plans for New Years, and my parents head out again the morning after.” The boy nodded, his posture weirdly stiff.

“Cool, cool…” There was silence for a second as you twisted some of the rings around your fingers. The brunette opened his mouth to speak again, but you got to it first.

“Thanks for saving me. Earlier, I mean. I know I haven’t been super talkative today but… thanks. It was nice.” Finally looking over to him, Eddie was staring at you like a deer in headlights, and you couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at the sight.

“What?” He shook his head as he tilted it to an angle, rubbing the side of his neck.

“Nothing, nothing. You just sounded very… sincere.”It made you scoff, but lightheartedly.

“That’s because I am being sincere.” You watched as he pressed his lips together in a tight smile.

“Right. Gotcha. Well…” Eddie’s breath hitched, almost as if he still had something he needed to say.

“Goodnight, Eddie.” Letting out a shaky breath, he smiled, studying your movements as you grabbed his hand and planted a kiss onto the back of it, black lipstick being left behind.

As he stared down at the mark left on his skin, you took it as your chance to climb out of the van, Eddie’s hand still raised in the position you had left it in. Forcing yourself to walk into the house without looking back, not wanting to see Eddie giving you some sort of weird face, you couldn’t help but use the peephole as the door shut quietly behind you. Eddie was still sitting in the van outside your house, looking towards the building before turning to face forward, his hair blocking your view of his features. After a few long seconds, he lifted his head before finally driving away.

The days leading up to the party were the mostly same as the days previous to Christmas had been, with your parents also being out of the house most of the time running errands, preparing to go away again. April was spending most of her time in her room unless your mom was in the house, or she was out with friends, and you had also made your bedroom the place where you spent most of your time, trying your best to avoid having to speak to your Mom.

New Year's Eve had arrived, April was spending the night at a friend’s house for a sleepover with multiple classmates, and your parents were packing to leave the next day.

At some point, before you were supposed to be leaving for the party, your Dad had come into your room, letting you know that he had left cash in an envelope next to the coffee pot, and to call him if you needed absolutely anything. He had never stuck up for you when your Mom was giving you grief, but you still appreciated what he did for you any other time. The excuse you had given him for going out that night was that you were spending the night at Kace’s house, celebrating with his family, which your Dad was understanding of, only advising you to avoid your Mom as you left for the night. Obviously, he didn’t have to tell you twice.

Kace had picked you up and driven the two of you to the party, so you both arrived at the same time and were both feeling awkward as fuck, at the same time. Seeing as it was mostly cheerleaders, people from the basketball team, and their associated groups, potential people for you and Kace to speak to were… practically non-existent.The only reason Eddie was there was because he was Chrissy’s weed dealer, and the only reason the two of you were there was because of, well, Eddie (and Chrissy, because she had taken a liking to you apparently). Kace was somehow able to interact with all sorts of people, proved by his conversation with that Harrington guy all those weeks ago. Speak of the Devil, that’s exactly who he somehow sniffed out and had begun talking to, cutting into a conversation Harrington was having with some girl on the cheer squad.

Trying to find some sort of way to make the party enjoyable without Kace by your side, you had found the first guy who didn’t immediately appear completely repulsed by the sight of you, judging the way you dressed and struck up a conversation with him. Yes, he was asking about the clothes and makeup, but not in a mocking or judge-y way, just out of genuine curiosity, from what you could tell. He was asking things like “Why do you dress like that? Do you like scaring people? Is that part intentional? Are you really that pale?”, so honestly, you were humored.

That was until a girl approached the two of you, seeming to be another one of Chrissy’s friends on the team. Immediately, she threw a nasty look your way but offered you a drink, and stupidly, because of the alcohol you had already consumed up until that point, you accepted the red solo cup without another thought, chugging it in hopes of making the party somewhat more enjoyable in a short amount of time. As you swallowed the last sip, it finally occurred to you how disgusting it tasted. Some alcohol really did taste like this, but this was on a whole new level. You couldn’t imagine anyone enjoying it. Was it some shit like absinthe, or something?

Placing the cup down on a table next to you, you began stumbling away, your head almost instantly feeling the effects of whatever concoction you had just consumed. Thankfully, you ended up bumping into Chrissy, who took immediate notice of your state, her eyes instantly flicking towards the girl standing a few meters behind you.

“Oh my gosh, did she give you something? I swear-” The blinde cut herself off as she marched towards the girl, chewing her out as you started walking again, turning the corner to make your way up the stairs, hopefully running into a bathroom at some point on your journey.

Instead, you ended up tripping over some guy sitting on the stairs, the poor dude miserably failing to flirt with a girl who was clearly just sticking around because she thought it was funny. As you fell, however, your hands landing on the boy’s shoulder, he had redirected his attention to you, the girl slipping away and down the stairs, laughing with a group of people as she reached the bottom. You lifted your head, trying to get a good look at the guy as he stood up to support you, recognizing him as the tall guy lurking behind Robin at Family Video last week.

At some point, you had made your way upstairs, sliding into the first open door you could see and keeling over as you began emptying your gut into a trashcan beside a dresser, wiping the edge of your mouth after a few seconds, and floating over toward the bed, planting yourself down with a big huff. Without realizing what you were doing, you had begun mumbling nonsense about your Mom.

“She’s such an ass… I don’t know what my Dad sees in her, really. I don’t know why he puts up with her shit. It’s so-” You trailed off as you noticed a pressure on your thigh, looking down to see the boy’s hand gripping you.

“The fuck?” Before you’re able to instantly recoil, your hand is in his other, slowly being pulled toward his lap. You were drunk, yes, but not drunk enough to be completely unaware of what the guy was trying to do. After noticing the way his belt and zipper were already undone, you wasted no time yanking your hand away, stumbling as you stood up from the bed and continued to stumble your way out of the dark room, hearing the guy scoff as you left.

You re-entered the busy hallway, your head starting to pound again as the music became louder, partly shutting the door behind you as you tried to forget what had just happened. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed Eddie appear directly in front of you, almost bumping into him like what you did with Chrissy earlier. You made a fuzzy mental note to practice spatial awareness at some later date.

The metalhead was already checking you over before you could say anything.

“Chrissy said you looked in bad shape but…” His voice hushed as he leaned forward slightly to look through the crack of the door next to you, watching as the guy from before stood from the bed, zipping his fly up. As you rested your head against the doorframe, Eddie directed his attention back to you, his eyes wide as he looked down, gently holding your arm.

“Did that guy try something with you?” Not quite grasping the severity of Eddie’s concerns, you rolled your eyes, your head rolling to one side and resting on your shoulder.

“Nooo. I mean, he tried. But I hopped up out of there because grossss.” The brunette didn’t say a word before pushing the door open, careful to not knock into you as he walked past and into the room.

The guy looked up at Eddie as he began to buckle his belt up, being interrupted as Eddie snatched his hand away by the wrist, holding it up into the air.

“Did you touch her?” With a scoff, his trademark by now, the boy began trying to wriggle his hand out of the brunette’s, nervously laughing.

“Pfft, what does it matter to you? She yours or something?” You stepped back into the room, slumping against a dresser next to the doorway, struggling to stay upright as you observed the scene unfolding in front of you. Eddie immediately snapped back.

“What if she is? Really, what if?” This confused the boy, a snort coming from him as he decided to test his luck again.

“But, is she-” And again, Eddie cut him, his tone flatter this time.

“She might be.” The lack of an immediate response from the boy gave Eddie a chance to let his eyes flick over to you, his gaze softening as he appeared to be having some sort of internal conversation with himself, his grip tightening around the boy’s wrist.

He finally let himself look back at the boy.

“If I ever see you approach any woman other than your own mother again, I will cut this hand off and keep it pickled in a jar like a trophy. Do you understand what I’m saying?” The guy began stuttering his words, head trying to recoil away from Eddie, who had his face positioned just inches away.

“-Okay, man. Yeah. I got it.” Finally, Eddie released his grip on the wrist, and the boy slid out of the room within just a few seconds, his head dipping to avoid making any sort of eye contact with you.

Gently ushering you out of the room with him, you and Eddie were face to face with Chrissy back in the hallway, the girl stepping out of the bathroom across from you, tightening to ribbon around her ponytail as she gave the two of you a warm smile.

“Oh, hey, guys! You two good?” Eddie stepped in front of you slightly, leaning toward the blonde and lowering his voice.

“Not doing great. You got somewhere she can stay for the night?” Chrissy was confused, her eyes flitting between you and the boy, so he continued.

“I’ve drunk tonight, and I was just planning on walking back to mine, so I don’t even have my van with me. And… things aren’t great with her parents right now, so I don’t think her going back is a good idea anyway.” The blonde began waving her hands in front of the both of you.

“Say no more. Of course, Eddie. She can have my bed seeing as I’ll probably end up passing out elsewhere in the house later when everyone is gone.” The brunette placed his hands on Chrissy’s shoulders as he thanked her, the girl giving him a big grin.

As she slowly guided you into her room just slightly down the hall, she started speaking as you failed to remain standing still in one spot.

“Extra blankets in that closet. If she needs pajamas, there’s some in that drawer over there, and bathroom is through that door. I’ll go tell her friend about what’s happening, but I’ll probably head back to the party after that. Unless you want me to look after her, which I’m more than happy to do. You know, so you can enjoy the rest of your night.” Eddie looked around the room, shaking his head.

“No need, I can stay up here.” Chrissy gave him one last nod before heading back downstairs to find Kace.

You were gently pushed into the bathroom with a set of pajamas that Eddie had quickly grabbed, and you continued to mumble nonsense as you the door was closed behind you. Through the wood, you could hear Kace enter the room, muffled slightly, as he spoke to Eddie.

“Is she okay? What the hell happened?” A sigh.

“Some fucking guy- I don’t know, she must’ve drunk something and a guy must’ve noticed how much of a mess she was. Decided it was his time to shine, I guess.” You can hear the sound of your friend stomping around angrily, almost being able to see the image of him running his hands through his hair due to stress.

“If I see that man, he’s getting castrated. Hold me to my word.”

A few minutes later, you finally emerged from the bathroom, the door swinging open as you held onto the side of it for dear life. Kace immediately captured you in a tight hug, instinctively letting your head nestle into the crook of his neck, not being able to lift your arms to give him a proper embrace in return. Once released, you trudged over to Chrissy’s bed, falling back onto it and sinking into the mattress, mumbling about how comfortable it was, your head sinking further into the numerous pillows the girl had stacked up. You weren’t awake for long as Kace and Eddie just spoke amongst themselves, their two faces out of sight as they towered above you, their torsos being the last thing you could see before passing out.

Only a few hours later, you were awake. The first thing you did was read the clock on the bedside table, the time reading 04:37. The second thing you did was take notice of the way your head throbbed, the dimly lit room probably being the only reason it wasn’t somehow much worse. You leaned forward and noticed the small night light plugged into the wall, and looked up to notice Eddie asleep on the armchair across from you, his jacket draped across him like a makeshift blanket, his feet crossed over one another on the floor, and his head dipped down, his face not visible. If you listened closely, you could hear his slow, deep breathing, watching the way his shoulders and chest moved in time with the sound.

Sitting up slightly, you tapped the edge of the mattress with two fingers, attempting to make some noise, but not too much that would startle a person.

“Psst, Munson. Hey-” He lifted his head suddenly, eyes squinting in the darkness, confused. He rubbed his hand down his face as the jacket slid down and into his lap and as he looked at you, he was more awake, his eyes wide as he leaned forward.

“Oh, hey, you good? You- You’re awake, are you okay?” You lifted an arm and rubbed the side of your head.

“Uh, yeah… I think I’m good. It’s so late, why are we still here?” Eddie straightened his posture as if it was a bad thing to ask.

“I’ll explain when you’re more awake and sobered up in the morning, but Chrissy offered you her room for the night. She’s in her Mom’s room next door, so don’t worry about her.” You nodded, trying to make some sort of sense of the situation with the small amount of information you had before he spoke again.

“Why don’t you head back to sleep? You’ve only been out for… five-ish hours.” Grimacing as your head throbbed again, you were given your answer.

“I have this huge headache, could you see if Chrissy has something I could take for it?” Without any sort of hesitation, Eddie stood up, walked into Chrissy’s bathroom, and slightly closed the door behind him to prevent too much light from seeping into the room. He returned a few seconds later with two Advil and a glass of water, which you graciously accepted.

Placing the glass on the table beside the bed, you looked up at the boy.

“Why are you even in here? Did you miss the party to stay up here?” As you asked, Eddie brought a tuft of hair from the side of his head to hide the lower section of his face as he looked away, eyes drifting around the room.

“Well, yeah. Didn’t feel right leaving you all alone, and I thought Kace would appreciate having more time to speak to Harrington tonight, so I said I’d keep watch, or whatever.” You gave him a simple nod, a weird feeling thrumming in your chest. Probably just a precursor of tomorrow’s hangover.

“Well, why are you sleeping on that chair?” The question made Eddie laugh as if it was ridiculous for you to even ask.

“I’m not just gonna climb into bed with a sleeping girl, am I? I’m not that much of a degenerate. It’d feel so wrong.” Chewing the inside of your lip, you sat up even more.

“...That chair can’t be comfortable.” Eddie was clearly confused, nervously laughing as he struggled to remain still, his feet shuffling around in one area.

“Well, what can I do? Not many other options, you know?”

Without another word, you began taking some of the pillows from Chrissy’s abundant collection and started to construct a wall of them down the middle of the bed, feeling Eddie’s eyes watching closely as you did so. He walked around to the other side of the bed, giving you a look that said ‘Really?’ to which you returned with one saying ‘Really.’ You jerked your head slightly, gesturing for him to get onto the bed. It earned a sigh from him, but he still kicked off his shoes before climbing into the bed, his body rigid in its position.

You laid back down, but facing him still, just being able to see most of his face, just barely being able to make out his open eyes staring up at the ceiling in the darkness. The pile of pillows wasn’t too tall, but just about thick enough to qualify as a suitable partition between two people, so it was easy for you to slide your arm over it, letting your hand fall onto Eddie’s chest, your fingers slowly rubbing against the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t say anything to the gesture, but you took deliberate notice of the way he tensed up as you first made contact, before relaxing into your touch.

You decided it was time to break the silence, but just barely, as you whispered, your voice muffled by exhaustion.

“Thanks for staying with me.” You had begun to worry that you were crossing a boundary for a second as you didn’t get an immediate reply until you felt Eddie’s hand gently slip over your own, his fingers tucking under your palm, thumb gently caressing the skin on your knuckles.

“Any time, angel. I would��ve been the world’s biggest douche if I had left you up here alone.” Letting your nail tap against the metal of the chain on Eddie’s chest, you smiled to yourself.

“Whatever your motivations were, I appreciate you being here for me, even if it did mean you missed most of the party.” The boy quietly chuckled, your hand moving as his chest shook.

“Worth it, for you.”

It was the last thing you heard before falling back to sleep, and when you woke up only a few hours later again at 7 am, it would’ve felt like a dream if it wasn’t for the fact that the first thing you saw upon cracking your eyes open was Eddie’s sleeping face. His bangs messy, the pillow wall you had constructed between the two of you being mostly broken down or flattened.

The room was still somewhat dark, as it was the middle of Winter, but the morning allowed for a muted blue shade to be cast across the room, letting shadows fall on Eddie’s face almost too perfectly. Your leg was raised, lying across the wall of pillows, and one of Eddie’s hands was tousled in your hair spread across the pillow, the boy using the crook of his arm as a headrest. Despite being hungover, exhausted, and still delirious, due to having only been awake for, at most, a minute or two, you let out a quiet, shaky breath.

“Fuck, man.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #st4 #goth!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie brain rot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic

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marshallpupfan · 10 months ago

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New Marshall Merchandise #57... or #32... or #29, I've Lost Count!

You know, I started posting these updates a few years ago, back when many of my followers were curious about anything I added to my collection. Some of them have gone quiet, possibly moved on or lost interest in PAW Patrol. I'm not sure if my current followers have any interest in these updates. At this point, I just post about these now because I enjoy showing off new items of my favorite character. 😇

And new items, I indeed have! Many of these I've collected over the last month or two, as finding new items hasn't exactly been too easy lately. Most major stores are still selling Jungle Pups and Mighty Movie toys, so hopefully anything new will pop up soon enough. Despite that, I have managed to find a few interesting things!

I first found out about this little figurine when it popped up on Ebay, but nobody would sell it without the other pups (Chase, Skye and Rubble... sadly, no Rocky or Zuma). Someone on Twitter told me they seen some at a Dollar Tree, so of course, I tried checking all the stores I have near me. It took a while, but one finally got some in! Best of all, it's only $1.25, so that's cool!

Hey, you know what else is cool?

Accidentally finding another piece of merchandise I didn't expect to see! I'd actually seen one of these on Ebay earlier the same day, but I thought it was a part of some set. Much to my surprise, Dollar Tree also had it, and also for $1.25. It's not the most impressive of the bath squirters I own, but I'm still happy to add it to my collection!

Ha, look at the label! Chase, Marshall, Skye... and Zuma! Well, it makes sense, given he's the water pup, but I still didn't expect that. Nice to see him on a label for once. :)

I'd actually seen pictures of these online a few times over the years, although they were typically branded as Christmas candy. I never could find any at the stores near me, but then a friend said she seen some at Walgreens. I searched around and finally found one... the last one they had left, in fact! Score! And yeah, I likely won't eat it... it'll sit in my collection along with that other Easter candy I got. lol

...huh, I just noticed it's cracked around the neck. I don't think it was like that when I bought it. Guess I somehow did that. Oops... but it still looks cool, right? Maybe I can find one to replace it when they show up again next year... if they show up again next year. 😅

I seen this at a garage sale for $1. How could I say no? Besides, just look at Marshall on this thing! Too cute, as always! 🥰

Actually, this was yet another lucky find, since I've seen these on Ebay for like $10 (with $5 shipping or so). The fact it's practically in perfect condition is also quite awesome. Living in a small town has it perks!

Last, and it's the priciest item today. I seen this while helping my folks with their shopping at Walmart. They had a few, but they were all Marshall. I wasn't going to get one at first, due to just how big it is, but my mother knows I collect practically anything of Marshall, so she bought it for me. Indeed, I'm already having trouble finding a spot for it, but no doubt I will... eventually... along with the other items on my table. Remember my last few updates? Yeah... most of those items are still sitting there, too. I'm running out of room! lol

That's all for now! I actually do have a few more items coming in the mail, so I'll have a few more things to show off soon enough... Valentines plush dolls, in fact. Ones I expected my local Walmart to get, but they never did. Otherwise, a friend of mine in the UK has offered to send me something I believe is only being sold in her country, so I'll get to add another imported item to my collection soon! I always love doing that, so I'm looking forward to getting it!

As for the Rescue Wheels toys, I've no idea when they'll show up. Maybe in June? July? Whenever the USA finally puts the episodes on their schedule. Now that I think about it, they'll probably be the last toys based on the original designs, huh? All future merch will likely use the new style. We better enjoy it while it lasts, I suppose.

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westlinstar · 1 month ago

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The Weight of Expectation

I loved Christmas - I truly did - the bright eyed excitement, the joy of giving, the incorporeal ‘hug’ of a collectively shared moment in time….and of course the food! The adrenaline rush that kept you going right through the festivities, as you balanced utter chaos with the calm delivery of the ‘big day’, just added to the experience. Everything seemed worth it….just to see the look on the faces of those you loved….

….and maybe therein lay the problem.

As a trauma led perfectionist I threw myself into Christmas with everything I had to ensure family and friends had the best of times, squeezing out every ounce of the ‘magical’…..and it came to be expected. Precedents were set. People slipped into what became comfortable for them, perhaps took more of a backseat, as each year the festive season ran smoothly and without a hiccup. And ever so slowly I exhausted myself…..

…..and now, when the wheel of the year swings around to December, a deadweight of dread sits heavily in my stomach. The tree is a source of frustration and pain to put up. Decorations are flung haphazardly at mantlepieces and banisters. My mind refuses to plan a shopping list never mind execute a full blown menu. My head hurts from having to, not only think of my own gift list, but for other people too. “Can you tell me what to get for X, Y and Z, you are so good at it?” And worse still….”Tell me what you want?” What I want is to be petty and shout back at them that the least they could do is put a little effort into doing this one thing for themselves. But that would be bitter and out of keeping with the ‘most wonderful time of the year’, so I smile and say that I don’t really need anything and not to worry. And I try so hard to keep the magic alive….

….but I know it’s not. I feel it in the apathy of every moment. I see it in the faces of family members as they look around searching for something they can’t quite name, but that they know is missing. Everything is quieter, less joyous, less….spectacular. And as I lie here at 3.40am, unable to sleep for thinking about the meal prep ahead, I know it’s on me…..

….and I feel the loss of it.

But then it dawned on me….it’s not Christmas that’s magical, it’s us. We bring the magic to this time of year, to these months which are inherently dark and bleak and devoid of life. And if it’s us that creates the magic, should that not mean ALL of us? When someone’s magical flame has guttered out, can others not lend a spark of theirs to help reignite it? Simple acts of kindness, a soupçon of awareness and understanding, and a dollop of compassion can go a long way to feed a dying ember - just saying!

My neighbours wife died in July of this year. I have watched him change from a man that kept himself busy in his retirement doing selfless acts for others, to one that has shrunken in on himself and is now walking with a stick. His wife loved their garden, so this Christmas, to show that he was on my mind, I bought him a holly tree to plant for her. His reaction to the gift was an emotional one, but one that brought much joy, and I’ll admit to shedding a few happy tears myself when I was safely home behind closed doors. This gift was given from a place of compassion. Nothing else. It was an unexpected moment of poignant happiness and warmth - for him, and I realised, for me too. I felt something flutter inside my chest. It was a spark that fanned the flame of Christmas magic for both of us.

And so, dear readers, as we celebrate yet another December the 25th, I would say to you wholeheartedly that THIS is what Christmas is about. Not the burdensome weight of expectation - but the glorious lightness of the unexpected. Please gift a spark of your own magic - if you can - to help someone who has lost theirs, then step back and watch it become a bonfire!

Happy Christmas to all! 🎄🎅☃️🫶

#christmas #mental health #compassion #givingback

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little-diable · 2 years ago

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Santa Baby - Draco Malfoy (smut)

It's here, my first Christmas drabble of this year! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Draco thinks his gifts aren't good enough for the reader, all because of some lyrics he mistook as actual notes. The reader is set on proving how much she appreciates him.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Christmas Drabble Masterlist

header by @hidingsikki

divider by @firefly-graphics

Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me, been an awful good girl

Draco couldn’t help but dryly chuckle as he read through the notes, hands tightening their grip on (y/n)‘s diary. And yet, while he kept laughing at the Christmas wishes she had scribbled down, he couldn’t help but doubt his gifts for her. (Y/n) has never been focused on his gifts, on the presents he bought her, nevertheless, for the first time since he could remember, Draco found himself wondering if he had put enough effort, enough thought into this year's presents.

He kept rereading the words, eventually closing the personal notes with a sigh rumbling through him. His gaze flickered back to the book every now and then, trying to distract himself as his thoughts kept racing on. Fuck, if there was one thing the tall Slytherin student wasn’t used to, it was doubting himself.

Not once had she commented on his choices of gifts, clearly appreciating the smallest gesture, this was unfamiliar, nothing he wanted to get used to.

Next year I could be just as good, if you check off my Christmas list

Draco was too deep in thought to focus on his nearing girlfriend, stepping into her chamber with a smile tugging on her lips. A smile that lost its brightness the second she noticed his sour expression, not speaking a word. She allowed herself to study him for a moment, eyes wandering over his features, the eyes bright like the stars one could admire from the Astronomy tower, the skin clear like the ocean’s surface.

“Draco?” (Y/n)’s soft voice ripped him out of his thoughts, blinking a few times to focus on her frame. Slowly she moved closer, plopping down on her bed, right next to him. No words were spoken as she reached for his cold hand, interlacing their fingers to communicate her love for him. “Are you alright?”

“It’s nothing, love.” His voice sounded anything but sincere, clearly communicating that something was wrong, something he couldn’t help but overthink. Yet another - almost too dramatic - sigh rumbled through Draco, eyes momentarily fluttering shut. “Are my gifts not enough for you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

She didn’t reply, at least not for a few seconds, unsure how to react to the rather sharp words. Though the second she spoke up, voice anything but strong like his, Draco’s eyes snapped open, dilated pupils taking in her confused expression. “What are you talking about?”

“I went through your notes, and it’s clear that you wish for more.” He sat up straighter, yet he didn’t dare to let go of her hand, hoping that she’d clear the heavy fog dampening his thoughts. “I just need to know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Why would you even go through my notes, Draco? You’re doing nothing wrong, those are lyrics to a Christmas song, nothing more.” (Y/n) couldn’t help but chuckle, head thrown back to give the sound enough room to bubble out of her. She wasn’t surprised that Draco didn’t know the song, wasn’t even surprised about him overthinking the words, and yet (y/n) couldn’t help but find the situation more than amusing.

