Mini Master List - Bucky X Reader

this is so sweet i just might burst

healing

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 5,445

warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of past trauma (starcourt), slight sexual innuendos??

a/n: hi! remember when i made you do a poll for my 1k celebration? and one bed with billy won? well this is that fic! i'm sorry it took so long to get here, but school was kicking the ever loving shit out of me. anyways, i really hope you like it. it's a little different than other fics i've written, but i think that's a good thing. just for context, this is post the end of season three, with billy and hopper being okay and jopper being in full swing. i think that's all i wanted to say. thanks again for 1k followers. that's still so wild to me. i love you. and billy loves you too <333

————

November 1985

“No.”

“What do you mean no? You just fought an interdimensional being, don’t you want a vacation?” 

Lucas wipes both hands down his face, flopping down on the arm of the couch beside where Max sits with El between her knees, tying off one of the two braids she’s trying to make. 

“Max, can you help me? Please?” Lucas has been arguing about this for fifteen minutes. 

She rolls her eyes, but looks up from her work nonetheless. “Billy.”

The man in question crosses his arms, locking eyes with the redhead. “Maxine.”

Max finishes Eleven’s braid and she hops up to join Will where he’s working on a puzzle. Joyce brought it home from work a few days ago, and it’s been spread out on a card table in the corner of the living room since then. Will couldn’t watch The Golden Girls with Joyce from the kitchen table. 

“Just come with us, Billy. We all know you hate it here. It’ll give you a chance to get away for a little while.”

Except that’s not totally the truth. He doesn’t hate it here. Not with you around. 

“There’s a pool.” Will looks up, a little shyly, from the puzzle, fingers flipping around a single piece. “At the place Robin found.” 

Billy nods, and it’s enough to make Will smile at the acknowledgment. 

It’d been Steve’s idea, after everything that happened in July. He thought everyone going on a trip together might be a good idea. Go a little ways out from home, calm down. 

You and Billy started going to school, though Billy is still working. He found a job at a record store across the street from Melvald’s that opened after the mall went to shit. It definitely wasn’t his first choice, but it works. And he’s slowly fixing up the Camaro. 

Steve had offered to pay for the repairs in full, considering he did most of the damage when he rammed the side of it, but Billy couldn’t handle that. So far Max has only convinced him to let Steve cover the really expensive parts. It hurts Billy more than he’d care to admit—having Steve Harrington give him money. 

But he can’t lie, going somewhere away from Hawkins, even just for a couple days, sounds really nice. It’s the group part that’s bothering him. He’s still not used to everyone wanting him to tag along, but apparently major trauma brings people together.

There’s the slamming of car doors, and footsteps running up the driveway before the door swings open, Robin bursting in with a stack of movies in her arms. She’s followed by Dustin and then Steve, bags and keys being tossed every which way. 

Billy doesn’t see you for a moment and starts to worry maybe you aren’t coming. He’s already supplying excuses for having to go home, but Steve left the door ajar, and after a moment, there you are. 

You look sleepy, footsteps the quietest of everyone else as you carefully push the Byers’ door shut behind you. He watches as you accept a hug from Eleven, overhears her ask, “how did your test go?” 

He’s happy to hear you tell her it went well. It’s only after you’ve looked at her and Will’s puzzle and snapped a few more corner pieces in that you make a beeline for the open spot on the couch beside Billy. 

When you’ve settled, your knee bumps against his. “Hey.”

He looks at you, a little grin playing at the corners of his mouth. His arms are still crossed, thumb playing with the pendant resting on his chest. A chest surprisingly covered by a sweater, though the sleeves are pushed up. 

“Hey. Glad your test is over?”

That sound of his voice makes you smile, and he’s never been so grateful for something, even if it’s just an expression. “Yeah.”

You glance down at the new tattoo on his arm, a dark colored snake wrapping around the skin covering his elbow. You run your thumb across the tail that flicks across his forearm, and Billy relaxes into your touch. 

“You have work today?”

Billy shakes his head. You’re glad he had the day off. And you’d tell him so if it weren’t for the sudden bombardment. 

Lucas is suddenly standing in front of you, having returned from the kitchen where you think he and Dustin may have been cleaning out Joyce’s fridge. 

“Holy shit, thank god you’re here. I need you to convince Billy to go on vacation.” 

You glance at Max, assuming she’s already tried. She looks rather annoyed. “Lucas, would you sit down?”

The boy looks at Max, and she glares at him. Clearly he knows better and sits down next to her. 

“Billy doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” you finally say. 

The man in question turns to face you. You have to lean your head back some because of how close he is. 

“Are you going?” he asks, voice quiet and thick with something you don’t know that you’re supposed to notice. 

“Y-yeah. I was gonna. Robin only went on about it to me for an hour over the phone last night. I just think it might be nice to get away for a little while.” Billy doesn’t break eye contact with you, and while it makes you a little nervous, it tells you he’s listening.

“And I can watch Max for you if you really don’t want to go. Just make sure she doesn’t kill Lucas or anything.” Max snorts at your response, though Lucas looks at her in panic, already calculating how best to prevent that sort of situation. 

Your gaze softens and you fight the urge to reach out and run your thumb across Billy’s cheek. 

Please come with us. I want you to go. I want you there, you think. But it’s not what you say. You don’t know how badly he needs to hear it. 

“You really don’t have to go, Billy. Not if you don’t want to.”

“But there is enough space, man.” Steve stands behind the couch, handing El a scrunchie he retrieved from her bag. His voice is calm, informative. “If you decide to go. There’s plenty of room, and we’d be happy if you did.”

Billy could make some smartass remark. But he won’t. He knows that Steve is being honest, and that he’s not trying to be a dick. It seems that witnessing the guy who beat the shit out of you almost die not even a year after he moved to town really brings you together. 

Billy gives an acknowledging nod. “I’d be very happy if you did,” Eleven says. She loves having Jonathan as an older brother, really she does, but Billy lets her play with his hair. And in her books, that really ups the scale. 

He smiles at her, and El considers that a win. 

You notice him shift next to you, and then he’s leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “Come with me?” He cocks his head in the direction of the door. 

He gets up, assuming you’ll follow him. You always do. 

When you’ve shut the door, you move to the porch swing. It’s your favorite spot out here, and Joyce says it makes her happy to see someone use it. She used to sit there with Will in the mornings after Jonathan left for school and read to him. She did the same with Jonathan, but he was a much more fidgety kid, wanting to find something else to do. 

Billy lights a cigarette, and you watch where he fidgets with the ring on his middle finger. 

He’s standing a little ways away from you so as to not breathe the smoke directly in your vicinity, but you wish so badly that he was closer. You like having him close. The weight of his body next to you, the warmth, how solid his arm feels when it’s pressed to yours or when he slides down on the couch some and it's more so pressed to your side. 

“Which part of it are you worried about?” you ask him. 

He shrugs. “You really think they want me there? You think Max wants me around?” “Billy, I know she does. And I know that voice in your head is telling you that it’s a pity invite, but it’s not. And, besides…” you trail off, but he’s not having that. He needs you to reassure him. 

“Besides what?” 

You look up at him. “I want you to go. And yeah, I’ll be sad if you don’t go, but that shouldn’t sway your decision either.” You push your feet against the concrete porch a little harder, and the swing responds to the movement. You move quicker, now feeling very pleased with yourself. 

Billy almost laughs at the child-like look on your face, but you look so at home on the swing that he holds it in. A grin escapes nonetheless. 

“Say that again.” He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray either Hopper or Joyce have left outside. He’s watching you again. 

“What?” He’s not gonna let you go all shy on him now. He needed to hear that. He needs to hear it. 

“You know what.”

“I want you to go.”

“Then it’s settled. Need to get out of this shithole anyways.”

————

The place Steve found is about two hours from Hawkins, with three bedrooms, a shockingly luxurious pull-out couch, and bigger common areas than you’ve ever laid eyes on. Excluding the ones in Steve’s house. In short, the rental is like Hopper’s cabin, if Hopper’s cabin were updated and substantially larger. It feels like the kind of place rich people have to take weekend trips. You’d rather not find out how much Steve is paying for the lot of you to stay there. 

Robin takes you on a grand tour while everyone else explores the backyard. Dustin is already determined to climb a tree. One of the rooms has two sets of bunk beds, dedicated to the four boys. “To ensure no cootie-spreading,” Robin proclaims. 

She and Steve will share the couch, with Max and Eleven in the smaller bedroom. 

Robin stops at the end of the hallway. “Which leaves…” 

You and Billy. 

You and Billy Hargrove.

Sharing a room. 

Sharing a bed. 

Speaking of, the man in question brushes past you, setting his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. Robin takes that as her queue to leave and gives you a thumbs up on the way out. You hope she can feel your death stare on the back of her head, and she knows it, being quick to run down the hall. 

“So we’re roomies, huh?” Billy says, gathering his hair at the base of his neck. You hadn’t even realized he had a tie on him, and it takes him finishing off a lazy bun to realize it’s a blue scrunchie. You have to bite your lip to keep from saying anything. 

“I can sleep with Max and El, if you want. Or–”

That crease between Billy’s brows forms. “Why would you do that?”

You’ve gone all warm. You’d have to sleep in bed with him. And you sit next to him all the time, but this is different. Isn’t it?

Maybe it’s not so weird. You’re just friends. It’s like a sleepover, right?

“I don’t know, you might not want to sleep together or something.”

He cocks a brow, but you catch the double meaning of your words just in time. “You know what I mean, Billy.”

He sits on the end of the bed, and reaches out for you. You move towards him slowly, but the moment you’re within his grasp, Billy spreads his legs and grabs your waist, slotting your body between them. 

“You can go if you really want to. If you think I’ve got cooties or somethin’ and you don’t wanna share a bed with me.”

You snort, and Billy drinks in the sound, knowing he’s the one that made you laugh. 

“I don’t think you’ve got cooties.”

You realize in that moment that his hands haven’t left their spot on your waist, never straying anywhere else. The weight of them on you is enough to keep you focused on him, and he seems to acknowledge that. 

“Then what is it?” he asks, in that low drawl you fear could get out any answer he wanted from you. 

You hesitate, but say it anyway. “You don’t think it’ll be weird? Sleeping in the same bed?”

Billy fights the urge to rest his forehead against your stomach. He wants to tell you he’s wished you were in his bed on more than one occasion. Sometimes he just wishes you were there so it wouldn’t feel so cold, so he’d have someone to pull him out of his thoughts before they eat him alive altogether. 

“No, I don’t think it’ll be weird.”

You nod your head, and try to move back from him. 

Billy whines. “Uh uh. Nope.”

You go to put your hands on your hips, and they graze Billy’s on the way. He grabs hold of them. “You don’t want to have a sleepover with me?”

Billy’s looking up at you with those watery blue eyes, and you know this is a battle you’ll never win. 

“Really?”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, and your eyes fall to his neck when he tosses his head back. 

“Yeah, baby.”

Baby. 

It feels like every cell in your body has been sent into overdrive, like you can’t compute a single coherent thought. All because Billy called you “baby”. 

And if he’s being honest with himself, he feels the same way. He hadn’t meant to say it. It’s just that he calls you “baby” in his head all the time, and it just…happened.

“I’d love to have a sleepover with you, Hargrove.”

“Mhm. Thought so.” 

This time he lets the laugh out, and it’s a beautiful sound. The kind of sound you’d commit unspeakable acts to hear again. And this time, he does let his forehead drop to rest on your stomach. It surprises you, but you’re not mad about it.

“Oh, fuck off,” you say, and you can feel his chuckle against your skin.

When he quits, you find yourself just standing there, find your hands moving around his back. He’s always so warm. You rub your hands up and down his back, the denim of his jacket rough on your fingertips. 

You feel him shift, feel his change in position, the hard press of his chin against you. Billy is looking up at you, and you know he’s hoping you’ll return his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, and you hate to think of what you must look like from this angle. Clearly he doesn’t mind. 

You push a curl behind his ear, a shockingly perfect ringlet that’s too short to be contained like the rest of them. 

Billy would be taken aback by the gesture if it weren’t for the fact that you always go this easy on him. Like you know he’s healing, in more ways than one. 

“We can’t stay here forever, you know. I wanna go look around.” 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I’m sure it’s riveting.” He lets you go anyway, following you down the hall to the rest of the cabin.

————

Your back rests on the base of an oversized chair, one that’s surprisingly comfy, your body in between Robin’s legs. She’s sitting next to Steve, watching you moderate El, Lucas, and Will play Twister. Dustin’s already out. 

“Right hand blue.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Sinclair, have you never played this game before?”

Lucas scoffs, trying to reach the blue on the other side of the mat without toppling into Will. Max went with Billy to the store, but they should be back soon. You have a sick feeling they’re taking advantage of having been given Steve’s debit card. 

“Yes, I’ve played the game before. If you’re so good, why don’t you get down here and show us how it’s done, Harrington?”

“Yeah, Harrington, why don’t you show us how flexible you are?” Billy’s voice makes you look up from where you’ve been mindlessly twisting the spinner on the board around with the tip of your finger. 

He stands just inside the living room, holding the door open with his leg. He kicks it shut once Max has made it in. She heaves the paper bags she’d been holding up and onto the counter. Steve rises to help unpack them. You follow on instinct, handing the spinner to Robin instead, and Dustin is quick to take Steve’s spot before Mike can. 

Billy won’t let you take anything from him, but he will let you help figure out what the hell to do with all of it. “Do I even want to know how much you both spent?” you ask. 

He gives you that fucking smile, and you know you don’t. “Max said she wanted to have a spa night–whatever that means–with El, so we sort of split up. I’m sure Steve’ll live.” 

“For your information, Lucas,” Steve continues, clearly not ready to let the quips towards his limberness go, “I was the captain of the swim team.”

“What’s that got to do with being flexible, dingus?” Robin directs the two remaining players, the young boy in question having just busted his ass. 

“Swimming is an art form, Rob. You gotta learn to respect it.”

You choke on a laugh, and Billy is quick to rub your back while he chuckles into your shoulder. 

“Something funny over there?” Steve questions. 

You straighten, trying to wipe the smile from your face though it’s to no avail. “Nope, Steven. I’m sure you’re just incredibly stretchy. Like Mr. Fantastic.”

His brow furrows. “Mr. Fantastic?”

Dustin snorts, elbow deep in a bag of chips, and you quickly realize that you probably shouldn’t have given him an opening, but you don’t exactly regret it either. 

The lot of you spend the rest of the night in this fashion, playing games, eating way too much food, taking turns smacking the top of the television so your movie will keep playing. 

It feels like home. It feels safe. You wish it always felt this way. 

————

You’d just finished brushing your teeth when you hear the bedroom door click shut, hear footsteps you can tell are in search of you. 

You peek your head out of the bathroom and Billy grins at the sight of you in pajamas, a smear of moisturizer on your forehead you’ve yet to rub in. 

He squeezes in the small room, about the same size as his at home, to join you. There’s something about this moment, the domesticity of it, that makes your heart swell. It feels like something you could get used to, getting ready for bed with him. Neither of you have to say anything, you just do your own thing, but having him be there, having his presence–it’s more than enough for you. 

When you climb into bed, you try and read for a while, the sounds of Billy washing his face comforting you. You find it easy to read even when he does get in with you, the mattress sinking underneath his weight, the sheets rustling as he moves around experimentally, trying to get comfortable in a bed that isn’t his own. 

You feel odd though, reading when he’s right there, so it isn’t long before you close the book and slide further into the covers with him. Billy’s quick to turn on his side, wanting to see you like this. 

He watches you yank the blankets up to your chin, looking at him over a blur of fluffy white comforter. “It’s fuckin’ freezin’ in here,” you tell him.

“C’mere then.”

You burrow further into your pillow, fearing you know exactly what he’s going to suggest. “Huh?”

“You’re cold. You always whine about me being warm or somethin’ and I’m telling you to come here.”

“Billy.”

“Stop.” He lifts the covers up some, untucking you from them, and he wraps his arm around your back, tugging you into his side. 

Suddenly you’re pressed against him, having slid across the sheets easier than you’d have imagined. 

He’s let go of you, his arm hovering over your back. “You want me to hold you or no?” 

“Yeah.” 

Billy lets his arm drop against your side, his fingers splaying out over your back. He rubs his hand up and down your spine, hoping it’ll warm you up. “This okay?” 

“Yes.” 

He nods. You’re looking at him like he’s something special.

Billy realizes, in that moment, that that’s how you’ve always looked at him. Even before. 

He also realizes that your hands are tucked under your chin and your legs are curled up and into you like you’re afraid of making any contact with him. 

“You can loosen up, you know. It’s just me.” 

You let out a breath of a laugh, and he can feel it against the skin of his neck. 

“It’s okay, I promise. You can touch me.” Billy has this feeling that you’re afraid of hurting him. He’s sure you’ve noticed that he’s wearing a shirt to bed, something he never did before. And he thinks that you’re worried he’ll break. 

“You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”

He watches you unfold your hands and stretch your arm over him, hooking it around his hip. You want to rub up and down his side, but you’re nervous. 

It’s just me. 

“Do they hurt at all?”

Your thumb skates up a little further, and you don’t have to tell him what you mean. 

“Not all the time,” he says, voice low and thick with drowsiness. “At first, yeah, like hell. Now it’s just sometimes. They can feel a little tight, or just bug me. Depends, I guess.”

You nod, feeling brave enough now to slide your hand up a little further. Your touch is light, barely there. You close your eyes, trying not to think about when it happened. How he’d screamed. 

He can tell when you’ve calmed down some, because your arm relaxes and you hug him a little more firmly. You scoot in a little closer, close enough that your noses would touch if you tried to make them. 

“Goodnight, Billy.”

He makes the move, dragging the tip of his nose across your forehead. He kisses the top of your head, and you grin so wide you feel like a kid in a candy shop. 

“Goodnight, baby.”

————

When you wake up, you almost don’t want to disturb him, but you know you should get out of bed.

Billy is sprawled out on his stomach, having separated from you at some point during the night. His tank top is rucked up from the tossing and turning of sleep, and you look away when you catch a glimpse of pink skin. It doesn’t feel like your place to look. 

You wander out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind you. You make it down the hall, and find that Robin seems to be the only other one awake. You should’ve guessed. She told you once before that her body doesn’t seem to let her sleep in. 

Steve is still passed out on the pull-out couch, completely covered by the blankets. The only sign of him is a tuft of messy hair against the light colored pillow case his head rests on. 

Robin waves at you from her perch at the kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal in front of her. “Want some?” she whispers, pushing the box in your direction. 

You fill up your own bowl, having a feeling that Robin is about to ramble. 

“Sleep okay?” she asks. 

“Mhm. You?”

“Fine. Though, y’know, Steve is a horrific bed hog. Seriously, he was half on top of me the whole night. I might have to bunk with Max and El.” 

You laugh, and Robin takes that as her queue to ask what she’s been pondering since she woke up. 

