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givehimthemedicine · 21 days ago

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time for my big lumax rantpost. I used to be way more of a shipper but upon reexamining some of my GA-era assumptions, I'm here to tell you why it sucks, and why I don't look forward to lumax endgame if it's the same lumax we've been getting.

lumax has fantastic potential, but needs lots of work to actually become the ship most of the fandom thinks it is.

I get the sense most on here consider lumax ST's darling perfect ship which is sullied by weak and/or racist writing. while I wouldn't argue at all that the writing does right by Lucas, I do think it's important to recognize lumax as an intentionally-written badly flawed relationship, NOT a poorly-written perfect relationship. (the writing for 5 has a lot to prove so we'll see)

lumax is obviously happening. no ending to Lucas's story makes sense other than him getting the girl. however, I don't like that from either character's standpoint.

from hers - Max is not a prize. and from his - Max is no prize.

Max is a pretty shitty girlfriend.

we've never seen her show Lucas any interest in learning anything about him. I can't remember a time she's complimented him, said anything nice about him, or done anything purely for his benefit. virtually all of their serious conversations have been about her, and the scant few that are sort of about him are inevitably just a lead-in to him offering support to her.

Lucas and Max's relationship - pre, during, and post dating - is 100% about what he can do for her. he's the one making 100% of the effort.

it seems like most of their interactions are him walking on eggshells trying to placate, reassure, or convince her, all for the reward of.... what. being allowed to continue existing near her? like yeah, she's a cool girl, but. that can't be it.

what good is getting the girl if the girl doesn't really offer anything?

. . .

through the seasons, semiquickly:

season 2

Lucas and Dustin both like Max, so they invite her trick or treating, offering to protect her from bullies and show her where the good candy is. in other words, the first Max / Lucas interaction is him offering something to benefit her. Max returns no appreciation or even response to the invite, yet still shows up to reap the benefits.

that pretty much sets the tone.

Max wants to be included, but that's a sensitive subject, so she puts on aloof airs to protect herself. it's an act, but nonetheless it's all Lucas receives.

the facade slips on multiple occasions though; Lucas is permitted to see her vulnerability, and we can see she's actually more desperate to make the connection than he is.

Dustin seeks Steve's manipulation tactics to use on Max, but Lucas wins her over by treating her like an equal and offering her genuine friendship.

he risks both his place in the party and his safety/life to include her, gives his undivided attention when she talks to him, asks questions that show his interest and concern, he reassures, uplifts and compliments her, and physically protects her.

in return, Max. uhh. well she does apologize for being a jerk, although she doesn't exactly stop, lmao. this is one of only two moments I can think of when Max reveals any regard for what Lucas thinks of her.

lumax is off-balance before it even starts, although s2 is when I think that dynamic is most permissible. since Max is a newcomer, Lucas has the advantage in many respects, and it makes sense for him to be the one extending a hand to her.

when Billy attacks Lucas for hanging out with Max, he could be gravely hurt if not for Steve taking the beating instead. Max joins in the momentary group hug but never says a word about this. (I suspect the writers mean for Max's bus apology to have proactively served as a veiled "sorry my stepbro is racist" but more felt needed in that moment.)

then they go to the dance and she kisses him and it's cute and everything is happy for ten whole seconds.

between 2 and 3

even though the summer of '85 is "the good days," this relationship is already careening downhill.

we learn that Max has dumped Lucas five times - such a regular occurrence that he takes it in stride and is well practiced at winning her back as a result.

unfortunately it's Lucas taking to heart the "happy wife happy life" policy from his dad that's set up lumax as something that seems to serve only Max. her awareness of the policy means she holds all the cards.

season 3

Max has secured her place in the party and the relationship, and now it's time for her to bring something to the table, but I honestly can't name one thing. it's still Lucas bending over backwards and Max sometimes being a bit of a jerk. (another act. we'll come back to this)

from the start of 3 we see an excessively secure Max and an obsequious Lucas. she doesn't show him any of the vulnerability that made her endearing in 2. they share fun moments, but we can infer that she doesn't treat him very well in ways that matter.