“I,” his cheeks turned rosy, eyes fluttering shut in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“Now, we can’t have you doubting yourself, now can we?” Before he could even reply, (y/n) pressed her lips against his, swallowing the surprised groan that rumbled through Draco. He added more pressure to the kiss, tongue running along her lower lip to beg for entrance, though she pulled away without a warning, rising to her feet. “I think I need to properly show you how much I appreciate you.”

Their eyes didn’t break contact once as she dropped to her knees, waiting for Draco to shuffle to the edge of the mattress, spreading his legs for her to settle between them. She didn’t pay attention to the cold ground pressing against her skin, didn’t worry about the bruises that would eventually form, all she could focus on was Draco and the movement of her hands. Slowly (y/n) traced her fingertips along the fabric of his black trousers, feeling the soft fabric beneath them.

Draco uncomfortably shifted, hoping that she’d stop her teasing, and yet (y/n)’s smile turned into a smirk. She undid the buttons of his trousers, eyes flickering down to her hands, focusing on his hardening cock. He was twitching in her grasp, tip deep red, begging to feel her mouth wrapped around him.

“You know how much I love you, right?” (Y/n) was dragging out the moment, teasing her boyfriend as she slowly pumped him. His teeth dug into his lower lip, keeping his angry groan bottled in, desperate to collect himself before he’d reply. Draco nodded his head, eyes threatening to fall shut to relish in the moment. “I need to hear you saying it.”

“Yes, fuck, I love you too, just please.” With a chuckle rumbling through (y/n), she dipped her head down, swallowing most parts of him. She gagged, he moaned, a mixture so sinful even the nearby spirits were turning away from the lovers. The evening's darkening embrace engulfed them, offering the couple some much needed privacy, hoping that they wouldn’t be disturbed.

Her mouth moved in sync with her hands, pumping the parts she couldn’t reach, hoping to push him closer to the edge. Draco seemingly enjoyed the quick, skilled movements, grateful that she knew exactly how to pleasure him, how to make him see stars without having to speak the words written in books. Whatever she was doing with him, it was some kind of magic they wouldn’t be taught about, something one could only figure out on their own.

“Fuck,” Draco threw his head back, ringed hand finding her jaw, guiding the bobbing of her head. Both had perfected some kind of routine over the past months, perfectly knowing how to guide one another without speaking the words - something both were insanely grateful for.

“‘M so close, fuck, where do you want it?” His raspy voice left her shuddering, eyes meeting his to wordlessly communicate her reply. She didn’t move away from him, kept bobbing her head to push him into the soaring waves of his orgasm. With a moan clawing through Draco, he came, filling her cheeks with his release.

(Y/n) kept moving her hands, pumping him till he fell back against the mattress with a tired, though satisfied groan. She swallowed without protest, all too used to his taste, before she plopped down next to him, head placed on his chest to listen to his racing heart.

Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight

#Draco Malfoy smut #little-diable Christmas #Draco Malfoy imagine

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wyattjohnston · 3 years ago

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everything that we should be - jack hughes

note: this is part of the we don't have no time to waste series

word count: 1,378

summary: Jack and Daisy spend another Christmas together.

warnings: underage drinking but nobody gets silly

Daisy had been awake for nearly an hour, lying in bed on her phone waiting for Jack to wake up. She didn’t want to wake Jack up after he’d made such a big deal about sleeping in and not being woken by an alarm clock, so it was nearly half past nine and she had accomplished nothing other than scrolling through her mostly dead Twitter feed.

Ten o’clock arrived before Jack began to stir, first with a couple of twitches and then with a grunt as he screwed his eyes shut before they flew open dramatically.

“Do you always stare at me like this when you wake up first?” he asked, his voice slow and mumbled.

Daisy buried herself further under the covers, low enough that they were up around her ears. She shuffled closer to Jack, pressing her mouth against his and ignoring a healthy dose of morning breath just as he did for her.

She said, without a hint of sarcasm, “Only when I’m waiting for a present.”

Jack’s eyes shut, so Daisy poked at his bare chest until he smirked. He tugged her until she was pressed up against him and her arms were pinned by his, leaving her unable to poke him at all.

“Are Ty and Luke up?”

“Someone is, don’t know who. They don’t have presents for me, though.”

“I don’t either,” he said, deadpan. “I’m Jewish. Don’t do Christmas.”

Daisy rolled her eyes and freed one of her arms so that she could facewash him, “Shut up.”

He’d been hyping up the present he’d bought her for weeks, since she handed over a present on the final day of Hannukah. It was the culmination of what was essentially an advent calendar with things like Christmas themed bath bombs, a new phone case that may-or-may-not have had a drawing of himself on it, a slew of scented candles and a colouring book set complete with a ludicrous number of coloured pencils.

Jack groaned dramatically, rolling out of the bed. Daisy followed him out into the living room, wrapping the blanket from the couch around herself as she sat down beside the tree. Jack disappeared into Ty’s room and came back with a decent sized box.

She sat up straighter and wasted no time ripping into the wrapping paper. Her expectations were along the same lines as what she’d already been given, something small and sentimental because that’s what he was good at. The Gucci logo on the front of the box was not what she had been anticipating.

“Jack…”

“Did I do good?” he asked, his face lighting up hopefully. “I saw it on your phone.”

She didn’t have to open the box to know what it was; honestly, she knew what it was before Jack even mentioned having seen it. Her fingers traced over the embossed logo, “I was saving up for it. It’s expensive, Jack.”

“I make NHL money, it’s not expensive.”

“You make entry-level money,” she countered.

“8 year and 64 mil extension, baby,” he said. The contract he’d signed at the beginning of the month was never going to be something Daisy could comprehend.

Daisy lifted the lid to the box carefully. She, like everybody else in his life, had been trying to drill some fiscal responsibility into him. It wasn’t like the black disco bag was going to break the bank, it just hadn’t been something she’d expected him to buy her.

“Thank you,” she said upon seeing the bag. “I can’t believe I own a Gucci bag.”

Jack stooped down to kiss her, saying, “You’re gonna own so many Gucci bags. And expensive dresses and shoes and whatever else you want, yeah?”

“Okay, Mr NHL Money,” Daisy mocked, her eyes barely leaving the bag.

It was Luke’s voice that cut through their moment, loud and disgusted, “Do you both still have your clothes on?”

“Yes, asshole,” Jack called back before he kissed Daisy again. “He’s never staying here again.”

Ty and Luke did have presents for Daisy, just like she had presents for them, so they all sat down in front of the tree together—it was more or less an exchanging of gift card than presents, which suited them all just fine—before they realised that they did need to start getting ready for their day.

It had been agreed sometime during November that PK would host Christmas lunch, and then unanimously accepted that that meant he was having most of the food catered. It was going to be amazing, nonetheless, and Daisy knew that for a fact because this was the second year, she was getting to experience it.

Daisy made everybody wait an extra five minutes so that she could swap everything into her brand-new bag. Jack stood in the doorway to their room, his shoulders pulled back and his chest puffed out while he watched.

An assortment of players and their partners were there, the ones who wouldn’t get to see their families. There were proper place settings on the table, purely for decoration, so Daisy picked up her own and placed it down in the empty seat beside Nico, moving Dougie down the table.

“You talk to those boys all time,” Daisy said before Nico could even ask, “We never get to chat.”

“Hello, Daisy. Schöni Wiehnachte,” he said cheerily.

“Merry Christmas, Captain. Have you spoken to Stef today? What’s she doing?”

“Sleeping. We do Christmas things on the 24th so she’s recovering.”

Daisy knew a secret, that Stef was most certainly studying and not sleeping because she was giving up valuable time for her master’s degree over the winter break to surprise Nico. Daisy just smiled and kept her mouth shut, though, because there wasn’t another soul in the room who knew about the plan she had concocted.

There was a lot of alcohol flowing throughout lunch, as well as multiple jokes thrown around at Jack and Luke’s expense for being too young to drink, that then led onto many light-hearted jokes about Jack dating an older woman—it was true, by a whopping eight months. Nobody cared if either of them had some a beer or a glass of wine, despite the jokes.

After they’d eaten, Jack and Daisy wandered away from the group into a quieter room, largely because Jack’s hand had been wandering up and down Daisy’s thigh throughout their meal. Though they were never shy about being all over each other, knowing what was acceptable in what environment was important so PK’s empty front room was where they ended up.

Perhaps it was inappropriate for Daisy to climb onto Jack’s lap, straddling him lazily as soon as he sat down. Perhaps a lazy but heavy make out session was inappropriate for a Christmas lunch. Perhaps they had been caught in so many precarious positions since Daisy moved to New Jersey that neither of them were bothered anymore.

Luke’s retching sounds were probably the most dramatic Daisy had ever heard; she couldn’t begrudge him, though, given their position. She looked back over her shoulder, wiping the back of her hand over mouth.

Ty was standing with Luke, neither of them were shocked at what they were seeing.

“You’re allowed to get a spray bottle, like they do with cats,” Luke told Ty, holding out an imaginary spray bottle and pulling the trigger in Jack’s direction. “You can’t get Daze, though, because he’ll lose his fucking mind.”

“I lost my mind because we were dressed up to go out and you fucked it all up—you never tried it again so shut it.”

“We’re at your teammates house. Mum would be so disappointed in you.”

“They’re mostly clothed,” Ty commented. “We’ve seen worse.”

Luke retched again.

Daisy turned back to Jack, kissing him once softly before she moved out of his lap and lamenting that they should probably head out and leave PK to his house. Jack couldn’t even nod before Luke was making a comment about getting back to their own house before they made a baby.

The short walk back took longer than the walk to PK’s, their limbs heavy with food and alcohol and their minds distracted by the Christmas lights and decorations in yards that had been turned on when the sun went down.

Please consider leaving feedback—reblog and write in the tags or send an ask, I’m not fussed. I just want to know what you’re thinking!

#jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #homemade fic #fic: devils #'tis the (damn) season #we don't have no time to waste fic

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platypanthewriter · 3 years ago

Text

Take On Me

Art by @fae-vorite for the Harringrove Big Bang!

When Steve pulled up in the drive, he had a mouthful of blue slushie, and he was watching the tiny old lady he’d been driving behind. She’d barely been tall enough to see over the dash, and as he watched, grimacing, she barely swerved around a row of mailboxes, and then carreened through a four-way stop.

As he stared after her, there was a weird hissing noise by his elbow. Steve yelled and threw his arm up in the air, spattering himself with slushie.

“Bwah!” Max yelled, stumbling back, and smacking blue slushie ice off her arm. “Steve! What the hell.”

She hadn’t been in the driveway when he pulled in, Steve was fairly sure, and he stared around. “Where are the rest of you?” he asked warily, rubbing flung slushie off his chin. He glanced up, half-expecting Dustin to swing down on him with a vine from a tree.

Max squinted at him, her jaw working, and then glanced around. “In the bushes,” she said. “Get us inside, now, Steve.”

He rolled his eyes, stalked over and held the front door open—and then swore and dropped his slushie right on the ground and ran over to help, because it wasn’t Dustin and the Chipmunks hiding in the bushes. There was a woman, shaking, her hands stained with what looked like blood, and Billy Hargrove, who apparently wasn’t dead, barely staggering between Max and the lady. He was bandaged, and half-naked.

Steve elbowed his way in past Max, and got an arm around Billy, hefting his sweaty, shivering ass towards the door.

Once Steve had Billy, Max ran ahead and kicked the slushie cup aside, ushering the woman into his house. “Mom, come on,” she groaned, and it occured to Steve that he’d never wondered about Max’s mom. It seemed obvious, thinking about it, that most people had a mom. One of his girlfriends freshman year had had two, and didn’t seem to have a dad, which Steve had never quite figured out.

Billy looked dead, mostly, pale until he was nearly grey, like instant oatmeal. “I thought you were dead,” Steve hissed at him, and he snorted a laugh.

“Guess not,” he breathed, his head against Steve’s as he stumbled along.

When they got inside, the phone was ringing, but Max ran and stood in front of it. “Don’t answer,” she told Steve, staring at him with wet red eyes. He nodded, still half-carrying her undead brother, and trying to figure out whether the blood on Max’s mom could have come from under Billy’s bandages.

“We should call somebody,” Steve pointed out, as he lowered Billy onto the couch. Billy’s eyes were closed, and he didn’t try and get himself more comfortable, or anything, he just laid there. Steve threw a blanket over him, feeling like he was covering up a body.

Max’s mom looked like she wasn’t up for much, staring at her hands and the floor, and Max took a deep, shaky breath, rubbing her face.

Steve beckoned her into the kitchen. “We should call somebody,” he whispered, again. Max set her jaw, shaking her head, and Steve made a face. “At least a doctor,” he hissed, and she deflated, staring out at the limp shape of Billy on the couch.

“H-he should be fine,” she mumbled, digging her fingernails into her forearms until the skin whitened. “He—he didn’t get shot,” she gritted out, and her mom flinched, shivering, and rubbed at her bloody hands.

“Wait,” said Steve, staring between them.

“M-my husband,” said Max’s mom, and then covered her mouth, and a shaky sob.

“You have a dad?!” Steve yelped, looking around. “He got shot?!” he added, grabbing his car keys, because it seemed like somebody should probably find the guy.

“He’s dead,” Max’s mom whispered, staring at her bloodied hands. “He died right—right in front—in front of—”

“He wasn’t my dad,” Max said flatly, “—and we don’t need to go anywhere.”

Steve nodded, and then shook his head, bewildered. He hung the car keys up by the front door, and then braced himself, and sidled over to touch Max’s mom’s shoulder, waving at the kitchen sink. “Um, d’you want to…?”

She nodded, and took a couple weaving steps to lean against a chair, which she drug to the sink. Steve leaned down to whisper to Max. “...so...somebody’s dad got shot? That’s—that’s where the blood—” he asked, feeling well out of his depth. His fingers itched to call a functioning adult—Hopper, or Joyce Byers, even, because it looked like Max’s mom wasn’t up for much more than staring at the bloody water in the sink. “Should I try and find some...tea,” Steve hazarded, and Max snorted a laugh, rubbing her eyes.

“Billy’s dad,” she whispered, watching her mom. “The, um—” she dropped her voice further. It rasped in her throat. “—Mom let them in because they told her they were the CIA.”

“The CIA shot Billy’s dad?!” Steve choked out, trying to keep it under his breath.

“They weren’t actually the CIA,” Max said, rolling her eyes. “Obviously.”

“O-obviously,” Steve echoed, because it sort of made sense. It did seem weird that the CIA would come to Hawkins, Indiana to shoot anybody’s dad.

“Mom thought they were just...checking on us, you know,” Max said, sniffling, and Steve tried to imagine assuming that the C-fucking-IA had banged on his door just to roll out the welcome wagon. “Just—just like the FBI does, all the damn time,” Max mumbled, biting her lip.

“Wait, what,” Steve interrupted with a hiss. “The what now.”

“We’re, um, we’re not really from California,” she whispered, swallowing, and biting back a sharp laugh.

“Okay,” Steve nodded, raising his eyebrows, and watching Max’s mom cry softly with her arms in the sink, and her head bowed. “Okay, yeah, no, hang on,” he told Max, jogging the couple of steps over to her mom. He poked the woman’s shoulder gingerly. “You all cleaned up?” he asked, keeping his voice soft, and she turned big watery eyes on him, but she nodded.

“Come out in the front room and sit down,” Steve told her, feeling like sitting wouldn’t really help much, but crying into the sink had to be worse. He reached in and turned the water off, and guided her by the elbow into the front room. “Gonna get everybody something hot to drink,” he told them, hoping he still had...something. Ancient instant coffee from the last time his dad was home, maybe. Something old and dusty, probably, but Steve didn’t think Max’s mom would know the difference, not after having her husband shot by somebody pretending to be the fucking CIA.

After he pointed her at the big recliner, Max started fussing around with the color-coordinated throw blankets Steve’s mom had bought and never used, and Steve stepped over to the couch to squeamishly lift the blanket off Billy’s head.

“I-I’m fine, honey,” Max’s mom told her, behind them, as Steve surveyed Billy’s pale, sweaty face. His eyes were closed, but the skin around them was as red and raw as Max’s mom’s. His eyelashes were stuck together with the fresh tears leaving trails down his cheeks.

Steve dropped the blanket again, grimacing, and stalked back into the kitchen to find the teakettle, fill it, and put it on the stove. He found some packets of hot chocolate Dustin’s mom had given him at Christmas, and dumped them into two mugs. After a minute, watching the glow of the burner shine off the bottom of the kettle, he grabbed another mug, shrugging.

Max shook her head when he walked out and tried to hand her the hot chocolate. “I’m not a little kid,” she said, glaring at him, but her mom took it with a soft sigh.

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely. “Max, sit down, I—I’m fine.” She reached out and took the mug Steve had offered Max, and held it out to her, and Max sighed heavily, but took it.

Steve went back for the third mug, and then uncovered Billy’s head again. “Hey,” he whispered, and Billy licked his chapped lips without opening his eyes. He grimaced before he blinked and squinted up. “Here, at least hold it,” Steve told him. “It’s warm.”

“...you made me tea,” Billy growled, glaring at the mug, and then, warily, at Steve’s face.

“It’s chocolate,” Max put in. “You like chocolate, asshole.”

“...made me chocolate?” Billy asked muzzily, frowning harder, and Steve sat it on the floor, in order to get his arm around Billy-suddenly-alive-Hargrove, and help him sit up.

“Are you sure you’re not...dying?” Steve whispered to him, lifting the mug and pressing Billy’s hands around it. “Like, right here? I need to, uh...kidnap a doctor, or…?”

Billy snorted into his first sip of hot chocolate, biting his lips together as his chest shook with coughs. After a few seconds, he took a shaky breath, and opened his eyes again. “Don’t...kidnap anybody,” he rasped out, smirking. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Harrington.”

“I know a guy,” Steve told him, letting go of the mug, and reaching out to tug at the bandages visible over the top of the blanket. Billy went very still, holding his breath, which was creepy. If he wasn’t sitting up, Steve would have checked his pulse. “A doctor. M’not gonna let you die,” Steve told him, eyeing the stretched pink scars under the gauze. Some of the gauze looked wet, not red, but pale yellow, and Steve grimaced, brushing his fingers over it.

“It’s just the surgeries. Fuck,” Billy creaked out, his hands shaking on the hot chocolate so it nearly spilled. “They had to cut me open a few more times. Stitch me back together.”

Steve put his hands around Billy’s on the mug, to steady them. “...I got some duct tape somewhere,” he offered, under his breath, and Billy’s breath huffed against his fingers in a laugh. His mustache tickled, but Steve held steady, watching him drink the hot chocolate. His cheeks were pinking up a little. He stunk, kinda, sweaty, and sour from his bandages. It was weird to be anywhere near Billy Hargrove and not smell his cologne. “...I thought you were dead,” Steve said under his breath, and Billy shrugged a shoulder, wincing, and swallowing hard.

“Murphy’s law,” Billy hissed back, grinning, but his eyes welled up again, and he blinked rapidly. “Whatever you least want to happen…”

Steve helped him drink the hot chocolate, trying to think of something to say. ‘Sorry your dad got shot,’ seemed wrong. ‘At least your mom’s alive,’ didn’t seem right either, and then Steve realized he had no idea whether the woman was Billy’s mom. Billy and Max’s family seemed complicated, and it was entirely possible both parents were Billy’s, and Max had been snatched from a stroller outside a grocery store.

“So, um,” Steve started. “You’re...not from California? Why would you…”

“Lie about that?” Max asked, flatly. “The goddamn FBI told us to.”

“...the ones that…” Steve stared over at her, trying not to stare at whoever’s mom’s hands, where they’d been all over blood. Max called her mom, he told himself. Whatever she is, Max thinks of her as her mom.

Maybe they’re aliens, he thought, trying not to laugh, because why was the FBI checking in. Maybe they’d all raised Max from an alien egg they’d taken turns sitting on.

She seemed okay, for an alien, he decided, as Max said, “We’re in Witness Protection. Or we were, until the Starcourt Mall footage made the national news.”

“Ohhhhh,” Steve said, nodding. “That makes more sense than aliens,” and Billy choked on his hot chocolate. “Did you see a gang murder?” Steve asked politely, that being how it usually worked in Hawaii Five-O.

Billy coughed harder, and Steve patted his back, gently, grimacing as he tried not to break the guy any further.

“Noooo,” said Max, and when Steve glanced over, she was staring at him.

“What? Shit happens,” Steve said, shrugging. “Sometimes monsters steal your brother.”

“They didn’t exactly steal him,” Max said weakly, and Steve blinked.

“I was talking about Will Byers,” he said, and shrugged. “No gang shootouts, then?”

“We lived near Portland,” Max said, like that fact made Steve’s question the stupidest question ever asked, and then she sighed. “It’s, um, it’s actually...stupider. Than that. There, um, there was a...lab. There.”

“Ohhh,” Steve said, nodding, and thinking of Hawkins Laboratory, and Eleven.

“They wanted children to...experiment on,” she whispered, and trailed off. Steve turned to see her glowering into her mug.

“Set up this machine to check the local kids,” Billy said, suddenly, near Steve’s ear. He huffed a laugh as Steve jumped. “At the arcade. Looked like a normal arcade machine, but it was keeping track, high scores, you know.” He took a shaky breath, then cleared his throat. “Even had a fake name. Polybius.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know?!” Max shouted, suddenly, her voice wet and uneven, and her mom grabbed her close, squeezing her with white-knuckled hands. “How the hell...we saw guys in suits parked around the place, we thought maybe the owner was like...running some kind of gambling with the machines and they were watching him, or something, how could I have—”

“Went to pick her up and they were shoving her in a van,” Billy’s voice rasped, and Steve jerked unintentionally, imagining it. “I followed them to the lab and they tried to tell me it was some...class for special kids,” he hissed. “Tried to tell us all to shut up.”

“They came and talked to N-Neil and I,” Max’s mom said. “They were...we did what they asked, if they’d leave Max alone. We couldn’t talk about it, not with anyone.”

Steve nodded, familiar with the way laboratories worked, and filed away the fact that Max’s not-dad had been named Neil, before somebody’d shot him. There was a long silence, then, as Billy bit his lips together, frowning into the nearly-empty mug of hot chocolate, and Max’s mom cried softly again.

“I called the fucking police,” Max said hoarsely into the silence. “I—I called the goddamn police, they were—they were stealing kids, they—”

“Yeah,” Steve said, grimacing. He’d found out more and more about what the lab had been doing, after he’d promised to keep quiet. They’d even killed the nice burger man, he thought sadly. His name had been Benny, Steve learned later, but at the time, he’d just been the nice burger man, the one who listened and advised as Steve told him about being terrible at college application essays, and his love for the smartest girl in school.

Luckily, in Steve’s case, the sheriff had already been told. “You had to,” he agreed.

“They shot the cop she told,” Billy said flatly, in Steve’s ear.

“They were kidnapping little kids—” Max yelled at Billy, her voice cracking with emotion and he raised his voice over hers, his voice wavery as he tried to catch his breath.

“Shot him in the head. They shot his partner, too—”

“The FBI helped us sneak out,” Max’s mom said softly, but they both shut up. “We were shuffled around a lot…”

“Why bring you here,” Steve said doubtfully. “Where our lab is? I mean, it’s better, now.”

“Maybe our FBI guys weren’t as on our side as we thought,” Billy muttered, swallowing hard, again, and Steve realized he was trying not to cry.

Steve tried not to do anything, push Billy away, or anything weirder, like hug him. He’d gotten too good at this babysitting thing, he thought with a grimace, if he was inclined to hug Billy Goddamn Hargrove. The problem was, Billy’s inaudible, bitten-back sobs felt like when Nancy’s little sister was scared of the noises outside, while her parents were at the movies. Steve was conditioned to pull that kind of thing against his shoulder, even when it was Billy Hargrove, with his broad, heavy, muscular shoulders, and heavier fists.

“Fuck,” Billy hissed under his breath, pulling his hand loose from Steve’s to rub his wrist across his eyes.

“...d’you want...anything,” Steve whispered, as softly as he could, fairly sure Billy didn’t want him to sing Old MacDonald even if he was really good at all the animal noises.

“How about my dad, alive,” Billy snarled, his unsteady breaths taking the sting out of it.

“Thanks for letting us in,” Max said, hoarsely, and Steve turned to frown at her.

“Of course I let you in,” he snorted. “I wasn’t gonna leave you hiding in my bushes.”

“We—we’ll figure out what to do,” Max said, as her mother squeezed her close again. “Soon. Before—before the lab people figure out where we are.”