“Was it okay? Sleeping with Billy? Well, not like that. Well, I’m assuming not like that, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I just meant like actually sleeping? Please stop me.”

You grin at her. “Please breathe, Rob.” She does, over exaggerating her inhales. “And it was fine.”

“Okay, good. I was kind of worried you’d be frustrated with my matchmaking tendencies. I just really want you two to be happy. And he seems so calm when he’s with you, and I realize I’ve just told you that I’ve been pushing you two together and I–”

You wipe milk from your chin, having almost spit out your cereal. “Robin, sweetheart, it’s okay, I promise. I know about your matchmaking tendencies. But I think we’re just friends, right?”

“Just friends, my ass.” You hadn’t even seen Steve get up, but he’s reaching for the fridge and pulling out a carton of chocolate milk. He really can’t say anything about Dustin’s eating habits when he has the exact same diet. 

“Oh my god.”

“Listen, I’m just saying, there’s been something going on between you two since before the world went to shit. I don’t know why you two tiptoe around each other like it’s not obvious that you’re in love.”

“Steve!” you exclaim. “Seriously, what the hell? I’ve been up for like twenty minutes and you two are schooling me on my love life?”

“Or lack thereof,” Robin says. 

“Okay, damn. You know what, I’m going back to bed.” 

Steve pushes your bowl back towards you when you attempt to get up. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying, there’s no sense in avoiding this. You both clearly feel a lot for each other, and I don’t see any reason to avoid it when you could be together.” 

He’s being vulnerable with you, his big brown eyes boring into yours and trying to convey how serious he’s being. 

“Just think about it, okay? There’s no harm in talking about how you feel with him. And don’t say that you don’t feel anything, because that’s a goddamn lie.”

————

Billy’s had his swim trunks on all day, but he hasn’t done more than sit in the shade by the pool while everyone else makes a mess and plays ridiculous games in the water. 

It’s killing him to watch you in there from time to time, swimming around or sitting in the shallow end. You told him once that swimming calms you down. 

It’s not until after dinner, when everyone has moved inside for the most part, though there seems to be the plotting of a water balloon fight out front, that he’s brave enough to head for the pool. 

You follow him out there, see him contemplating the water. 

“Whatcha doin’?” 

Billy drops the cigarette he’d been smoking, snubbing it out. “Thought about going for a swim,” he tells you. 

“That sounds nice.”

“Mhm.”

“I can go back inside, if you want.”

Billy turns to face you. “No. No, I want you to stay.” He wants you to see. He can’t explain why, but he does. 

“Okay.” 

He takes a shaky breath, hoping you don’t catch it. You do. You always do. 

“I just…wasn’t ready for everyone to see.”

“I understand, Billy.” 

You know what he’s really saying. He wasn’t ready for everyone to see. But he’s ready for you to see. 

“I can get in first, if that helps. And I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” you say. 

“That helps, yeah. And you can look. It’s okay.”

He watches you wade in, watches the way your swimsuit changes color as you tread water. 

Billy takes another deep breath, and he’s pulling his shirt off. He’s quick though, diving straight into the deep end, knowing he needs to get it over with. 

When he comes up, his hair is sticking to his forehead, and he flips it out of the way, giving you a glimpse of the broad pink scar on his chest. 

He meets you halfway, and you think he’s in a serious mood until he’s splashing you like a child. 

“You motherfucker!” 

You get him back, and he’s laughing. 

Billy is laughing and he looks so pretty in the last of the day’s sunlight, beads of water sliding over his collarbones and down his arms, and you feel like you could die. Like seeing him this way is enough. You don’t need anything else.

You try to return a particularly aggressive splash, but he catches your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder. 

“Billy!”

“What?” His voice is teasing. He tosses the rest of the way over, your laughter fading out into the water. 

You come up, a brilliant smile on his face. Billy’s sure if you stood close enough you’d be able to hear his heart beating. 

When you’ve both gone quiet, your eyes drop to the scars on his sides, the way they stretch across his skin, mean and twisting. Some spots are darker than others, and while it hurts you to look at them, you know it must hurt him even more. But he looks just as beautiful as before, if not increasingly so. 

“See something you like?” Billy says it on instinct. To hide the fact that he’s worried you don’t really like it. That maybe you think he’s gross looking. But he knows that’s all in his head. He fucking knows it. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Billy Hargrove.”

You say it with such surety, such admiration, that he can’t even begin to doubt that you mean it. 

He smiles at you. It’s boyish. You’d do anything to see a million more of them. 

He moves towards you, the sky having darkened enough that the outside lights have come on, the lights in the pool too. All that remains of the sun is a slash of deep orange, though the night quickly pushes it away.

Billy’s got you backed up against the wall of the pool now. His hands find your sides.

It’s overwhelming, having him this close. You can feel his breath on your face, see the rise and fall of his chest, the freckles on his cheeks. 

When he kisses you, you think your heart stops. His mouth is warm against yours, and he tastes a little like chlorine, but you don’t care. Your hands find his face, and you’re smiling so hard that he pulls away because he wants to see. You don’t let him for long though, pulling him back, wanting more. He laughs into your mouth, and your chest aches with this feeling.

Eventually you do let go, and when you hold his eye contact, he knows what you’re going to say. He needs to tell you first, though.

“I’m in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” you respond.

He tosses his head back in a laugh, and you press a sweet kiss to his throat. 

“I’m in love with you too, Billy.”

“Damn right you are.”

You snort against his chest, lowering slightly to kiss his scar. His breath catches. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you. 

“About fucking time!” Steve’s shouting and Robin is yelling, and Max would be making barf sounds if she wasn’t so pleased with seeing her brother so happy. 

“So much for that,” Billy says.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

————

“I’m regretting this, Billy.”

“Stop whining.”

Billy wraps his arms tighter around your back, pressing a kiss to your jaw in hopes that you’ll let him keep doing this. 

“Get off.”

“No.”

“Get off, please.”

“Make me.” 

There’s the sound of a slap, your hand having met his ass.

He raises his head from where he’d buried it in your chest, looking at you drowsily. “You just spanked me.”

And you’d do it again. 

“Didn’t work, did it?”

“No. Shut up and take it.”

By that he means continue letting him lay on top of you, his entire body pressed to yours. It doesn’t matter to him that there’s an entire bed, one that’s made for two people.

You settle for playing with his hair, something he seems to enjoy, and you’d mess with him about the fact that he’s essentially purring if it weren’t for him looking so content. 

He might be heavy, but having Billy Hargrove sleep on top of you isn’t exactly something you just give up. 

He’s never had this before.

Hell, you’ve never had this before. 

And he thinks it’s healing him. More than the salve he puts on his scars, or the physical therapy, or fixing up the Camaro. 

You’re healing him. You. 

————

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this early dancing (2/2) | sirius black

Sirius rested his hand at your neck and you felt yourself seize up as he pushed his thumb into your throat. He was gentle, sliding up slow until the tip of his index finger was pressed into the underside of your jaw. He stretched his hand out over your neck. You swallowed, which he surely felt, and then he moved his hand to the space behind your ear, thumb pulling your lips into a wonky smile. "Smile, beautiful."

You smiled. He nodded approvingly and kissed the corner where his thumb wasn't, head tilted in, before pulling away like nothing had transpired.

summary you and Sirius navigate the dizzying affection between you both while trying to keep it secret [14k]

warnings fluff, smut, marauders era, mutual pining, idiots in love, she/her pronouns used for reader, fem!reader

read part one here

You woke up to somebody knocking loudly at the door. You flinched, disentangling yourself from Sirius' iron tight hold and remembered you were wearing his shirt. "Shit. Shit. Fuck," you cursed in a whisper. Sirius didn't even stir.

You pulled your dirtied pyjama bottoms from the day before yesterday on and cracked open the door. Lily stood on the landing, arms crossed, gaze quizzical.

"We want to go into town. You two are the last ones up."

"Right, I'll get him up," you said, cringing at your appearance.

She peered over your shoulder at Sirius, at the duvet you'd thrown off of you both, at the body sized space facing his chest. She looked back at you and zeroed in on your shirt before she shut her eyes, holding her weight up with her hand on the doorway. "You didn't."

You shuffled from foot to foot. "What?"

"Tell me you didn't."

"I didn't."

Despite asking for it, your denial rubbed her the wrong way.

"Do you think I'm blind?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I tried the door. It was locked."

"Sirius is serious about sleep privacy."

She groaned and tipped her head to the sky, ginger curls bouncing.

“Oh my merlin."

"I like him, Lily," you said quietly, leaning in very close.

When she deigned to look at you again her eyes were softer. "I know you do. I only hope you know what you're doing. Do you know what you're doing?"

"Not yet," you said, clearing your throat.

"Well," she said, tucking a curl behind her ear, "you have another two days to work it out."

"Right. Two days."

You both looked at each other, Lily solemn and you embarrassed. The holiday was taking place over a long, 4 day weekend. The first day, Friday, you'd spent mostly in the car as you and James has spearheaded the no magic rule of your holiday; though no one was really listening, James had insisted on the drive from the Manor to his family cottage. Day two, yesterday. Today was day three.

She peered over your shoulder again and then looked straight in your eye

"What's he like?"

You giggled breathlessly, infecting her with your glee until she was laughing too.

"That good?"

You nodded multiple times, feeling heat climbing your face to roost at the tips of your ears. "Yeah."

She smiled and then shrugged. "Well. We're young, right? Any mistakes should happen now.”

You felt the word mistake like a jab in the side but continued smiling. "Yeah."

She sensed a potential misstep and her smile wavered apologetically.

"I'll wake him up," you said quickly, nodding your head towards the sleeping ravenette. "We won't be long."

Lily said, "Alrighty," and made her way across the landing and down the stairs. You trusted her to keep your secret for now, turning from the door which you'd closed to slink back into bed by Sirius, stealing time you didn't have.

He groaned and wrapped his arm back around you, the weight of it across your front still unfamiliar despite a whole night of checking it was really his arm. He pulled you close, breathing in the back of your neck. You felt your pulse hammering in your chest, a rush of adrenaline coursing through you as you remembered what you'd done the night before. How he'd been – after the photograph he'd persuaded you into the shower and had continued his manhandling, pressing you to the cool tile. He'd dropped to his knees, spread your legs.

Sirius' arm came to life and snapped you from your reverie, hand moving up your chest and neck to turn your face to his. He was blinking, bleary eyes already full of a tenderness that turned your stomach. You turned in his arms until you were practically nose to nose.

"Was that the door?"

"Lily. Everyone's going up town," you clued him in, tucking a misbehaving strand of hair behind his ear. He closed his eyes again at your touch.

"Town," he mumbled, drifting off. You giggled quietly and set your hand on his face, fingernail scratching lightly down his cheek. "What for?"

"Just to look, I think. Maybe dinner… Sirius, we really have to get up, everybody's waiting."

He groaned one more time and then forced his eyes open. His hand came up the back of your head to lead your forehead to his mouth, where he planted a firm, chaste kiss. Then, appeased, he tumbled out of bed to look for something to wear. You watched him stretch distractedly, the late morning light catching his body in stripes through the curtains and painting him the blinding white you often imagined him as. Glowing, he pulled a fresh t-shirt on and discarded the one he'd slept in as well as his boxers. You looked away, eyes drifting to your own made bed.

No wonder Lily had clocked on so fast.

You moaned and curled in tightly on yourself. You would've liked to work out for yourself what had happened last night before the others found out.

"What's the matter with you?" Sirius asked, scraping the front parts of his hair into a bobble.

"Some twat defiled me last night."

He gasped, legitimately shocked. "Defiled. What a way with words you have."

You squinted at him.

He chuckled, meandering over to your side. He sat by your knees and pulled his rings from the bedside table, sliding them on slowly and then setting his large hand over your hip. "C'mon, sweetheart. They're waiting for us."

You inhaled to say something and then shut your mouth.

"What?" he asked.

You weighed your words carefully before you spoke. "Kiss me?"

He grinned, leaning down until your mouths were barely an inch apart. "We haven't brushed our teeth," he said, and then pulled away.

"Get dressed," he encouraged, patting your shoulder and standing, "'nd then I'll kiss you. Deal?"

You resented his rejection and scrambled into a cheerful summer outfit, a midi skirt and a graphic t-shirt torn asymmetrically to expose your navel. You barreled into the bathroom and saw Sirius already at the sink, smelling of deodorant and cologne with a toothbrush between his lips. You did as he had, deodorising and spraying perfume on your neck and behind your ears, toothbrush in hand.

Sirius spat into the sink and wiped the back of his mouth, running the water.

"Think there'll be breakfast?"

You laughed, feeling toothpaste at the corner of your mouth. "Hungry?"

"Worked up an appetite."

You spit and washed your mouth out with a handful of water, trying not to care that he was watching you dribble. He'd seen worse, at this point.

"What do you fancy?" you asked him, squaring your hair up and wetting a flannel to quickly dab your face clean.

He sidled up into your space, hand going straight to your chin.

You looked up at him and felt apprehension deep in your marrow, but he didn't move to kiss you. You pouted at him, feeling hard done by. He leaned forward to peck your pout, expression all cool and collected when he pulled away, refusing to show if you’d had any effect on him.

You hated his guts sometimes.

You'd sorted your purse out for the day and was just about ready, pulling the door open when Sirius reached out over your head and shut it, effectively pinning you between his chest and the door.

"What?" you asked.

He looked at you steadily.

"What?" you asked again, giggling nervously.

Sirius rested his hand at your neck and you felt yourself seize up as he pushed his thumb into your throat. He was gentle, sliding up slow until the tip of his index finger was pressed into the underside of your jaw. He stretched his hand out on your neck. You swallowed, which he surely felt, and then he moved his hand to that space behind your ear, thumb pulling your lips into a wonky smile.

"Smile, beautiful."

You smiled. He nodded approvingly and kissed the corner where his thumb wasn't, head tilting in, and then he pulled away like nothing had transpired.

"Ready?" he asked you. You nodded, dazed.

-

The sun was especially cruel today, you thought, taking shelter under the awning of a fragrant gelato shop. You stood as close to Sirius as you could without one, being clingy and two, being obvious, breathing in the comforting drifts of vanilla and cream.

"What flavour will you get?" Mary asked you. You got up on your tiptoes to see over the small crowd at the front of the shop.

"I'm not sure, there's too many."

"I'm gonna get strawberry," she said. "And maybe pistachio, if they have it. And rocky road. And salted caramel."

Marlene snorted. "You don't want much, then."

Mary wiped her hands down her lilac sundress, model hands pressing into her waist, wrists adorned with silver bangles that clinked when she moved. Dorcas returned from looking at the menu in the window and pushed her chin over Mary’s shoulder. “I agree with Mary.”

“Did you even hear what she said?” Marlene asked.

Dorcas smirked. “Nope.”

A lover’s quarrel ensued. You looked out the corner of your eye at Sirius and found he was doing the same thing, and you both had to look away to stop from laughing.

Lily, Remus and Emmeline had stationed themselves at a cafe table a little ways away, the latter two looking positively miserable at such warm weather, while Frank and Alice had wandered off an hour ago. James emerged from the crowd with his hands full of ice cream pots and a big fuck off cone covered in all the trappings, a flake and nuts and a maraschino cherry.

You eyed it, in awe at its gravity defying physics.

“Wonder who that one’s for,” Sirius murmured, words for your ears only. “He’s irredeemably whipped.” And then, when James kept the cone for himself, his roaring laughter, which warmed your chest. James looked over at Sirius and grinned, soft scoop on the tip of his nose, stark against his brown skin.

Lily was rolling her eyes at the whole debacle, a smaller tub of gelato in her hands.

You looked between your friends happily. Only the ones who’d heeded your advice remained unburned. Emmeline was red from head to toe and complaining of it miserably, where Remus was much more sun-kissed. James’ colour had warmed where Lily, who had let him slather her regularly in sunscreen, was still pale as milk with a dusting of pink over her face where she’d forgotten.

Dorcas and Mary had charged into the shop holding hands now the line had receded, Marlene unhappily at their heels.

“Wanna change your bet?” Sirius asked, bumping your shoulder lightly.

“Wanna change yours?” you fired back. He met your eyes and said nothing, though he was smiling something awful. “James wouldn’t let either of us. God forbid he’s right, I don’t have the galleons.”

“I’ll bankroll you,” he said.

“So generous.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard it, funnily enough.”

“Yeah?” you asked, pressing your lips together to hide your smile. “And who’s telling you these things? I’d love to meet them, compliment their ability to lie so well as to trick you, loverboy.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re going wrong.” He leaned down to talk into the shell of your ear, sounding insufferably full of himself. “Can’t lie with their mouths full.”

You chortled, pushing him away. “Girls are good fakers.”

He nodded, looking up very quickly and then back at you, struggling to hold back his own smile. “I’ll have to keep my eye on you, then, next time. Lest you pull the wool over my eyes.”

Next time.

You nodded your head as if it were the most agreeable course of action. “I’m an adept liar. Even with my mouth full.”

“You don’t mind if I test that theory?”

“Anytime you want.”

His eyes had darkened, pupils dilating. You didn’t think it was the sunlight. “I’ll hold you to it.”

You held his stare for only a few moments before you were looking away, shy again. You couldn’t understand where your flirting had come from, only that it had you crossing your legs where you stood. You looked into the parlour to avoid Sirius’ eyes and saw the line had depleted now to only your friends, who were dawdling as Mary glanced over the ice creams, sorbets and gelatos with her hands spread over the glass as she made up her mind.

You started into the shop without saying anything and he followed, knuckles brushing yours for a split second as you walked. Pins and needles traversed the skin of your hands, eating up your wrist. You screwed your hand into a fist.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Will you choose for me?” you requested, having thought little about it.

He grinned. “Sure will. You wanna go wait outside?”

It was freezing in the parlour. You weighed your options; the edging on unpleasant cold with Sirius or the sweltering summer heat with the rest of your friends.

“I’ll stay,” you said impishly, looking down at your sandals.

You could see his arm out the corner of your eye, tanned and dewed with sweat.  You were sweating yourself and still hoped for it to get warmer, excited for the opportunities higher temperatures might bring about, like shirtless Sirius, and sweaty Sirius, and maybe even cranky Sirius.

Mary had decided and was now being served two pots with 5 different flavours of gelato. You huffed a laugh through your nose, the situation made far funnier by Marlene’s clear lack of patience. Dorcas was crunching on a wafer loudly at her side. You missed Sirius ordering, much too distracted by Mary’s reception and review of each flavour, and even more so when she tried to get Marlene to taste some off of the same spoon.

You turned back, “Marl won’t even share a spoon with Mary, there’s no way they’re going out,” you informed him, turning back to find he had his wallet out and had already paid. You rummaged through your bag for your purse. “Wait, Sirius, I’ll get you back.”

“You’re alright.”