“We need Hopper,” Steve told them, starting to stand, and then realizing he was holding Billy up, and he didn’t want to drop him on the floor. He wasn’t sure how together Billy was under the bandages—he didn’t seem very...healed—and the thought of dropping him on the floor, and just accidentally jostling all Billy’s internal organs out through a big hole in his back made Steve shudder.

“You can’t call him,” Max’s mom said bleakly. “They were listening to our phones. They said, as we...ran,” she choked out.

“...bet they aren’t listening to walkie-talkies,” Steve told her, absently spreading his fingers over the cool skin of Billy’s shoulder, to warm him up.

“Where’s yours?” Max asked breathlessly, and Steve gave her directions to his sock drawer.

Billy was shivering harder, and Steve waited until his little sister and maybe-mom weren’t looking to pull the blanket away from more of his bandages.

There was red smeared on them. “Billy,” Steve hissed, urgently, and Billy laughed wetly, wiping his nose.

“‘S not mine,” he laughed, a little hysterically. “S’my dad’s. He—he died right—”

“Shit,” Steve said, blankly, watching Billy try to wipe it away with shaking hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. “That can’t…” he trailed off as Max brought the walkie-talkie down, and she and her mom started whispering about what to say. “You need new bandages,” Steve told Billy, the one thing he was confident he could do. “I need to clean you up.”

“I’m fine, fuck,” Billy panted, sniffling juicily, and Steve nodded once.

“I’m taking Billy up to...clean him up,” Steve told the other two, and they nodded, watching him.

“He’s still got stitches,” Max said, glaring. “Don’t get him wet.”

‘Your dad’s blood got all over’ didn’t seem like the right thing to say ever, so Steve just nodded, and got Billy fairly upright.

“How far we going,” he panted, swaying, and Steve made a face, then turned around.

“Piggyback,” he announced, and Billy swore under his breath.

“Fuuuck,” Billy whispered in Steve’s ear, as Steve made his way carefully up the stairs, steadying himself with one hand on the railing, and one hand awkwardly supporting Billy’s ass. “Watch it there, Harrington,” Billy snorted, with a pained grunt.

“Sorry,” Steve told him. “Is this like how you can’t squeeze the donuts at the store unless you buy them?” he asked, because Billy was heavy, and his ass cheek was soft in Steve’s hand, and Steve’s tongue was on cruise control.

Billy coughed, his fingers digging into Steve’s shoulder and chest as he gave a strangled-sounding laugh. “...yeah, Harrington, it’s exactly like that,” he gasped out. “I’m...your fucking donut...now, asshole.”

Steve laughed so hard he almost dropped him, all the adrenaline of them showing up covered in blood draining out of him. “Shit,” he panted, staggering up onto the landing, and taking a minute to breathe. “Don’t make me laugh on the stairs—”

“You started this shit, I just finished it,” Billy mumbled against his neck. His breathing was uneven and shuddery.

Steve took a slow breath to steady himself, and carried Billy just that little bit further through his plaid bedroom, and into the bathroom.

Billy didn’t even comment on the extreme plaid, his teeth chattering, so Steve nearly dropped him on the toilet in his urgency to get a few inches of really hot water in the tub to plonk Billy in. It’d be just like with Holly, he figured, put few inches of water in there to keep her warm, but not enough so she could slide in and drown. It wouldn’t be enough to get up near Billy’s bandages, he told himself, then, while the water was running, he realized he didn’t know where all the bandages were, so he reached over and yanked at the drawstring of Billy’s sweatpants.

“WAH,” Billy said, grabbing Steve’s hand with his cold, sweaty, shaking one. “...what,” he breathed, his eyes falling shut, and then blinking stubbornly open again.

“Come on,” Steve said, grimacing at how pale he was. “You got any bandages below the chest?” Billy just shivered and breathed, staring into the middle distance, and Steve finally bit his lips together and grabbed Billy’s cold face, turning it to face him. “Billy,” he said. “Billy?”

“...Harrington,” Billy whispered, focusing on him, and then looking around, his eyes welling up again with tears.

“Come on, stay with me, I’m gonna get you warmed up,” Steve told him, ignoring his own heart pounding. He was aware of shock as a concept—he’d seen Joyce Byers after—after. But Billy had bandages, he could be bleeding out, or something, and the thought made Steve’s fingers clumsy as he tried to lift the guy enough to get his sweatpants off, and pull him into the bath.

“Come on,” Steve whispered, pulling Billy up until he was sort of standing. Steve had to reach down and lift Billy’s feet one by one into the tub, and he yelped, opening his eyes again at the heat. “Just gonna clean you up,” he muttered, pretty sure Billy wasn’t hearing him, what with the way he was slumped against Steve’s side. Steve lowered him into the water, and Billy shook his head, mumbling inaudibly.

Steve held his shoulders for a long moment, watching his face, and then yanked at the bandages. Billy still had some stitches underneath, but to Steve’s profound relief, it didn’t seem like any of the blood was his—or that the blood had seeped in anywhere. From what Steve remembered of reading Johnny Tremain in middle school, gangrene was a possibility if stuff got past Billy’s stitches, and so he was very careful to wipe around them.

Billy relaxed slowly against the back of the tub, his head tilting to rest against the corner as his eyes closed. His hands occasionally lifted to touch Steve’s, and then fell away as Steve washed him all over, until he was pink and warm, and didn’t smell like sour sweat anymore. Billy snored softly under his fingers, and Steve bit back a laugh.

The bath water started to cool, and Billy’s shoulders started to clench again, his legs goosepimpling, so Steve ran the hot water again. He pulled the plug on the cooler water, then when the tub was empty, replugged it. As the hot water rose, he ran out to grab an old plastic cup from his desk—he had to dump the pencils out—and pour warm water over Billy’s legs.

Billy screamed, this awful broken noise, scrambling to get out of the tub, and Steve yelped and turned the water off, helping frantic, naked Billy Hargrove out of the tub and half into his lap. He was slippery and warm, and Steve tried not to think about it, stretching to try and reach a towel, but Billy was laughing brokenly into his hands, muttering “I’m me, Harrington, I’m fucking sorry, I’m the best you’re gonna get, I’m still me, I’m Billy goddamn Hargrove—”

“Shit, I know,” Steve told him, as Billy’s wet shoulder soaked into his t-shirt. “You’re Billy, you’re okay, shit. You were just cold, I wasn’t trying to—”

“Maybe I’m better as the Mindflayer,” Billy laughed, gulping and sniffling. “Could’ve taken out that lab guy before…” he took a shuddering breath, wiping his nose. “Not just...let my dad get fucking shot,” he whispered. “F’I wasn’t such a waste of space I’d have answered the door.”

With a sinking horror, Steve realized he had his arm around a naked guy in his bathroom, a naked guy who’d once beaten him unconscious. A naked dude who wished he was dead. “Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference,” he said, after some thought. “You don’t know he’d have gotten away. Max’d be crying over you again.”

“Like she would,” Billy snorted, reaching for the toilet paper and loudly blowing his nose.

“She did, though,” Steve told him, and Billy glared over.

“Yeah, right,” he said, and then opened his mouth again, shut it, and wiped his eyes. “...what the fuck am I doing here,” he grunted.

“Uh, well,” Steve started, “—you were um, playing an evil videogame in Oregon—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy laughed, wheezing with pain. “Why are you...why’d you—” he mumbled, as Steve set his jaw determinedly and wrested him up from the floor, dragging Heavy-Ass-Hargrove out to his bed, and tipping him into the sheets.

The bandages were an adventure, with Billy falling asleep--and he finally fell asleep again right on Steve, as Steve tried to get him dried off.

He didn’t wake up for hours, until Steve was sitting up in bed, on the phone with Hopper. Billy blinked big blue disoriented eyes up at him, frowning grouchily, and Steve held his finger up to his lips, listening to Hopper explain the situation.

“It’s okay,” Steve hissed to Billy. “You’re with me, you’re safe.”

Billy stilled, watching him, then snorted a laugh as his eyes drifted shut. “...’kay, Harrington, he mumbled, sighing contentedly as he curled into the warm pillows.

Steve smiled, and rolled his eyes.

#The Hargroves were in witness protection #But the scary people caught up #Harringrove Big Bang #harringrove #Hurt/comfort

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matsbarzal · 3 years ago

Note

may I please request song prompt #3 "i'd do whatever she likes, give her christmas in july" - anything she says (mitchell tenpenny) with Brock Boeser?

song #3. i'd do whatever she likes; give her christmas in july

pairing: brock boeser x reader word count: 1k warnings: mentions of christmas celebrations, mentions of COVID

If there was one person who knew their love language better than anyone, it was Brock. It was one of the perks of dating the man dubbed ‘Mr. Sensitive’, because although, yes, he did have his moments of sensitivity... sometimes worse than others, the majority of his time was spent trying to demonstrate ways in which he loved you unconditionally.

He knew it was hard dating a hockey player, let alone a professional, especially in the middle of the pandemic. Trying to maneuver your relationship around the alterations to the season, the outbreaks in Vancouver, the distance between the two of you and the lack of being able to visit… Brock knew it was hard, but he did everything in his power to try and combat that.

This year had been the hardest, Brock having to go back to Vancouver mid-December, missing not only Christmas but New Years with you and his family. The travel restrictions and border closures making it impossible for you to cross and visit your boyfriend for short increments of time without having to quarantine for 14 days both times. It just wasn’t feasible.

He was heartbroken having to miss out on Christmas with you and his family, the Zoom celebration you did not even up to the caliber of what you all were used to.

The blonde had promised he’d make it up to you, citing that he wouldn’t let his job get in the way of the both of you celebrating his favourite holiday at some point in the year. You had basically forgotten about it months later, not even letting the thought cross your mind.

be ready to go by 9am, big day ahead babe

what

you’ll see tomorrow morning, can’t wait!!! love you!!!

The morning came sooner than you were expecting, your body weaved into clothes perfect for the July heat in Minnesota. Your pointer finger tapped against your phone as you sat on your porch, watching as Brock’s Jeep pulled its way down your street.

Hopping out of the Jeep, you felt the confusion instantly hit when you observed the blonde’s outfit. Brock was never one to not go out of the house in a lazy outfit, but pyjamas? Christmas pyjamas? That was another story. The tiny elves littered your boyfriend’s red and green pants and shirt, the red sleeves pushed up to his elbows as a large grin took over his face.

“You gotta change before we go, here! They match,” shooting him a questioning look as he shoved the rolled-up clothes into your hand and pressed a smooth kiss to your lips. You obliged, making your way back inside and to the bathroom. Changing quickly, you couldn’t help the small giggle that fell from your lips at the matching pyjamas when you found yourself wrapped in his passenger seat.

“Plan on telling me what’s going on?”

Grinning, Brock squeezed your thigh gently as he zipped out of your driveway. “You’ll see when we get back to my apartment, you’re gonna love it.”

His apartment wasn’t far, Brock always making you let him pick you up so that he could spend as much time with you as possible; also, because you were always more likely to stay over if he was the one driving. He pulled into his parking spot, hopping out of the car to meet you around the passenger side, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tucked your body into his, his lips gently pressing to yours with a small smile.

Pressing your lips back, you own arms weaved themselves around his hips to press on the muscles of his back, pulling him closer to you. The kiss only lasted a few seconds before he was grabbing your hand and tugging you towards the entrance.

Following him, the halls were empty as they always were this early in the morning on a Thursday. You could hear the low sounds of music, the beat so soft and airy you couldn’t place an exact name to the song. The closer and closer you got to Brock’s door, the louder the song became.

“Okay, you have to close your eyes!” quirking an eyebrow up at him, you almost shook your head but before you had the chance, his one palm was covering your eyes as the other turned the doorknob to his apartment door. The sound of music filled the air, the smell of fresh-cooked gingerbread cookies hitting your nose as it wafted out of the room.

Walking forward with you gently, Brock moved his palm from your eyes and allowed you to take in the sight in front of you. You could feel the wonder and joy cross your mind almost immediately, your eyes focusing on every aspect of the room they could.

The tree was in the corner, decorated to the nines in all of yours and Brock’s favourite ornaments, the star on top glistening back at you. The tinsel was wrapped all around his kitchen island and the stools, the gingerbread were laid out on the Christmas plates his parents had got him last year as a moving-out present, the milk beside an extra addition.

You couldn’t hold in the look of awe that was erupting on your face as you looked around, your eyes moving to the joyful smile present on Brock’s face as he watched you.

“Do you like it?” you could sense the bit of doubt in his words, his need for affirmation pushing you to move yourself closer to him, almost launching yourself on him as you pressed your lips against his.

Nodding eagerly as you pulled away, a laugh bubbled up from his throat as the both of you looked around. “I told you I’d make it up to you, having to miss Christmas back in December. I have the movies all set up, I have all the snacks and the drinks and even went out and bought your favourite hot chocolate. There’s a significant chance our dinner may be being catered… but we don’t have to talk about that.”

“I can’t believe you did all of this,” shaking your head in disbelief as you looked around again, your eyes taking in all the sights it hadn’t registered before.

“I’d do whatever you like, even give you Christmas in July, my love.”

note: ahhhh skfdk i had so much fun with this bc i so want brock to give me christmas in july </3 thank you for requesting, and i hope you enjoy!!!

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 4 years ago

Note

HEY BESTIE ITS ME AGAIN! i was wondering if i could get a will request with angst. LOTS AND LOTS of angst about will and the reader seeming to always miss each other in sense of relationships and because of that the reader distanced themself from will so months pass by and they both are single then and they run into each other and eventually get into a fight bc he’s upset that they ghosted him and eventually have an angry love confession and happy ending?

thank u sm bff

YOU WANT ANGST, I"LL GIVE YOU ANGST...in a fairly decent amount cause this was hard to write for some reason🙃 sorryyyy @poulterfilms

~~~~~~~~~~

Why did life have to be so hard?

You watched as Will got ready for his date that night, giddy and excited to be going out, rambling on and on about how nice this person was, who he met a few days prior.

You just smiled and nodded along, pretending that your heart wasn't painfully throbbing with jealousy.

You hated this feeling, longing. It was strange, you never felt this way before with Will. You've been friends with him as long as you can remember, seen him have plenty of dates with other people. So why did you suddenly feel like you wanted him all to yourself? It wasn't like you at all.

"So, what do you think?" Will asked, snapping you out of your thoughts, slowly spinning around to show off his outfit.

You plastered on that same fake smile that you unfortunately got into the habit of doing nowadays. "You look great, Will. You always do." You didn't mean to sound so sad, but it came out that way and you internally cringed.

Will cocked his head with a confused grin. "You okay?"

You nodded your head eagerly. "Of course!" You stood up from where you sat and quickly adjusted the collar of Will's shirt, struggling to pull away when he smiled at you. "I always have to fix that damn shirt collar." You chuckled weakly, forcing yourself to take a couple steps back.

Will copied your chuckle, turning around to do a once over in his mirror. "What would I do without you?" He joked, but you frowned for a split second before shaking your head.

"Well, don't wanna keep the lucky date waiting, right?" You patted him on the shoulder, maybe a little too hard since Will rubbed his shoulder with a grimace afterwards.

"You are absolutely right. I'll be off then, night, love!" Will placed a quick kiss to your cheek, heading out of his house, leaving you alone with the ghost of the kiss lingering on your cheek. The innocent, and most importantly, friendly kiss.

You looked around the living room solemnly, looking to your feet to see the two pups you were trusted to take care of while the owner was out of his date. Welp, at least I have his dogs to share my misery with...

You had no idea how you let this happen. You've always seen Will as a friend, and nothing more. You've both hyped each other up when one of you scored a date. Will has seen you off to plenty of dates and never had a problem with it, so why couldn't you do the same for him?

Unbeknownst to you, Will actually has had similar feelings. He didn't know how it happened, but he developed strong feelings for you. He clearly knew you didn't feel the same, and he had to sit idly by as he watched you be in and out of relationships with people who weren't him.

He's never been one to get jealous, but he'd definitely be lying if he said he never was jealous of your partners. He wanted to be the one to hold your hand, he wanted to be the one to open doors for you, to be the one you smiled at when he wasn't looking. He decided to move on, even if it was the last thing he wanted. But his respect for you trumped his lust that he felt at the same time, he just wished he could turn his feelings off.

You decided to hole up in your apartment after Will came back from his date, the date that went "extremely well." The "he'd definitely be seeing this person again" date.

You couldn't say you were devastated, for obvious reasons. You didn't want to tell Will you had feelings for him, and you didn't want to be selfish. You always felt selfish nowadays.

You just felt like a burden.

It was hard hanging out with Will, always having to hear about his new partner, how they're so nice and kind and caring and apparently so fuckin' amazing...it made you want to vomit. It made you not want to hang out with him as much anymore, but thankfully, that decision was made for you. Will didn't have time for you anymore, he really wanted to make his relationship with this new person work, more than he wanted to keep your friendship strong, you thought.

Eventually, you just stopped trying to initiate conversations. Will would text you, all the time really, he'd just be too busy to see you. Between acting roles and sending time with his partner, you'd only be with him through text messages.

An epiphany struck you one day: you deserved better.

You knew you were right, and that's why it made your choice to painful. You had to cut ties with Will, but you had no idea how you'd do that without breaking down.

You took the coward's way out, at least, you thought it was cowardly.

You simply just stopped replying to his text messages. But once he started to text you messages like "can we talk?" you thought you might give him a chance. You said you'd do it tomorrow, then tomorrow turned into the next day, then a week passes, then a month. You stopped thinking about it, you didn't want to think about it, because every time you did, the urge to contact Will got stronger and stronger. You wanted to move on. You needed to move on. But, you never could get him out of your thoughts completely.

Months and months go by, and before you know it, it's Christmastime.

You'd decided to travel around after cutting off contact with Will, mostly just couch hopping with friends, exploring the area to get your mind off how heart broken you felt. It was a good distraction, for awhile. But now that Christmas was soon, you had to go back to your home town; you did miss your family quite a lot. But you did feel that similar anxiousness after coming back home, thinking about Will and the "what ifs." Will always loved spending time with his family during the holidays, and you knew he'd probably be in town.

Just going outside to check the mail was nerve wracking to you, but you chuckled bitterly at your paranoia, it's not like he was going to show up at your house out of the blue. He wouldn't do that.

Your family really wanted a Christmas tree, a real one. You tried to use your allergies as an excuse to just stick with an artificial tree, but your parents were dead set on having a real tree. It wasn't exactly a lie, you used to get real trees, you just couldn't be around one too closely or else you get into a sneezing fit. But you really just didn't want to be out in the town, just in case.

But your family dragged you along to help pick out a tree anyway, in the freezing cold.

You idly kicked some icicles that were formed on the bottom of tree branches, smiling subtly to yourself as you heard the crackle of the ice hitting the concrete. You looked over to see your family still trying to decide on what kind of tree they wanted, and you remembered how indecisive your folks were. You were gonna be there for awhile...

"Y/n?" As if you weren't freezing enough, the voice that you heard from beside you made a chill go up your spine, causing you to sink down more into your coat.

You looked to your left, unluckily for you, seeing your former best friend beside you, an unreadable expression on his face. "Will...? Uh, w-what are you doing here?" You weren't sure if it was the cold that made you stutter, or just the pure nervousness and almost fear that you felt.

Will uncomfortably shifted on his feet, taking a deep breath before answering. "My, uh, mum wanted to have a tree this year. I'm guessing yours did too?"

You nodded curtly. "Yep."

The awkward silence made you want to curl up into a ball and throw yourself off a cliff.

"We should probably talk." Will said.

"Uh," You nervously rubbed your hands together, "I don't think that's a good idea..."

"Why not?" He asked bluntly, his expression turning cold.

You sighed. "I...well, I have to help my parents get this tree so..."

"Fine. I'll come by later."

"Wait-"

"See you tonight." And with that, Will walked away in a hurry, not giving you the chance to refuse.

You bit the inside of your lip hard, a coppery taste coating the tip of your tongue when you explored the small dent in your mouth that you created from stress.

You figured this day would come soon enough. Karma's a bitch, as some say. You thought you'd have a bit more time to prepare yourself for a confrontation, but the universe decided to be a jerk and sucker punch you in the face with your regrets.

You went home, feeling like a knife was twisting in your gut as you helped your family set up your Christmas tree in the living room, constantly glancing at the clock every chance you could.

Eventually, your family decided to leave the house once more, having bought tickets to a play that night, which you politely declined to go to. You weren't interested in yet another retelling of the Christmas story acted out by little bratty children who couldn't remember their lines half the time. No, you have somewhat decent standards.

You just sat on the living room couch with your family pet, staring at the clock, seeing the hands move slowly until it finally reached nine o'clock. You untensed for a moment, thinking that maybe Will decided to not come over. The loud ring of the doorbell quickly squashed that idea.

You opened the door, not surprised to see Will on the other side, his cold expression unchanged from when you last saw him.

You said nothing as you moved aside, opening the door wider for Will as he walked in.

The air felt thick, like there wasn't enough oxygen for both of you to be in the same room. It felt similar to whenever you pulled your blankets over your head when you were little and afraid of the dark, thinking that nothing can hurt you if you were completely wrapped up in the comfort of your duvet, but never getting enough fresh air to keep those blankets over your head, eventually having to pull the blankets off to breathe. You really wished you had a blanket now...

"Well?" Will broke the silence, looking to you expectantly.

You shrugged slightly. "Well what?"

Will chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. "You know what, Y/n." When you didn't reply, he continued. "You stop talking to me all of a sudden, for months, not even telling me why. I need to know why, I deserve an explanation."

You sighed, looking anywhere but at him. "I just...needed some time away..." What a fucking lie...

"Some time away, really? That's your excuse? We were best friends, everything was fine, so what went wrong, huh? Why did you just up and leave everything behind without telling me?" You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself as his voice got louder with every sentence. "Are you even listening to me? Do you hate me now, is that it? I don't know what I did, please, tell me." He pleaded.

"Will..." You whispered, finally looking to him to see unshed tears in his eyes. "it was me, not you. You didn't do anything wrong..."

Will stepped closer to you, his arms crossed. "Do you have any idea how much it hurt to be ghosted by the one person you thought cared about you the most? It really fucking hurt. And now, you're just standing here like you don't even care."

"I do care, Will." You said softly, reaching out to touch him but he quickly flinched away.

"Then why did you leave? I want the truth."

"I wasn't happy...with myself...with you." You started, walking over to take a seat on your couch. "I felt alone. You spent all your time with your partner, you rarely had time for me anymore."

"Wait, my partner?"

"Yeah...the beginning of this year, you started dating that person, I forgot their name..."

Will shook his head. "It didn't work out with them, I'm not seeing anyone, haven't for awhile. But that's not the point. Why didn't you just tell me that you felt alone? You know I would've made time for you if that's what you needed."

You felt like you wanted to scream, frustration starting to consume you, but you settled for a muffled groan. "It wasn't just because I felt alone..."

"Then what?"

Fuck it...

"Because I hated seeing you date other people. I absolutely hated it. And when you started gushing about how amazing this person was, I felt like I wanted to bash my head in with a hammer." Okay, maybe that was a little exaggerated, but you got your point across.

"You didn't want me to date other people?" Will's heart beat rapidly in his chest, just the thought of why you possibly felt that was making him anxious to ask, "Why?"

You were scared to answer, afraid of his reaction. What if he hated you? That would be the worst case scenario, you'd rather die than have him hate you. But, you did owe it to Will to tell him the truth. The unfiltered, honest truth.

"We've been friends for as long as I can remember. We always told each other everything." You smiled weakly. "We'd always be happy for each other whenever we went on dates and found people that made us happy. But...there was a point where I realized that no matter how many dates I went on with other people, I never truly found happiness in those people. Because, I always thought about someone else...you." You looked up at Will. "You've always been the one person to make me truly happy. And I finally figured it out, it's not because you were my best friend, it's because...you're the one I always wanted to be with, Will."

Will took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to take in your words. "That night, when I was about to go on that date, you weren't yourself. You looked sad..."

"I didn't want you to go. I wanted you to stay with me." You wiped away a few fallen tears with your sleeve, sighing tearfully. "I was being selfish...really selfish." You frowned.

Will carefully sat beside you, looking straight ahead. The red and green lights placed crookedly on the Douglas fir being one of the only light sources in the room, illuminating your tear ridden face and causing a reflective shine to Will's glassy sorrowful eyes.

"I had no idea." Will said, being the first one to break the silence yet again.

"That was kind of the point." You sniffled, curling your knees up to your chest.

"...I'm sorry."

You furrowed your brows, looking to Will in confusion. "Why are you sorry? I'm the only one who should be sorry."

Will shook his head. "No..." He laughed sharply, clenching his fists in his lap. "It's funny."

"What is?" You asked, trying not to sound offended.

"I've spend years trying to get over my feelings for you, and you tried to do the same. Guess I'm not as intuitive as I thought."

You silently gasped. "Will? You...? Huh?"

Will smiled weakly. "I only started dating other people because I was trying to push away my feelings for you, and of course, it didn't work."

"Will, if this is some joke-"

"It's not. Have I ever lied to you?"

"...no. You've had feelings for me this entire time? And I punished you for it..." You said as you felt the tears well up in your eyes again.

"No, Y/n, no. You had no way of knowing, just like I had no way of knowing how you felt about me."

"I'm so sorry, Will. I never should've left."

Will quickly grabbed a hold of your hand, bringing it up to his lips to place a gentle kiss on your knuckles. "You're here now. It's okay...we're okay."

"Can you ever forgive me?"

Will smiled softly. "Of course. I've never been able to stay mad at you for long."

You frowned. "What if I deserve it?"

"No. No, you don't. It's all going to be okay."

You took a deep breath, trying not to burst into tears again as Will pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. "What now?"

"Maybe it's too early to ask but...we could go on a date." Will chuckled weakly.

You looked back up at Will, trying to hide your growing smile. "Really?"

"If that's what you want."

You looked at the clock. "It's getting a little late, I don't think that many places would be open right now. We could go out tomorrow?"

"It's a date." Will smiled.

You sighed. "I really wish I would've talked to you about this instead of running away..."

Will shook his head, bringing his hand up to gently caress your cheek. "I shouldn't have raised my voice earlier. So now we both have something we regret. But it's okay, Y/n. I felt like running away quite a few times myself whenever you went out with someone else...or just hiring a hitman or something."

You laughed genuinely, playfully pushing Will's shoulder. "I think my family is gonna be home soon."

"That's my cue to leave, I take it?"

You pouted. "I don't want you to."

"Well, hey, we'll see each other tomorrow." He smiled.

You walked Will to your front door, frowning as he opened it. "I never used to be the clingy type with anyone."

Will turned around to face you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in for a warm hug. "It's all going to be okay. We're gonna do this thing right."

You pulled away with a huff, looking deeply into his eyes. "I really want to kiss you right now." You giggled.

Will grinned, replying to your statement by leaning in, delicately brushing his lips over yours before fully placing them onto yours passionately. You could truthfully say that the kiss made you weak in the knees, it was everything you imagined it to be and more. It was intoxicating.

The kiss quickly got heated, and you didn't know if you'd be able to stop yourself. Will grabbed at your sides, trying to pull you even closer than you were already, eliciting a quiet moan from you when he gently pulled on the roots of your hair. But you finally forced yourself to stop, trying to catch your breath.

"Sorry." Will quickly apologized.

"I didn't want to stop." You snickered, running your hands through your now tangled hair. "We haven't even gone on our first date yet and I already want to rip your clothes off."

Will blushed and grinned. "Guess we'll just have to save it for tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow it is."

~~~~~~~~~

I had trouble writing this, if you couldn't already tell. Ugh, I have no idea why the reunion bit threw me off balance so badly

#will poulter #will poulter imagine #will poulter x reader

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gothgirlmahi · 3 years ago

Text

Christmas Spirit

Summary: You and Brock have never celebrated Christmas together. You decide this year is a good time to start.

Warnings: unprotected sex between a married couple, pregnancy, Christmas celebration and decor, a singular "good girl"

It was almost Christmas. Well, it was the beginning of December. Either way you were excited.

It would be the first Christmas you’d be celebrating since you were a kid. You went all out on decorations. The outside of your house was covered in lights and had a display of a light up Santa with all of his reindeer. Even the fence outside was covered in lights.

And the inside? Oh God, the inside?

You had convinced Brock to do all of the outside work before he left on a mission a few days ago. Other than bringing the tree in the house, he hadn’t seen any of the inside decor yet. And you knew he was going to flip when he did. If not from the sheer amount of decorations themselves, then from the absurd amount of money you had spent on them.

But hey. It was Christmas. Your first Christmas together despite being married for years. You all had never had incentive to celebrate it before. Neither of you had any family other than each other and weren’t big holiday people, but a big change in your lives had you all reconsidering this year.

You were pregnant. Due around the end of December near Christmas. Given that schedule, you’d have a one year old bobbing around the house next Christmas. You insisted that you all had a “practice run” this year and Brock obliged you. While he’d been away, you’d bought several presents and put them under the tree. You decorated the artificial white tree with a gold skirt and gold and red ornaments all over it, with a few candy canes on some branches. You had flameless candles, a dancing and singing Santa, mistletoe, garland, a wreath on the door, a few poinsettias, a mini Christmas tree set as a centerpiece and red placemats for the dining room. And more.

Yeah, Brock was going to flip.

He wasn’t exactly a Christmas person. To be fair, you weren’t either before you found out you were pregnant. Either way, you were sure this would be a good holiday.

When Brock came in, he found you somewhat precariously balanced on a stool while trying to put a star on the tree.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked. You froze in place. You hadn’t even heard him come in. You turned to him with a smile.

“Hello, darling. How was work?”

Brock walked over to you with folded arms before carefully picking you up and setting you on the ground. He pressed a kiss to your lips which you eagerly returned.

“You know you shouldn’t be doing things like that. It’s dangerous,” he said, eyebrows knot together. You frowned and reached up to smooth your fingers against where he was scrunching his face.

“I was less than a foot in the air.”

“Yeah and God forbid that’s how far you could have fallen.”

Brock finally took his focus off of you and looked around the house. His expression turned from tense to something close to terrified. You had terrified Brock Rumlow. His jaw dropped a bit.

“What is all this?”

“It’s Christmas. Merry Christmas, honey.”

“Our house looks like a department store.”

You nodded.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Help me put the star up?”

Brock took another distressed look around the house, his eyes stopping on the dancing Santa. No, the twerking Santa. Why had you bought a twerking Santa?

You put the star in his hand and pointed to the top of the tree.

“Fold one of the branches and put that part on—no that part. Yeah. And then wrap it like—yes exactly—“

Brock was tall enough to reach the top of the tree without a stool and he easily placed the star on top. When he looked down his eyes were drawn to the presents under the tree. Beautifully wrapped and most of them with his name.

Had you bought him presents? Something about that was…it made him feel something. Then again, you were always making him feel something. Unidentifiable emotions he’d never really had to deal with in his adult life. He hadn’t been given a Christmas present with his name on it since he was four years old. The last Christmas “gift” he’d been given was a bonus from work you all had used to vacation in Switzerland last December.

He’d have to get you something. He had quite a few things in mind. You were so easy to shop for, something he was immensely grateful for. You just liked things and clutter and art supplies and knickknacks. Maybe fabric to sew with. Anything artsy you were always happy with. And then there were things to get for the baby. Onesies and diapers and pacifiers and he still hadn’t gotten a chance to set up the crib. He would have to do that as soon as possible. It was still sitting in a box in the nursery.

When he turned back to you, you were looking up at him with those sweet and loving eyes, like he hung the moon and could do no wrong. If only you knew. If it was up to him, you would never know.

He pulled you close to him and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“How have you been feeling?” he asked, fully expecting to hear tired or bloated or something like that. He didn’t hear anything like that.

“Horny.”

Of course.

You smiled and he kissed your lips again. Soft and inviting. God, you made him feel things.

His hands drifted to your belly, just holding you gently. He looked back up and your eyes caught his. Then you were pulling him away, pulling him upstairs and into your bedroom. He’d been gone for much too long and you knew what you wanted.

He laid you down on the bed before taking one of your hands in his. He pressed a kiss to your palm and then to the finger where your ring sat. You cupped his cheek gently before reaching up and taking your fingers through his hair.

You pulled him to you.

What you needed was a nice, sloppy make out session with your husband and that was exactly what he gave you. He was hovering on top of you, pressed against you ever so slightly so as to not put too much pressure on the precious little girl growing inside you. When the two of you separated to breathe, you were roughly pulling his shirt off.

“Get this off. Get naked. You need to be inside me in the next minute.”

He could do that. He was hard the second you said you were horny. He had both of you completely undressed in record time. Then he was slipping behind you and next to you, your back pressed to his chest while his fingers dipped between your soaked folds. He pulled your leg a bit over his, just enough to make it a little easier for him to slide in you.

He impaled you slowly, your fingers braced against the sheets as you whimpered at the intrusion. The stretch was slightly painful but even more than that it felt good. It felt so unbelievably good. When he filled you to the hilt, you gasped, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Brock pressed his lips against your shoulder then slowly retracted his hips before slamming back into you. The movement had you shaking and whining and clenching around him.

He set a firm pace, not rough but deep and steady.

You missed him. You missed this. Sometimes he’d go on missions that would take him away for God knows how long. And you’d patiently wait for him to get back. But this time was different. This would be his last mission for a while. He’d be here for Christmas. He’d been here to see your baby delivered.

The thought made you happy. So happy that you felt tears welling in your eyes. Your breath was shaky and stilted as you spoke to him.

“I love you,” you said softly. You felt him nod against your skin, his hips picking up in speed and making you groan while he slammed right into where you needed him.

“I love you, too.”

He knew how much this meant to you. Neither of you had celebrated Christmas but it now had its own symbolism to you. Neither of you had proper families before. But now was your chance to start. To try. To give it your best shot.

Brock’s hand moved from holding your hips steady, to the apex of your thighs and between your legs, pressed against your clit and rubbing. Your legs shook and you pushed your hips against his viciously. The sloppy wet sound of your coupling filled the room and spurred both of you on, closer and closer to climax.

“Oh, fuck! Brock, I’m—right there!”

“Shh,” he cooed, his mouth was pressed right behind your ear, “cum for me, okay? Be a good girl and cum for me.”

Your body tensed and you came, squeezing around him and mouth half open as you moaned your pleasure. His thrusts and the pressure won your clit were unrelenting and let you ride your orgasm until you were sensitive and shaking. Then Brock groaned against you and filled you to the brim with warm cum, making you once again shake and your pussy clench around him.

When he pulled out, the two of you were laying side by side, one of your hands held in his. He pressed his other hand to your rounded stomach.

“I like the Christmas decorations.”

“Oh, that’s good.” And you wanted to add, I spent 2000 dollars on them. But you didn’t. That was a talk for tomorrow.

“Maybe this will all work out.”

You stared at him and you hoped it was true. Maybe you all could make a family. Maybe it could all work out.

---

lmao nobody asked for this and I didn't proofread it sorry

it's sort of a part of a series I've been working on for a while that I hope to post one day

#brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #brock rumlow x you #marvel x reader #the winter soldier

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wroteasongabouther · 4 years ago

Text

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 1

a/n: oh my god guys it’s finally here!😬 i really hope i didn’t hype myself up too much and that you guys actually like it. overall i just wanted to put out a story that revolved around christmas and this is what i came up with! so without me babbling too much, i hope you enjoy part 1 of my new story and as always any feedback/reblogs are very much appreciated.

and of course, thank you to the lovely jess @arrogantstyles and jill @havethetimeofyourstyles for beta reading this part for me and giving this rusty old writer the help i needed lol

word count: 17k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some sexual tension, and an over consumption of starbucks holiday drinks.

fic page // let’s chat // cstsyl playlist

“What floor?” Harry asks, eyes stuck on the many buttons in the elevator instead of seeing who had entered the small space with him. He can tell it’s a woman, and they smelt lovely.

“Six please,” her soft voice replies.

Harry looks over his shoulder in what he hopes is a smooth motion to get a quick peek at who was behind that sweet voice. Her eyes were squinting slightly as she smiles at him. She must be my new neighbour, he thinks as he hits the number six button and it lights up before the elevator begins to move. He steps back, standing in the opposite corner of the young woman. Harry assumes that she is maybe a few years younger than him, but one thing he knew for sure was that she was very pretty. He may even say she was stunning. She's all bundled up with a long coat and a thick scarf as he guesses she had just gone out for some shopping, judging by the few large white paper bags hanging off her arm.

“Did you just recently move in?” He questions, catching her eyes switching from gazing at the wall to his own instead.

She smiles again and nods, “yeah.”

“I thought I heard someone move in beside me,” he exclaims. He was certain that someone had moved in beside him. It caused him a bit of a headache hearing all the moving around. And then on top of that, his new neighbour had decided to get right to hammering in on the wall they shared. Little did he know, there was a determined and beautiful girl on the other side.

“Oh you’re my neighbour then?” She says, bringing Harry back from his memory of a few days ago.

“Harry,” he introduces himself, reaching a hand out into the space between them. She switches her Starbucks holiday cup into her other hand in order to shake his. Her hand is warm from holding the drink and it causes Harry's stomach to erupt with little bitty butterflies.

“Y/N,” she says in the same gentle voice as before. He wanted to hear her talk more. There was something about the soft tone of her voice, like he could listen to her speak into the late hours and early mornings and never once get tired of it. He blinks a few times and drops her hand at his intimate thought.

Harry didn't believe in love at first sight per say, but he was known to develop an infatuation of sorts very quickly. A crush as some would call it. Well, to be precise, Mitch teases him the most of his little crushes. There was that one time that Harry fumbled over his words over and over again when they had gone for dinner and had a rather attractive waitress, having asked for her number at the end of the night too. Mitch mocked him for days about it, asking if she had ever texted him back - she didn’t. And Harry didn’t even want to think about the time he spilled an entire blended margarita on his white vans when a certain handsome lifeguard had winked at him during their trip in LA last summer. Mitch still doesn’t let that incident go either.

The elevator doors open, and Harry gives her a smile and motions with a hand for her to walk out before he does. His mom must’ve raised him well, Y/N thinks at her new neighbours mannerisms. First holding the elevator for her, then offering to press the elevator button, and now letting her exit first. Suppose it was just minor things, but growing up in this lovely city that is New York meant she was used to the rudeness of people and sadly the simplest of gestures can make her heart beat just a bit faster in her chest.

“If you uh,” Harry pauses as Y/N stops at her front door but looks back at him as he speaks. Harry slows his steps to keep eye contact with her. “If you ever need anything, don’t feel shy to knock on my door.”

Y/N smiles again, nodding at his offer while she twists her key in the lock and opens her front door. Harry's walking backwards now, just a few steps to that same door he’s saying she can knock on. His eye contact is intense, but addicting, like every word she had to say to him mattered. His eyes are green, just green, nothing crazy and yet she found them very endearing. Would it be cliche of her to say she swore she saw them sparkle?

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” she says and before she can say anything else, she steps into her new apartment and shuts the door behind her.

Y/N finds herself standing there for a moment, remembering every word Harry had spoken to her as she slips out of her shoes. She then remembers his facial features while undoing her coat and hanging it up along with her scarf. The bit of facial hair he was sporting, how it seemed like it may have taken a while to grow so he kept it minimal. Or that little mole by his mouth, she even took note of that in their short time together. He had a cute nose too, she thinks. Harry takes up every inch of space in her mind for over an hour before she’s brought out of whatever dream state fog she was in. She lets out a deep breath and shakes her head a little before going about wrapping the presents she had bought earlier in the day while sipping her Christmas Starbucks drink, falling back in love with the holidays all over again.

“No, no, no, no,” Y/N groans as she twists and turns the knobs for her shower, and yet, nothing happens. Only a few drops fall to the tiled floor causing her to let out another string of curses. “This can not be happening,” she says.

But it was. Y/N’s hair was a mess, beyond greasy and a bit matted from her sleep last night. Not to mention she smelt like sweat from bringing up the box that held her new fake christmas tree this morning. She had been tempted to walk down the hall and knock on Harry's door, but she didn’t want to be annoying and fall into the stereotypes of the helpless young female living on her own for the first time. So instead she grabbed a cable knit sweater, tugged on her old dirty ugg boots, and went down in the elevator to meet with the Amazon delivery person. Little did she know that the box was way too tall for the elevator. So, she ended up bringing it up herself. All six flights of stairs, Y/N pulled and dragged that box up to her floor which caused her to break quite the sweat. Thankfully, it wasn’t so heavy, but she couldn’t help but think that she went through all of this just so she could get her new fake christmas tree up. Freaking fake! Not even a real one because apparently that wasn't allowed at her apartment building. Oh, how she was going to miss the smell of a fresh christmas tree. And oh, how she wanted to get rid of this disgusting smell of sweat she embodied now.

“Why me?” She winces, looking up at the ceiling and letting the glass door for her shower close as she gave up on the water magically appearing.

Is this the most appropriate time to not be shy and knock on Harry's door? Suddenly, her Apple watch vibrates, and she brings her arm up to see the reminder she had set before to tell her of the tight schedule she’s on for the day. With only 45 minutes left to get ready, she needed to get moving quickly. Y/N curses herself for wasting the past fifteen minutes on her phone, reading over her newest Instagram comments and aimlessly scrolling through her feed. So she tugs both sides of her purple robe that she had changed into anticipating a shower in her own home. Y/N pulls it tighter and ties the belt around her waist into a bow, and before she can give it a second thought, she’s out the door of her own apartment and starting down the hallway.

Harry didn’t know when he thought Y/N would eventually knock on his door. A part of Harry was hoping that she would have knocked sooner than a week later. But nonetheless, when there was a frantic knock on his door, he didn’t miss how his heart skips in his chest as he imagined Y/N standing on the other side. Peering through the peephole in his door he saw her standing there - in a bathrobe? Harry's brows pull together in confusion as he unlocks the door and heaves the door open.

“Is your water working?” She asks, her voice sounding as panicked as her knocking had been. But before Harry can answer she starts talking a million miles an minute. “Cause mine’s not, like not a single drop and I need to shower. So badly. And I know it’s probably super weird and rude of me to just bang on your door and ask to use your shower. Honestly, I can’t even believe I am but I am in such a hurry and I have the busiest day ahead of me with work and going to the-”

“Y/N,” Harry cuts her off abruptly. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and blinks up at him. “You need to use my shower? Is that what you’re getting at?”

Harry is a bit thrown off, not once did he think she’d come knocking for this reason. He glances down the hall awkwardly. He hopes that that noisy neighbour of theirs across the hall wasn’t peeping into their conversation, or seeing Y/N in this bathrobe. Mr Matthers can be a bit of a creep, Harry thinks. At the thought he hears a creak come from behind the door that’s across the hall.

She nods, “I know it’s like super strange to ask but mine is not working and I don’t have time to figure it out.” When Harry looks back at her, he notices she’s staring down at the ground between them, her eyes blinking rapidly as if she’s realizing what she’s gotten herself into. Harry didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable.

“S’alright, really, come in,” Harry says while opening the door to his apartment wider.

Y/N gives him a smile of appreciation before stepping into his home. The layout of Harry’s apartment is really just the opposite of hers, but the interior design he’s gone with is a lot better.

He’s gone for the classic monochrome look with blacks, white and greys. But with pops of colour where it matters, like a blanket over the back of his large L-shaped couch that looked handmade. She wonders if a family member made it, quite liking the light blues and pinks blended together. He’s got the same hardwood flooring like her own apartment and the plain off white paint on the walls - but with a few very unique paintings hung up on them. There’s two tall shelves, full of vinyls and novels and some picture frames too, that are on either side of his large flat screen tv which he took the time to hook up on the wall. It’s got a TV show paused on the screen, in her quick glance she can’t tell what show he was watching before she knocked but it looked like a cooking show. The corners of her lips twitch up into a smile at the thought of Harry being into cooking or baking maybe. He’s got a matching chair to his couch in the living room too that looks like she could fall asleep in it within a second. Overall it simply seems more grown up than her apartment - more put together and clean, that’s for sure.

To give her some credit, she has just moved in while she’s sure Harry’s been here for a while. Harry steps away from the door after locking it again, taking a few steps in order to be in her line of sight. With an arm thrown up, finger pointing down the hall, he gives Y/N another smile. He can’t help it, she looks rather adorable in that purple bathrobe. Was that all she was wearing? He thought to himself. He clears his throat as his mind goes on to imagine what’s under that plush purple material she’s wearing.

“Bathroom’s the first on the left,” he states, “did you bring your own soap or anything?”

“Honestly, no, I just kind of ran out of my place in quite a hurry and didn’t think twice as I got the sudden nerve to come over here.”

“Well, lucky for you I care about hair care, so there’s some good shampoos and even a nice hair oil to put into your hair afterwards when it’s damp. It’s in a small clear bottle with a white and gold label, by my toothbrush,” Harry explains. Y/N nods and starts towards the bathroom. With each step further into Harry’s home, she realizes what exactly she’s done. She can’t believe it really - just asking a complete stranger to let her shower in their home. She could be a murderer for all Harry knew, and he just opened his home up so freely. She steps into the bathroom, switching on the lights and the fan, she shuts the door and sighs. Lifting her arm up her Apple watch lights up to show the time. She had twenty minutes tops to shower, that’s all.

The bathroom is clean, very clean actually. Y/N lets her gaze wander around the space for a moment. There’s matching hand towels and all his skin and hair care are placed neatly on the small counter space too. She assumes he’s a bit of a neat freak. Turning to the shower, she opens the glass door gently and instantly reaches for the silver knobs. As she turns them water falls from the showerhead above her.

“Thank God,” she whispers while looking up at the water.

Y/N adjusts it to her preferred temperature and then she works on untying the knot of her robe. Words can’t describe how grateful she is that it held together in front of Harry. Him seeing her in the robe and with her hair in the state it’s in is embarrassing enough. Honestly, she can’t believe she even knocked on his door in it, and without any clothes to change into afterwards too. Stupid, she thinks while opening the glass door once more and stepping into the shower.

As Harry had said, there’s many bottles littering the built in shelves of the shower. Her fingers lazily turn the bottles so the labels face her. They’re all scented lavender of some sorts, helping with curly hair and volume. Well that explains why his hair looks so lovely, Y/N thinks as she opens a bottle of shampoo and squeezes it till a good amount falls into her other hand. As she hums ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’ she lathers up her hair and massages her scalp. Rinsing it out after and then doing the same with the conditioner. While she lets the conditioner sit in her hair she scans the few other bottles on the shelves for a body wash. She didn’t want to come out of the shower smelling like a pre-teen boy, but she also did not want to smell like sweat. Goats milk and lavender infused, Y/N reads the label of what looks to do a locally owned product. She can’t help but smile as she reaches for it and pours some into her hands before rubbing it over her skin. There’s something so sweet knowing that Harry supports local businesses. He really doesn’t seem like the guys that Y/N is used to.

Three sharp knocks on the door startle Y/N, bringing her out of her day dreams. She quickly brings her arms up to her chest, trying to save herself some modesty if Harry did walk in. Because of course she didn’t think to lock the door. God, what if Harry is a murderer? Y/N thinks. She doesn’t know him, he could very well walk in here with a large kitchen knife and stab her multiple times in the chest while the water begins to run red and she dies right here all because she thought his dimpled smile and green eyes were enduring. Didn’t she learn anything from the whole Ted Bundy thing? Hello, hot guy doesn’t immediately mean nice!

“Y/N?” Harry calls out from the other side of the door, raising his voice just slightly so she could hear it over the running water. She shakes her head from her ridiculous thought - no more Criminal Minds at night for her, she takes the quick mental note.

“Yes?” She responds.

“I just realized I didn’t give you a towel,” he says, his voice sounding strained as he closes his eyes and tries to not imagine his neighbour naked in his shower. Harry’s fist tightens around the towel as his mind ignores him and thinks of how the water is dripping down her skin.

“Oh, yeah,” she breathes out. Looking around the bathroom beyond the foggy glass. There weren't any towels that she could see. Maybe they were under the sink.

“So I uh, I grabbed one for you. I can just open the door really fast and drop it in, I wouldn’t look in I swear, I’d face the hallway and just reach through,” he clarifies, “wait, you locked the door didn’t you?”

“Actually, I didn’t,” Y/N says, “so yeah just drop it in, please and thank you,”

Harry nods, regardless of the fact Y/N can’t see him. He takes a deep breath before turning the doorknob and opening the door just a crack. The towel doesn’t quite fit through, so he opens it a bit more. His eyes are on the towel as he makes sure it gets into the bathroom. He notices the steam pillowing in the small space and just before he looks the other way, he sees Y/N’s purple bathrobe on the floor. Only her purple bathrobe. Harry swallows and drops the towel to the floor and quickly shuts the door again. Y/N jumps at the sudden slam of the door, her heart having been beating out of her chest as she stood under the warm stream of water and listened to Harry deliver the towel.

He spins around and walks away from the bathroom in a brisk walk, making it to his kitchen in record time. He takes a few breaths and blinks at the view from his kitchen window above the sink. It’s beginning to snow. Something tells him this will excite Y/N - just a feeling he has. He hardly knows the girl and he’s been conjuring up versions of her in his head these past seven days. He’d heard her play music through the walls Tuesday night, he recognized the artist after a few moments. Van Morrison, one of his favourites. What were the odds? He had thought. But then he quickly shut that thought down because many people liked Van Morrison, and just because his very cute neighbour liked the same music he did, that didn’t mean she was meant for him.