He clapped you on the shoulder in a friendly manner and then massaged the skin there in a way that was decidedly not. You listened for the sounds of the mystery throuple exiting the shop and turned around to make sure before bending your neck so your cheek rubbed against Sirius’ hand on your shoulder. His ring scratched your cheek.

“What’d you get us?”

“It’s a surprise.”

You hummed, turning your face to press your mouth into his fingers, allowing yourself a full minute of this.

Sirius squeezed your shoulder and pulled you into his side, running his hand with pressure down your arm. You turned to face him, hoping he could read the domestic contentment dripping from your every pore. Something about his returned look made you think he could.

It was an insane pleasure, this stolen moment between you both. You’d often thought that the whole, ‘you make me feel like we’re the only two people on earth’ thing was a total farce, love dramatised by fools who didn’t know better. Now, you’d admit (perhaps as a newly-stated idiot), that loving someone and feeling it returned was a transcendent feeling: the kind of feeling that had you one second standing in an ice cream parlour and the next second standing totally alone with your love for company — and it didn’t feel lonely, despite it all.

And then somebody spoke and you were tethered, back in your shoes, meeting eyes with an apron clad shop worker who handed Sirius two ice cream cones with a big customer service smile.

They were startlingly pink, besides the light brown waffle cones. Pink ice cream, pink wafer, pink chocolate straws, topped off with matching maraschino cherries.

You gawked at them.

“What are these?” you asked.

He pointed at the scoop. “That’s raspberry sorbet.”

“Right, but they’re pink?” you asked softly, adoringly, digging through your bag for your camera. “Can I take a picture of you?”

He looked like his first impulse was to say no. He, with a chagrined expression, stepped back with the ice cream counter and chalkboard menus behind him. You moved back to fit it all in frame, smiling at tough, cool Sirius not knowing which way to pose.

“Smile, baby,” you said. The pet name caught him off guard and had the desired effect, a brilliant, carefree smile overshadowing his unassuming stance.

You snapped a photo of him and cheered.

You put your camera away and let him hand off your cone, seeing it now up-close. “Wow! The wafer’s a heart,” you said, eyes wide.

“It’s a Pink-Heart cone,” he informed you, pulling his maraschino cherry free to push gently into your cone. You licked the sorbet, surprised at its refreshing, fruity flavour.

“You didn’t want something cooler? They have your favourite,” you said, glancing at the tray of vanilla brownie. “We never see that these days.”

“I thought we should match,” he said, uncharacteristically quiet. His cheeks were dusted pink as the sorbet.

You stretched up to kiss him as quickly as you could.

“Thank you,” you said, lips cold on his warm cheek. “I’m gonna get you some vanilla brownie by the time the week's up, Black.”

-

You emerged from the parlour after finishing your matching cones and nobody batted an eyelash, eager to begin the walk to the indoor market before the sun was any higher in the sky. James was fanning Lily with a menu he’d nabbed at the parlour as they walked, Lily in the throes of a deep conversation about meditation and spiritual  healing with Marl while James was turned the other way, shit-talking Sirius.

You were dawdling at his side, talking to Frank about something he couldn’t quite catch in between James’ intense conversation.

He liked how you gravitated to his side before you remembered yourself, how you fell into his step and then shook yourself. Sirius knew you were both distracted to the point of suspicion but neither of you could help it, apparently. Finally, you bumped into his side and apologised, blushing.

“You can bump into me anytime you want, sweetheart,” he said, throwing his arm around your shoulder. And, as he’d thought, everyone was so used to his flirtatious behaviour that it flew under the radar.

You relaxed under his touch and continued your conversation with Frank with no further incident. James was glaring at him when he turned back, feeling his smile slip.

James was looking at him as if to say, caught you, dickhead.

“What do you think? Yes or no?” he asked. Sirius scrambled to think of what his friend had said moments before, and thought, fuck it. Fifty-fifty chance I get this right.

“Of course, mate. Yes, all the way.”

James grinned a shit-eating grin. “You think Bulgaria has a real chance of winning this season?”

Sirius winced. “No,” he admitted. “No. I definitely do not.”

“That’s what I thought.”

James pushed his glasses up at the side with one knuckle, frowning. Sirius watched as James gaze travelled across his arm and to your shoulders, watched him study your face and your touching skin. He levelled Sirius with a shockingly uncharacteristic glare, and Sirius wasn’t surprised when James thrust the menu at Lily and grabbed his arm, pulling him away to the side.

“We both need a wee,” James lied haphazardly.

With little more than that he’d sequestered and harangued Sirius within an inch of his life, totally furious. “You absolute wanker. I tell you everything. I told you about my first erection. I told you about my second erection, which, if you remember, was very sexually confusing. I told you abou-“

“Your third erection?”

James scowled.

“You did.”

“I know I did, arsehole. That’s literally my point.”

Sirius leaned against the warm limestone wall of the charity shop James had dragged him to, now separated from the main group with no clue where they were besides the market, which was huge. They’d be lucky to find them again. Sirius wished desperately for a cigarette, and suddenly James was offering him one.

“I’m on holiday,” James sniffed at Sirius’ silent judgement, passing him the lighter.

Sirius lit his cig and kicked one leg up on the wall behind him. James attempted the same, slipped, and scowled deeper. “My point was,” he said, clutching the box of cigarettes in his hands so tightly Sirius worried he’d crush them, “we tell each other everything. So: you’re a wanker.”

“I wasn’t sure what to tell you. I’m still not sure.”

“Have you slept together?”

Sirius said nothing, flicking ash on the ground in feigned disinterest. James groaned and took his silence for what it was.

“Well, you could start there!”

“James, shall I tell you when I need to piss, as well, or are we allowing a small margin for privacy?” James looked so hurt at this that Sirius sighed and admitted defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” James muttered. “Still an idiot.”

“Mm.”

“You didn’t tell Moony, did you?”

“What? When have I ever played favourites?”

“You’ve slept with two out of three of your best friends. It’s not unheard off.” The pair descended into laughter which itself descended into hacking coughs. Sirius stubbed the cigarette out under his shoe. James continued his joke. “Seriously, I’m getting insecure at this point. You only like the quiet types, or what? I can be whatever you want, baby.”

Sirius shrugged, chuckling, and found that James was right. He did like the quiet types, and that surprised him. Not that his fancying you was ever in question, but still.

“I’ll say - I imagined you with a proper bombshell.”

“Fuck off,” there was real heat behind this, ”she’s hot.”

“Sure. She’d be the hottest dame in the library.”

“Cunt.”

James’ startled laughter echoed down the streets as they set off walking again in the direction everyone else had gone.

“She’s a bombshell. A real stunner,” he argued, thinking of you in his jacket, in the shower, in his sleep shirt. “She’s killer.”

“Right, don’t get your cock out. I take it back. And it’s not that I don’t think she’s fit, it’s that she’s - Y/N. Very unassuming.”

“There was nothing unassuming about that bikini,” Sirius defended you.

“Margin of privacy, or something?”

Sirius knew he had gone red, feeling a little sleazy. He cleared his throat. “Your girlfriend is literally the smartest person we know.”

“Yeah, she is,” James agreed dreamily. “And she’s a bombshell.”

“Right. That solidifies my point. You can look freakishly hot and frequent the library.”

“My god, man, are we still on this one? I already took it back.”

“You’re a bitch.”

And with that the market came into view. The outside was busy, which made Sirius think the inside would be tenfold, herds of families and dogs on their leads could be heard from a mile away. The crowds of customers flanked each merchant, most already with a bag of goods under their arm or grease-stained brown paper bag in their fingers. Sirius could already smell the bakery on the air, salt and fresh bread and something sweet, and thought maybe he’d find you there, browsing the sweets, looking for something to share.

There was a bullet silver burger van camped out at one end of the market with a line that stretched to the other. The fragrance of hot oil and searing beef patty had both himself and Prongs looking at each other cheekily. Neither attempted to reason with the other as they joined the queue, and though both felt a shot of guilt for abandoning the group on a second excursion they couldn't be blamed, Sirius thought, half an hour later with a full stomach. We're only men. Boys, even. What were we to do? Ignore hunger?

Sirius and James pushed past stalls full of secondhand books that he knew you'd probably perused already and a man who boasted to have the newest selection of tapes, a tarp layed out with what must've been a thousand vinyl records tiled over each other like domino's that'd fallen flat, even a mobile home full of stuffed animals and porcelain dolls.

If the warm roar of the outside was anything to undertake, the inside was worse and better in different ways. Worse, much worse, to have people packed like sardines; shoulder to shoulder the people walked, prams bashing like bumper cars into the legs of dawdlers, kids screaming bloody murder anywhere you looked.

The first indoor feature was a man and what seemed to be an opening like a rabbit's burrow down into the room, toy cars piled floor to ceiling at the walls in their mint boxes. It gave the room an illusion of shrinking, he thought, and was likely due an imminent cave in. Sirius wouldn't go in there, to James' great disappointment. He ragged him for his cowardice until he was distracted by a stand of handmade copper trees endowed with sweeping boughs of crushed crystal coloured warm orange, cerulean blue, raspberry pink and a sunset purple so light that the light that shone through it took on no colour, where the others acted like stained glass, catching the light where it could to arc lines across the table.

"Ooh, Lily would find this so darling."

Sirius rolled his eyes at his ridiculous best friend, turning from the admittedly gorgeous trees to look, sceptical, at a series of bird shaped statuettes similarly made up of wire where fabric took the place of crystals to create feathers. He wasn't overly fond and moved on again to the next table, which was laden with velvet boxes tucked carefully with rings.

Most were of the time, natural, raw gemstone set in silver and gold. Some were more proper, a general everyday man's engagement or promise ring. He looked at these with no illusion of anything but still a general thrumming fondness that maybe one day he'd be looking over a kindred selection for something for you. And then he felt so absurd he forced himself to turn to the other side of the wide aisle to a different stall. It was from the same vendor but this table was stacked with earrings. The large majority were silver or sterling, shaped after simple things like stars, hearts, ladybugs and kittens.

Like the rings, there was a velvet tray of gemstone earrings as well. Roughly half were silver, the other gold, each set with shining stones. Though he had no clue how authentic any of them were, the sign boasted amethyst, jasper, carnelian, dark lapis lazuli and jade. The jade piqued his interest. He racked his eyes over the studs until he'd zeroed in on green, marbled cabochons set in gold. A spiky yellow sticky note just underneath said 'REAL JADE AVAILABLE, SEE ATTENDANT. IMITATION JADE ON DISPLAY'.

That answered his question about authenticity

When he'd finished at the jewellery stand he found James, who was where he'd left him, haggling over a small copper tree.

"Prongs," he said disapprovingly.

"Yeah, alright," James said, opening his wallet to pay the vendor in full.

"You've more money than half the people here put together and you're trying to rip off a struggling artist," Sirius said scornfully as they moved on, though it wasn't fully serious. James grinned, shaking the small tree in his hands and pausing to listen to the small sounds it made.

"It's not about the money," James said, tree still up to his ear, "it's about the haggling itself."

"Surely you can draw entertainment from other facets of your life? Like a normal person?"

"What do you suggest?" he said devilishly.

"Let’s find the sorry lot first before you start planning any jokes," Sirius suggested.

James nodded sagely. "Yes, yes. Brilliant idea once again, my handsome friend."

"Handsome!"

"Fiendishly so."

"You're not half bad yourself," Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

James needled into his path, silly, melodious tree still held higher than it had any reason to be held. He was close enough to kiss, which had been the intention, openly trying to feel Sirius up a touch as the butchers came into view.

"Maybe we should get something for dinner," James thought aloud, forgetting his seduction.

Sirius pulled his necklace from under the fabric of his shirt to run between his fingers, biting his bottom lip thoughtlessly. "I don't know," he said, thinking it over.

James nodded as if Sirius had said something more and said himself agreeably, "Right - what if Lily had the same idea. We rock home with enough for everyone and she's got double."

Sirius was peering over people's heads, searching for a familiar face. It was impossible to distinguish individuals from the fast moving crowds and he quickly gave up, flicking James square in the forehead.

James' hand came up to hit Sirius back and he caught it. "No need to get violent."

James tried again.

"Mate," Sirius laughed, having blocked him for a second time.

"You flicked me!"

"Yeah, cos it's your fault we don't know where anyone is."

"It's your fault for not telling me you're fucking Y/N!"

"You are?" Mary asked, wide eyed.

She'd appeared from the right, holding a pastry in a paper bag and looking very shocked at this revelation.

"No, Mary," Sirius said. Pleaded. Not no as in no, I'm not, but no as in good lord, please don't repeat that. No, as in, let the ground swallow me up where I stand.

She took a bite of her donut looking indelibly satisfied by this discovery.

The others were close behind her but not quite there yet. Sirius took the opportunity to stand crossly and spitefully on James' foot, pressing down with his heel. His mouth opened in a silent scream, and, after blinking rapidly, he hung his head. "I deserved that."

"You did. Where's Y/N?" Sirius imparted the first sentence on James and then the question to Remus, who was eating a chocolate donut. He chewed his treat slowly and made no effort to answer.

"She couldn't decide what to get," Lily provided, holding a bag out towards her boyfriend. "Oh, is that for me? We'll trade."

"She's that way?" Sirius asked, nodding.

"Yep. Enjoy your boy talk?" Lily asked him with a knowing smile, and fuck, did everyone know now?

"No. James got a semi. Super awkward," Sirius informed her solemnly.

He smiled to himself at the group's raucous laughter and set off to find you in the market, following the smell of toasted sugar until the bakery was in sight, a three-sided booth with a grill that was cooking freshly made Welsh cakes and scones. You were standing a little ways off, looking worriedly at the bulging paper bag in your hand, talking to yourself silently. You looked a vision, skin shining with the golden light streaking from the skylights, your hair a little messier than it had started this morning, lips hinting at a pout.

He'd managed to get toe to toe with you before you noticed him, and you jumped at someone suddenly in your space. When you realised it was him you smiled big, cleaving him effectively clean in two, before frowning.

"You scared me," you complained.

"I'm sorry," he said, so close he had to look down to talk to you.

You didn't mind his proximity, reaching up nonchalantly to push hair out of his eyes, bracelet slipping down your wrist.

"Did James rag you terribly?"

"Not really," he said, the small stresses of the day falling away as you spoke, "he was more interested in what's in my trousers than you, I'm afraid."

You were bemused, shaking your head. Your hand fell away from behind his ear to offer him the paper bag. "I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I got a couple."

He looked into the paper bag full of his favourites and kept his face expressionless, worried if he started smiling too often at you he might never stop.

"What's for you?"

"I haven't decided."

He looked at you carefully. "Do you want something now?"

You were bashful, "I really can't decide. They all look nice."

"Pick whatever you want and I'll get it."

"No way, you already got me ice cream."

"You got me these, so we're square."

"And if you buy me sweets we'll be unbalanced again."

You didn't win the argument, compromising in that you'd only let him get you your favourite one and nothing more, licking the crumbs from the corner of your mouth as you chewed. Neither of you had rushed to find the group again, content to lean against a sliver of bare wall opposite the bakery booth away from everybody for a little while.

"You're not gonna have one?" you asked, looking crestfallen.

He grimaced, stomach still swimming in grease. The burgers would stay a secret between him and James, but he'd rectify your expression.

"I'm saving them for after," he said, appeasing you with both hands smoothing flat the top of your head to your neck, holding you still to kiss the top of your head. "Thank you, sweetheart."

You nodded and went back to your treat looking a little starstruck, if he did say so himself, his hands coming to rest loosely over your shoulders. It was nice, to stand there listening to other people living their lives, an amicable silence between you both as you ate, occasionally looking up at him with something to say about a passerby.

When you finished you wiped your face with a napkin and moved a hand up to hold his forearm, looking deep in thought, eyes on your touching skin.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

You looked like you might answer. He leaned down to hear you over the noise of the market but you never did end up saying anything, resting your cheek against his arm until you both figured you were stealing time.

Sirius led you to where your friends had last been. You'd hesitantly hooked your pinky finger through his as you walked, looking anywhere else but his face. He would've laughed at your shyness - he'd fucked you to the point of tears only last night - but he was endeared to you so deeply he couldn't summon up the sound. You dropped his hand when you reunited with your friends and was whisked away by Remus, to his disappointment. Lily laughed at this.

“You have been monopolising her,” she said pointedly. “She has other friends.”

“Not like me.”

Lily shrugged, grinning wickedly. “Guess not.”

“You spend too much time with James.”

“Says you.”

“There wasn’t a path for my life where I didn’t end up this way, Lilykins.”

She looked like she would disagree.

“I know this is a no magic holiday,” James whispered, looking in your general direction sheepishly, “but are we sure we can’t just apparate home now? I wish we’d brought the car.”

“The walk was good for us! And besides, what else could we have done all day?” Lily asked.

James descended on her, “I’m so glad you’ve asked that, love. I was thinking-“

Lily slapped her hand over his mouth.

“We’ve talked about this.”

Sirius tuned out of that conversation in a brilliant show of willpower and found his eyes on your back. He then shook himself terribly and thought, dear lord, I’m worse than James.

“Where are we going now?” he asked quite loudly, hoping to catch everyone’s attention. It worked to a degree as everybody stopped walking, though if it answered any questions was up to opinion.

“We're starving,” Mary said.

“You didn’t eat, did you?” Lily asked.

James smiled easily. “No ma’am.”

“Where are we?” you asked.

“Where’s Frank and Alice?”

“Some pub, they said. The Seagull.”

“We could go there? I quite fancy something cold.”

And so off the group went, trudging along sunburned or at the least sunwarmed, James leading the way because he swore he knew exactly where the pub was and this was definitely the quickest way. Then, when he asked for directions, the group miserably began walking back towards the sea.

The Seagull was a twenty minute walk from the Potter’s beachside home, which was reassuring, as the group didn’t look like they had much left in them.

“You know,” Sirius said, “you could’ve disapparated home and fetched the car.”

“It's a no magic holiday! We were very clear about this!”

“Grow up.”

“Y/N,” James called very loudly, “Sirius is dissing the no magic holiday!”

You looked over at them and sniffed. “I won’t recover.”

The group joined forces to tag team him until he’d had enough, pulling his trump card.

“So I’ll suppose you’ve all been doing the washing up manually?” Nobody would meet his eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

“Lighten up, Black,” you said, drifting to his side like the breeze had carried you. “I’ve been doing them all with my hands.”

He frowned at you. “Since when do you do dishes?”

You bristled. “And what does that mean?”

“You should not be doing the dishes. I do your dishes.”

“I’m a grown up,” you said, embarrassed now.

“You haven’t been doing other peoples, have you?”

“Sirius, friendship is doing things for other people. You do my dishes. I do James or Lily’s or whoever’s — it's the same thing.”

“It’s not the same thing.” We’re hardly just friends, he didn’t say.

You walked in silence then, not mad at each other but at an understanding that there was more to be said in a less public space because you both knew exactly why Sirius did your dishes and opened doors for you, rubbed your back when you were sick and brought you soup. Not for a reward or with any expectation, but because you were his best friend, and he liked you to a point beyond that line.

There were a lot of things you probably should’ve said to each other by now. You should’ve talked about it. He should’ve told you how he felt the moment you’d kissed him and shocked him more than anything had ever shocked him in his life, frozen and wondering if he’d walked into a daydream.

But. He didn’t bring it up. You didn’t bring it up. And it felt right - that there was no question there, that there was no sudden affirmation. He realised you’d always been on this route together and the kiss hadn’t been between two friends, it had been between him and you. He wanted to reach out and hug you, upon this realisation, wanted to pepper you in kisses and praises like you deserved. How dreadful that so much love would have to be kept for tonight, or even tomorrow.

“Sirius?” you whispered.

“What?”

“Are we a secret?” you asked quietly.

He thought about it. Yards behind the others you meandered, content to walk in the summer evening and take in the sights, take in the other person, to roll in the simple pleasure of each other’s company surrounded by friends with nothing in the world to work out besides each other.

“Do you want to be?” he asked.

“No!” you cleared your throat. “No. I - I don’t want to be, if you don’t want to be. But, maybe for a little while longer…”

He nodded, having been thinking the same thing. “Let’s me and you work this out first, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth to add something and was immediately cut off by James, who stood in front of The Seagull, waiting. “Come on, lovebirds, we’ve beer to drink!”

“He’s always so grandiose,” you laughed, and then, looking at him, “not that you’re much better.”

“Definitely need a doctor after that one, doll. Good one,” he said sarcastically, accepting the door from James and letting you walk in first, other hand pressed to his heart like he was wracked with pain.

The pub was nice and clean, more of a restaurant than a pub, really, with big ceilings and lots of open space. The smell of roast and gravy and then, under it all, the unmistakable sweetness of cocoa powder thickened the room, yellow light burning away in sconces on the walls. He walked over a paisley red carpet on your tail, past families at long, dark wood tables, past booths and the bar, where the wall was backlit and bright showcasing a miraculous variety of drinks, their bottles glowing like lava lamps. There was a small hallway which opened into a big, conservatory-like room lined with booths that surrounded a dance floor and a small stage at the back. The summer breeze drifted in through the open patio where a stone veranda housed tens of metal tables and chairs.

The veranda was where Alice and Frank were stationed, both obviously having already drunk their fill. They cheered with the rest of the group's arrival, Frank raising a mostly empty pint glass.

“Where the fuck have you guys been?”

Sirius helped James manhandle the tables into one big one and pulled a chair out for you, then threw himself into the one next to you.

“Where haven’t we been!” Dorcas said excitedly.

“Can we have a round before Dorcas starts her rendition?” Marlene asked. “I would like to be tipsy for this.”

“I’m parched,” Mary agreed.

“I thought you were hungry?”

“I’m both. Starved and parched, truly.”

Sirius pressed his knee to yours. “What’re you having?”

-

You tipped back the dregs of your drink, feeling the beginnings of warmth curling in your stomach, licking up your skin to nest in your chest happily. Tipsy warmth was soon holding your body like a lover, and you found yourself ridiculously happy. Sirius had been lovely all day and only got better with drink, hand under the table and squeezing your thigh.

He’d inched closer and his hand had inched higher under your skirt to match, pinky finger a hair's width from your underwear. He wasn’t trying anything, simply rubbing your leg as he chatted and laughed with the others]. You tried not to let it go to your head.

Your chips had gone cold by now. You reached for one anyway, cringing as you chewed.

Sirius slipped his hand in your shoulder bag and pulled out the baked goods you’d purchased for him earlier.

“Help me eat these.”

You stood so you could assess what he had. He tore the paper bag to lay the sweets out flat, a brownie and a donut, a millionaires shortbread and half a danish. You leaned down to inspect them, really thinking, moving half in front of Sirius’ chair.

You felt his knuckles against the back of your thigh. He drew a teasing line that made you shiver, dipping his hand under your skirt. He pushed the flat of his hand up the inside of your thigh and stopped before he could touch you. You turned sideways to protest, eyes landing on his slouched form. His other hand came up to your waist, straightening you out so you couldn’t see his face.

“Which one do you want, sweetheart?”

You struggled to make a decision. The tip of his finger was moving against your underwear now, so lightly it tickled. If he hadn’t been holding you in place you would’ve squirmed away. He shifted his leg in between yours, his shoe nudging your sandal, forcing your legs open that little bit more. His hand came up flat palmed against your cunt, rubbing. You moaned and looked around you with wide eyes.

Your friends were all half-cut or preoccupied. James was sitting on Lily’s leg, talking very passionately about something with wide eyes, so enthusiastic his drink sloshed over the side of his cup to drip over his legs. Remus and Emma had disappeared in a drunken bid to win something from the claw machines. The girls were drinking from a pitcher of gin and watching the tv at the back, you could hardly see them through the other restaurant goers who now populated the patio. Frank and Alice were both on the verge of being paralytic.

You would’ve intervened had Sirius not started searching, big fingers pushing your underwear into the crease of your cunt, looking for your sensitive clit.  When he found it he bullied it, sweeping rough lines until your legs were shaking. You braced yourself on the cold metal table and looked down at your skirt. You couldn’t tell what he was doing if you were an outsider, but you knew, and this was all enough to have you wet and seeping through the cotton of your underwear.

He knew it as soon as you did. “Baby…” he said softly, voice full of an arousal so reverential it made your legs weak. “Are you wet?”

You giggled weakly as he pushed your underwear to one side, fingers finding your wetness. He didn’t enter you, only pushed your slick up your front to circle your clit. He slid your clit between his two fingers and you were so scandalised you sat down forcefully on his leg with his hand trapped between you. He laughed, flexing his fingers before pulling away.

He leaned forward like nothing had happened and picked up the millionaires shortbread with the same fingers he’d just used to make a mess of you, fingers still shining. He sat up properly and pulled you to his chest, bringing the biscuit to your mouth. He didn’t say anything and neither did you, but he didn’t move until you’d taken a bite. He pulled it from you and you turned to watch him eat the rest, the heat between your legs was unbearable as he licked his fingers clean.

He laughed at your reaction to his amorous behaviour, swaying you on his lap, hand clutching your hip. “You look appalled.”

You shifted backwards on him in a staged show of wanting to talk to him privately. If he was going to play dirty, you would too, your thought, brushing yourself against his crotch. “Whatever is poisoning your mind is incurable, Sirius.”

“If the wet patch on my leg is anything to go by,” he whispered back, “I’d say you were suffering the same sickness.”

You shook your head, turning your body to cover your actions from prying eyes. You put your hand down flat an inch from his cock and spread your fingers, pleased at how his pupils had dilated. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He squeezed your waist with enough pressure to make you hesitate, moving so his mouth was hovering over your collarbone.

“What was it you said earlier, doll? You’re a good liar, even with your mouth full?”

“Adept,” you corrected him, breath hitching as his teeth dragged against your skin, “I’m an adept liar, even with my mouth full.”

He breathed warm air on your skin in a brief chuckle.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Your mouth’s empty and your lies are something awful. You think I don’t feel you making a mess on me right now?” he teased, lifting his head. You ducked yours.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What else did you say, hmm?”

You looked down at his lap to avoid his eyeline, wearily eyeing his hardening cock. “I don’t remember.”

His hand climbed your back until he was at your neck, lifting your head up. He looked much too calm and collected to suit you, eyes half-lidded.

“Gonna let me test your theory, doll?”

You smoothed your hand over his cock, revelling in his twitches. You squeezed his length and said coyly, “What theory?”

He grabbed your hand, the only sign he’d been affected by you. “Will you play stupid all night? I can treat you like you’re stupid, if you like.”

“I’m not stupid,” you mumbled, hand burning in his. “I’m a good liar, is all.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. You were both frozen in time, waiting to see who would give in.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to the bathroom. You’re going to sit here looking all pretty and making a mess in my seat. You can even have another pastry, if you like,” he said this with a sardonic smile. “And then you’ll come meet me in the bathroom, and we’ll see how good of a liar you really are.”

You swallowed.

A slither of his usual softness welled to the surface. “Is that alright, sweetheart?”

You tried not to smile as you nodded.

He helped you up off of his lap, looking like he might kiss you before he went. He didn’t, turning sharply to the doors and exiting quickly. You followed him with your eyes, felt your longing like a harp string being plucked between your legs as the minutes ticked on. The anticipation had you shifting in your seat, worried he was right and you’d leave behind a clear mark of your excitement behind when you got up. You gathered the spoils he’d left behind and wrapped them back up as best you could to hide away in your purse.

You counted to sixty five times, just to be sure, concerned somebody would see you follow him out and connect the dots before you were ready for them to be connected.

You walked the small hallway with your heart in your throat, coming to the unisex bathroom. It was locked.

You knocked.

It was pulled open quick and shut quicker, Sirius pulling you in fast enough to steal the air from your lungs. You laughed and he laughed, mouths meeting in a wanting kiss, desperate after so many hours of dancing around each other, his hand forceful at the nape of your neck as he pulled you to his mouth with no time for soft touches.

“Is this okay?” he asked. “I know I was abrupt. Is this okay?”

You nodded over and over, trying to catch him in a kiss again. His laugh was melodic and hoarse at once, holding you back with his hands on either side of your face.

“You’ll tell me if you don’t want this?”

“I’ll tell you,” you agreed, aiming for his neck. He finally set you free after seconds that stretched like millennia. You used your freedom to kiss his jawline, pinching things down his neck that had him grasping your hair.

He pulled you back to his lips and pushed you up against the countertop that housed the sinks basin. There wasn’t enough room for him to set you up there which he lamented loudly.

“Thought the theory involved my mouth?” you asked bravely.

He looked surprised and then his eyes clouded up with lust a shade worse than before.

“Who’s the guinea pig?” he asked as you kissed down his neck again, down and down and down until you were on your knees in front of him, pushing his shirt up to kiss his torso lightly, plastering each tattoo in a blanket of affection.

“Definitely you,” you said, hands at his waistband. You pulled it from his skin and let it fall again, a soft snap that made him hiss through his teeth. You looked up at him and gave him your most demure smile, keeping eye contact as you slipped your hand into his trousers, into his boxers, closing your fist gently around his aching length. You pushed up to full height on your knees and watched yourself carefully stroke his length, nervous but wanting to do well.

Sirius was back to the version of him you didn’t see so much, suave and debonair with his hand resting at the back of your head. You looked away to dip forward, pausing with your mouth by his head. You stuck your tongue out and licked.

He groaned, hand tightening in your hair. Esteem raised by his reaction, you worked the bottom of his shaft with one hand and took him into your mouth, sucking his head. You popped off and started again, opening your mouth wider, using your tongue to your advantage. Already spit was gathering at the corners of your mouth waiting to dribble down your chin, you pulled back to catch it in your hand, pumping his cock with your wet fingers.

The taste of precum filled your mouth as you paced yourself, taking slow mouthfuls of him. He was beginning to guide you gently off and on to his cock, establishing a rhythm. He tried to guide you back and your resisted, taking as much as him as you could manage before you gagged on his cock, dribble connecting your mouth to his dick when he pulled you off, moaning loudly.

“Fuck, don’t do that.”

“You didn’t like it?”

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to," he reprimanded, eyes closing as you worked back down, bobbing your head as you worked. His grip was tighter now, and as he began to thrust up to meet your mouth you found yourself with your spare hand between your legs, spreading your cunt to play in your own slick, pushing two fingers inside yourself.

Sirius eventually opened his eyes and his cock jumped in your mouth at the sight of you.

“Fucking your mouth, you like this? This the kind of thing that turns you on?” he asked, moving his other hand so both were braced behind your head.

He thrust in and you stayed down on his cock for as long as you could manage, breathing through your nose. You gagged, wet eyes shutting on instinct.

He brought his thumb to your cheek. “Show me those pretty eyes."

You opened them, bleary with tears, to look into his handsome face adoringly. He tipped his head back, eyes on the sealing. “Fuck, I’m so fucking lucky. So fucking lucky, baby. You’re fucking-“ he was cut off as you pushed his cock against the back of your throat, hand tightening painfully in your hair.

You almost felt bad when you had to pull away, gasping. He was panting, thumb digging into your cheekbone. You caught your breath with your face pressed to his thigh and tummy, kissing his tattooed torso mindlessly as you pumped his shaft, rubbing your finger pads over the head of his cock to collect his beading precum.

His abdomen was tensing, you realised smugly. His breathing was fast and coloured by his voice. He almost sounded desperate.

You stuck your tongue out and rested this coke on it momentarily, and then away. “Ask me something?”

“What?” he questioned.

“Test your hypothesis,” you ordered him, aiming for the back of your throat again. He seized up, smiling wickedly at your game.

“Fuck… how’s this cock baby? Hitting the back of your pretty throat?” he was convincing, if a little breathless.

“No,” you said, or rather hummed, the sound travelling down his cock. He moaned, holding his hand against the side of your face.

“Y’so fucking good for me, letting me bruise up your throat.”

You pulled away to breathe. “I’m not.”

He grinned something awful. “No?”

You felt spit dripping down your face, pooling at your sternum. He fucked your mouth, your throat, not so it hurt but enough to agitate your gag reflex and tear ducts. He was moaning a steady stream of curse words now and they sounded like the sweetest thing - breathy and deep.

He wiped your eyes and cheeks with the meat of his palm for a moment, cleaning you up. “You’re fucking pretty.”

You smiled with his dick against your lips.

He fisted your hair and didn’t last much longer with your lips around him, pushing you away semi-gently to fist his throbbing cock until he was cumming over his torso.

“That’s spiteful,” you said, hand clutching his thigh.

“What is?” he asked, exasperated.

“Could’ve cum in my mouth,” you said, bravado dissolving as you went, words starting brave and ending shy.

He pouted at you condescendingly. “Oh, I’m sorry, doll. You’re right, I’m spiteful.” His thumb at your wet bottom lip, opening your mouth. “Spiteful - but not selfish. You can kiss it off me, if you like?”

You called his bluff and leaned forward. He pulled back. "How's my girl? You want me to take care of you?"

"No. Keep your hands off of me, Sirius."

You were a terrible liar, mouth full or not.

-

Your hair was wet, soaking even, salt water dribbling down your back, and you were cold enough now to regret your dip in the ocean, to regret even more that you'd left your shirt and jacket at the cottage. The sun shone all morning before this, the tide as close as it could be when you'd first made it down this morning, Sirius taking your hand to spin you around, dancing as you went. The rock pools had been filled, the sand freshly dampened under your bare feet.

You went for a swim while the sun was bouncing around on the waves, Sirius pulling you in without a word. He'd left his shirt on the drier sand and you'd both stood beaming, ankle deep in the sea and with little clothing. He'd grabbed you up and chucked you into deep water, where you emerged livid, throwing yourself at his chest to topple him over. He'd fallen into the water, waves lapping at his chest with you half on top of him, giggling in victory. It reminded you of your first kiss, laughing and unable to help yourself as you leaned down and connected, hand splayed on his lovely chest, feeling the metal of his pendant warm under your touch. You’d spent a long time like that kissing and smiling under the warmth of the sun until the cloud cover stole away the heat and left you a damp, shivering mess.

Sirius had retrieved his t-shirt and you’d quickly pulled it over your damp skin, long enough to cover your bikini bottoms when standing.

“You should keep that one.”

“Yeah?”

“Looks good.”

You twirled as you walked, shuffling backwards and him facing forwards, chasing the sun down the beach. You trusted him not to let you trip.

You felt like a new version of yourself. Hair wet, skin damp and clammy from the cold sea breeze and somehow still in high spirits, smiling as you trekked backwards over the squishy sand.

“We can’t go up there without shoes,” he said, pointing at the darker shade of rocks that covered some of the beach, “but we can definitely try to find one lower down.”

You searched, or rather Sirius searched and you watched his face. His eyes brightened when he spotted one that seemed to be traversable without putting both your lives in imminent danger.

“D’you see that?” he asked suddenly.

No, you thought, obviously I didn’t see that. You’re handsome and you fancy me and you think I’m going to spend my time with my eyes on the ground?

“No,” you admitted instead. He grabbed your shoulder in one big hand and pointed towards the sandy edges of a rock pool. You followed his finger to discover what had captured his attention: a small brown crab was scuttling around, burying itself in sand and then emerging, indecisive.

Only when you got closer did you realise it was a hermit crab, it’s shell a rich yellow ochre edged in deep browns. Sirius mad a wide circle around the crab and kneeled on one side, encouraging you to do the same.

You kneeled opposite him, felt your knees sinking into the damp sand. It coated your skin.

Sirius, shirtless, looking like he’d descended from some empyrean place where the streets ran deep in milk and honey and smiling like he was somewhere similar in your company. You felt, emphatically, that disconcerting feeling of blindness that came on occasion with being around him, felt as though looking at him for too long would leave his image burned into your eyelids. Masochistically, you found yourself unable to look away. He reached out his hand, knuckles flat to the coarse sand and was ecstatic when the hermit crab crawled close, slowly making its way into his palm. You couldn’t believe it, looking at him in shock. He looked up at you with elation in even the lines of his face and you found he wasn’t so blinding, after all; he was looking at you, you were looking back. The clouds shifted and gold leaked from the sky in gossamer threads, framing him in lustre, warming your chilled skin.

“You want to hold it?” he asked, frantically transferring the crab from palm to palm.

“No.”

“He won’t bite.”

“He has pincers.”

Sirius thrust his hand at you and the crab almost flew off. It then pinched him to which he turned his hand upside down with a shriek, shaking it off.

“Told you so,” you said. He nodded to himself, expression agreeable, and then got to his feet, his thighs at your eye level. You pulled at the edge of his borrowed t-shirt where it stuck to your wet skin.

“You did,” he said, looking at your thighs. You pretended not to notice until he met your eyes. “Still cold?”

“No, baby,” you said, words soft and ridiculous in your mouth. You said it anyhow, overtaken by fondness. “The sun's out.”

He smiled and bent down to kiss you.

-

“James,” you said later, showered and fed and trying to be discreet. The others were playing an intense game of crazy eights, from which you’d dragged your friend away. “I need a favour.”

James looked back at the large coffee table covered in booze and cards and surrounded by your laughing friends and said, “Can’t it wait ‘til we’re not having such a knee-slapping good time?”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. He huffed.

“Fine, yes, what do you want?”

“I need you take me into town.”

He gasped. “Town! Whatever for?”

“Can’t you avoid talking like a posh wanker for a bit? I’ve only just eaten.”

He found this so funny he forgot to be mad, which was brilliant as you’d not intended any maliciousness to come with it.

“Why are we going to town?” he asked, turning from you to collect the keys.