Then on Thursday in the middle of the day he had seen her running across the street from his apartment. One thing he loved about his apartment facing the front of the building is how he got to see people coming and going. That day it looked as though she was carrying a take out bag from his favourite restaurant. Again, what were the odds that she liked the same place? But again, he had another hard conversation with himself saying that it was a rather popular place in this area and lots of people liked to go there. Y/N was still a stranger to him. A naked and attractive stranger who was in his bathroom right now.

Harry breathes in deeply and leans both hands at either side of his sink as he watches the large snowflakes fall over New York City. He still couldn’t believe he lived here sometimes. Having grown up in a rather small town in Northern England, where the most exciting thing was the bakery he used to work in as a young teen or maybe the fun graffiti on some of the walls downtown, living in NYC always seemed a bit unrealistic to think of. But this was always a dream of his. To be in one of the biggest cities in the United States and doing what he loved the most.

“It’s snowing?” Y/N’s voice full of irritation catches Harry off guard. He turns around to see her standing in the threshold between his kitchen and living room. That purple robe, which would be making an appearance in his dreams he’s sure of, is back on her now clean body while the towel he had given her is wrapped around her hair atop of her head.

“You don’t like the snow?” Harry questions, both of his brows raised high at how off he was about his instinct of her loving the snow.

“No, I mean, yes I do,” she shakes her head slightly, “I just don't like driving it in. New York drivers already freaking suck and the moment snow starts falling it’s like they forget how to drive altogether.” Y/N explains, crossing her arms at her chest.

“It’s the same in London, nearly got into a few accidents in my early years of driving thanks to it,” Harry reveals. Y/N smiles at the knowledge about himself he had let slip, regardless of how irrelevant it is.

“Anyways,” she sighs, “thank you for letting me barge in here and use your shower.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Harry assures her.

“No seriously, you saved me a lot of trouble.”

Harry’s chest swells at her words, mirroring her smile as he stuffs his hands into the front pocket of his trousers and leans back against the edge of the counter. Y/N takes this time to look over Harry’s outfit. He’s got on a cream collared ribbed t-shirt, a beaded necklace adorning his neck, a pair of brown pants that flare out and nearly hid his white sock covered feet. He doesn't dress like the men Y/N sees day to day. It's different, kind of old school, but she likes it. Suits him, she thinks, despite the fact that she barely knows him.

“You’ve got to drive somewhere?” Harry questions, unsure if he’s prying.

“Yeah, JFK unfortunately,” she frowns.

“That’s going to be a nightmare,” Harry says.

“Thanks for the reminder, yeah,” Y/N teases him while fighting back the smile pulling at her mouth.

“Sorry, I just meant that it’s sort of a long drive and airport terminals are a pain, that's all.”

“I’m just bugging you. It most definitely is going to be a nightmare,” Y/N agrees with a chuckle, “and I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry.” She adds while jabbing a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of her own apartment. Harry nods and notices how her robe’s a bit looser than before as she drops her arms and it falls a few inches down her shoulder - exposing more of her soft looking skin. Harry has to look away and walk towards his front door with Y/N before his imagination gets the best of him.

Harry unlocks the door and holds it open for Y/N to walk out of his home. He liked having her in his space. Harry internally curses himself for yet another intimate thought about his neighbour fogs up his mind. Just as she steps over the threshold of his apartment, Y/N spins on her heels quickly and reaches up with both hands to grab the twisted up towel around her hair. Harry nearly comes undone right then and there. The sight of her wet hair falling down effortlessly around her freshly washed face causes Harry’s mouth to feel dry suddenly. But as she makes the move to reach up, pulling it off of her head, and then holding out the towel in front of her, all of this causes her robe to fall even more off of her shoulders. Now both of her shoulders were fully exposed for him to see. Which Y/N notices right away and blushes, rushing to try and readjust herself, then only holding the towel with one hand while she bares her other arm over her chest to keep the robe from falling open completely.

“Nearly stole your towel,” Y/N breathes out.

She’s distracted by how her robe is slipping apart and how Harry’s eyes are falling with it. Harry clears his throat and takes the towel from her, giving her a chance to fix her robe, and he leans against his door for support as his head spins from the scene he has played out in his head. Her robe falling apart, seeing the swell of her breasts, how her nipples must look. He imagines they’re hard from the chill in the hallway, pebbling into little buds. Then he’s imagining how he’d pull her back into his apartment, kissing and touching all over her skin till she’s left breathless and begging for more.

“Thanks,” Harry says and drops his arm to hold the towel down at his side.

“I owe you one,” Y/N states, “for letting me use the shower,” she adds. She’s not sure what else he would think she’s talking about, but she just felt the need to clarify. And she really needed to get back to her own apartment and finish getting ready. “See you around, Harry,” she says with a smile before walking away and hurrying into her home.

Harry thinks of how he should've wished her a safe flight, or even said goodbye. But instead he heard her door shut and followed suit by closing his own. Harry walks into his living room - discarding the towel on the back of his large arm chair, before moving his acoustic guitar from where it was laying on his couch and taking a seat. He then reaches for his cell phone that was left on the coffee table. Opening his contact, he finds the building's maintenance number and calls them.

“Hey Phil, how are you doing?... Good, I’m good yeah, uh, I’m just calling because the water in 602 isn’t working...Yeah Y/N, she actually had to leave in a bit of a rush, so I just wanted to make sure someone got in there as soon as possible to check it out,” Harry explains the situation to the building’s head maintenance man. “I’m not entirely sure when she’ll be back home, maybe you could give her a quick call and double check... Just being a friendly neighbour, Phil… Thanks Phil, have a good day and say hi to Georgia and the kids for me… Bye.”

Harry hangs up the phone and sets it back down onto the table, looking at the open notebook beside it. He hadn’t written anything all morning. Just had a few good cords stuck in his head. Harry picks up the guitar once more and plays the cords.

“Tangled wet hair, soft silk skin, looking so good it should be a sin,” Harry sings softly. It’s not his best and it’s not even that good, if he’s honest with himself. But it seems that Y/N sparked some inspiration inside of him. He grabs his pen, and starts scribbling down the words that now flow through his mind. Finishing with writing ‘Plush Purple Robe’ in capital letters before dropping the pen and going back to strumming the guitar.

He wrote nearly an entire song, thanks to how Y/N looked in that damn bathrobe standing in his apartment, and he just knew this would result in some teasing words from his friends when he brought it into their studio session next week.

Y/N was tired and her third Starbucks of the day wasn’t helping her out at all. She brings a hand up to cover yet another yawn that escapes her. Her eyes feel heavy, drooping as she blinks slowly a few times at her screen. She feels as though she might doze off if it wasn’t for the loud bang of the mail cart smacking against the elevator doors signalling it’s arrival for the day. It jolts her upright once again and she takes another big gulp of coffee, and sends a prayer up above, before she begins clicking away again at her laptop trying to finalize her schedule for the upcoming month of December.

Fittings, photoshoots, buyers meetings, and more fittings, there was rarely any free time in the first two weeks of the month. But thankfully her boss isn’t a complete Grinch and gave her minimal work during the last two weeks. Plus Y/N really did love her job. She lived for the magic world of fashion. The way her bustling office just meant that the designer’s creations were coming to life as A list celebrities and New York's elite fell in love with the pieces she’s gone through lengths to get for them.

She also loved Christmas just as much, if not more, as her job. Even thinking about everything she was looking forward to this holiday season made her feel all giddy inside now. Growing up in the city meant she knew the thrill of skating in Central Park and seeing the Rockefeller Christmas tree being lit up. Her smile was as bright as the lights. She loved going to the annual Christmas markets that were held; walking around with hot chocolate in her hands as she browsed the many homemade soaps and ornaments, and even clothing too. Y/N even enjoyed shopping at the Macy’s down the street and gasping at their holiday displays, and found herself buying a few too many decorations for her home while there. Over the past few days - with any free time she had off work - she had gone into full blown decorating mode in her apartment. It was like Santa’s village and it filled her with so much joy as she set everything into its rightful place in her new home, smiling from ear to ear at the twinkling lights and tinsel lining the perimeter of every room.

“Earth to Y/N,” her co-worker, Sammy, sings while leaning back in his desk chair to try and make eye contact with her.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, zoning back into reality and turning her own chair away from her desk that was up against the large floor to ceiling windows.

“Daydreaming about that hot new neighbour of yours?” Sammy teases her with a smug look on his face. Y/N rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest.

“No, I was not,” she says, “I’m regretting telling you about him already,” she adds. Sammy returns the eye roll.

“There’s no shame in having some eye candy as a neighbour you know,”

“Yeah there is when-“

“Y/N!” Her name suddenly being yelled across the room cuts her sentence off and makes Sammy and herself look over to where it came from. They both see their boss, Amanda, standing in the doorway of her office with both hands up in the air and a look of annoyance across her face. Y/N’s watch vibrates just on time to remind her of her meeting with Amanda. She’s always at least five minutes early; suppose daydreaming about the holidays - not her hot new neighbour - had put her behind schedule a bit.

“Better not keep her waiting,” Sammy says as he rolls his chair back over to his own desk while Y/N closes her laptop, taking it and a notebook with her quickly before slipping her feet back into her black heels. She always took them off when she sat at her desk to give her poor feet a break. As she broke into a speed walk across the office space, nearly avoiding the mail cart, she internally went over what today's meeting entailed.

“Sorry Amanda,” Y/N apologizes as she steps into the office, closing the glass door behind her quietly.

“It’s alright, you’re rarely even a few minutes behind that schedule of yours, so I was more surprised than anything,” Amanda states as she smooths her dress out and takes a seat at her desk. Y/N takes a seat in the chair across her desk, setting her laptop on her lap and then the notebook on top of it while she keeps her favourite pen in hand. It had a cheesy Christmas sweater snowflake pattern on it, which Y/N had bought a whole set for her and Sammy at Target last week.

“I wanted to quickly talk about your time with Miss Woods a couple days ago,” Amanda says, referring to one of the clients from North Carolina that had visited recently. “She said you showed her great hospitality and were a true New Yorker in her eyes, her words exactly.” Amanda gives Y/N a proud smile. “So, great job. She ended up purchasing those Gucci purses we had bought in hopes she’d like them even though she didn't ask for them. All thanks to you putting her in such a good mood, really.”

“Well she was a blast to be around, age really didn't slow her down,” Y/N and Amanda share a laugh. “She turned up my radio every time we got in my car, ordered doubles at dinner and brunch, and even talked about boy issues with me. It was a great time,” Y/N explains while adjusting herself in her seat and crossing a leg over the other casually.

“I think it’s your energy. Your love for this city can be infectious sometimes Y/N,” Amanda says. Y/N’s lips pull up into a smile at her words, they made her feel warm inside.

“Thank you,” she says softly with a nod.

“Now, onto what’s happening over this next week, let’s see how our schedules look,” Amanda starts as she opens her large planner than was always either on her desk or brought home in her large Louis Vuitton purse.

“I got an email from the lovely Mrs. Archibald this morning,” Y/N states. Amanda shakes her head as her face twists up at the mention of one of their bigger clients who happens to be married to the richest man in New York City. It’s just too bad she’s a real bitch sometimes because her attitude could make doing their job a bit harder at times. But Amanda and Y/N loved a challenge, and Mrs Archibald was just that. “She has a last minute dinner party tomorrow and she needs the newest item from Gucci that we can find immediately,” Y/N explains.

“Shit, our new stuff from Gucci doesn’t come in till next Monday,” Amanda curses, eyes roaming around her desk as if the answer to her problem would pop up somewhere.

“I know, which is why I went ahead and called Greg at the store on Fifth and Fiftieth, he said they just got a handful of exclusive holiday pieces early and would gladly have one of us pick a couple items up for Mrs Archibald,” Y/N says. Amanda’s sour look fades instantly and is replaced with a wide smile.

“What would I do without you, honestly!” Amanda exclaims. “Head over to Gucci after lunch today, and then we’ll get Mrs Archibald in first thing tomorrow.”

“Will do,” Y/N says while jotting down her after lunch plans onto a blank page in her notebook.

“How’s your influencer work going for you?” Amanda asks, her eyes on her planner in front of her instead.

“It’s been good, getting closer to five hundred thousand every day. I think the holidays will push me over the mark soon enough,” Y/N states.

“Great, make sure you’re getting close up shots of the dresses Greg shows you. Tease the people of what an exclusive holiday gown looks like,” Amanda suggests. Y/N smiles and jots down the note.

Having an audience was never the goal for Y/N. In fact, she thought of suspending her Instagram account all together once she got the promotion at work. She was worried that it would cause a conflict of interest, but Amanda and the rest of the team saw it as a plus. Having so many people follow Y/N’s life, being interested in what she’s interested in, wanting to get their hands on what she had, all lead to good publicity for the company. It even got them a few A list celebrities because of her account as they saw the company’s name in her bio, which led to contacting the company about setting some fittings up.

And with that set up, they settle into the rest of their itinerary for the week, making note of who needed to be involved with what, and who would be coming into their offices. Jennifer freaking Aniston was scheduled for a fitting this Friday and Y/N was praying she made it back from picking up an order of Louis Vuitton scarfs in time to see her in her custom grown that their team's seamstresses had been working tirelessly on with Prada’s team.

By the end of her and Amanda’s meeting, it was time for lunch. Sammy was waiting by her desk with his black Gucci backpack in hand that Y/N was sure held a Kardashian sized salad. Y/N was glad she meal-prepped teriyaki chicken and rice, so she didn’t have to eat yet another salad seeing as Sammy had gotten her into the over sized salad eating last month; she’s had enough of it.

“I’ve gotta head over to Gucci on Fifth Ave after,” Y/N states with a smile as her and Sammy walk into the conference room that they used for lunch sometimes, shielding themselves away from work a bit - even if the walls were glass and they could still see everyone working around them.

“Lucky bitch,” Sammy grumbles, “Greg always hooks you up with some free pieces when you go there, I swear.”

“Hey it’s only been a few items, nothing crazy,” Y/N defends herself before taking a bite of her lunch.

“Oh I’m sorry, two rings and a pair of tights are nothing crazy? Every other influencer would kill someone for those tights. Firstly, they’re so cute. And secondly, those rings cost my monthly rent.”

“I’m not complaining about any work perks. Maybe you could come with and get to know Greg a bit and get your own ring or two?”

Sammy chews his mouth full of salad, “no thanks, it’s so freaking cold out there. I’ll stay inside where it’s warm,” he says.

“Then don’t complain when I get another pair of tights and you don’t,” Y/N scowls playfully.

“I’d look so much better in those tights, you can’t even deny it,” Sammy says and pokes his fork at Y/N. She raises her hands up in surrender.

“Oh I wouldn’t dare to deny it, ever,” she smiles. They eat a few bites in silence. Y/N starts to feel a bit more energized by the protein she’s eating, thankfully. She now had a long journey to the Gucci store and back as well as a ton of emails to filter through too - which she’s sure will follow her home till the late hours of the night.

“What are you planning to wear for the Christmas office party?” Sammy chimes in, his eyes still on his phone.

“I don’t even know,” Y/N sighs and brings up her Pinterest app on her phone. “I found this outfit and am dying over it every day but I really should just find something in my closet and restyle it, I'm getting more broke by the day.”

“Blame your excessive christmas shopping habits,” Sammy deadpans while glancing at her phone screen.

“I’m aware of why I'm broke, thank you,” she deadpans back, narrowing her eyes at him. “Maybe Greg will have it in his heart to lend me a special piece for the party,” Y/N taunts Sammy with a smile on her face.

“Shut up,” he groans. Y/N laughs and is just about to shut her phone screen off when a phone call comes through from her apartment building maintenance.

“Hello?” She answers. “Hi Phil… Oh that’s awesome news thank you so much for getting it fixed so soon… Yes, I’m glad Harry called in about it right away too…” Y/N notices how her friend's eyebrows fly up at the mention of Harry’s name. “Lovely, thanks again Phil… Have a great day… Bye,” she hangs up the phone and sets it on the table in front of her.

“What did Harry do now?” Sammy questions without a second to spare. Y/N rolls her eyes, but can’t stop herself as she smiles.

“He called in about the water in my apartment like right after I made a mad dash out of his place to go pick up Mrs Woods in time. I hadn't even thought of calling about it and then I got a call on my way to the airport from the head maintenance guy saying Harry told him about it and asked for verbal permission to enter my apartment while I was out,” Y/N explains to him. She was still shocked by Harry’s kindness. Not only did he offer his shower to her, but he then got hers check out that same day. She probably wouldn't have called about it till the next day, if she was lucky to have any free time to stop by her house between entertaining Mrs Woods.

“What a neighbourly thing to do,” Sammy says smugly.

“Shut up, he’s just a nice guy.”

“Mhmm,” Sammy hums while stabbing his salad again for another bite.

The two of them continue to enjoy their lunch break and catch up on what’s been going on in the office. Their fellow associate Kate was trying to sleep with the mail cart boy. He seems freshly twenty one, if that. Just seven years younger than Kate, but she’s a well known cougar - it’s been a thing for, like, two years now. And Julianne was sick again, for the third time in two months. That was the extent of the office drama, sadly. Y/N packs up her bag with her left over lunch, notebook, and laptop before heading back to her desk with Sammy to get her coat and bundle up to brace the cold weather.

At least it wasn’t snowing.

The snow is coming down like a blizzard, making it hard for Harry to see in front of him. It was a colder day, his weather app had called for cloudy skies and a chance of some light flurries - but that all changed in a split second and had Harry racing home from the coffee shop a few blocks away. He’s just praying his notebook full of new song ideas, based off his people watching this afternoon that’s now in his tote bag, doesn't get wet in the short trip he has to walk. Just as he’s about to turn left down the last block till his building, he sees a young woman struggling to walk along the sidewalk in her heels just in front of him. She’s carrying a large beige garment bag, having it folded over her arm as she tries to maneuver around the busy sidewalk and everyone is rushing to get out of the storm. Harry’s just behind her now, that’s when he recognizes the jacket and scarf.

“Y/N?” Harry says, trying to not startle her. But of course, as Y/N turns around to look behind her at whoever had just called out her name on the busy streets of New York, she slips.

“Oh my god!” She squeals, trying to keep the garment bag up so it doesn’t damage the dresses inside, but that means she doesn’t have any hands to throw out to catch herself. Harry sees her begin to fall and reaches out without hesitation. “The bag,” she says, trying to get Harry’s attention to saving the garment bag rather than her. But of course he manages to wrap his arms under hers and hold her upright, standing straight to get her back on her feet once more.

“Shit, I’m sorry, shouldn’t have scared you like that,” Harry says.

Y/N squints at him through the thick snowflakes, he’s standing so close though that she doesn’t have troubles staring into his enchanting eyes. She smiles, adjusting the dresses and her bag before motioning to their apartment building only a couple blocks away. “Let’s get out of this snow storm,” she suggests.

“Right,” Harry agrees and lets her start the walk - that way he can stick close behind in case those death heels of hers cause her to slip again.

Y/N regrets her decision of wearing heels so much right now. She’s sure her cheeks are still red from embarrassment of nearly falling on her ass in front of so many people. Harry’s seen in her purple bathrobe, which is already embarrassing, but falling in heels in this snow storm would’ve only added to her list of making a fool of herself in front of him.

When she arrived at Gucci it was just cloudy, but then after nearly two hours inside the store - mostly chatting with Greg and his associates, she walked outside into the blizzard. Her office was too far of a walk, she knew getting a cab or an Uber during the storm would just be a nightmare and she didn’t want to wait around. There was no way she was going to risk taking the subway while carrying the garment bag that said Gucci right on it and have some lowlife steal thousands of dollars of designer clothes from her. So, she went with the most obvious option of getting these pieces out of the snow storm and headed to her apartment building that was only a few blocks away, thankfully.

“Thanks for saving me back there,” Y/N says with a sigh as Harry uses his key to let them into the building. They both brush the snow off themselves as they walk across the lobby and to the elevator. “I would've been dead if this fell into a puddle or something,” she states while lifting the garment bag.

“Does that say Gucci?” Harry asks, eyebrows raised as he looks at the label on the bag.

“Yeah, I just had to pick up a few things for work,” Y/N explains vaguely. Harry has followed Gucci on Instagram for years, he loves their pieces and finds what they make to be so wonderful. He wishes he had the money to spend on a shopping trip there and yet here is his neighbour - who he may or may not be crushing on - with a large garment bag with Gucci items inside. “I can’t even imagine what Mrs Archibald would've done if I messed these up, god she'd have a fit,” Y/N says with a chuckle, looking at the floors lighting up as the elevator moved.

“Your boss?” Harry questions.

“No, a client, super rich and super bitchy,” Y/N answers, emphasizing both times she says super to really get her point across. She moves the garment bag from one arm to the other, leaning back against the elevator wall.

“Client? What kind of work do you do?” Harry tries to ask casually, not trying to seem creepy or invading in any way.

Y/N smiles, “I’m a part of the, oh so lovely, fashion industry.”

“You don’t like it?” Harry questions, eyebrows furrowed together.

“No, I do,” she corrects him.

The elevator opens then, Harry motions for Y/N to exit first as he had before. She smiles and walks down the hall to her apartment. Just as she fishes her keys from her coat pocket she turns back and looks at Harry when he walks past her. “I owe you, again, for saving my ass, literally from falling,” she says. Harry stops walking and looks at her, she smiles and tilts her head to the side. “And for calling the maintenance guy for the issues with my water,” she adds. Seems Phil spilled the beans, Harry thinks.

“I um, I wasn’t sure how long your trip was, and I just thought it’d be the nice thing to do by making sure they could get it fixed as soon as they could,” Harry explains.

“I actually didn’t go on a trip, I just had to pick someone up from the airport. But regardless it was very nice to know you thought of it for me. So thank you, I owe you, Harry,” she says again, giving him yet another one of her dreamy smiles. Harry’s heart did a little pitter patter in his chest as he looked over her face, taking in how her wispy hairs were wet from the snow that had melted on her head and how her eyes seemed to sparkle under the dim lighting of the hallway. But her lips, he’s been imagining those lips for two days now. Along with that purple bathrobe being on his floor again - his bedroom instead of the bathroom though.

“How about dinner?” Harry blurts out. Y/N had turned back to her door, having it unlocked and open as he had fallen into one of his daydreams about her. She pauses mid step and looks back at where he had stood still, her eyebrows are furrowed together as she thinks he misheard him. Oh shit, abort! Abort! Backtrack and say nevermind before she flat out rejects you, Harry thinks while he waits for her response.

“I, uh, I,” Y/N stops her stuttering and closing her eyes for a moment. She lets out a sigh and opens her eyes again to meet his nervous stare. “I have to hang this up, and change these shoes first,” she says.

“Of course,” Harry nods.

Y/N ponders over it for a moment before coming to the realization that the weather outside was truly frightful and they shouldn’t go out anywhere. “Honestly we shouldn’t go back out there. What if I just ordered something in and you came over? You like pizza?”

“Love it,” Harry smiles. Y/N nods and opens her door further, stepping in to survey the state of her apartment. It’s not messy, thank God. She had time this morning to put away her clean laundry that had taken up her couch over the past few days. There’s a couple hoodies draped over the back of the couch though, a half full glass of water on the coffee table and her kitchen has a pile of dirty dishes beside the sink that she hadn’t gotten to putting in the dishwasher yet. She quickly bends down to put away the few pairs of shoes that were kicked off in whatever direction they went, and turns on the two light switches by the door to light up her living room and hallway.

“Well, come on in,” she says as she turns back to Harry. He smiles as she lets out a deep breath and opens her front door for him.

He should’ve guessed that it would look like Santa had thrown up in her apartment. It was traditional, which Harry loved opposed to the new all white or all gold themes some people went with, but there was a lot of it. A red and green checkered throw blanket over the back of her grey couch, a decent sized tree filled with lights and tinsel and ornaments that all matched, a family of snowmen in one corner of her living room, and many little vintage looking nicknacks along her tv stand, and few shelves around the space. Not to mention the priceless looking tiny christmas village that was set up on top of the desk by her front door, fake snow laid on top to really pull it all together. So much Christmas, and he was only looking in one room. He imagined this festive feeling went throughout her entire home.

“It kind of seems like a lot whenever someone new sees all of my Christmas crap,” Y/N says, breaking Harry’s stare away from her living room and back to her now. She had hung up the Gucci bag on the closet door to her left, and had slipped out of her shoes and was now undoing the buttons of her coat. Her eyes are on the decorations around them though, looking unsure as she takes it all in.

“It’s lovely, honestly, not crap at all,” Harry assures her. Y/N turns back to look at him and mirrors his smile.

“I just have a big soft spot for the holidays, I can’t help myself from buying four Christmas themed throw pillows if they make me feel all warm inside,” she explains, motioning to the couch that did in fact have four pillows on it.

“If it makes you happy, you don’t have to have any reason for buying ‘em.”

“I suppose so,” Y/N hums, finally taking off her coat and hanging it up.