“I want-“ right, you hadn’t technically admitted your situation to James yet, “I want to get a quart of vanilla brownie ice cream.”

“We have ice cream here!”

“Right, but we don’t have vanilla brownie .”

He frowned sympathetically. “Your period?”

You laughed boisterously and, when Sirius turned to look at you from the coffee table, cleared your throat.

“It’s for Sirius. It’s his favourite and we never see it anywhere and I want to do something nice,” you whispered, cheeks heating.

His smile was kind.

“Alright, get your shoes on.”

-

“So, you’re fucking?”

“James, please keep your eyes on the road.”

-

You’d managed to charm the ice cream to stay frozen and shoved it under your bed when Sirius opened the door. You flinched up and tried to look as casual as possible, hands behind your back.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked, closing the door behind him softly. He flicked the light on at the wall.

You couldn’t help smiling. It was ridiculous. You had a secret to keep but seeing him made you overtly happy.

“What’s with the smile?” he asked.

“When do people usually smile?”

He leaned against the door casually. “Something good happen on your fun run with Jamie? I don’t believe it.”

“You’re so mean. You do know he's your best friend?”

Sirius tipped his head back against the door and levelled you with a smirk. “I thought you were my best friend?”

“I am.”

You sat down against your bed's headboard, unable to work out what he was thinking.

“Come play Rummy.”

You let yourself fall flat on your pillow, groaning. “There’s only so many card games I can lose.”

“Exactly, and I already beat you in most. Be generous and give me the full sweep.”

“I’m tired.”

“Come on,” he said, walking over to pull you up by the hands. “Cards and drinks and then bed.”

“Swear?”

He was laughing now, pulling you into his hold. “Swear.”

You leaned into his chest for a self-indulgent moment and then you let him spirit you downstairs. The living room was airy and bright as the evening began. Everyone was exactly how you’d left them, half cut and giggling, piles of sweets and werthers in place of poker chips.

Remus seemed to be the most intoxicated out of everybody. You sat down next to him and Sirius followed, knee touching your knee cross-legged in front of the table.

“What happened to not needing alcohol to have fun?” you asked him.

“That's still true! I could be having fun without it, now I am having fun with it,” he said, talking out the side of his mouth. “Take Emma, she’s sober and she’s having a brilliant time.”

Emma was giggling wildly. “I don’t need to drink to have fun. The worse you get the more I win.” She had a large mound of winnings.

“What’re you having?” Lily asked, sitting on the arm of James’ chair.

“I’ll get it,” Sirius said, standing up, “I know exactly what she wants.” The joke was that he brought back two bottles of beer, chuckling at your grimace. He convinced you to try it. “You never try anything new, sweetheart, I’m widening your palate.”

You’d murmured, stupidly, “You widened my palate just fine last night.”

He choked on his mouthful of beer, slamming the bottle down hard enough to topple Emma’s tower of sweets. You took a tentative sip of your own and hated it.

“What is this?”

“James brought it.”

“Well, if that’s true this is blatant sabotage.”

“Try mine instead?”

You eyed his bottle suspiciously. It was darker than yours had been. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Try it!” he prodded, holding it closer to your mouth.

You shuffled back until your back was digging into Dorcas’ calves. She didn’t notice, half asleep on Mary’s shoulder while Mary and Marlene talked over her head.

“Try it,” he said again, rim of the bottle at your lips.

You let him tip it into your mouth and when you’d tasted enough you slapped your hand over his, pushing it away. You swallowed, almost gagging. “That’s much, much worse,” you said hoarsely.

“You’re pathetic.” Funny how that made you feel warm instead of sad. You shook your head at your own thoughts and pushed his hand away.

“I want something nice,” you complained quietly.

“There’s Pimms in the fridge,” Emma said, shuffling cards for Rummy.

“What the fuck! And you got me beer?”

“Widening your palate!”

“It’s wide enough!”

You climbed up onto your feet, felt his hand on your knee as you climbed over him to pour two glasses of pimms from the pitcher in the fridge, putting extra fruit in yours. Then you slinked back into your spot and took up your cards for Rummy, settling in for a good night. Sirius accepted the pimms though he didn’t look like he wanted to, tipping his fruit into your glass.

Halfway into the second game you leaned into Sirius’ side.

“What?” he asked you, dipping his head in.

“I don’t know the rules,” you whispered.

"I know you don't. Want me to teach you?"

"No."

He rolled his eyes and slipped his hand behind your back, fingertips pushing beneath the waist of your corduroys to mess with the elastic of your underwear absentmindedly as he expertly instructed your next play.

-

You mildly recognised when Sirius, having tucked you into his bed that night after too much alcohol soaked fruit, got up. Assuming he needed the bathroom you'd curled into the place he'd previously been, leaching his warmth and breathing in his smell. You weren't sure how long you drifted, waiting for him to come back but when he did he was buzzing with something akin to excitement, bringing his hand to your face.

"Wake up, sweetheart."

You looked at him in annoyance. "It's night time."

"You're so smart."

"I don't know why you're mocking me. I'm right," you complained, trying to hide your face in his side.

He rubbed your back in a placating manner before pinching the flesh of your waist. "Get up."

"Why?"

"I have something for you."

"Can't wait 'till tomorrow?"

"Nope. Quick, get dressed. Or don't," he added, fingers pushing up past the hem of your shirt to cup one of your breasts. This had you much more awake than his voice “I like this outfit. Doesn’t matter either way.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, feeling yourself melt under his touch. He moved his hand back to your ribs and squeezed.

“The beach.”

“We can’t swim, the tides out.”

“We’re not swimming. I’ve made a picnic.” He said this quietly, softly. You pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear and considered your options. Then, with no choice, you dragged yourself out of bed and shrugged on a short, black skirt and a jacket overtop the oversized shirt you’d been sleeping in. You threaded your hand through the fabric circle on your camera and let it dangle from your wrist.

“Time is it?” you asked, shoving your socked feet roughly into a pair of ankle high canvas shoes. You didn’t bother tying the laces well, tucking them into the shoe.

“Past midnight, now.”

You followed him down the stairs and out the silent house as quietly as you could, hurrying down the path to the seashore. Sirius carried a picnic basket with a blanket stuffed between the handles and the camping lamp on top in one hand and took yours in the other, swinging it gently as you walked.

“We could’ve done this in the morning.”

“I was thinking…” he began, helping you pick over driftwood and seaweed to a patch of sand that looked dry enough. He set the picnic basket down and you took one end of the blanket from his hand to help him spread it out. Once it was done he looked at you from across the blanket. “That this would be our last night as a secret.”

“Okay,” you said, not smiling.

“Okay?”

You cracked, beaming. “Yeah, okay, idiot. Course it’s okay. Are you kidding?”

He moved the basket to the middle of the blanket and sat down heavily. You sat by his side, looking up at the sky, void black and smattered in stars like crushed pearls, breaths blanketed by the sound of far off waves cresting the shore. He cracked open the picnic blanket and found he’d made your favourite kind of sandwich and cut them all small, diced up fruit and drinks spelled to stay chilled.

“No magic holiday,” you muttered under your breath, taking one of the cold drinks into your hand. “Why does nobody respect the no magic holiday?”

“Babe. I didn’t want to say, but — your camera is enchanted. Did you know?”

You took the camera from your wrist and turned it on. “Fine, whatever. Can you begrudge me when I’ve had so many nice photos?” you asked, and then emphasised with a flash as you took one of him unawares.

He shuffled backwards and moved the basket to the side, switching the battery lamp off. “You’ll have to show me that one before I destroy the damn thing.”

“Don’t worry. You’re very photogenic,” you comforted him. You performed the spell and soon the photo was trying to project into the air. You turned the camera downwards and it was displayed across the blanket, Sirius’ handsome, surprised face, eyes blown by the flash.

“Hate that,” he remarked, stretching his legs out. You shifted closer to his side and tucked one of your legs over his, happy when his hand instantly came up to mess with your thigh.

You flicked to the next photo, one you’d taken hours previous of Remus nauseated in James lap, looking unhappy with Lily who was perched on the arm. James looked positively incensed, staring straight into the lens.

The next photo: James outside the ice cream parlour, the stainless steel bucket of vanilla brownie ice cream in his hands, beaming.

“What’s that?” Sirius asked.

“Nothing,” you said, flicking to the next photograph quickly.

Most of the group gathered at the kitchen table that morning for brunch, Sirius with his hair still wet from the shower. James had made enough blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes to feed a small army in the middle of the table, Mary squirting lemon juice over Emma’s pancakes. Marlene had a heaping spoonful of sugar suspended over her plate.

The early hours of the same morning, a wide shot of Sirius in the bathroom putting on deodorant while you waited in his bed. You still remembered how the morning had felt, warm and still dark out, your bare legs hiked up close to your body with his pillow pressed to your chest after a lazy, half-asleep make out session, your lips still tingling as you’d reached for the camera.

A group photo at The Seagull taken by a muggle who’d been amazed by the camera. Remus and Sirius had thrown their arms over your shoulders and each other, Lily on Remus' other side throwing up leave signs as James posed with his back to her side and his arms crossed. Alice and Frank had been too tipsy to do anything but smile abashedly as the rest of the girls took to kneel in front of them, all beaming, even shy Emma.

A few from the market of the amazing things you’d seen, as well as the weird things. Lily holding her little copper tree aloft with a brilliant grin on her face. Remus looking over a table of secondhand books while Emma already had two new ones in her arms.

The ice cream photographs, where Sirius had been much more ready and yet somehow looked less prepared.

A few from the night before featuring you in his jacket that made you blush to high heavens, flicking past them fast as Sirius protested.

Lily and James squished together on the beach the first proper morning there, posing happily. Remus being comforted for his repeated chicken losses on Mary’s thigh, protesting the photo with a hand half covering his face. The rest of the group played cards in the background while Marlene, cig held between her lips, wiped the floor with everybody smugly.

The first group photograph with the breathtaking sunset in the background. Alice and Frank book-ending the girls and Remus with Lily and James on the other end with Sirius, his arm stretched out over your shoulders at the end of the throng. You paused, looking at the photograph for the first time since you’d taken it. Your heart already ached with nostalgia, despite the photo being new. You knew that you were looking at a time you’d never be able to go back to, and felt that suddenly this whole holiday had been a gift. You laughed, pointing at James' face, his eyes barely open. You looked at yourself,  remembered how your skin had felt on fire under Sirius' arm.

“I don’t look half obvious,” you poked fun at yourself. Sirius didn’t say anything. You looked at him sideways and then slid your eyes to him. “You look-“

Sirius was looking at you in the photograph, face laden with guilty indulgence and then, worse, love. Eyes soft at the corners, lips not quite smiling. The real Sirius rubbed his hand up and down the inside of your thigh. You blinked, worried you’d tear up, and turned to him furiously, forgetting the camera.

“What the fuck is that?”

“What?” he asked, alarmed.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?”

He squeezed your leg. “Like what?”

“Like you loved me.”

He leaned in so his nose was close to yours.

“Why’d you kiss me?”

“You know why I kissed you.”

“Reckon it’s the same reason I was looking at you then. Like I loved you.”

You pushed back into the blanket, hair splayed out in the sand. Sirius followed you down, turning on his side to look at you. Only the moonlight illuminated him now, carving his face in shimmering silver and shadow. He searched for your hand and brought it up to his mouth, eyes on your face as he kissed your knuckles delicately. You turned on your side to mirror him.

“I’m mad for you. Mad for you,” he repeated, timbre low. “After tonight, I want everyone to know you’re mine. Are you gonna - be mine?” he asked tentatively, waiting for you to answer patient as any worldly saint, rubbing his thumb over your hand when you took in a ragged breath.

“I’ll be yours,” you told him shyly. “I’ve been yours.”

He ducked in to kiss you, mouth unyielding against yours. You quickly broke the kiss to seek an answer for your burning question.

“How long have you been looking at me like that?”

“A long time,” he answered, trying to kiss you again.

“Really?” you asked, giddy and disbelieving at once, evading his mouth. “Think I’d notice that.”

“Trust me, doll, you don’t know the half of it.”

The words struck you in the chest violently.

“You think I don't?”

“And what’s that mean?” he asked, nosing under your jawline until you were baring your neck, hand in his curls. He dragged his teeth up your neck to settle over your pulse.

“You think you like me more than I like you? Delusions.” Your words were broken up by shuddering inhales as he started tracking love bites over your throat.

“That’s exactly what I think.”

“Grow up, handsome.”

“Handsome!” he said against your quick-bruising skin, laughing. “What, you don’t believe me? Doubt the depths of my affections?”

“No, no.” He pushed his face up to look at you as you spoke, pressing his thumb into one of your hickeys. “I don’t-“

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Any doubts you have are my fault. I’ll endeavour to alleviate them,” he swore, tone serious. You felt the brush of his hand over your torso, felt him push up your shirt to explore the stretch of your abdomen.

And how did you manage to get yourself into these punishing situations? You felt your stomach tighten at his promise alone.

"I don't have any doubts," you mumbled, half to appease him and half to save yourself from his teasing. "I just don't think you know how much I like you."

He kissed you sweetly on the temple. "Of course I know, lovely girl."

You pushed him away from your chest, pushing your legs to one side, groaning at his sincerity. He sat up and dug through the picnic basket for a second before producing a small velveteen bag. You watched his hands carefully from where you were lying, watched as each finger moved, the flex of his knuckles. He offered the bag to you where you were lying still.

You held it high above your eye. "Turn the lamp back on?"

He did. You upended the contents of the bag into your palm. Three pieces of green and gold fell out, shining, shot through with silver.

You poked at them gently with your fingertip.

A pair of earrings and a charm.

"That's for me," Sirius said, picking out the charm.

"For you…"

"For my necklace."

You stared at him.

"It's my piece of you," he said softly, eyes tracking to your bracelet. "So we match."

You climbed up on your knees, leaning around his shoulders to unclasp his chain from beneath his dark hair. You slipped the charm over the eyelet and moved your knee between his legs to get close to him before closing the clasp and straightening the chain, secured again at his breastbone. You'd made to settle down again and he was wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close, arms firm but not rough against your ribs, hands closing around your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck in turn.

"You really think you like me more?" you asked into his hair.

He moved you from side to side, squeezing as he spoke. "I love you."

You pushed your fingers into his hair bringing his head closer to your neck, feeling a white hot adoration burning in your chest. "I've loved you longer."

"Not like this, sweetheart."

He kissed your smiling lips quickly, pulled back to look at your face before pushing back in. You shooed him away.

"Help me with these," you said, offering the earrings, which he clipped onto your ears with no complaints. “Thank you. They’re - they’re beautiful.”

He scratched the back of your hand delicately, a silent you’re welcome. "We need a picture," he said decisively.

You nodded in agreement, tucking yourself into his side as he fiddled with the camera. You couldn't bear to look away from his face. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, grinning.

"I love you," you told him, smiling through the flash as the camera went off.

-

"You're fucking?" Remus asked incredulously.

The entire people carrier groaned in disbelief.

"And he's supposed to be the smart one," Sirius whispered to you. You pressed your face into his arm, laughing.

thanks so much for reading! <3

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Baby, Kiss Me Quick

Eddie Munson x fem!reader [3.5k] more smut with your favourite friend with benefits. slow and soft eddie, a little teasing. PART ONE

You managed maybe twenty seconds of reprieve before your body was screaming at you for more. For Eddie, for the boy, for his touch, for his-

“Kiss,” you murmured, voice still breathy, lifting your face to his, nose nudging his cheek and you felt the way it lifted as he smiled. “Kiss me, please? Really want you to k-”

You didn’t mean to sound so fucking needy, so absolutely wrecked with desperatation. But Eddie must’ve heard it in the way you spoke, felt it in the way your hands clung to the slope of his shoulder, because he was moving down into you without a second thought. 

His mouth slanted over your own with the same messy greediness you felt. You were still completely naked, sheets bundled underneath you, Eddie’s jeans pushed to the bare skin of your thighs and it made you ache. 

How could you still want him so badly after he’d already made you come? You were still vibrating, body buzzing from the flick of his tongue and the feel of his fingers sliding in and out of you. 

But then the boy slid one hand into your hair, held you to him so he could kiss you senseless, tongue licking over your own again and again and again. His other hand traced the lines of you, from the dip in your waist to the curve of your hip, hand skimming down to cup your ass, squeeze the flesh there and pull you into him.  

You could feel how hard he was, thick and hot against your thigh, trapped beneath denim and god, the way he was grinding himself into you was maddening. 

You couldn’t stop kissing him though, revelling in the way it left you both breathless, more and more desperate for the other, noses pressed to cheeks, your hands tugging at his curls until he groaned into your mouth, let you swallow his sounds and keep them for yourself. 

“Eddie,” you whimpered, back arching off of the bed, into his frame, trying your best to wrap yourself around him “Eddie.”

“I know- fuck,” Eddie’s voice was shot, low and rough, dripping in need and he smelled like smoke and sex and something that was entirely him. “S’alright, sweetheart, Christ, I know.”

You were pushing him back then, eyes a little wide, hair a mess and your hands on his bare chest. You tried your best to coax him backwards and the boy let you, went soft for you and let you manhandle him to where you wanted because fucking hell, Eddie Munson would throw himself into traffic for you if you asked. 

So you got him on his knees on the bed, followed him to do the same and you let out an almost watery laugh at the way he didn’t let go of you, not once. He kept a wide hand on your waist, fingers splayed comically large over your ribcage, your back and all he could do was stare down at you, taking in every detail, every line, every freckle and scar. 

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he whispered, catching your mouth once more, making you both both cling to the other as your swayed on the mattress, kissing like you’d never been allowed to before. 

And perhaps you hadn’t, not like this. Alone with the boy in a bed that smelled like him, in the dark of his room with no one else to worry about. Hands dragging over naked skin, new places to touch, to see, to kiss and taste. 

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Eddie was still running his mouth as he kissed you, catching every soft sigh and whine you gave him with a push of his lips to yours. “What you doin’ with a guy like me, huh?”

It was a rhetorical question, you knew that. The boy was mumbling, almost to himself, eyes closed, lips smoothing over your jaw, totally lost in you. But you felt the need to answer him, to show him why you were with him. 

Your hands found the waistband of his jeans, fingers a little shaky as you tugged at it, popping the button and messing with his zipper, a little noise of indignation stuck in your throat when it didn’t budge as easily as you wanted. And then you were pawing at him, hands roaming over the ink on his chest, lips pushed back to his and you were whining, his name tumbling from your lips over and over again. 

“Hey, hey,” Eddie was catching you, hand cupping your chin, pulling back enough to look you in the eye and he felt like he’d been punched in the gut at all the emotions he found there. Need, want, a heavy dose of something fond, something more. “Sweetheart, s’fine, I know. C’mere for me.”