Harry quickly takes his off too as she reaches for it, to hang it beside hers. He gives her a small thanks and then takes his shoes off, setting them beside hers . Y/N has walked into the threshold to the left that led to her kitchen. He notices the tinsel hanging from the beam and smiles before taking a quick peek into her kitchen. As he guessed, it’s all decked out in Christmas stuff too. Towels and nicknacks that seem to replace everyday things like salt and pepper shakers and her soap dispenser that was spaced like a snowman.

“I’ll order a pizza right away. Hopefully this weather won’t slow them down. Have you ever eaten at Sal’s down the street?” Y/N questions.

“Tons,” Harry says. He leans against the threshold to the kitchen and watches as Y/N sets her purse on her small kitchen table and fishes through it for her cell phone. She’s got this crease between her brows as she can’t seem to find it, but it instantly goes away and is replaced with a smile as the iPhone is in her hands.

“Do you like anything on your pizza?” She asks, eyes on her phone screen and she brings up the menu. She typically just gets a cheese, sometimes spices it up with a vegetarian pizza cause she likes the green peppers and red onions.

“I’m actually a vegetarian,” Harry states. “Well, I eat fish on occasion so I guess I’m a pescetarian.”

“Oh cool,” Y/N says, looking up to see Harry’s watching her from the space between her kitchen and living room. The way he’s leaning against the small space of wall, arms crossed at his chest and head tilted to the side - he looks good. He’s dressed in a pair of beige trousers, straight and baggy as his last ones were too, and has a white tank top tucked into the waistband while he layered with a fun patterned button up shirt. She can’t quite make out what is printed on the shirt, but the little squares seem to each have a picture in them.

“Where did you get that shirt?” Y/N can’t stop herself from asking, the fashion lover in her wanting to know.

Harry glances down at the short sleeved shirt on his body, then shrugs, “I think I thrifted it back home in England a few years back,” he says.

“I like it,” she says, then brings up one shoulder in a shrug to make it seem more casual. It’s not weird to compliment your neighbours clothing, Y/N thinks as she glances back down at her phone. “I’m going to order a cheese and they have a great vegetarian pizza too that I like,” she tells Harry while punching in her order on her delivery app.

“Yeah, I’ve had it before, it’s pretty great,” Harry agrees. Y/N can’t help as her body reacts to how low and slow Harry’s voice is. How she gets small chills throughout her body, as if threatening to pebble goosebumps along her arms, and how her mind feels foggy almost as she listens to him speak. She rolls her lips into her mouth and stuffs her phone into the pocket of her fitted black pants. He could tell her the most pointless story and she would let him, just to hear his voice and that accent that went with it. Moving to her fridge, she finds the bottle of red she had opened last night. It’s such a normal thing for her to have a glass or two after work that she doesn’t even think of her guest. He might not even like wine.

“Do you drink?” Y/N asks, looking over her shoulder to see Harry still in the same spot but his hands now in the front pocket of his trousers.

“What are we drinking?” He asks with a smile.

Y/N smiles back, as she always does, and reaches for the wine she had her eye on. “I opened this bottle of wine last night, it’s red. Would you be interested in a glass?” She asks, holding the bottle up for Harry to see.

“I’d love a glass, thanks.”

“Perfect,” Y/N nods and sets the bottle down on the counter beside her fridge. “You can get comfortable on the couch, I’ll bring our drinks in a moment.”

“Sounds good,” Harry nods. With one final glance up her body as she reaches high in her cupboard for two wine glasses for them, he shakes his head and turns around. He has to stop checking her out, he has no idea if she’s into him or not. She’s simply being a nice neighbour, and here he was, fancying her so much he’s checking her out like some horny teenager.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, walking around the back of the couch to take a seat on the corner furthest from where the Christmas tree lit up Y/N’s living room. He really did like all of her joy that she’s put into decorating her home. There’s no doubting her love for the holiday, not a single space feels like it was forgotten as she must have spent all day setting it up. He especially liked the framed photo on the side table to his right, where there was also a rather plain lamp and a Santa spaced coaster too. Inside the frame was a small child who he knew immediately was Y/N. There was no mistaking that smile of hers even at such a young age. She’s sitting on a man’s lap, a man dressed as Santa, but it’s truly the most realistic mall Santa he’s even seen. Harry thinks back to his home in that moment, imagining the many photos of him and his older sister with many variations of mall Santas that must be littering his mum’s house by now. Truthfully, many of them didn’t leave the shelves during the year.

“Here you go,” Y/N says as she holds out a wine glass nearly half full of red wine to Harry. He takes it from her, his fingers brushing hers for a moment and sending those childish tingles through his body.

“Thanks,” he nods and brings the glass to his lips to have a taste. If he wouldn’t be so infatuated by Y/N, he would have told her that he typically didn’t drink red wine. He typically doesn’t drink at all, except for the occasional night out with his mates. But he saw that look on her face that said ‘I need a glass or two’ and he couldn’t say no, knowing it’d make her feel awkward and end up not having a glass herself.

Y/N lets out a long sigh as she takes a seat on the other side of the couch, relaxing alongside Harry as if they aren’t complete strangers. He liked that she felt comfortable around him. She did in fact enter his apartment the other day in a bathrobe and use his shower after all. After she takes another long sip of wine, she sets it down on a matching Santa coaster that sits on the coffee table - Harry notices now that she had brought the bottle of wine with her too.

“Long day?” He questions. Y/N nods, tucking her legs under her as she gets comfortable on the couch beside him. She clears her throat softly before answering him.

“Uh, yeah, work’s just been a lot lately and I’m actually looking forward to some time off,” Y/N says, running a hand through her hair, and then leans her arm on the back of the couch. Harry watches her movements, bringing his glass of wine to his lips to have a small sip, which he notices she watches him do. He likes her eyes on his lips, he thinks before turning his body slightly and setting his wine on the side table. When he turns back and looks her way he notices the slightly tint of pink flushing over her cheeks. Harry fights the tug at his lips to smile at how she seemed to catch on that he caught her staring at his lips.

“That’s always the worst, feeling as if you’re counting down till the days off,” Harry exclaims.

“I typically don’t, to be honest. I love my job,” Y/N states. “It’s my career so I better,” she adds with a chuckle.

“So you’ve already found your career at such a young age then, that’s awesome. Have you always known you wanted to be involved in the fashion industry?” Harry asks, his eyebrows pulled together as he does find himself very curious of how she herself a career so young.

“First off, twenty four is really starting to not feel young anymore so let's not label me as a youngster or anything alright-“

“Um, twenty four is young but okay,” Harry cuts her off with a playful look on his face. Y/N rolls her eyes and chooses to ignore his teasing. He’s always hung out around people older than him and typically dated women older too. But Y/N doesn't seem young. From what he’s seen from her, she doesn’t fit the mold of any twenty four year olds he’s known before - most being rather rude and partying their youth away while it’s obvious that Y/N worked hard during those years. Y/N looks as though she's got the whole world figured out already, and he admires that a lot.

“And secondly, yeah, I guess I sort of did know, not at first, of course, but it was always an interest of mine,” Y/N states, bringing Harry back to their conversation.

“What did you want to be when you were a youngster then?” He questions, using her choice of words back at her which makes Y/N chuckle. She shakes her head and looks up at the ceiling for a moment as she falls back into memories of her childhood. She remembers being emotionally attached to a pair of plastic pink princess slippers and how she slept in her matching tiara for nearly a year before her mom put a stop to her fantasy.

“I wanted to be a princess-“

“Me too,” Harry says.

“Stop interrupting me,” Y/N laughs and reaches across the couch to smack his arm. Harry's head feels light, his cheeks hurt from grinning at Y/N so much. He hasn’t felt like this in quite a while. Being able to have a light conversion with a pretty girl. How she makes him smile and laugh so easily too, it’s a really nice feeling. “But you’d make a much prettier princess for sure-“

“Not at all,'' Harry disagrees, managing to cut her off yet again. She glares at him but can’t help the smile that's still on her face.

“Anyways, I wanted to be a princess and then I wanted to be one of Santa’s elves-”

Harry chuckles, “of course,” he says as he’s not so surprised to hear her say so - seeing as it looked like Santa’s village inside her apartment.

Y/N chooses to ignore his short interruption this time and continues on. “But then as I got older and got ahold of the internet, I wanted to be a model cause I thought it was the most glamorous thing, but I wasn't as beautiful or skinny as Candice Swanepoel so that was out of the question-“

“This is the last time I'll interrupt you I promise,” Harry says, Y/N presses her lips tight together and gives Harry another look as if to say yeah right. “But I cannot let you sit here and say you aren't pretty or skinny enough to be a model, Y/N, because you are one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen and your weight is nothing to ever question,” Harry pauses as he looks down at the sofa between them, realizing that he had said all that out loud. He was slightly embarrassed as he’s not sure how she’d take her neighbour saying all that to her.

My heart needs to calm down like now, Y/N thinks as she wets her lips and fidgets with her own hands as she watches Harry. “Y/N, don’t ever think less of yourself,” he adds in a gentle voice that sends chills down her spine.

Y/N doesn't respond right away, because honestly she's speechless. No one has ever said something so kind and so genuine to her. Sure, she’s gotten compliments from people, but the way Harry immediately stopped her from talking poorly of herself had made her stomach stir and her heart race. They had only just met, only had a few interactions - they were all good, great even - but Harry wasn’t like most people she’s met before and she’s beginning to realize that. She looks up to see Harry's watching her, his green eyes staring back at hers. Something switches in the air between them as Harry feels like he should lean in. Should he lean in? Would she want that? Does she want him?

“Thanks,” she smiles, bringing Harry back to their conversation. She clears her throat and sits up straight again, flipping her hair over her shoulders and snuggling into the couch some more. “If I ever feel down about myself again, I’ll be sure to knock on your door and demand you shower me in compliments,” Y/N teases.

“I’d be honoured to,” Harry says. There's another beat of silence, but it's not quiet inside his head. All he’s thinking about is how he should've made a move. She felt it too, right? Harry stops himself before he can go too far inside his head again while thinking about Y/N. “I won’t cut in again. Continue from the dreams of being a model - which you’d be a great model, by the way, don't count that one out just yet.”

Y/N smiles again, not even sure if she’s stopped smiling honestly. “Right, well, modeling led me into the world of fashion. Not that I hadn't known about Vogue or any of the high fashion houses since I did grow up in New York; fashion week had always been a highlight for me. But I actually started to look into the other sides of it. Designing wasn't an option, I just didn't feel original enough. So I did some personal assistant stuff during my high school years at fashion week, working behind the scenes at shows.”

Y/N pauses to lean forward and grabs her glass of wine again, needing liquid to coax her throat before she continued. Harry noticed that she was talking so passionately, probably not even realizing how much she was using her hands while speaking or how her eyes lit up at the world she painted for him. “And then I got a scholarship into FIT, the Fashion Institute of Technology. I was lucky enough to get an internship at my current workplace but quickly got offered a position on my graduation day, and now I'm one of our senior associates.”

“And what does your job really entitled to exactly?”

“We do a lot of things, but we’re really a personal shopper and stylist company. Working with many of New York's elite, even some of the east coast’s elite really, as well as celebrities too, which is always fun to see the dress you styled at the Met Gala or the Grammys. I just do a lot of running around, it feels like,” Y/N explains, “like how I had to rush to the Gucci store on Fifth Ave in order to get some pieces for Mrs. Achibald for tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds like a real tough job,” Harry taunts. Y/N returns his smug look and narrows her eyes at him playfully.

“Right, well what do you do then? You always seem to be home, I’m starting to think you don’t even have a job. Maybe you’ve just got a sugar daddy, hmm?” Y/N jokes. Harry lets out a loud laugh, throwing his head back. Y/N laughs with him before taking a sip of her wine that she had almost forgotten about.

“Definitely not a sugar baby, although that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, totally,” Y/N nods in agreement. They both chuckle again. Harry reaches for his wine to take a sip before answering her question for real this time. Blame the wine, he thinks, for any longing looks or laughing too much at her jokes just blame the red wine in his glass.

“I’m actually in the music industry, kind of,” Harry states.

“How are you kind of in the music industry?” Y/N questions curiously, her brows pulled together as she takes another sip of wine.

“I am a studio rat, as people in the industry would call it,” Harry says, Y/N’s face scrunches up at his words utterly confused at the term. “I pretty much live in music studios most of the year. Most of my time is taken up by writing. So I guess I’m a songwriter, but I also make demos for my songs with a few people I’ve grown close with in my studio, so I end up doing some instruments for artists' studio versions of songs. I do a bit of producing too, but I mostly leave that to my buddy, Tom.”

“Wow, that sounds like a really cool job. And here I was jabbering on about my job when you’re a songwriter? That’s so cool,” Y/N repeats, another sip of wine going down her throat as she stares at Harry. His cheeks are starting to turn red, eyes avoiding hers as he fidgets with his rings. “Have you written any songs I’d know?” She asks, trying to get more information out of him.

“Maybe,” Harry shrugs.

“You’re not going to tell me?” Y/N asks, brows pulled together.

“Nope,” Harry shakes his head.

“Shouldn’t you be proud of your work?”

“Of course I am,” Harry says, bringing a crooked finger up to his nose before rubbing it twice. “I just know that my music might not be everyone's favourite.”

Since the beginning of his freelance songwriting career, Harry's always been nervous to show people what he’s poured his heart and soul into, especially to people he’s friends with, or people he likes. What if they hated it? He couldn’t bear listening to the fake “it's great” with an even faker smile. Although he knows people do like his songs, those people were mainly artists that bought his songs and their fans, of course, along with his fellow colleagues. He just doesn't want Y/N to hate his work.

“Well, I'm sure it's brilliant,” Y/N says. “And maybe one day you’ll show me.” She adds with a smile, not wanting to force the subject, over the rim of her wine glass before taking another sip and finishing off the red liquid in one small gulp. She frowns at the empty glass and sets it down on the Santa coaster on the coffee table. “Do you write all the time then?” Y/N asks, bringing her gaze back to Harry’s.

“Pretty much, although I’m in the studio less in December due to it being so close to the holidays. I’ve actually got my last session with my mates just in a few days.”

“Counting down the days till you have some time off?” She asks, referring to what he had said earlier to her.

“Not particularly,” Harry says.

Y/N is about to ask why, but then her phone bings from her pocket. It’s then that she realizes she hadn’t thought of looking at her phone once since sitting down with Harry. She had been so engrossed with their conversation, and feeling a light buzz that she managed to forget about the pizza she ordered. The notification on her screen read that her pizza had arrived at the building, and the delivery person would be here any second. Then her phone starts ringing.

“Hello,” Y/N answers the phone in a sweet voice. Harry has to stop himself from staring, instead finding himself grabbing the red wine that he wasn’t too fond of, and has a few sips as he listens to Y/N talk to, what he assumes, is the pizza delivery. She buzzes them up with one tap on her phone before the call ends. “Our dinner is finally here,” she tells Harry, even though he had gathered as much, but he still smiles in response. She stands from the couch and adjusts her pants by pulling them up slightly. They fit her so bloody well, Harry thinks. “And we are both nearly done with a glass of wine each before we’ve even eaten,” Y/N chuckles as she walks past Harry and to the kitchen to her purse.

While Y/N pays for their food, Harry takes it upon himself to top off her glass of wine. He was content with his last few sips between bites. Y/N sets the two pizza boxes on the coffee table before rushing into the kitchen to grab two plates and some napkins for them. They work together in a comfortable silence to get things set up; both boxes open and Y/N settles back onto the couch before they dig into the large New York slices.

Y/N brings a piece straight from the box to her mouth, once she bites into the greasy food she moans around her mouthful of cheesy pizza. Harry is just about to take his first bite as well but stops just short at the sounds that come from Y/N. He dares to glance her way, throat bobbing as he takes her in. Both eyes closed, her head hanging back and lips turned up into a smile as she chews her food. He watches her swallow, utterly mesmerized by her soft skin moving just slightly. Dear god, Styles, get it together, he thinks as he imagines her swallowing something else.

Y/N opens her eyes at the sound of Harry clearing his throat, turning her gaze to him and seeing him lift his piece of pizza to her in a ‘cheers’ manner. “Thanks again for the meal,” Harry says. There his voice does it again, sounding all low and throaty as it makes chills go down her spine.

“No problem,” Y/N nods. She tries to focus back on eating her food, willing the thoughts in her head to go away. But she can’t stop them from entering her dreams later that night after Harry and her had said their goodbye - Harry noticed her yawn a few times and began to clean up their plates and empty wine glasses while he continued to tell Y/N about his time in school before he was writing songs full time on his way to the kitchen. Y/N watched him from her spot on the couch, smiling at how he didn’t think twice on cleaning up after them. She was pretty sure that’s how her dream started too, but then it led to Harry’s voice whispering in her ear, asking if she’s been naughty or nice this year while they laid in bed. Y/N blames the large glass of wine. One hundred percent she blames the wine.

There wasn’t a more perfect day in the year, Y/N was sure of it, as she sat on a bench in Central Park. It was t-minus three weeks before Christmas Day and she had just gotten off work. The sun was slowly setting in the horizon as she stared at the sparkling snow that covered the ground and trees around her.

“Y/N?”

She turns her gaze away from the skating rink in the distance to see who had called out her name. A smile tugs at her lips as she sees Harry a few feet away. He’s dressed in a long dark coat that reaches to his knees, one which was exposed from a rip in his loose fitting jeans. With his outfit he wore a pair of chelsea boots upon his feet that trudged through the snow. Y/N noticed that he was bundled up with a grey scarf around his neck and a matching beanie upon his head too. She liked how his hair flipped up at the ends, sticking out of the beanie.

It has been almost a week since their pizza night together, and thankfully, those wine induced dreams had stopped after that one night, which to be fair were rather innocent compared to some other dreams she had thanks to too much tequila - regardless, it’s making it much less awkward to face him now.

“Hey,” she greets him as she meets his eyes once more. Harry stops by the bench, motioning at the open space to her left.

“Mind if I sit with you?” He asks. Y/N shakes her head and moves to her right just a bit to make more room for him. “Was going for a stroll, thought I was imagining you sitting here by yourself to be honest.” Harry states.

“New York City can seem rather small some days,” Y/N says with a smile.

“Some days, yeah,” Harry nods. “What brings you out to this lonesome bench in Central Park?” Harry asks, looking out at the scenery before them.

“This,” Y/N answers with a hand out to the park.

“It's rather pretty.”

“Very, and calming. And after my day at the office today, I desperately needed to just sit here by myself and disconnect from the world for a moment.”

“Oh,'' Harry says, bringing Y/N’s gaze away from the couple holding hands across the pond and to him instead. “I'm- I'm sorry if I barged in. I just thought it’d be weird if I didn’t say hi.”

“Oh no, it’s totally okay,” Y/N assures him. “I’ve been out here for a good while now.” As if her body realizes at the same time, she shivers beside Harry.

“Did you want to head home?”

“Not particularly,” Y/N hums. Her eyes falling back to the sights before her. The sky is becoming a soft hue of pinks and oranges before their eyes. It warms her heart despite her entire body is cold.

“How about a cup of hot cocoa?” Harry suggests as he sees the cart serving hot drinks just to their right. An older couple and, what seems to be, their grandchildren are being served steaming cups and candy canes too. That seems like something Y/N would like, Harry thinks as he stands from the bench. He's about to offer his hand but thinks twice about it, sticking both his hands into his coat pockets before he can make a fool of himself. “My treat,” Harry adds with a smile.

“I would love that,” Y/N beams while standing from the bench and falling into step with him.

Harry orders for the two of them as they step up to the small cart. Y/N discreetly takes out her phone and opens her Instagram app, swiping to the right to open her camera before she’s bombarded with notifications. She holds down on her screen to begin filming her pointed Versace boots that she had been gifted from work this winter; they had become a staple as the weather grew colder and the snow kept coming down since they had the thickest heel of all the shoes in her closet. Holding the phone up, she catches half of Harry’s body as she films the hot chocolate cart. His back is to the camera, his large coat and beanie covering any angle she did get of him so she’s not afraid to post the story after adding a quick filter to it and typing ‘pro tip: always get a hot chocolate when you’re feeling chilly in central park’ tagging her location as well before hitting post to her story and feeding her nearly five hundred thousand followers with some content for the first time all day.

“Thank you,” Y/N says softly as Harry hands her a to-go cup without a lid since there’s an abundance of whipped cream on top. Her smile turns into a grin as he also reveals he bought her a candy cane. She gasps and is quick to unwrap it and stick it into her mouth.

“Woah, you’re like a toddler itching for a sugar rush, huh?” Harry teases as they begin walking along the path and away from the cart.

“Candy canes are my weakness,” Y/N states as she pushes it to the left side of her mouth in order to talk more clearly.

“Good to know,” Harry smiles over the rim of his cup before opening his mouth and licking off some of the whipped cream. Y/N has to look away as she’s brought back to her dream.

Shaking her head slightly, she brings her phone back up to her face and it unlocks for her. Since it’s still open on the Instagram camera, she holds out her heaping cup of whipped cream and attempts to take a picture as they walk. The first two turn out blurry, then she stops walking, in hopes it’ll turn out nice before Harry can notice she stopped. Only it doesn’t of course, so she ends up furrowing her brows and sucks harder on the candy cane in her mouth before trying three more times to take the perfect snap.

Suddenly, Harry’s hand is in her shot, a blur over her whipped cream. She gasps and looks up to see his forefinger in his mouth, obviously licking off the bit of whipped cream he managed to steal. She’s surprised he did it, and she can tell he is a bit too, but then she huffs out a short chuckle while her mouth is still agape, which makes Harry grin. He doesn’t think twice as he reaches out to swipes his finger over the sweet cream again.

“Stop stealing my whipped cream!” Y/N glares at Harry as he licks his finger clean once more.

“It’s gonna melt anyways, you're taking so bloody long to drink any of it.”

“I'm busy enjoying my candy cane, jeez,” Y/N rolls her eyes and takes the candy out of her mouth, having forgotten about the picture, her phone screen turns blank. Harry shrugs and reaches forward again to steal more. Y/N is faster this time, and moves her cup away from him while bringing her candy cane up and pointing towards him. “Do it again and I'll stab you,” She warns. Harry throws his free hand up in surrender, but both of his cheeks have those deep dimples showing. I’m beginning to really like those dimples, Y/N thinks.

“You get rather hostile over your holiday treats, hm?” Harry questions, raising a brow before slowly retreating his hand to hold his own hot chocolate with his other. He brings the cup to his mouth with both hands and takes a sip.

“Yes, in fact, I do,” Y/N mutters, looking down at her own cup and notices that the whipped cream is nearly gone now. Suppose Harry was right, she missed her chance to enjoy the extra sweetness.

She takes a few sips as they continue to walk together through Central Park. The sky is beautiful as the sunset is in its full glory with dreamy pinks and purples littering the skies. Y/N debates taking a photo but decides against it as she slips her phone into her pocket. Just as she’s about to return the candy cane back to her mouth, she glances over at Harry and notices just as he brings down his own hot chocolate from his mouth that he’s made a bit of a mess.

She chuckles before saying, “you’ve got a little,” Y/N points to her upper lip, “uh, a whipped cream moustache.” She giggles as Harry pokes the tip of his tongue out and swipes it over his top lip. Y/N chuckles some more and offers him her napkin.

“Thanks,” Harry says before wiping it across his mouth, looking back to her to ask, “did I get it all?”

Y/N finds herself staring at Harry for a few moments longer than it would take to give a simple answer if his face was clean or not. She’s never felt so comfortable around someone before, not even her childhood friends or Sammy honestly. There’s this ease around Harry the few times they’ve been around one another, and it makes her heart swell up in her chest. She rolls her lips into her mouth and inhales deeply through her nose, breaking her gaze away from his face and to the ground. In order to not seem weird or awkward, she looks back up and finds his eyes on her while she nods her head.

“Yeah, you’re good,” she tells him. They start their walk through Central Park once more, heading towards home at a slow pace. Y/N has her candy cane back in her mouth, alternating between it and her hot chocolate before it got too cold. She could live off them both one hundred percent; two of the best things ever invented.

“So, tell me about your day,” Harry says, bringing Y/N out of her own thoughts and meeting his gaze again.

“It was a pretty good day, I guess,” she sighs, “we just have a lot of clients that like to do last minute shopping during the holidays and have some pretty crazy demands, but we want to deliver for them so we bend over backwards to do so.”

“I’m sure that can cause you to be rather exhausted then, yeah?”

“Very,” Y/N nods, “but I’m sure your day was much more interesting than mine, so tell me what kind of songs you wrote today?” Y/N asks with a smile.

Harry chuckles and lets Y/N lead the way to their left on the path home, he wasn’t the most confident with getting around sometimes since he usually stuck to the few places in the city that he was familiar with. While he has learned that Y/N is a New York City Native, he trusts her way direction over his, that’s for sure. He thinks back on what he had done today, including a quick run on the treadmill in the gym in their building that ended sooner than he thought as he got a burst of lyrical inspiration out of nowhere.

“I was in my apartment for most of the morning and a bit of the afternoon, then got in a bit of a rut after writing a new song about love, of course. Then I decided I needed to get out of the house and hope for some inspiration from people watching, which I have done a lot since living here,” Harry explains. Y/N takes a big gulp of her nearly cold drink, leaning to her left to get to the garbage they are passing in order to throw out the empty cup. Harry takes the chance to throw his empty cup out too.

“Do you always write about love?” Y/N asks, not thinking twice if it may be a bit too personal of a question. Harry is taken back at first by how that’s all she got from what he had said, but he only clears his throat and shoves his hands into his pockets now that they are free.

“Mostly, yeah,” he nods, “most relatable thing in life, I suppose.”

“Sometimes, I guess it can be,” Y/N agrees and goes back to sucking on her candy cane. She wonders how many times he’s been in love? How many times has she really been in love? Y/N sighs internally and focuses on her steps, avoiding a puddle by having to step closer to Harry. She sniffles from the cold at the same time and is hit with Harry’s scent - lavender, as it always seems to be how he smells. She still thinks it’s lovely.

The two of them make more casual conversation on their fifteen minute walk home through the busy streets. Harry tells her about an elderly couple he had seen just before seeing her, maybe in their 80s, and looking more in love than he’s ever seen before. He wrote a few things about how they looked before going on his way. Y/N tells him about how her grandparents used to go on walks through the park when she was younger, which then brings them into the topic of grandparents in general. Harry tells her about how his grandpa refuses to retire and how his grandma ends up bugging his mom because of how lonely she is. Y/N is smiling the whole time, loving how he must feel comfortable around her too as he’s able to talk about his family like this. Y/N also yawns many times in their short walk. She’s tempted to invite Harry into her apartment for some wine and pizza again but decides against it and simply gives him a smile and soft goodbye at her door, deciding to get into her night routine earlier than normal due to how she can’t stop yawning.

After hanging up her coat, double checking her door was locked, and slipping out of her boots, Y/N pulled her phone out of her pocket to check out what text she missed while on her walk home. She liked how she wanted to feel so present around Harry, having no want to look at her phone but instead being more interested in his little stories about his grandparents. Her face ID unlocks as she looks at the screen. It’s still on the photo she last tried to take for her Instagram. Harry’s hand was a bit of a blur as he stole her whipped cream off the top of her hot chocolate. There was no way to not know it was Harry’s hand, though, his rings being so unique and noticeable in the photo as well - her favourite being his initials wrapped around his fingers in gold. Some would think it’s maybe a bit narcissistic, but Y/N thought it looked good and really there’s no harm in being a narcissist sometimes right?

Y/N saves the photo but doesn’t post it, deciding to simply keep it for herself instead of letting her many followers see into a small yet sweet moment between her and her newest friend. She could call him that right? They were friends? Y/N did hope that Harry thought of her as a new friend too because she was enjoying this time with him a lot, maybe even a little too much.

It had been another day spent at the cafe down the street for Harry. Marking only one last day off till his final studio time this year, he was itching to get to work in a couple days and see his mates too. Over the almost two weeks, he’s written more than he had expected himself to and he knew he could thank a certain new neighbour, or I guess, a new friend, Harry thinks to himself as he turns towards his apartment building. There was no denying the feeling he got around Y/N. He wanted to become more than friends, eventually, no rush of course - but he couldn’t ignore the feeling he got around her; the butterflies and heart racing nearly every moment together. And he couldn’t forget the constant smiling, which he was doing right now just thinking about her.

Harry walks up to the main doors of his apartment building and notices a man beside the main doors. Harry furrows his brows at him. He didn’t look like some strange man trying to find warmth during the beginning of the evening here in the city that had fallen to freezing temperatures as the first week of December came to an end. In fact, he had a brand new iPhone in his hand and rather expensive looking clothes keeping him warm.

“Hey, did you need inside?” Harry asks the man standing by the intercom system. The man looks up at Harry, eyes narrowing at him. He seems Harry’s age, maybe even a few years older judging by the lines around his eyes. He’s got dark eyebrows which makes Harry think he must have dark hair under the beanie he wore under the hood of his thick winter coat. Harry waits for an answer, staring back into the stranger’s brown eyes.

“Yeah, girlfriends not answering and I know she’s inside,” his voice is low and gruff, he then lifts a Starbucks hot cup up - Harry recognizes the holiday pattern anywhere now since Y/N seems to always have one on her even in quick passing in or out of the building. “Even got me to pick her up this stupid drink on my way too, her fault if it’s cold now I guess.”

“Guess so,” Harry mumbles, kind of put off by the man’s attitude. He decides to give him the benefit of the doubt and holds the door open for it. The man walks in without so much of a thank you. You’re welcome, Harry sarcastically thinks to himself.

They walk together to the elevator in an awkward silence. Once the doors open Harry steps up to the buttons and hits the sixth one, not bothering to ask the man what floor he needs as he steps away. The stranger gives the lit up button a brief look before he’s staring down at his phone. As the elevator moves Harry’s mind wanders off to how he’d assert himself into Y/N’s evening today. Maybe he could make her dinner, then ask if she’d like to walk over to Central Park after because he knows how much she enjoys it there, and when they decide to take a break from walking and find a bench he’d finally get the nerve to make a move - maybe reach for her hand during the walk even. One thing was for sure, he liked Y/N and he needed to buck up and do something about it.

He’s still deep in thought about Y/N when the elevator doors open. The man he let into the building steps out first without even glance at Harry. Typical New Yorker, he thinks. Harry finds himself looking at where Y/N’s apartment door is over the man's shoulder as they walk down the hall, he’s debating just walking right up and asking her to hang out right away. But then the man stops in front of the door that reads 602 - Y/N’s door.

Y/N hears the knock on her front door and blinks rapidly at her laptop screen, unfocusing from her long email that she was to send to her boss, Amanda, within the hour with an update on how the first week of December had gone. She glances at the time and sees it’s nearly four in the afternoon. Took him long enough, she thinks while rolling her eyes and standing from the couch. Just as she’s a few steps away there’s another knock on the door. She sighs and unlocks it, quickly throwing the door open to reveal Mark standing on the other side.

“You are home,” he says, that attitude she knows so well is thick in his voice already. Y/N opens her mouth, about to sass him back, but then she notices a certain tall figure with a mess of brown hair walking behind Mark.

“Harry,” Y/N breathes out, hoping he didn’t even hear it honestly. But he slows his steps and gives her a tight lipped smile once facing her. It’s one she was not familiar with and makes her stomach feel as though it was full of rocks.

“Hey,” he says with a small three finger wave.

“You know this guy?” Mark, her boyfriend, questions. Bringing her eyes from Harry’s green ones and to his brown ones instead. “He was nice enough to let me into this place since you were too busy,” he states.

Y/N tucks her lips into her mouth and looks away from Mark and back to Harry. She knows he’s questioning everything by the look in his eyes. She tried. Well, maybe not hard enough, but she wanted to tell him about Mark, even just casually and quickly. Y/N didn’t intend to give Harry any sort of mixed signals during their times together, she really was just being polite and ended up enjoying being around him so much that she thought there was no harm in making a new friend. But she’d be an idiot to try and deny she felt something more than friendship with Harry.

“Yeah, uh,” she clears her throat and waves a hand between the two young men, “Mark, this is Harry my uh, my neighbour. Harry this is Mark, my boyfriend.”

Well shit, that’s not ideal, Harry thinks as he looks into Y/N’s eyes and prays he heard her wrong. But he knows he didn’t. So, he just takes a deep breath and forces a smile to stay on his face while holding a hand out to Mark, even though it hurt him to be polite to the guy that was dating the girl he’s been crushing on for nearly two weeks now.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Harry says as Mark grasps his hand and shakes it lazily. Shit handshake, he thinks. “I would love to stay and chat but I’ve got some work to get to,” he says quickly after taking his hand out of Mark’s and backing away from the situation towards his own apartment.

Y/N opens her mouth, but the words don’t come out. She just watches as Harry turns on his heels and his posture hunches as he gets to his door and tries to unlock it quickly. Mark is suddenly pushing past Y/N, saying something but she’s too focused remembering the look on Harry’s face just moments ago. She steps back into her apartment and doesn’t look over to where Harry is shutting his own door before closing her own gently.

Really fucked this up didn’t you, Y/N? She thinks as she turns the lock on her door and listens to Mark complain about his day while flinging his belongings around her living room. What is she going to do? What is she going to say? If Harry ever talks to her again, that is. She sighs and closes her eyes before making her way towards where her boyfriend was lounging on her couch, giving him a small smile as he opened his arms for her to sit with him.

“I did miss you these past few weeks while I was away,” Mark says, planting a quick kiss to her hair as she leans into his body - praying he doesn’t question why her heart is beating so fast. She’s sure he wouldn’t enjoy knowing it’s because of her growing feelings for her new neighbour, and seeing the realization in Harry’s face at the fact she wasn’t single kind of hurt to see.

“Missed you too,” she mumbles, lying. Y/N hadn’t thought about her boyfriend all that much these past, almost, three weeks that he was away for a business trip.

“Do much without me?” Mark asks.

Y/N shakes her head, “no, not much at all,” her soft voice replies while she begins to zone out on the wall that was between her and Harry’s apartments, noticing how it made her feel more separated from him now more than ever.

>> part two <<

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until next week 😘

*like this post if you’d like to be added to the cstsyl taglist!*

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #boyfriend!harry #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles concept #harry styles prompt #1dff #cstsyl

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sapphicmsmarvel · 4 years ago

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Being a Slytherin and Dating Fred Weasley

masterlist

HP masterlist

-Fred,,,,,didn’t know how to deal with having feelings for a Slytherin

-my dude was so lost.

-it began when he was eleven, you were both first years.

-Around your fifth year, you and Ginny were talking about how a guy said you were too intimidating to be with. You jokingly looked at Fred and went, “could you fall for a woman like me?”

“I already have.” He said without missing a beat.

-You’re a Prefect. He adores you.

-He was shocked to find out you were a nerd. And, that you had to wear glasses or else you couldn’t see. When he found out you couldn’t see without help, he designed a pair of glasses to stay on your face on the quidditch field. He also charmed them to stay clean and adjust as your prescription changed.

-He began working on them your second year. They still weren’t perfected until your sixth year.

-He gave them to you as a one year anniversary gift, you cried.

-He panicked.

-He was worried he had insulted you, when he asked what was wrong you just went, “this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever given me.”

-His heart melted.

-He also won points with your family with the invention. Especially your dad.

-His nickname for you is “hissy.”

-The nickname has caused several questions which Fred and you just shrug off. It’s a secret as to how the name came to be.

-He has bi-wife energy.

-You were muggle born, you came from a non-slytherin family (the first member to be a Slytherin that your family tree knows of).

-They all knew it was your ambition that got you into your house. You also hated being a follower, you were a born leader. You also had a poisonous bite, your comments have been known to make others dislike you. You spoke your mind when someone was rude.

-Molly immediately accepted you in their family despite your house. As well as Arthur.

-You were protective over his siblings. After not having a good relationship with your own, you adopted his.

-Ginny loved having another girl around all the time, Hermione can’t stay all summer but you can.

-Ron liked seeing someone give Fred and George shit. Plus, whenever their pranks were too hard on Ron, you always said something.

-Percy doesn’t necessarily dislike you, he's just a priss. But only you and his family can call him a priss, if someone else does it that’s when you jump in. Percy knows that when it comes down to it, you’re a ride or die for their family, so he accepts you.

-George was the only one who wasn’t surprised when you and Fred announced you two were dating. He had been shipping you guys since day one.

-Bill and Charlie had known about you because of Molly. She wrote them letters about how Fred was clearly in love with a Slytherin girl named Y/N. They were wary, then when they saw how you treated Fred and the rest of their family, they liked you.

-Molly has a muggle camera, she enjoys taking random pictures of her family.

-She’s taken thousands of you and Fred. Her favorite is one that was taken after christmas. You and Fred were lying on the couch. His head was on your chest, your hand had stilled in his hair. You both were passed out.

-There’s also many of you two just laughing at each other. Eyes crinkled, mouths open in silent laughs.

-Speaking of laughs. He loves yours.

-It ranges from absolute cackling, silent shakes, wheezes, screaming laughing. He loves it.

-He makes it his mission to make you smile once a day.

-You have a familiar. She is tattooed on your body. When you were born, your family got her for you. She grew as you did.

-You had a snake, not a death eater snake or a snake like Nagini. A snake that protected your family. Her name was Mushu.

-Mushu could transform into a massive snake, one that could swallow the Dursleys if she wanted. On your skin, she was as tiny as a garden snake. She chose her size. She had black scales, but in the light they turned chrome.

-When you and Fred started dating, you were extremely worried as to how he would react to you having a snake on your body. You were so worried you couldn’t hide it from him.

-Fred was fascinated by Mushu, Mushu’s favorite place was to lay on your breasts, it was soft for her. She also loved your back because she could spread out. If you slept on your stomach, Mushu would go on your back. Fred would trace her scales at night.

-But when you told him about her, you were petrified.

-One night in your dormitory (your roommates were out and you use a charm to get Fred up there) he could see your leg shaking, you were having an anxiety attack about it. Which caused Mushu to get more restless.

He knows by now about your tells when having an anxiety attack, like dissociating.

He set a hand on your knee, “what’s wrong hissy?”

“I...I have a secret, Freddie.” You said, with tears in your eyes. “You don’t have to tell me, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He knew it wasn’t anything involving you cheating. He knew you well enough.

“No, I want to, I’m just really scared as to how you’re going to react. But before we move farther in this relationship, you need to know.”

“Okay. Whatever it is, it’s safe with me.”

“Okay, I have a...familiar on my body.”

“What?” He had only heard legends about such creatures.

You nodded, “she was given to me as a baby, my parents didn't know what the world held out there, because they knew...they knew you-know-who was around. So they contacted a well known witch with familiars, and they bought her for me. A familiar has to be bonded with an infant or else it won’t connect well. The two have to grow up with each other.”

You were gauging his reaction, he nodded for you to continue. You smiled, your hand absentmindedly going to your chest. “Her name is Mushu. I called her Moo as a toddler because I couldn’t pronounce her name. She’s a snake.”

“Okay.” He nodded.

“....Okay? You’re...okay with this?”

He shrugged, “it’s a part of your body, Y/N. I love it no matter what.”

You smiled, your shoulders relaxing, “you want to see her?”

“Absolutely.”

You looked down your sweatshirt, “Moo, you gotta move.” You said.

Mushu, the stubborn beast she is, did not.

You sighed and looked at him, “she won’t move.”

“Where is she?”

“In between my tits.”

His eyes widened, “you don’t have to show me.” His cheeks were bright red.

“I will if you’re okay with it.”

He nodded, “whatever you want to do.”

You smiled and gripped your hoodie. You pulled it from your head, trying not to blush as Fred was seeing a lot of you for the first time. You were wearing a bra, but still.

You didn’t know how Fred would react. He gazed at you, you could tell he was trying extremely hard to not look right at your boobs. Her body rested between your breasts. Her tail had curled around your stomach, her tail dipping beneath the band of your sweatpants. Her neck was around yours, her head coming down to rest on the swell of your breast.

He took one look at her and went, “she’s beautiful.”

You sighed, “I love you.”

“And I love you.” He said kissing you. He pulled away, “why were you scared?”

“Because, I’ve never shown her to any partner I’ve had. And I like you a lot more than I like those exes.” You smiled. “Not going to lie, I’m also not the biggest fan of my body, but she helps me with that. With owning it.”

“You’re absolutely exquisite. No matter your size or what beauties grace your body.” At that comment Mushu’s head shimmied. He smiled at her, “they make you who you are.”

“And that is?”

“The love of my life.”

#fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x you

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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 3 years ago

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Broken flowers.

The lovely @ben-c-group-therapy who asked for this:

<Hello, me again. I’d love to request some angst with a fluffy end. Miguel or Nick where reader is due to marry another man. The man and reader are at the alter and he just says he can’t marry her and leaves her there. He hadn’t given any clue he would do this. No cold feet. You stand shocked before leaving quickly. So Miguel or Nick was in the audience and they come to find you. Fluff. Comfort. Eventual sparks?? Idk. I can’t get the idea out of my head lol. Thanks so much!>

I decided to do Miguel for you this time. I really hope this is what you were looking for, I really enjoyed writing this. I love Miguel’s soft side when it comes out to play so I tapped into that and slight Sex and City movie vibes.

Warnings: Being left at the aisle angst with a fluffy happy ending. Very very light swearing.

WC: 2227

Enjoy x

You had never been this excited in your life as you were when your dad walked you down the aisle to Alex. You had both picked the Santo Padre country club for your wedding and reception. Everything looked better than what you had imagined it to be. Your eyes were set on Alex from the moment the doors opened stepping through them, but he didn’t look happy so you just put it down to him being nervous. As you got to the front seats you stopped waiting for your mum to stand up taking your other arm to walk you to the alter. Your eyes caught your best friends over your mum’s head, who was sitting next to her, a tear running down his cheek, Miguel mouthed “You look beautiful” and you gave him a wink back.

The ceremony had run smoothly up until the vows when the priest asked Alex to take your hands and to repeat after him, when you heard him mutter “I can’t”. You looked at the priest who was shocked at his reaction and you squeezed Alex’s arm with your free hand stepping a little closer,

“Babe it’s ok, you’re nervous”

“Y/N, I can’t. I’ am sorry. I can’t”

Your heart shattered when he pulled away from you and he walked out of the chapel leaving you standing there alone, your flowers dropped out of your hand landing on the floor breaking off the stems scattering around the bottom of your dress. No one knew what to do or what to say to you, but you heard the whispering that was getting louder and louder.

Tears welled in your eyes and you just ran. You felt Miguel grab your arm, but you pulled away from his grip and ran straight out the side door. You ran and ran till you got to the edge of the grounds to a man-made lake with a fountain in the middle, you dropped down under a tree in the grass and you sobbed till your whole body was shaking, letting out a loud scream.

Miguel had rage bolting through him at what had just happened to you. You guys had been best friends since high school. You had grown closer and closer over the years, being close with Emily when he got married and you had been there for him when he got divorced. You were one of the only people that never shied away from him, even when he took over the family business, knowing what he was, what he had become and what he did. Other than his mother, you were the most important woman in his life.

You were both brutally honest with each other telling each other everything, other than talking about the Galindo business dealings that you wanted to know nothing about and he knew what you thought about him taking over the business because he was so much better than a Cartel Boss, which weirdly made you closer. His family business never changed your friendship with him and you had inside joke’s when he went over the border and about his yellow rain coat that you had heard rumours about. If either of you were unbalanced or needed someone to tell you to get your shit together, you went to each other.

If you hadn’t felt the way you did about how Miguel delt with things, he would have had Alex in his church pew and would have been in his yellow rain coat making him pay for what he had done to you. Miguel got Marcus to take your parent’s home and stay with them in case they needed anything, Nestor got everyone out and on their way, Paco went to grab all your things from the hotel room you were meant to be staying in that night and then went to get your luggage from your apartment to take it all to his place and he sorted out the reception.

After he spoke to the manger coming to an agreement, he grabbed a chilled bottle of wine that was sitting on one of the tables and started to walk around the grounds looking for you. It wasn’t long before he saw you and his heart broke at you sitting there alone with your dress fanned around you and your shoulders slouched over.

You were looking out over the lake, the sun setting slowly and you tried to work everything out in your head. You didn’t know what happened or why Alex did what he did. As far as you knew everything was fine, he was excited to marry you and start a family. You had both decided that you would stay in your own apartment the week leading to the wedding and move the rest of your things over to his house once you were back from your four-week honeymoon, split between Cabo and Cancun. You had heard from him every night that week so, you were confused at what had happened not being able to put a finger on why.

You were pulled out of your chain of thought when you heard footsteps in the grass, but you didn’t turn around till you heard his voice and he sat down right next to you,

“Mi alma”

You looked over at him, a soft sweet smile on his face and he handed you the bottle of wine after opening it for you. You looked into his eyes for a moment, tears running out of yours and his filled with tears. Miguel put his hand on the back of your head pulling you towards him kissing your forehead. You both sat there, passing the wine bottle between each other watching the sun disappear, the warm wind hitting both of your skins,

“Didn’t see that coming” you muttered taking a sip from the bottle.

“He showed no sign he was going to call it off?”

“No. He told me last night he couldn’t wait to marry me. What a fucking joke” you took another sip of wine.

“Want the rain coat?” Miguel looked down at you with a grin. It was the first time since what happened that you had smiled and had a little giggle. You lent into him, Miguel’s arm going around you, rubbing his big warm hand up and down your arm and you rested your head on his shoulder “Today shouldn’t have happened Y/N, he’s an asshole. You deserve to be treated like a queen” he lent his head on top of yours and you sighed into him.

“I have to cancel the honeymoon and the flights. Can I use your phone?”

“No” Miguel sat up away from you and you frowned your brows at him “You’re going on that trip; you have been looking forward to it. I’ll change his ticket into my name. We’re going and we’ll have a great time”

“What would I do without you?” you lent over kissing his cheek “Can I have your jacket?”

“Of course”

Miguel shrugged it off handing it to you. You reached behind yourself tugging down the zipper of your dress. Miguel reached over pulling it down the rest of the way, his breathing hitching slightly when your dress fell open to your smooth skin. You pushed the top of your dress to your chest and took one arm out of the straps at a time. You put Miguel’s jacket on and you stood up, the dress fell off you pooling at your feet. You pulled his jacket around yourself and done up the buttons stepping out of the dress, his jacket on you like a short dress,

“You better get home and pack. Flights at 7 am” you smiled down at Miguel before you started to walk away.

“You’re going to leave your dress here? You loved that dress”

Miguel jumped up catching up to you, putting his arm around your neck,

“I don’t want the reminder Miguel, of what was meant to be. I’ am absolutely heart broken, but it’s done, we need to move on”

Eight weeks later

Miguel was surprised and proud at how well you handled the situation, he not handling his marriage break down anywhere near as coolly as you and when you found out the real reason why Alex did what he did, you went for run instead of breaking down. He never pushed you to talk about anything, he waited till you came to him to talk and he held you while you cried. Some night’s you walked into his room crying, he held you while you feel asleep, sleeping in his bed and other nights you were fine. He talked you into moving in with him so you weren’t by yourself and you had organised movers so that everything would be at Miguel’s when you got back.

It was the third week of the trip that you noticed a shift in Miguel and how he treated you, but you didn’t want to pay attention to it so you pushed it away trying not to think about it, but your feelings changed towards him as well. Since you had been back from the trip and getting on with life as best you could, it was getting to the point that you didn’t know if you should step over that line, if you said something and it was all in your head that would be years and years of trust and friendship broken, but you couldn’t live under the same roof with someone that you had feelings for, them not knowing.

When you had been getting messages from him during your day, you smiled at your screen and your tummy filled with butterflies. Miguel was excited to be coming home to you every day and his mind drifted to you most of his day, but the day he knew he had to say something was the day he came home and you were in the kitchen. He had seen you cook and bake too many times over the years to count and the apron you wore, he had bought it for you one Christmas.

When he walked in and the music hit his ear drums, he smiled to himself and walked around till you were in his eye sight. He saw the oven on, by the scent flowing through the house you were cooking your chicken pasta bake and you were leaning over a tray of cupcakes with a piping bag icing them. He smiled to himself and knew at that point he was falling in love with you. He watched on for a while, grinning at how natural it looked for you to be in his kitchen. You sensed that someone was watching you, looking up after you iced the last cupcake. You met Miguel’s eyes and you both grinned at each other, you both stood there starring till heat swept over you.

You reached behind yourself undoing the apron and sitting it on the counter. You started to walk towards him, Miguel matching your steps your eyes not leaving each other’s. You were just about to him when you stopped, he copying you and you were both breathing heavy,

“You feel it too” Miguel whispered, more a statement than a question.

“Yes. I have for a while”

“That night in Cabo?”

“Yeah”

You couldn’t take your eyes off each other, almost like a test to see who would crack first. It wasn’t long till you had your answer and it was both of you, it was like a magnet pulled you both together. Your arms went around his neck and his went down to wrap around just under your behind, lifting you up off the floor. Your lips met, meeting together like a puzzle, you felt like lightening had struck you and you knew he felt it too moaning into your mouth.