He took your hands in his, let them drag slow down his chest, over the lines of his hips, the soft of his stomach and he unzipped his jeans with your fingers curled between his own. Everything seemed to slow then, right back down like before, like he was reminding you that you had all the time in the world. Eddie pressed sweet little kisses to your face, peppered them over the apples of your cheeks, open mouthed presses to the corner of your mouth, the angle of your jaw. 

“S’that what you want?” He kept your hand in his own, hissed when he brought it to rub over the hard outline of his dick, twitching beneath his boxers. Your fingers curled around it, thick and heavy in your hand and Eddie squeezed your palm around it with his own, groaning. “You want this, baby?”

You nodded, eyes clenched shut as he pressed his forehead to your own, crowding into you with your joined hands still tugging at his cock through his underwear. The boy was panting, needy noises coming from his lips and you couldn’t believe the way your cunt was aching again, a dull throb that you were desperate to make go away. 

“Eddie,” you whined and your heart stuttered when he whispered your name back, his free hand curling around your waist to hold you closer to him. 

“Shit, I need- I need to be inside you, sweetheart,” he gasped out, jaw slack and parted lips ghosting over your cheek in a lazy kiss. “Fuckin’ desperate for you, please.”

You don’t know how it happened, how Eddie ended up beneath you, back against his headboard that rattled a little too loudly. But you were curling your fingers into his jeans, tugging them down his hips, taking his boxers with them until his cock spring free and slapped against his stomach. You were a mess of limbs, huffs of laughter and kiss swollen smiles as Eddie yanked off his socks as you tried to wrestle the denim down his legs at the same time, both of you completely naked before the other for the first time.

You took a second to take him in, all of him. New tattoos that appeared from under clothes, dark swirls of ink that curled over his skin. He was lean, trim waist, subtle lines of muscle that wrapped around his arms, his thighs. 

He looked nervous as you sat between his spread legs, hands smoothing across his thighs as you leaned into him. Eddie could help but drop his stare to your tits for a second or two, nipples peaked and grazing across his own chest as you moved against him. 

You caught his lips in a sweet kiss, your voice sticky and soft with affection as you told him, “you’re so pretty, Eddie.”

You couldn’t see, not from the way you were sucking a nice bruise into his neck, but Eddie had the sheets fisted in his hands at your words, your voice. He sighed, let his head fall back and his jaw go slack, tilting himself this way and that so you could bite and suck at his throat. 

You felt him swallow, a harsh bob of his Adam’s apple as you kissed over it. He sighed, soft, melting under your touch and his hands caught your waist as you moved yourself to perch on his lap. Your thighs spread over his own, your bare cunt sliding slick and warm over the hard length of him. 

He twitched, you moaned, he held you a little tighter. 

“Yeah?” He asked you, voice higher and breathier than you’d heard it before. 

You grinned, nodding, the graze of your lips following the line of his jaw, stubble catching on your tongue as you flicked it out a little dirty at the space under his ear. You mimicked his words from earlier, hurting your own heart with how true they were. 

“Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” you whispered. 

Eddie grinned, Eddie blushed, shaking his head at you as he smiled all soft, sticky fondness catching at his throat as he cupped the back of your neck and tugged you into him. 

“C’mere, you.”

Another kiss, sloven and lazy, one that stirred up heat in your stomach, made you grind against him with a whine. He didn’t get a chance to pull away as you wrapped your hand around his dick, pumping him once, twice, before you raised yourself up a little, and sunk back down.  

Eddie’s fingers were bruises on your hips, grabbing at you as his tip nudged at your cunt, slick and warm, a slow slide of you as you went down down down. 

You took him inch by inch, gasping at each bit of stretch, eyes watery and on his own as he watched you, pupils blown, jaw hanging slack. 

“Jesus fuckin’ christ,” he moaned, the sound ripping out of him in a stutter. You were both panting, chests heaving as you took him all, sitting pretty in his lap with his cock seated fully inside of you. “Oh, good girl, good fucking girl.”

You gasped, didn’t dare move, because you were already clenching around him and you could feel the way the boy’s cock was twitching inside of you, his head thrown back at the way you were tightening up at the feel of him. 

It was too much, the stretch, the ache, the feeling of being so full. 

“Eds, Eddie,” god, you sounded close to tears, too overwhelmed by it all. “I can’t, s’too good, already close, don’t wanna- fuck, not yet-”

The boy was petting at you, hands brushing over your thighs, your shoulders, cradling your cheeks in his palms as he kissed over your lips. He made soft noises, nudged at your jaw with his nose so you’d move your head back for him to kiss a line across your throat. 

“You’re alright, sweetheart, yeah?” Eddie cooed, voice full of awe and heat for you. “I’ve got you. S’okay, gonna take it real slow for me, aren’t you?”

You mewled, made a little whining noise for him, because fucking hell, that’s all you could do. His cock was throbbing inside of you, his thighs already a mess with you and you couldn’t help but rock a little, hips moving over Eddie’s and making him grunt. 

“Yeah, jus’ like that, hmm?” Eddie nodded, eyelids drooping with pleasure. “Can I watch you? Huh? You gonna let me watch you fuck yourself on a my cock, like a good little girl?”

You were nodding, small hands gripping around the boy’s board shoulders and you realised then and there that you’d do absolutely anything Eddie asked. His voice made your toes curl, singing with praise, thick with adoration. 

“Shit, yeah,” you told him, eyes squeezing shut as he chanted his hips up a little, nudged somewhere deep inside of you. “Yeah, please, you can watch me, I can do that.”

You were babbling, a mess, back arching for him to touch more of you and Eddie obliged, one hand smoothing down the curve of your tummy, the other flicking fingers over your nipples, twisting and pulling a little rough when he felt you get wetter for him. 

His lips were at your ear when he whispered, mouth warm on the shell of it, “remember, sweetheart, nice n’ slow for me, yeah?”

You nodded, all words gone as you started to move your hips. Eddie kept his hands on you, fingers splayed wide over the tops of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the crease that separated them from your cunt, just gently sliding over the spread of your folds as you rocked back and forth over his cock. 

You barely lifted yourself off of him, just rolling yourself over and over, hips grinding down onto him as the boy  groaned his praise to you. And every time you got too eager, Eddie tutted, wrapped a large hand around your neck and brought you to his lips, kissing you sweetly and murmuring about how you needed to take your time. 

It eventually got too much, just like you knew it would, like Eddie hoped it would. ‘Cause you were whimpering, begging, petting at the boy as your eyes turned wet and you could hardly keep your legs from shaking anymore. 

He gave in then, barely able to keep himself together, harder than ever as his cock sat deep inside you, throbbing for release. So he shushed you with a soft coo, gathered you in his arms and let you fall into his chest. He kissed you desperate, kissed you greedy and then his hands were roaming you back, clutching you right and finally, finally, finally he was rutting up into you. 

Eddie’s eyes were on yours as he snapped his hips into yours, holding onto the curve of your ass to gain some purchase, he slack and lids hooded. He was babbling nonsense, words sticky sweet and filthy as his cock started a fast, hot slide in and out of you. 

“Babybabybaby,” Eddie groaned, his hands everywhere at once, like he couldn’t get enough of you. “Fucking Christ, that’s it, fuckin’ bounce on me sweetheart, you got it, you got it, shit.”

You keened as you grabbed back at his hair, curls fisted in your fingers and Eddie grinned at your touch, like he knew you couldn’t help yourself. You scratched at his scalp, sighed at the way his lashes fluttered with it and you did as he asked, indulged him by lifting yourself off his cock, just enough to feel utterly empty before dropping yourself back down. 

It made Eddie swear, head thrown back, bumping against his wall but he didn’t care, just encouraged you to do it again and again and again and again until-

“Sweetheart, m’gonna come, tell me you’re close, tell me what you need please, c’mon baby, tell me.”

Your hand was shaking as you grabbed Eddie’s, dragging it between your legs so he could thumb at your clit; rough, sloppy circles that did exactly what you needed it to do. 

You pressed your face to the crook of his neck as you came, your entire body rigid against his as Eddie continued to fuck his hips up into you, the boy gasping at how tight you got around him, his arms wrapping themselves around you to hold you to him. 

Another few thrusts, one, two, and Eddie was falling apart underneath you, clutching at your jaw so he could press his mouth to yours, lips parted as he moaned and whispered against you, a barely there kiss. 

Minutes passed before either of you spoke, before either of you moved. Happy to stay curled against each other, still in Eddie’s lap, his slowly softening cock still nestled between your legs and you were messy and sticky, but fuck, you didn’t care. 

You lay lines of kisses across his shoulder, nose nudging soft at his neck whilst the boy drew shapes over your back, his touch bringing goosebumps across your skin. And when you eventually cooled down, your body growing sore and a different ache set in, Eddie helped you shuffle from his lap, tutting in sympathy when you whined at the way he slipped out of you, every part of your body too sensitive. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered and he left you with a quick kiss to your forehead as he pulled on a pair of sweats he found on the floor, coming back with a warm washcloth and a large glass of water. 

You let him clean you up as well as he could, shared his drink with him until your chest stopped heaving and you felt like your throat could form words. Reality seemed to hit, and you were suddenly so aware that you were in the boy’s room, in his bed, naked and flushed and so, so satisfied. 

But you didn’t know what this was, if it had changed, if this was still the same. If you and Eddie were still the same. Because sex had always been sex but there was something different in the way he was looking at you, with your clothes on his floor and his hand smoothing back your hair so he could kiss over your eyelids, down your cheek to your jaw. 

You didn’t think he wanted you to leave, he wasn’t acting like it, wasn’t rushing you but god, female insecurity seeped in and tugged at your bones, making you feel hollow and unsure. 

You moved as if to find your clothes, not getting very far before Eddie pulled a large shirt out of his drawer, handing it to you with a shy smile and hopeful eyes. You weren’t sure who was happier when you accepted it, the boy’s eyes following the movement of it as you dragged it over your head, lips twisted when you realised it smelled like him. 

“So, uh,” Eddie cleared his throat, stood near his bedroom door and crossed his arms self consciously. He was still shirtless, muscles flexing, tattoos shifting over skin. “Did you mean it? Earlier? About you, me… all night?”

Your stomach flipped, tumbled, like someone had lit a sparkler inside of you. 

“S’okay if you’ve got somewhere to be,” he told you, a hand reaching up to tug at a curl, a telltale sign of his nerves. “I can drive you home or-”

“I don’t have anywhere to be, Eds,” you replied, voice more shy than he’d ever heard it. 

“-or we could order a pizza or somethin’.”

You looked up to find him smiling, that smile you loved, slow and soft and wide, the kind that made his eyes seem warmer, like honey. 

“Yeah?” 

He shrugged, moving back into the room. He toed at your bra, grinning. “Yeah.”

“That sounds like a date, Munson,” you gasped, all faux shock and drama and god, Eddie adored you for it. 

He was back on the bed with you, a warm hand curling around your ankle where you’d stretched your sore legs out. His thumb rubbed over you, like he was trying to soothe his own nerves as well as your own. 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Eddie scrunched his nose, acted confused and like he wasn’t sure what he was saying. But his heart was hammering and he wondered if you could hear the way it rattled his bones, if you could see the relief on his face when you didn’t immediately get up to find your shoes. “S’weird.”

“What’s the ‘or something’ part?” You asked him, smiling as he moved closer, like he’d finally realised you weren’t going anywhere. 

He took your legs in his hands, brought them over to rest across his own and looked at you through messy curls. Another smile, cheekier this time. 

“Maybe a movie, on the couch,” his voice was so soft. “Could act a fool and make a move, y’know how it is.”

You laughed, a bright burst of sound that made his heart happy because you were still in his bed without any underwear and he’d came inside of you only minutes before. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you told him, and Jesus, you could hear the sticky fondness in your voice, could feel the soft way you were looking at him. 

“You’re still here, though,” Eddie answered and he sounded like he was in awe of the fact. He tapped out a guitar riff over your calf, smiled when you hugged out a laugh and blushed for him. 

Your hand caught his easily, big and wide in your own but he let you curl your fingers around his, let you pull him a little closer still and you loved the way his eyes fluttered closed when you leaned in to kiss him 

“I told you,” you pretended to huff, an affectionate roll of your eyes only softened by another kiss to the boy’s lips. “You’ve got me all night, if you want.”

Eddie smiled, beamed, cheeks rosy, eyes bright and he nodded. His throat bobbed like he was swallowing back emotion he didn’t expect and he cleared his throat and his pretty face in the crook of your neck when he answered:

“Yeah, I want to.”

I am NOT going to stop thinking about this

i doubt it helps, but i also think eddie is the type to try to be respectful at a family holiday party but ultimately end up wanting to fuck you in a guest room or finger you in a closet at the very least 🫠

Hahahahaha this made it so much worse in the best possible way, I love you anon.

Bad for the Holidays

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Note: I wrote most of this in my childhood bedroom while visiting home for thanksgiving. So this got very real, guys Lmao

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY!, teasing, dirty talk, pet names (Princess, bad girl, baby girl), alcohol consumption, oral sex (m receiving), PIV sex / unprotected sex, hand job, cum eating, semi public sex? (Your family is in the same house at the time)

Eddie Munson never thought he’d find himself at a holiday party straight out of a fucking Norman Rockwell painting, but then again he’d never thought he’d meet someone like you. Someone funny and kind and intelligent while simultaneously cool as hell and hot as hell. You’re everything he’d never let himself hope for, and he’s nothing like what he believes you deserve. Not that you listen to him when he voices his fears over not being good enough for you.

“Stop fidgeting, Eddie. This isn’t a big deal,” you whisper to him as the two of you stand on your door step. You pry open his tense fist to hold his hand in yours and he takes a deep breath, looking down at your smile. “They’re gonna love you.”

“Yeah but what if…what if they don’t?” Eddie mumbles. His brow is furrowed and his lips pout and all you want to do is kiss his frown away. But you know there’s no time for that. So you shake your head and squeeze his hand.

“I love you, so that’s all that matters,” you reassure him. “But this conversation is silly because they’re gonna love you.”

And you’re right. Of course. How could people not love Eddie? Especially people who loved you and who wanted to see you happy. And Eddie makes you the happiest you’ve ever been, and that just radiates off you when you walk into the room, proud to show off your boyfriend.

Eddie’s rough around the edges when you first meet him, sure. But he’s gone to great lengths to appear even more presentable than usual tonight, wearing a clean black button down and black jeans that don’t even have any holes in the knees. Before long, and exactly as you knew would happen, Eddie’s regaling your extended family with stories about his friends back in Hawkins and about life on tour as an up snd coming musician.

It’s pretty late by the time things start winding down. The dinner’s long done, your parents have gone to sleep and most of the older family members have puttered off with leftovers in tow. That’s just left you and Eddie with the crowd closer to your age - and amalgamation of cousins and friends of the family in their early to mid twenties. You all play a few rounds of board games and a few glasses of wine deep, Eddie starts looking way more appetizing than the holiday dinner.

You stare at him over your wine glass as one of your cousins prattle’s on about some drama going on at her job. But you can barely hear her because you’re watching Eddie pal around with Josh, your neighbor who you’d crushed on growing up. Next to Eddie, neighbor boy is absolutely nothing, an observation you make silently and with pride. Your boyfriend has an easy air to him, lounging back against the couch as he speaks, legs spread wide and casual. He looks completely at ease, comfortable in his spread out position. If you weren’t still in front of family you’d walk right over there and straddle him there and then. You lick your lips and silently hate him for the way he’s done absolutely nothing and yet has fully managed to get you salivating from afar. It’s unfair.

You couldn’t possibly know, however, just how much you’ve been driving him crazy all night. Bending over to pick things up in your tight little party dress. Munching on appetizers behind your red lips, licking your fingers clean of any crumbs or sauce. Pushing up against him when the two of you passed through narrow hallways and through crowded parts of the house.

He’s been working so hard not to pop an erection in this, the most inappropriate of venues, that he’s spent the last half hour practically avoiding you. When he looks up from his conversation with your boring neighbor, however, just to find you fucking him with your eyes from across the room, he thinks he’s going to combust.

You notice him frown when you finally catch his eye, but you don’t care enough to wonder what’s bothering him. Instead you wink at him - making his jaw drop - before raising your arms in a theatrical stretch with a matching dramatic yawn.

“God, I’m beat. Got a long drive home tomorrow,” you say to nobody in particular. Friends and family try to protest but you jump up and haul Eddie along after you, dragging him out the door.

When you finally make it to your childhood bedroom, you push Eddie towards the bed and lock the door all in one swift motion. You’ve kicked off your shoes and you’re reaching for the zipper of your dress before Eddie’s grabbing at your hips to stop you.

“What in the world are you doing?” he asks through gritted teeth, panic in his eyes. He’s sitting on your bed with you standing in front of him, his hands holding your wrists motionless to halt your effort to disrobe.

“I…I’m trying to get naked. And you should be doing the same,” you reply. Confused by the question in the first place. Eddie gazes up at you with. Wide eyes.

“But your family is like…right outside.”

“So?” you ask, now genuinely confused.

“And you’re tryna…you want to…”

“Fuck. I wanna fuck you. What’s the problem?” You let out an incredulous laugh. His grip loosens on your wrists so you circle your arms around his neck, massaging his shoulders. He seems to grapple for words so you continue to speak. “I don’t get it. You fuck me with my roommates in the next room all the time!”

“First of all, Nancy and Robin have made us listen to them having sex all the time and you know it,” he huffs immediately, but then returns to looking stressed. “And I’m friend with them. I don’t need to impress them…”

Your heart flips at the sentiment but you shake your head.

“You don’t need to impress anyone here either,” you argue, but Eddie’s having none of it. He springs to his feet in front of you, gripping your waist to pull you against him.

“That’s not fucking true and you know it, Princess.” He runs an aggravated hand through his curly hair. “I’m a freak. Your family wants - at least they should want - someone better for you than—,”

“Shut up. Shut up shut up,” you hiss, smacking his chest lightly with your open palm. “Nobody here knows your reputation from Hawkins, and even if they did, it wouldn’t matter because I’m fucking head over heels for you. You got that?”

“Yes ma’am,” Eddie says weakly, the ghost of a smile starting to curl at the corners of his mouth at how worked up you got all of us sudden.

“Now,” you say definitively, taking a step back to put your hands on your hips and take a deep breath. “I had three glasses of wine and I’m feeling…” you cast about for the right word and not being able to remember the word ‘horny’ you say the next best thing you can think of “…frisky. So you’re going to shut up and fuck me, snd you’re going to like it. Understand.”

Eddie looks dumbfounded, gazing at you with a mix of adoration, awe, and humor. He nods emphatically and you take another shuddering breath.

“Ok good. Help me take my clothes off.”

You expect him to crowd you. To throw you on the bed and rip off your dress and be on you so fast you barely see him coming.