You both titled your heads and allowed the kiss to deepen. Miguel walked you both to the counter, sitting you on it not breaking the kiss. You spread your legs for him and he moved between them, your arms loosened around his neck and your hands went to his bearded cheeks. Your lungs started to burn and you broke the kiss, Miguel smiling up at you,

“We’ve been friends for a long time” your hands ran down from his cheeks and stopped on his chest “You know there is no going back now”

“I don’t want to go back anywhere. Y/N, you’re my best friend. You are the only one that knows me amor, takes me for me, holds me accountable for my actions and you keep me grounded. You are the only one that has ever loved me no matter what”

“As always, you always know what I’ am thinking and say first” you both laughed and you tapped his chest with your hands “I want this, so much. But can we take it slow? It’s a big step for us and it’s the first relationship we have both been in since-“

Miguel curled his pointer finger under your chin and tipped your head back, his other hand going to rest on top of your other one,

“As slow as you want, as fast as you want. We are still the same people, the same friends, we are just falling in love” Miguel peaked your lips.

“And it feels absolutely amazing.”

Tags: @beccabarba @alwaysachorusgirl @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @ben-c-group-therapy

#miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x you #miguel galindo and reader #mayans mc #mayans fanfic

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

Home for the Holidays | Robert Pronge (aka Mr. Freezy) x reader

summary: robert is tired of pretending to be normal, he’s tired of the shitty holiday known as christmas and he’s really fucking tired of watching his adorable, innocent next door neighbor without getting a real taste. luckily, he has a plan to solve all three of these things.

word count: a bit over 5k

warnings: smut (noncon, vaginal and anal), gunplay, bondage, stalking, kidnapping, slight-to-medium breeding kink, innocent!reader, lots of degradation, blood mention, pain kink, spitting, implied age gap (??? kinda), cringy and disturbing dirty talk, maaaaybe the darkest thing I’ve ever written… proceed with extreme caution

Robert hated the holidays. The fact that it was too cold to sell ice cream was a factor, sure, but he didn’t like anything else about them either— the cheesy music, the stupid advertisements on TV, the gaudy decorations everywhere… he wasn’t sure if there was anything he liked about this time of year. Getting gifts would be nice if he actually had any friends or family to do that with. Giving gifts sounded like too much fucking work anyway. He was sick and tired of this stupid holiday and the way it started sooner every year, too.

This year, when he heard Jingle Bell Rock on the radio for the first time of the season, something snapped. He wasn’t going to just sit idly by and let the holidays come and go. He wasn’t going to avoid and half-tolerate all the dreaded ‘cheer’ and ‘spirit’ like he had for the past few years. No no, this year was going to be different.

This year, he was going to get a Christmas present for himself: you.

He’d been watching you for a long time, since the day you moved in next door. It wasn’t often that a young woman lived alone around here, and for good reason. Still, you had this air of blissful ignorance about you— you never caught him spying on you, for one, and when he was spying you were always off in your own little world, listening to your records, daydreaming about god-knows-what. He wished he could know, because he figured it was something innocent and wholesome.

You weren’t all innocent and wholesome, though. He’d seen you doing the things you did when you were totally alone (or at least, you thought you were), late at night, cuddled up under the covers…

He wanted to see more, though. He wanted to see everything. And he was tired of waiting.

He was on his porch when you came home, and he waved; you waved back, your hands obscured by big fuzzy mittens. Damn did he miss the summers, when you would wear tank tops and short shorts and wash your car in the sunlight. Now you were all bundled up in coats and scarves, and even though you looked sort of adorable like this, he missed that perfect body he knew you were hiding under there.

You were bringing groceries in from the car, and he could see you had a few bags in the backseat. “That’s a lot to carry, lemme help you,” he offered as he jumped up from his seat and walked towards you.

“Oh, it’s fine, I’ve got it,” you dismissed, but you started to stumble and he had to catch you so you wouldn’t fall and drop your stuff. “Thanks,” you mumbled awkwardly as you caught your footing— you felt so good in his arms he could barely stand it.

“What is all this?” he asked as he glanced into the bags.

“Oh, uh, just Christmas stuff,” you explained. He furrowed his brow as he saw you had bought enough food to feed a whole family.

“Your folks comin’ into town or something?” he pressed, pulling one of the paper bags open to see inside. “Or are you hosting a party I didn’t get invited to?”

“Uh, neither,” you laughed, “my family doesn’t… no, they’re not coming. And there’s no party. I just love cooking Christmas food and I thought, why not? I mean, I’ll freeze whatever I can’t finish and have meals for the next month…”

“So you’re gonna make this whole ham just for yourself?” he clarified, admiring your ambition.

“Yep!” you grinned. “I know it’s stupid, but I just love Christmas and I don’t think I need to justify celebrating it to a grinch like you.”

“A grinch? Says who?”

“Freezy, you’re the only house on the block that hasn’t put up lights yet,” you smirked. “It’s sort of obvious you don’t like this time of year.”

“Are you kidding? I love Christmas! I’m just subtle about it, that’s all,” he decided sternly.

“Really? Are you going to see anyone for the holidays then?” you pressed.

“Uh, no, I’m sort of an… orphan, I guess you could say. No parents or siblings or anything like that.”

“No girlfriend?” you grinned, elbowing him playfully.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he laughed, “I just know a few women who would be really mad if they heard me say that.”

“You’re such a dog,” you rolled your eyes. “Will you help me carry these in or not?”

He sighed as he picked up two bags and carried them up to your porch, pushing the door open with his back to set them on your counters. He’d been inside your place a few times— mostly with you there, a few times when you weren’t— and he noticed how much you’d changed in the spirit of the season: an enormous, real pine covered in lights and ribbons; decorative ceramic figures all over the place including Santa, elves, reindeer, and even a nativity on the dining table; stockings on the mantle, god knows who those were even for.

You had literally decked your halls with boughs of holly.

“Damn, woman, you went all out!” he observed with wide eyes.

“Well, I thought it would be nice,” you smiled, although it was a somber smile, “you know, Christmas like it used to be…” you trailed off as your gaze became distant. You snapped back to reality with a little sigh, shaking it off and heading back to the car for another load of bags. He understood that emptiness he saw in your eyes, it was all he felt anymore. Maybe you could change that for him; maybe he could change that for you.

Aw, who was he kidding? He didn’t care about that. He just wanted to figure out what you were hiding underneath those puffy winter clothes. If the smell of your stolen panties was anything to go by, it was going to be worth the wait.

Christmas Eve was just as boring and cold as any other day, except that it was filled with a riveting anticipation. That was probably true for most people, but for Robert it was for something much more exciting than presents under the tree.

Nightfall came early, it being winter and all, so it was already pitch dark outside when it was just about time for him to go over for dinner. He considered smashing a window to get in, but then you might call the cops before he had time to explain, so he decided the easier method was just to knock on the front door. He didn’t really care who saw at this point— besides, who’d be staring out their window to spy on their neighbors the night before Christmas? Aside from Robert, that is.

“Oh!” you gasped when you answered the door. The dark red turtleneck looked even better on you up close, like you’d jumped right out of a Norman Rockwell postcard— or a festive pin-up. He didn’t wait for your approval before stepping in and shutting the door behind him, relishing the adorable look you wore as you stared up at him with the perfect mix of confusion and concern.

“I know you didn’t invite me,” he smirked, “but I figure two people alone on Christmas ought to be together, don’t you think?”

“Robert, I—”

He pulled his gun out from his belt, watching you freeze as he pointed it at you.

“I think you should start making dinner, sweetheart,” he instructed darkly. You nodded quickly, walking to the kitchen as he followed you closely. “What are you making?”

“H-ham,” you stuttered nervously as you turned on the stove before slipping on a cute little apron with white lace around the edges. “With green bean casserole, and some gingerbread for dessert.”

“Sounds delicious,” he grinned, taking a seat at the bar and keeping his gun pointed towards you.

Your hands were shaking as you tried to chop the ingredients, and he tutted a little in sympathy. “Don’t be scared, honey, ‘m not gonna hurt ya. It’s gonna be a great Christmas— just like the way it used to be, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” you shivered, lip quivering, “I… I wish you just would’ve asked if you could have some dinner, Robert, I would’ve happily had you.”

“Oh, you’re gonna have me either way. Up to you if you wanna be happy about it.”

He laughed as he watched your eyes start to water, a meek little sniffle

“Aw, don’t cry, pretty baby,” he cooed, “it’ll make me wanna skip right to the good stuff. But, let’s just have dinner first.”

You stayed quiet after that, cooking in silence as he unabashedly undressed you with his eyes. You looked like a perfect little housewife in that apron; he wanted to see you wearing just that, so he could bend you over the counter and—

Damn, he was already hard, just like that. You’d always had such an effect on him.

He went ahead and took a seat at the table once you were nearly done with the meal, leaning back to let you drape the fancy napkin over his lap (and smirking when you gasped a bit, obviously noticing the bulge in his jeans).

“I hope you like it,” you offered weakly as you set his plate in front of him.

“I’m sure you do,” he grinned, picking up his fork. “You won’t like what’s gonna happen if I don’t.”

You just stood beside him for a moment as he took the first bite, smiling weakly when he hummed in content at the taste. “Aren’t ya gonna eat?” he asked, looking you up and down.

“I’m not hungry,” you explained quickly.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, “it’s good. You’re quite the little chef, aren’t ya?”

“Um, I suppose…” you deflected awkwardly.

“Learn to take a compliment,” he hissed, “say ‘thank you.’”

“Thank you,” you replied dutifully.

“That’s better,” he announced firmly, shovelling the last bite of casserole into his mouth before working on the slices of ham. Your ability to follow instructions was a good sign for how tonight was going to go— apparently for all your naivete, you still had a self-preservation instinct. He couldn’t wait to exploit it.

He continued his meal in silence, delighting in the way your eyes watered and your lip quivered. “Alright, sweetie, dinner’s over,” he announced when he was finished. “Time for dessert.”

You shivered slightly as he stood up and approached you. “You want gingerbread?” you asked innocently. He frowned and shook his head, watching you start to cry again as he roughly grabbed your arm and pulled you closer.

“I had something even sweeter in mind,” he informed you with a low growl, taking a big whiff of your scent— that same shampoo smell he was used to by now, mixed in with the new perfume you’d gotten a few weeks ago along with the warm, spicy smells of Christmas. “Been waitin’ so long for this,” he groaned lowly as he leaned down to stare right into your fear-widened eyes.

“N-no, please,” you whimpered, weakly attempting to twist out of his grip, “you wouldn’t—”

“I would,” he disagreed as he turned his gun backwards, whipping you across the head with the handle. He caught you before you collapsed, and hoped you wouldn’t be hurting too much when you woke up. But he would deal with that then. Right now, he had a present to wrap.

There was a radiating ache in your skull. You felt that first as you groggily opened your eyes. The next thing you noticed was that you weren’t in your bed. Looking around, you couldn’t see well because the only light was from your Christmas tree, but you could see that you were naked and bound with ropes. Oddly enough, on top of the ropes was thick red ribbon, gathered in a big bow right at your chest.

What the fuck is going on? you were about to ask yourself, but then it all became clear.

The shadows shifted, and your neighbor emerged from them. You struggled against the ropes as you remembered everything, realizing what was happening. Of course you had always thought he was a bit creepy (who didn’t?) but you were nice to him and he was nice to you. How could you have known he was this disturbed?

“That’s my favorite part,” he purred as he stooped down to be eye-level with you. “The moment when they realize what’s going to happen. You were so peaceful just a moment ago, knocked out and without a care in the world, and now you’re fighting for your life.”

You whimpered into the gag as he smiled at you, running his hands over your skin.

“I mean, not fighting very well, but fighting.”

You tried to kick him as he stepped closer but the ropes made it impossible.

“I think it’s time to open my present, hm?” he grinned. You shook your head but he ignored you, slowly pushing your legs apart and growling a little when he saw your exposed pussy, ripe for the taking. “Look at that, you’re wet,” he laughed. You wrenched your eyes shut, refusing to believe this was happening. “Don’t be embarrassed, that happens a lot. Although I’ll admit, I don’t think any of them were ever this wet before…”

You jumped when his thumb started to rub your clit, the pressure much too intense and unexpected. He laughed at your struggle, and you could feel your walls throbbing in response to the stimulation.

“I know I didn’t need to do all this to get you in bed,” he continued his taunting rant. “I know you wanted me already— don’t think I didn’t notice you makin’ googly eyes at me like a dumb little schoolgirl. If I’d’ve asked you out, I could’ve had you under me after a few drinks… but it’s better this way. You probably would’ve made me wear a condom, would’ve made me be all gentle with ya, some wholesome missionary shit,” he laughed. “I don’t have time for that crap. It’s so much better with your body at my disposal, and you cryin’ those pretty tears.”

The shocks that shot up your spine from the way he was touching you made you feel like your body was betraying you. How could this actually feel good? How was it that the fear burning in your gut was actually adding to your pleasure and not nullifying it?

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he groaned as if he were reading your mind. “I know you love it, little girl, don’t act so innocent. I know you’re not the good girl everybody thinks you are. You’ve been naughty this year, haven’t you?”

Even though logic told you not to play into his twisted game, you felt compelled to shake your head ‘no.’

“Don’t lie,” he warned, “I’ve seen you. I’ve watched you play with this pretty pussy every fucking night.”

You couldn’t watch this any more, you couldn’t look at him while he did this to you. Forcing your eyes shut, you tried to find a place in your mind to run away to. Instead, he slapped you right on your clit and your eyes shot open as you whined.

“Keep looking,” he instructed. “I want you to see it. I want you to know that it’s me. I want you to see what I’m about to put in you.”

He stepped back and hastily discarded his shirt, making quick work of his boots and trousers, too. Then it was just his boxers, and you could see the outline of his erection already. You hoped it wasn’t as big as it looked, but then he grinned as he pulled the fabric down and yep, it was— you tried to squirm away, uselessly.

“Aw, don’t be scared, baby,” he pouted, “I know it’s big, but with how wet you are I bet it’ll fit like a glove. A really, really tight glove…”

He leaned down and pressed his lips right against your ear, rubbing his swollen head through your slick folds as you whined.

“Gloves can tear,” he chuckled. “Gloves can rip.”

Tears stained the ribbon of your gag as you tried to beg him not to, but it was too late— he was pushing forward and spearing you onto him.

“Fuck!” he groaned as he pushed all the way to the hilt, and your eyes rolled back as the stinging, burning pain shot up your spine. “So fuckin’ tight, fuck, can’t believe I waited this long to get my hands on you.”

He pulled the gag down, smiling at you tenderly when you coughed out a cry of pain. “Please,” you sobbed, “please stop…”

“No no, babygirl, I’m not gonna stop. I wanna fill this slutty little cunt with my come.”

Renewed sobs shook your chest as your nails dug into your own palms, each thrust somehow going even deeper than the last, somehow hurting even more.

“Want my come, pretty girl?” he pressed, refusing to let you ignore him. “Want me to shoot my load into this sweet pussy a’yours?”

“No,” you sobbed weakly, shaking your head, “no, no…” you trailed off, chanting it like a mantra as you felt like you might pass out.

“Aw, you’re not on the pill, are you?” he realized with a toothy grin. “Never saw any empty packs in your trash. Are you worried I’ll knock you up?”

“Please, please don’t,” you shivered. There was nothing quite as demeaning as having no recourse but to beg even when you knew it would do nothing. The only thing that came close was the knowledge that your orgasm wasn’t so far off— his cock was slamming right into your spot with every movement, his hips rubbing your swollen clit, and it was impossible to avoid the pleasure that was making your walls tighten around him.

“How could I not?” he countered. “Fuck, you feel so good, how could I not breed this dripping, desperate cunt, hm? There’s no way I’m pulling out now when you’re squeezin’ my dick so good like this.”

“Please,” you repeated, so quiet you couldn’t be sure he heard it at all. You could hardly breathe with his weight on your chest, black static dancing at the edges of your peripheral vision.

“I’ll be honest— I hate kids,” he growled, “never wanted ‘em, but it does sound like a lot of fun to get you pregnant. Would you like that, pretty baby? Bein’ full of my kid? I’d be so nice to watch you get big and know it was all my fault. Think of it like a Christmas gift, from one neighbor to another.”

“Robert, please!” you cried, although it sounded a lot like you were begging him for more as opposed to begging him for mercy. You weren’t sure how that happened, except that you could feel the coil in your gut tightening and tightening and tightening until it finally fucking snapped and you choked on nothing, your walls fluttering as a gush of wetness seeped out between your bodies.

“That’s it,” he groaned, “fuck, what a nasty little skank you are, Jesus… coming so hard from being tied up and abused by your neighbor, who knew you were a total freak?”

You couldn’t say anything, you couldn’t even think as hazy pleasure flooded your brain and you went limp in his oppressive grasp. Exhaustedly, you slumped down and let him use you— all you could do now was hope he would finish soon.

“I mean, I knew,” he laughed, “but damn… you’re somethin’ else.”

He said it with pride in his voice, as your entire body burned with shame. How had you already given in so quickly, accepted your fate and come harder than you ever had before? It sort of made sense that this would be more intense than what you got from getting yourself off at night (and the thought that he’d been watching you made your stomach churn), but why was this so much better than the sweet, loving sex you’d had with your boyfriend way back when, before he’d run out on you? Why was Robert, as disturbed as he was, the best you’d ever had?

“God, you’re so wet, I can fucking smell you,” he grunted through his teeth. “You made such a pretty mess on my cock, babygirl.”

You could hear that he was right, you could feel the wetness that had dripped down to cover both of you— the wet slapping of his balls against your ass was disgusting, yet arousing, and you hated yourself for it.

“Shit, I’m close,” he moaned, “fuck yeah, just like that.”

You weren’t sure what he was referring to until you realized you were arching your back, forcing his cock to hit your overstimulated spot directly. It made jolts of electricity course through your veins, pleasure sizzling just beneath your skin.

“Kiss me,” he instructed, and you were too far gone to disobey as you turned and captured his lips in a kiss, instantly accepting his tongue into your mouth. It was sloppy and forceful and kinda gross and he tasted like Christmas dinner and cigarettes, but it made your walls tighten around him again anyways. Something about his beard against your face made you moan a little, the sound lost into his mouth but unfortunately not unnoticed. “Fuck, I know you love my cock so much,” he purred, pulling back only as much as he needed to to speak— he was so close that his lips brushed yours with every word, those dark eyes staring right into yours until you felt entirely helpless to his gaze.

“Please,” you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had, you know that?” he praised, grinning as you bit down on your lip. “Yeah, you love being my good girl, you love pleasin’ me, don’tcha?”

“I— I don’t—”

“Just nod your head, dumb baby,” he grunted coldly. After a moment of hesitation, you nodded ever so slightly and he moaned above you.

“Fuck— gonna come,” he informed you breathlessly, “gonna fill up your wet fuckin’ hole, ‘m so close, ah fuck—”

The first pump of his cock painted your insides and you cringed as you tried not to moan at the feeling. His come was hot and thick as it filled you, the faltering thrusts of his hips making your swollen walls flutter weakly. It felt like it would go on forever— his weak groans in your ear, his thick cock pulsing inside you, your breathing quick and fast until it felt like you weren’t getting any air in your lungs at all. It stopped, finally, as he sighed and relaxed a little bit.

“Goddamn,” he breathed as he pulled out of you, making you both wince. Already you felt soreness radiating from your opening, and your face burned as he looked down between your legs. “Look at that, what a perfect little pussy I just ruined. It’s all stretched out and red and covered in my come,” he announced proudly. “There’s a little blood, too, but you’ll be better in no time,” he assured with a smirk. “Red and white— it’s sort of festive, don’t you think?”

You swallowed down the acid threatening to come up your throat— of course he was disturbed, but did he have to be so disgusting?

Again, it was like he read your mind as he grabbed your jaw and forced you to open your mouth, spitting onto your tongue before commanding you to swallow it. Just when you thought you’d reached the limits of his depravity, he found some new way to up the ante. What worried you most, though, was the fact that he’d already come and hadn’t left yet. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t over yet, but you hadn’t accepted it consciously.

“Such a good slut for me,” he praised through his teeth, “I bet I can go again, fuck, you turn me on so much.” Pulling back a bit and gripping his cock at the base, you squirmed a little as you looked at it. “You see this? I’m still hard. You make me feel like a fuckin’ teenager again, I swear.”

“I can’t…” you sighed weakly, your voice sounding all cracked and whiny as it moved through your sore throat. “I can’t take it again…”

“Don’t worry,” he soothed, “I’m gonna give your poor cunt a break… so I can rape this cute little ass.”

“No!” you yelped. “Please! Not there!”

He slapped you quickly before maneuvering two fingers to your other hole, teasing it as he laughed at your pre-emptive wince.

“It’s not gonna be so bad, baby, I’m gonna get you ready for it first, see? I bet you’ll love it, nasty little thing like you.”

The first finger slipped in with a little pop as the tight ring of muscle shifted to accommodate him. You’d never had anything go up that way before, and it was nothing like you could’ve imagined. Hissing in a breath through your teeth, you whimpered as he added a second finger already.

“Just relax,” he instructed. “Not that I don’t love you gripping my fingers with your tight little hole, but it’ll hurt less if you just let it happen.”

You willed your muscles not to tighten even as he twisted his fingers inside you, moving slowly until he was buried all the way to the knuckle and then finally pulling back. The third was a bit more of a challenge as he opened you wider, your fists clenching at the sting of pain. He let his come drip down from your pussy to use as lube, which was undoubtedly the filthiest thing you’d ever experienced. You tried to keep quiet and relax as he told you to, but your fight was renewed slightly as he pulled his fingers out and lined up his cock with your hole.

“Please,” you shivered, “don’t do this…”

“When are you gonna stop fucking fighting it, huh? How stupid are you? You’re tied up on the floor, I already made this pussy mine and you fucking loved it, how much more obvious could it be that I’m gonna do this? You’re fucked. It’s over. Just accept it and I’ll make it good for you.”

“This can’t be good for me,” you hissed through your teeth.

“Well, in that case,” he groaned, interrupting himself as he roughly shoved his cock into your ass. The air was punched from your lungs as pain burned white-hot through your body— it didn’t feel like his fingers had done much to prepare you at all, with the way this hurt. As soon as you had the oxygen needed to do so, you were crying again, loud sobs echoing around your dark, empty living room. “I was gonna be gentle,” he taunted you darkly, “but you had to run that mouth of yours.”

You tried to choke out an apology, but it was useless as he shoved his fingers into your mouth.

“Suck on ‘em, show me what your mouth is good for,” he demanded as you closed your lips and swirled your tongue around his fingers. “Fuck, that’s better. See how good it is when you know your place?”

You couldn’t really process his words, though, as you spent all your energy on trying not to think about how his cock felt in your ass. It was like being full in a completely different way than before, like being opened wider than you knew was possible. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and you hated the moan that spilled out after them.

“Your cunt is getting wet,” he sing-songed mockingly as he leaned back and looked down at it. “You love it up the ass, huh? Dirty bitch.”

You shook your head in denial (even though you could feel that he was right, at least about the first part), but he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him.

“Say it,” he grunted. “Admit it, slut. Admit you love getting fucked up the ass.”

“I…” you whimpered, barely able to get the words out even though you knew you needed to if you wanted to prevent him from hurting you worse. “I love… getting fucked—” you stopped to swallow the lump in your throat— “up the ass.”

He backhanded you, hard, right across the face. You cried and gasped all at once, choking on air from the force of the hit. “WHORE!” he yelled right in your face.

You sobbed uncontrollably as he fucked you with more brutality than you’d known was possible. “Please,” you tried to beg, even if you knew it was useless, but it was totally incomprehensible as you shook with the force of your cries, hissing in breaths through your teeth to try to cope with the pain.

“Thought it would take me a while to come again, but your ass feels so goddamn good— fuck, I’m close already. Want me to fill up that tight little ass?”

You shook your head as you sobbed, shaking violently against the confines of the ropes. Distantly, you heard the chimes of your clock in the other room.

“You hear that?” he whispered. “That means it’s midnight— it’s Christmas.”

He leaned in until his hot breath tickled your ear and neck, making you wish you could turn your head away more than just a few centimeters.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” he purred, just as you felt his cock swell and pulse inside you. Your eyes rolled back as you wondered if you’d ever been so full before.

It was a haze after that as he gently untied you, getting his gun out again and keeping it trained on you as he followed you to the bathroom and forced you to shower. Force was a bit of an overstatement, though, considering your desire to clean him off of you as much as possible. “I’m not gonna tell anyone, Robert,” you tried to calm him down as you shivered under the stream of water that hadn’t quite warmed up yet.

“Yeah, well, just in case,” he insisted as he waved the gun pointed in your direction. “Wash between your legs real good, push my come out.”

“Not gonna matter if you knocked me up like you said,” you reminded him. “A paternity test will be evidence enough.”

“Shut up,” he grimaced. “Can’t prove you didn’t want it, anyway. We both know you did.”

You didn’t respond to that, opting to shower silently instead and wincing every time you tried to clean between your legs. You were going to be sore for days, if not weeks.

“We both know I’m gonna be back for more real soon,” he added darkly. “Too good for just one night.”

#robert pronge x reader #mr. freezy x reader #robert pronge noncon #robert pronge smut #mr freezy smut #mr freezy noncon

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