Instead he walks over to you slowly, his eyes dark and lips pulled into a small smile. He steps around you to find the zipper you’d struggle with, lips finding the back of your neck as he pushes the zip all the way down to the curve of your lower back. He kisses his way over your shoulder as he pushes the fabric down and off your body. You shiver under his lips and the cool air you’re now exposed to. His hands find the front clasp of your bra - after making a pitstop to squeeze your breasts - and soon your bra joins your dress on the floor.

Eddie mouths at the side of your throat now as his hands grope every square inch he can reach, the bulge in his jeans pressing into your ass through the thin fabric of your panties.

It’s Heaven. Or close. The only thing is that it is noticeably, deafeningly quiet.

“W-why - oh. Why aren’t you saying anything?” you mumble out. Eddie chuckles against your skin and hips at your ear lobe.

“Told me to shut up,” he whispers. His hand slides forward to cup your mound and you swallow a moan.

“Oh so now you listen to what I tell you,” you bristle. Eddie’s chuckle vibrates through you again and you grind back against him intentionally. You grab his hand and shove it into your panties, no longer satisfied being touched through the fabric.

“I forgot. My baby’s feeling…frisky.” His voice is low and rich with amusement and sensuality. You huff but don’t protest because his big, thick fingers are finally where you wanted them all night. Swirling through your slick, his middle finger prodding at your entrance but not yet pushing in.

You try to step forward to urge him toward the bed, but Eddie pushes you to the side, his free hand coming to brace up against the wall in front of you.

“Not so fast. That bed is squeaky as hell,” he mutters between kisses to your shoulder.

“Well yeah. It’s almost as old as me,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, and you squeak under me all the time too, Princess.” You go to roll your eyes again at his cocky tone but the quickly roll back into your head as he shoves not one but two fingers into your tight heat. You let out a high pitched squeal that you do your best to smother with your hand and he laughs. “See? What did I tell you?”

You don’t say anything at first because you’re so lost in the feeling of finally getting what you want. Eddie leans his weight against you as he picks up momentum with his hand, and you find your front getting pressed up against the wall.

“Needed you aaaaaall fucking day, Princess. You’re absolutely infuriating,” Eddie says raggedly into the back of your neck. His fingers hook up and you gasp at the added pleasure.

“How am I - oh god. In…infuriating?” you barely manage to ask in response.

“Tried to be on my best behavior. But you had to prance around looking like a fucking wet dream, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t do anything…” you try to argue, but Eddie snaps the waistband of your panties, stretched out as they are from his fingering, and you flinch.

“Oh yeah? Then why did I know the color of your panties by the time we started dinner?”

He’s right of course. You’d been intentionally finding reasons to bend over in front of him, or cross and uncross your legs in front of him - anything to draw his attention between your thighs. As if his attention was ever anywhere else to begin with.

“Wanted to make me slip up, huh? Wanted me to drag you into the bathroom in the middle of dinner and fuck your brains out?”

“Yes!” you gasp, though you’re less sure that you’re affirming his statement and more sure that your orgasm is fast approaching. “Oh fuck, Eddie.”

“Bend over,” he says suddenly. His voice is more demanding than usual and a thrill runs up your spine. He steps back and gives you room, which you use to shuffle a bit to the side and lean over, bracing your palms against the seat of an old wicker chair you’ve had in your room since elementary school. With your ass up, you half worry that Eddie will forget where you are and spank you loudly, but he seems to remember and opts to grope you instead. He slides your panties to your ankles and you step out of them, widening your stance in a way that has him humming appreciatively behind you.

You steal a glance over your shoulder to confirm the suspicion that he is, in fact, fisting his hard cock, staring at your ready pussy and lining himself up.

“You play the good girl so well, but you’re just a bad girl for me, isn’t that right Princess?” Eddie asks as he pushes the tip of his cock in a circle around your aching entrance. You whine at the fact that he’s not yet inside you, trying to push back to make him slide in. Eddie laughs and grips you by your hips, hauling them higher and making your knees shake. “Look at you. Not even listening because you want my cock that bad.”

You toss a glare over your shoulder at him.

“Eddie if you don’t get inside me right - fuck!” You hiss through your teeth when he slides all the way into you at once. One hand slides down the small of your back, up your spine, to grip solidly at the back of your neck as he wastes absolutely no time getting a good pace going.

The slap of skin on skin ringing out in your small childhood bedroom is absolutely obscene, as are the whimpers that spill out of you despite your best efforts.

“Eddie…so fucking - oh!”

You’re trying to tell him how good he’s making you feel, but you’re sure he’s able to gather that from the way you’re completely unable to finish your statement. Eddie’s chuckle vibrates into your body and you reach back one hand to clutch at his where it holds you at your hip.

“Feels good, baby? Hm?” he asks, almost mockingly but you can’t muster enough energy to reply in any way aside from genuine.

“Feels so good, Eds,” you whimper. Despite his teasing, the way you’re scrabbling to make contact with him tugs at his heartstrings. He lifts his hand up from your hip enough to grab your reaching one.

“Christ, even when you’re a bad girl, you’re still so fucking sweet,” he mumbles, leaning down over you to press bruising kisses to your back and shoulders. You pant beneath him and relish in the additional contact.

“Eddie…mmm Eddie. So full.”

“Fuck. You can’t say shit like that when you haven’t cum yet, princess. I’m only fucking human, I’m gonna fucking blow.”

“Good! Give it to me,” you whine out, and Eddie pretty much loses it.

“Ok, come here my lil greedy baby,” Eddie says gruffly, though not without humor. He pulls out of you - and he has to shush you when you whine in protest - before hauling you around so that he’s sitting on your wicker chair and sliding you into his lap.

“Fucking yes. Oh my god yes.” You’re practically crying now as Eddie gets straight to bouncing you up and down on his cock. You cling to him, your fingers tightening in his wild curly hair as you breathe heavily and gaze at him with unfocused eyes.

“You’re just a horny little mess, aren’t you?” Eddie chuckles darkly. You nod and grip at his shoulders so the leverage let’s you help him move you up and down on his lap. Eddie kisses at the hollow at the base of your throat before looking back into your hazy eyes. “Hey. You with me?” He lightly taps your cheek with his palm when you don’t respond, so far gone in pleasure.

“Y-yeah?” you hiccup. Since you’re bouncing enough on your own shaking thighs, Eddie’s able to slide a free hand from the meat of your hips down to start playing at your clit. So you’re even farther gone now.

“Did you bring any turtlenecks in that little suitcase of yours?” Eddie asks you and your brow knits on what he finds to be a cute little scrunch as you struggle to comprehend the question.

“Yeah I brought one—oh my fucking god…”

Before you’d even finished answering his question, Eddie’s sucking and nipping at the skin of your throat. An action he knows can send you over the edge.

And it does.

You cum in a burst of pleasure that has you rocking against Eddie desperately, clinging to him as you do your best to keep him inside you at the deepest point for as long as possible.

Eddie, to his credit, let’s you do what you want with him. He holds your face in his hands and presses your foreheads together, nodding at your quiet moans.

“There it is. That’s what you wanted, sweet girl? That’s it.”

He’s patient as you come down from your high, but it’s his dick that twitches expectantly inside you which reminds you he still has to cum.

You do your best to start bouncing again, but your legs are shaky. Eddie laughs and stills you, his big hands on your waist, and you grumble.

“Shhh don’t worry about that. It’s good enough just hold you,” he reassures you. You look at him with bleary, pleasure soaked eyes.

“No. You need to cum, too,” you insist. Eddie shrugs, clearly content.

“Having my dick deep inside you is enough of a win, Princess,” he says with a chuckle.

But you’re having none of it. You struggle to your feet and then slide down to the floor in front of him to settle down on your knees. Eddie’s eye go wide and you grip his wet cock, fisting up and down on his lap.

“In high school I wouldn’t even listen to songs with dirty lyrics. Now my boyfriend’s dick is out while he sits on my reading chair in my childhood bedroom,” you observe irreverently with a laugh. Eddie joins in, though his laugh is more strained the longer you jerk him off.

“That’s what I was saying. Everyone thinks you’re so innocent. And yet here you are - just got your brains fucked out and now you’re on your knees for me.”

As if to punctuate and prove his statement, you lean forward and swallow him whole, your cheeks hollowing to create a tantalizing amount of suction,

“Oh mother of - fuck!” Eddie whispers harshly. You bob up and down on his cock without preamble. You could tell how close he was from the near steady stream of pre-cum that leaked from his tip.

Your hands knead into his thighs as you take him deeper and deeper, being careful not to gag too loudly when his spongey head hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Princess. That’s…oh god that’s…”

He’s rendered even more speechless when you grab his hand and place it on the back of your head, pressing down to indicate that you’d like him to control your movements. Something you’d never done with previous lovers. Only Eddie.

Eddie curses under his breath and blinks rapidly before doing as you’ve asked him to do - guiding you up and down on his cock by his grip on the back of your head. His cock pushes deep into your throat and Eddie’s eyes roll back into his skull.

“Jesus H. Christ you’re such a bad girl, letting me do this right now. Such a bad fucking girl.” He’s rambling at this point and you love it. You snake a hand between your thighs and begin playing with your clit as he fucks your throat. Overwhelmed by the feeling of him using you and the nature of his words.

When he lets you pull back to finally breath, you choke and sputter before speaking up, voice wrecked.

“Like being a bad girl for you, Eds,” you moan against his balls, jerking his spit and slick soaked cock with your hand. Eddie’s sure he won’t survive this and closes his eyes against the intense pleasure conjured up by the image of you before him.

“God, you get so messy for me, Princess. You know I love that.” You nod frantically and that’s when he notices your other hand has disappeared between your legs, touching yourself. He bites his lip to smother his groan. “Were you really touching yourself while choking on my dick, baby?”

You nod again with wide, doe eyes.

“I wanna cum again,” you say simply, brow knitting together from the way you toy with your clit feverishly. “But I want you to cum, too.”

“Baby girl, you keep looking at me and touching me like that, I’m gonna cum any second.”

Your breath speeds up and so does your finger on your clit. Your fist moves faster up and down his cock and you know he’s close, so you scootch up even closer between his spread thighs.

“Where d’you wanna cum, Eddie?” you ask. “My face? My tongue? My tits?” You model each option for him, turning your head to offer your cheek, sticking out your tongue, and shimmying your naked chest to make your breasts bounce.

“Oh shit oh shit…” Is all Eddie can say as his eyes zero in on your tits. His abdomen seizes and you deliver a handful more expert tugs, angling his cock towards your chest just in time. His white cum paints your tits just as your own second orgasm takes over, making your spasm a bit and concave into yourself.

It’s another minute or two before either of you move, your hand finally stilling and letting go of his softening cock. Eddie slumps back against the chair and rubs his eyes harshly with the heels of his hands before gazing back down at your messy figure.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Princess…” he mutters low. You simply grin at him, gathering the cum on your tits and placing it in your mouth with a happy hum.

“Thanks for my present, Eddie,” you say in a lilting voice and Eddie rolls his eyes at you, reaching down to haul you up off the floor and into his lap.

“If anyone in your family heard that and decides they don’t like me because someone couldn’t keep it in her pants…” he grumbles the threat half heartedly, contradicting his own tone by kissing your throat. Right on the fresh bruise that you will definitely need to cover with a turtleneck tomorrow. You giggle and cling to him.

“Nobody heard it. And besides, isn’t keeping me happy the most important thing?” you ask cheekily. Eddie laughs, a little closer to full volume this time, and crushes you to his chest.

“You happy, Princess?” he asks a beat later. Despite the volume of his laugh, the question comes out quieter. As if he’s not 100% certain what your answer will be. You pull back and take his face in your hands so you can imbue your response with all the strength you can muster after being fucked so good.

“I’m absurdly happy, Eddie Munson. And you better be, too, because I don’t plan on giving this up any time soon.”

He kisses you stupid in response, finally deciding the squeaky bed will have to do and hauling you over to start getting ready for sleep.

~*~

The next morning over coffee, eggs, and toast you get to witness yet again just how much your boyfriend has charmed your family and friends. They hang on his every word, laugh at his jokes, and ask him questions. And you know they aren’t just being nice, because they’ve never been this nice to any guy you’ve brought home before.

Watching Eddie regale some of your cousins with a particularly silly story from his latest small town tour, the sun hits him just right as it filters through the kitchen window. He’s back lit, haloing his hair and making him look particularly handsome. Your heart swells and you can’t take the yearning adoration that fills you to the brim.

To offset the achingly sweet emotions swirling within you, you have to do something silly. When Eddie looks at you over someone’s shoulder, you mouth “you’re fucking hot” at him and his face lights up in a massive grin, shaking his head. He mouths back -

“You’re bad.”

~*~

Tiny taglist: @millenialcatlady @theoncrayjoy @sacklerscumrag @cowboy-kylo @boomhauer @sparks363 @copycatkillerfics @boostilinski @wroteclassicaly @eddiesprincess86 @bambigoth-sims   @chaoschaoswriting @lassie-bird @softpshycopath @katsukis1wife @spookyreidd

omfg

TikTok

Mili🦋 bei TikTok

Caption not available. #sebastianstan #sebastianstansupremacy #sebastianstantiktok #trending #mcu #capcut #aigenerated #buckybarnes #fyppppp

I think that’s all my mind will be capable of thinking for the rest of the day. 🤤🥵

I know we hate AI but damn. Those picture. 🥵

Unfortunately I don’t find those fics I have read with Bucky being a firefighter. But if I find them I will link them. Or maybe some of you can send me links 😉

this is everything i never knew i needed and more

Undisclosed - Masterlist

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either. 

Warnings: Beefy!bucky, angst, references to death/crime, injury, toxicity, eventual smut (minors dni, marked **), a bit of slow burn!!  

a/n: This series is now complete 🤍

Series playlist ⍋

❆ Chapter One 

❆ Chapter Two 

❆ Chapter Three 

❆ Chapter Four 

❆ Chapter Five

❆ Chapter Six**

❆ Chapter Seven

❆ Chapter Eight 

❆ Chapter Nine 

❆ Chapter Ten

❆ Epilogue

Series art!!

🤍 Bucky

🤍 Bucky and Alpine 

🤍Scenery 

🤍 Bucky at the diner

Extra content!!

Reader gets sick (drabble)

Spring in Stowe Mills (oneshot)

The bear attack (drabble)

Come Home (oneshot)

this is SO fun, i'm already sprinting to the next part

more bob smut please!!!!!

Sweet Treats and Side Effects ✩ Bob Reynolds pt. 1

Pairings: Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolt!Reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. use of y/n, bob reynolds x fem!reader, found family, accidental aphodisiac, chaotic prank war, slow-burn, mutual pining, thunderbolts frat house energy, dubious influence (consensual but under a magical substance), yelena’s chaotic best friend energy, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, rough sex, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), praise kink, slight dom!bob, bob whimpering!!! (yes godddddd)

Summary: When Yelena kicks off her next move in the Thunderbolts prank war with a bag of questionable aphrodisiac chocolates, you agree to help her “prank” Bucky Barnes into a very inconvenient eight-hour erection.Unfortunately, Bob Reynolds gets there first. Now the most powerful man in the tower is red-faced, sweating, and very, very desperate for one thing—and it’s not chocolate. It’s you. And when the side effects kick in full-force, you’ll have to decide if you’re helping your friend… or completely, shamelessly indulging his deepest, filthiest desires. Chaos. Horny chocolate. Yelena being the worst. And Bob being the sweetest, softest, most absolutely feral man alive.

Author's Note: you ask, i deliver. here's another one 'cause i really can't get enough of bob. i love him so much it hurttttsssss. i had this idea while I was showering and I kid you not I jumped out off the shower and grabbed my phone sooooo fast to start typing on my notes cause I have adhd and I forget things so fast LOL. also thank you soooooo so much from the bottom of my little heart for all the love and support in don’t let go and ruined <33 i appreciate all of your comments and messages and screams in the reblogs, it really warms my heart<3 i hope you guys like this first part. yelena my beloved my beautiful girl i cant i love her so much!!!!!! if you want to be added to the taglist just comment below<3 part 2 is posted!!!

masterlist. part 1. part 2.

The Thunderbolts Tower wasn't built for this kind of chaos.

At least, not this kind. The late Stark Tower—once a monument to genius, ambition—had now been refitted as the New Avengers' headquarters. High ceilings, soundproofed rooms, high-tech gadgets, sleek black interiors, furniture that probably cost more than all of their salaries combined, and reinforced windows that could withstand a helicarrier crash—it all screamed “elite modern high-tech paramilitary chic."

But then Yelena moved in, and the whole place became a "deranged prank way frat house battlefield." Everything went to hell. In a good way, though. In a really good way.

She brought with her 17 leather jackets, around twenty pairs of brass knuckles, an entire crate of Bulgarian wine, and a feral grin that had everyone—Valentina especially—deeply concerned. Yelena had called Bucky “grandpa,” told Walker his jaw looked like it was Photoshopped, and challenged Alexei to a sparring match while doing vodka shots.

By week two, she had both Bucky and Walker in such a vicious prank war that Valentina personally installed panic buttons in every room and a 24-hour hotline staffed by two overworked interns.

"Listen," she'd said to Bob one evening, slouched across the common room couch holding a vodka cranberry in one hand and a glitter bomb in the other, "if you're not part of the prank war, you're part of the problem."

You, curled in the armchair with your Cosmopolitan, just snorted and shook your head. “Don’t engage,” you whispered. “That’s how it starts.”

But it was already too late.

By week four, someone—probably Yelena—had rigged the gym's ceiling vents to explode with glitter every single time music was played. It looked like an ABBA concert every time anyone tried to work out. Walker was victim number one. It took him two weeks to clean out all the vents. He was still finding glitter in places no man should.

By week six, Bucky's protein powder was replaced with powdered sugar—Walker's doing. The next day, Walker's toothbrush was swapped for a hot pepper-infused prank toothbrush so strong he almost wanted to rip his tongue out—Bucky's doing. Yelena claimed no responsibility, but laughed out loud until her tummy hurt. Alexei said nothing, but looked immensely pleased. Ava just walked away every time, muttering "children" and "imbeciles" in every single language.

And you? You opted out of everything.

So did Bob.

You were the “normal” ones—if “normal” meant tired, trauma-bonded, and one missed therapy session away from losing it. You liked your body not covered in glitter. You liked your food unsabotaged. You liked your showers dye-free. You liked your clothes not sewn together by a super-soldier with a grudge. You liked peace. Quiet.

Bob, too, had retreated from the chaos the moment it started. He was quiet, nervous, so polite. The Sentry—the most powerful being in several galaxies—was also the one who carried I <3 New York mugs with two hands, murmured “sorry” when he sneezed too loudly, and apologized to furniture when he bumped into them.

You once caught him whispering "sorry" to the coffee machine. You hadn't recovered since.

And then there was Yelena—your best friend, your platonic soulmate, your disaster twin, your ride-or-die with a taser in her boot and a flask in one of the many pockets on her vest. She thrived in these situations. Like a vengeful little chaos gremlin.

You loved her like family. Like a sister. You also wanted to strangle her at least once a day.

You’d lost count of how many times you’d bailed her out of prank-related disasters. You had a permanent, invisible sign that read “Yelena’s Damage Control” stamped on your forehead. Once, you caught her trying to set up a trap involving a pulley system, three buckets of Jell-O, and a pressure sensor under Walker’s mattress.

“Yelena,” you had deadpanned, “this is a war crime.”

“I know,” she’d whispered, eyes gleaming.

You couldn’t stop her. But you could try to contain the fallout.

She'd always been the troublemaker, and you'd always been the one holding the broomstick, ready to clean up after every single mess.

Which is how you found yourself curled up on the couch one lazy, peaceful evening, blanket over your legs, a movie playing quietly. Peaceful, until it wasn't.

Yelena burst into the common area with the chaotic glare of a feral racoon who had just tried McDonalds for the first time.

She had a pouch in one hand, and that look in her eye. The one that meant she was either going to kill someone, or make them cry. The look of someone who had Googled "legal prank weapons" and actually found something.

You didn't look up from your phone. "If that's another glitter bomb, I swear to God Yelena I—"

She grinned, flopped on the couch beside you, and dropped the pouch in your lap.

You frowned. "You bought chocolate?"

"Yes and no," she said, vibrating with excitement. "It's not regular chocolate, silly. It's special chocolate."

You narrowed your eyes. "So... you bought weed chocolate?"

"What? No!" she scoffed. "Not weed. They're sex chocolates.

You stared. “I’m sorry—”

“I found them online,” she said proudly, holding up the tiny pouch like she was unveiling a horcrux. “Not technically illegal. Just... wildly inappropriate.”

Your mouth had opened and closed a few times before you got a full sentence out. "You bought aphrodisiac chocolate."

“Yes,” she continued nonchalantly, as she dramatically placed it in your palm, like this was completely normal and not a felony, “chocolates that make you horny. The bag said you should only eat half of one ‘cause otherwise—" she wiggled her eyebrows, "side effects. And it might make you horny as hell.”

You sighed.

"You're going to poison Bucky Barnes with horny candy? Jesus Christ, Yelena."

“It’s not poison,” she snapped, snatching the bag back. “It’s hilarious. He put fucking green dye in my shampoo, I looked like Shrek’s third cousin for three weeks. Like a fucking radioactive lizard. That shit didn't come out for three weeks. This is justice.”

“You looked adorable with green hair,” you offered.

“Not the point.” She held up a wrapped chocolate. “The point is this—” she pressed it against your cheek “—is going to drive him insane. I leave this out. He eats it. Gets inconveniently boned for eight hours. I laugh. You laugh. We all laugh. Valentina cries. Justice is served. The universe realigns.”

“Or,” you offered, “he kills you.”

“Worth it.”

You sighed, already in too deep. “Okay fine, I approve.”

“Good, ’cause I’m giving it to him right now.”

You frowned. “Isn’t it too suspicious for you to give him the chocolate? He’s gonna suspect you’re up to something.”

“You’re right…” Her eyes lit up again. “I’ll leave it on the kitchen island. The man can’t resist abandoned snacks.”

“Okay… but—”

“No no buts. This is gonna be fun.”

“Yelena…”

“Shush. He’s gonna come back any minute.”

You leaned back onto the couch again as she bolted to the kitchen, dropped the chocolate in plain sight like bait in a trap, then sprinted back and threw herself dramatically onto the couch beside you, both of you pretending to watch the movie playing on the screen.

You started giggling.

“Shut it!” she hissed, elbowing you. “He’s gonna suspect if you giggle like that.”

“I can’t help it,” you wheezed. “I just— I can’t wait to see his face.”

You tried to calm down, but you couldn’t stop picturing it: Bucky, scowling and always so suspicious, wandering into the kitchen, finding the lone piece of chocolate on the island like a bear stumbling across a candy bar in the woods, sniffing it, probably poking it, and then—against all logic—eating it.

And fifteen minutes later? Uncontrollably, catastrophically horny.

It was horrible. It was perfect.

And yet… the common room stayed quiet except for the hum of the TV. The chocolate remained untouched. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Still no Bucky.

“Where the fuck is he?” Yelena hissed under her breath, peeking over the back of the couch. “He’s usually sniffing around by now. Post-workout fridge raid is like, a sacred ritual.”

“Maybe he’s actually working for once,” you offered, scrolling lazily through your phone. “You know. Doing his job.”

Yelena groaned like you'd personally insulted her. “Ugh. What a nerd.”

She flopped sideways dramatically, letting her head land on your thigh with a little oof. You chuckled and absentmindedly ran your fingers through her hair, brushing it out of her face while she mumbled something about "uselessly punctual super-soldiers" and “flirting with dietary supplements.”

Eventually, her mumbling trailed off. Her breathing evened out. She fell asleep in your lap, curled like a cat, snoring softly.

You stayed like that, warm and peaceful, letting the TV flicker in the background while your thumb scrolled mindlessly over your screen. The prank chocolate glinted under the kitchen light.

And then—

“Oh. Hi, Y/N.”

You looked up.

Bob Reynolds stood in the doorway, backlit by the hallway light, soft curls slightly tousled, wearing a black T-shirt that read sorry I’m late, I didn’t want to come in lowercase comic sans, and his usual grey sweatpants that hung low on his waist.

Your stomach dipped.

"Hey, Bob," you said, smiling.

He gave you a soft smile—shy, unsure, always like he was surprised you were still happy to see him. “Hi.”

His eyes flickered to Yelena, then back to you. He lingered there—just long enough to make your heart flutter.

It wasn’t the first time.

He always did that—like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to greet you. Like saying your name out loud made something flutter in his chest.

And God, he had no idea how obvious he was. At first, you thought it was just nerves. Bob was quiet, thoughtful, shy. But then you started noticing the patterns.

How he always looked for your laugh when the room was loud. How his eyes lingered on your mouth when you were focused on something. How he watched you when he thought you weren’t watching, gaze soft, warm, wanting—not greedy or possessive, just… curious. If you spoke, he listened—not just politely, but curiously, like your words mattered more than anyone else's in the room.

There was always a slight delay when he smiled at a joke—like he waited to see if you were laughing first.

And when you caught him watching? He looked away so fast it was like his thoughts had been yanked straight out of his brain.

You’d noticed. Of course you had.

Yelena noticed it too.

"I—uh—I just came to grab a snack," he said softly, motioning toward the kitchen.

"Sure," you smiled, turning your attention back to scrolling on your phone, trying so hard not to think about him.

A moment later, Yelena stirred, mumbling into your thigh, “He’s so into you.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s not.”

“He is.”

“He is not, Yelena.”

“Babe. You’re so blind,” she mumbled. “I say this with love. Wake me up when Bucky eats the chocolate.”

She was out again within seconds.

You resumed your doom scrolling, ocasionally chuckling at stupid videos on the internet. A minute passed. Then another. Then you heard soft footsteps.

You looked up—and froze.

Bob was back. Glass of milk in one hand. Torn silver wrapper in the other. And—oh no.

Oh no.

A smear of chocolate at the corner of his mouth.

“Uh, Bob… where did you…?”

He blinked, startled. “Oh—this?” He held up the wrapper. “I, uh, found it on the kitchen island. Was it… was that yours?”

You stared.

“Oh god.”

“What?” he said, confused. “Was it like, fancy chocolate? I didn’t mean to—was it yours, Y/N? I’m so sorry—”

You slapped Yelena awake. “Wake up. Wake up right now.”

She groaned, glaring at you. “What the fuck, Y/N! Why would you—”

“He ate the chocolate.”

She blinked and puffed. “What? Ugh, Y/N! I told you to wake me up when Bucky came!"

You stood up, grabbing her chin and physically turning her toward Bob like you were revealing a murder suspect. “He ate the chocolate.”

Her jaw dropped. A full gasp escaped her. “Oh my god. BOB.”

Bob backed up. “I’m sorry! I just— I saw it— I thought it was for everyone—was it yours, Y/N? I didn’t mean to—”

Yelena stomped over and grabbed his face with both hands like she was inspecting a crime scene. “How much did you eat?”

His eyes darted between you and her. “I—what’s happening?”

“Answer the question, Bob.”

“I… I ate all of it?”

“WHAT?!” you shrieked, vaulting to your feet.

“I didn’t know!” Bob said quickly. “I thought it was just normal chocolate—I was hungry—”

“Oh my god,” you whispered.

Yelena spun toward you. “Get the bag. Read the label.”

You fumbled with the pouch, hands shaking, and scanned the fine print.

Recommended dose: HALF a chocolate. Effects last 6-8 hours depending on metabolisim. Fast-acting, onset in 10-15 minutes. Possible side effects: increased sweating (short-lived), spontanous arousal, inability to regulare desire, increased physical sensitivity, touch dependency, increased stamina, vocalization, elevated body temperature, hypersensitivity, desire fixation and obsessive focus on most recent object of desire.

You looked up. Your throat went dry.

Bob was already sweating.

He stood in the middle of the room like he’d just wandered out of a sauna, shirt clinging to his chest, breath coming in short little bursts. He tugged at his collar, blinking rapidly like he was trying to remember how air worked.

"Oh fuck," you whispered.

“Uh…” Bob said, weakly. “Is it… is it warm in here?”

Yelena clapped her hands. “We’re so fucked.”

taglist ⊱☆⊰ @notreallythatlost @mandoalorian @urfavfakeblonde @sunday-bug @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @pey2618 (if you want to be added to the taglist just comment below)

Sebastian Stan at Britain Sharper World Premiere

@writingjourney I am SO devastated, I am simply sobbing until I can no longer breathe. Screaming, crying, throwing up.

I didn't mean to add smut to the next iknbs chapter but we're at the stage now where I try to make them kiss and suddenly they're grinding on each other. I'm sure you'll be SO SAD about that 🫤

Ok but Buck getting jealous or riled up from a British Air Force trying to get at his gal 👀

EDIT: I've just realized I totally misread this and didn't notice it's about BRITISH Air Force sdfghjkl; I hope you forgive me 🤣 I'm an idiot, I swear to God. feel free to send it again so I'll write another one!!!

hi, babe 🧸 thank you for your request 💗 Buck and reader are in America while this short fic takes place. let's say he got a few weeks off to spend at home 🏡

i currently have 2 more requests in my inbox but i was busy watching the bear today and now i have a slight migraine so i'll deal with them tomorrow, sorry xx

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

"What are you thinking of, doll?" his deep voice made you look up and blink a few times like you couldn't believe that he was there; back in your arms, so close and so warm. You were slow dancing together with Buck for the past half an hour but you couldn't focus on the moment even though you knew you should. He wasn't back for good. Not yet.

"You've only a few missions left," you bit on your lower lip and he chuckled before leaning in to look deep into your eyes.

"Aw, don't think 'bout it, babe. I left it behind for a few weeks, yes?" he pecked your lips and you tried to smile. "Come on, why the long face?"

"I'm sorry," you sniffled back the tears forming in the corners of your eyes and shook your head.

"Makes me think you're not happy to see me back in town," he teased and spun you around gently before pressing you close to him again. "What? Won't be able to see a loverboy for a while?"

"Don't be stupid, Buck. There ain't no loverboy but you," you chuckled finally and pushed him softly.

"There better not be 'cause I'd have to fix his face right."

"Sure thing, big man," you gave him a wide smile and cupped his face to caress his cheeks. You loved seeing your hands on him. You especially loved seeing your engagment ring on your finger. "You look so handsome in that suit, Cleven."

"That's Major Cleven for you, big mouth," he winked at you and you pulled a face to make him laugh.

"Fetch me something to drink, will you, Major Cleven?" you leaned in to kiss his cheek and asked. "All that dancing made me thirsty."

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded and walked you back to the table that had been occupied by you two before. He grabbed his cap to put it back on his head and approached the bar.

In the meantime, you opened your purse and tried to find a compact mirror with the powder to fix your shining nose and forehead. You didn't notice that some man stood above you. When you were done with your looks, you closed the mirror with a loud pop sound and you almost jumped in your seat at the sound of a tall dark-haired guy that kept staring at you.

"Excuse me?" you asked and looked him up and down. He was wearing a suit like your Buck but he was no Major.

"Um, I'm sorry, I've just noticed a beautiful girl sitting here all by herself and… I thought that, well, uh, I'mma fix that, perhaps…?" he took his cap off and squeezed it nervously with one of his hands as his other one went behind his head to scratch it awkwardly.

"And you are…?" you tried not to laugh at him. He was kind of adorable in that.

"Um… Sergeant… Sergeant Tommy Smith, miss," he introduced himself.

"Sergeant?" you raised an eyebrow. "Have you been to Europe already?"

"No, miss, no, I… I am going soon… It's my last few weeks before I go," he explained and you could see sweat forming upon his forehead. "Can I… Can I perhaps sit down?" he proposed, probably not realizing how bold it was. But he looked like he was about to faint any given moment.

"Sure thing, honey," you moved a little to give him a spot next to you but you tried to find Buck amongst the crowd. You couldn't see him, though, which was no surprise because the place was full of people – airmen, soldiers and their sweethearts... or girls hoping to become sweethearts soon.

"You're so… So kind, miss," Tommy nodded his head at you as he sat next to you. "What are you doing here all alone?"

"Who said I was alone?" you smiled at him and he blushed. "Oh, don't worry, he's not the beating up kind, my man."

Tommy seemed to sigh with relief but then his eyes widened at the sight of someone standing behind you.

"Is… Is that him?"

"Oh, honey, he's not scary at all, my man, he's…" you started with a chuckle but then you turned around and you saw the man that Tommy had been referring to.

It wasn't Buck. He was huge, enormous even. You've never seen an uniform so tight on the muscles like that. And he was tall as well. Wearing sunglasses inside at night type of guy. He was handsome, oh yes, he was. But he had this aura around him as if he had thought that the whole wolrd revolved around him. He was also an airman and he was chewing gum arrogantly.

"Is that kid bothering you, love?" he asked.

"Um… No," you shook your head and tried to find Buck desperately with your eyes but there was still no sight of him. "Not at all," you added.

"I'll g-go now…" Tommy stood up to leave quietly.

"No, don't leave me…" you tried to plead in a whisper but he put his cap back on and disappeared as quickly as he appeared.

So, now you were left with the big guy.

"Finally. These new ones are like pests," he sighed and sat next to you without asking for permission.

"Excuse me…?" you squealed but he only laughed and took his sunglasses off to take a better look at you.

"Why so scared, gorgeous?" he grinned showing off a set of pearly white teeth.

"Care to at least give me your name?" you asked, trying to move as far away as possible while staying discreet.

"Let's say you're about to find out later that night when you're gonna scream it, sugar," he winked at you and you almost gagged.

"Oh, I do believe I already have a name to scream," you stated, deciding that perhaps being as vulgar as him would make him finally get the message. But that was not the case.

"That guy's?" he laughed. "That kid's?"

"No," you shook your head and looked around but Buck wasn't coming.

"Something tells me you're bluffing me, little one," he leaned in and you took a deep breath in, trying to calm yourself down.

"Why would I?" you raised your hand to show him your ring. He hummed and whistled at it.

"Nice piece, baby. But it can mean anything," he insisted. "I think you're just playing hard to get, am I right, sweetheart?"

"Please, I am not interested," you shook your head as he was trying to put his arm around you.

"Why not? You seemed to be interested in the other guy and he was a fucking nobody."

"He was kind… And he wasn't pushy," you tried to get away as he was moving closer and closer.

"What's your name, by the way, sugar?" the man asked.

"Her name is Mrs. Gale Cleven," Buck's familiar, deep and warm voice made you look up as you smiled through the tears of humiliation.

He was standing above you with a drink in his hand and he looked oh-so-pissed like you've never seen him before.

"Shit, man, you mean she's married to that Major Cleven?" the big man let go of you and stood up immediately, grabbing his sunglasses from the table. "Thanks for the heads up, dude. And you are…?"

"Major Gale Cleven, dude," Buck answered angrily and you watched how the creep's smile dropped instantly.

"Oh, there's… There's been some misunderstanding, Major, I… There was a young Sergeant bothering your wife and I…" he started to stutter.

Buck looked at you now and you knew that he wasn't angry at you but his intense bright eyes still caused a chill go down your spine.

"Is that true?" he asked.

"There was a young Sergeant talking to me, I invited him to sit with me. He was friendly," you nodded. "I did not require saving as far as I am concerned… You, on the other hand," you looked at the scared big guy, "you were far from polite and you didn't treat me like a lady at all."

Buck put the glass down loudly in front of you and stared at the guy with contempt as the muscles of his jaw twitched.

"Let's take it outside," he proposed as your eyes widened. Buck was never the type to start a bar fight or anything of that sort. And as much as you believed in your brave Major, you didn't want him to fight that huge man.

"Buck, honey," you stood up to put a hand on his chest, "let him go, he's just drunk. He's not worth getting in trouble."

"I'm sorry Major, I didn't mean to be rude to your wife, sir," the man saluted.

"You only apologize because you know she's my wife. Otherwise you'd keep bothering her," Buck squinted his eyes.

"No, sir."

"Yes, Lieutenant, now get the fuck out of here."

"Sir, yes, sir!" the man saluted for the last time before walking away as fast as possible.

"Buck!" you pushed him gently as your jaw dropped. "Where did you learn such language?"

He didn't answer, however. He sat down, took his cap off and ran his fingers through his hair. You could see his hands shaking from restraining himself. You decided to give him a moment so you just sat down as well and sipped on your drink.

"Thanks for the coke, baby," you whispered eventually.

"You're welcome. The queue was long, sorry 'bout that."

"Oh, no need to be sorry," you caressed his tense arm. "Buck, you're okay?"

"Yeah, um, no," he looked up to meet your gaze and you furrowed your brow. He took your left hand and caressed your knuckles. "We should get married for real."

"I know, baby," you smiled widely, "when you come back to me for good, yes?"

"No, now," he insited all of sudden in a serious tone. "What if I don't come back for good?"

"Oh, don't say that! You've only a few missions left and… And this is supposed to ensure that you come back! God won't let you die when he knows you've a marriage to look forward to!"

"I want you to be safe if I don't come back," he didn't listen to you. "You'll have more privileges as a widow."

"Why are you bringing this up?!" you could feel tears forming in your eyes. "You were the one to tell me to stop thinking about it."

"But that jerk made me realize a thing or two, alright? Shh… Shh…" he cupped your face and kissed you. "Don't you want to be Mrs. Gale Cleven for real, sweetheart?"

"I… I do," you chuckled and nodded.

"God," he sighed and pecked your lips one more time, "thinking of you wearing my surname makes me dizzy more than any turbulence I've ever had to deal with."

"Just you wait and see, Major," you laughed through the tears, "being married to me will be the worst turbulence you'll ever experience."

"I hope that's a promise, doll."

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