at one point she even plays mad just to watch him panic. you get the feeling this boy can never feel secure in his relationship. yeah she's just teasing, but do you think Lucas is allowed to tease too?

when El comes to Max for advice, she tells her that "boyfriends lie all the time" and this is before we see Lucas lie to her.

when Mike comes to Lucas for advice, he confidently schools him on how to get back in El's good graces by buying her a present - making clear he's been following his dad's advice all summer long and it's been working:

L: Dad? When Mom's mad at you, how do you make her not mad? C: First, I apologize. Then, I get your mother whatever she wants. L: Even when she's wrong? C: She's never wrong, son.

the mall confrontation is the first time we see Lucas really lie to Max, but even then, the girls don't actually have proof Nana isn't sick.

it's telling, actually, that Lucas's loyalty goes to Mike instead of Max in this moment. in s2 it was the other way around (Lucas pissed off the whole party by including her in the group and telling her the truth - a technically banishable offense). but now he's back to his s1 bros before hoes policy, and not only backs up but expands on Mike's lie. after dating almost a year, his loyalty to Max should be even stronger, but here we see the opposite. if Max had been at least as good a friend to him as Mike, I'm inclined to think he would at least have tried to be noncommittal here.

Max is so confident Lucas will have nothing on his mind but winning her back, as always - meanwhile who we actually see Lucas apologizing to is Will.

she may have had Lucas wrapped around her little finger all summer, but we're seeing that start to uncoil. if Lucas apologizes, it's offscreen.

when Billy tries to break out of the sauna to kill Max, Lucas slingshots him and body shields Max during the fight. next thing you know, Max is back to being cliquey with El in the bathroom (making fun of Mike even though he was the only one who did anything to save El's life?? girl you're being shitty to boyfriends that aren't even yours)

they seem to be a couple again by the end of 3, but the relationship is weakened...

between 3 and 4

..which sets the scene for how the two apparently drift when Max ends it once again. she's not playing this time - she uses the term "break up" instead of "dump" and Lucas has accepted that it's over.

depression makes it hard for Max to connect with him, but the way she treated him in 3 has likely also eaten away at his insistence on prioritizing her. if you push someone away over and over you can't be too surprised if they stay further away each time.

so Max withdraws socially and Lucas apparently doesn't go to his usual lengths to pursue her.

he's still making effort though! the "stalking" comment makes it clear he's been trying to approach her. we know he's been inviting her to his basketball games. him already knowing her favorite song as of 4x4 is more evidence of him taking an interest in her between seasons.

he clearly still cares a lot about Max, but good for him for pursuing his own hobbies and friendships as well.

season 4

Lucas finally asks Max to do something to support him for once (come to his game), but she shuts it down hard.

we know Max still cares about him, but that's just it - WE know. he doesn't. to his face, it's bristling rejection even while he literally begs for the chance to support her.

saving Max's life is a group effort, but Lucas knowing her favorite song is the key that saves her life, and it's only after that that she's friendly towards him again.

the only time I can recall Max expressing any concern for Lucas's wellbeing is when she asks if he's okay in 4x6 - and he only gets a few sentences to process Patrick's death before it's time for him to turn it into an apology to her. sigh.

Lucas is the only one of Max's friends to voice any objection to her suicide mission of a Vecna plan, and pitches for them to gamble a stranger's life instead. he once again risks his life to hang out in the Creel house with Max, personally taking on the huge responsibility of making sure she doesn't die.

Vol 2 Max finally shows Lucas some long-awaited appreciation ("you might have been there" and "I'm glad you're here") which is very nice to see.

I'm conflicted about the movie invite scene, but we'll talk about that later. textually: he asks her out, she accepts, it's totes adorbs.

unfortunately, Max being tranced out by the time Jason walks in means it's time for Lucas once again to get attacked by an older, stronger guy who's wrongly convinced he's a danger to her. (again not her fault, but kinda because of her)

everything goes sideways, Max gets Vecna'd, and Lucas holds her while she dies. we end on a bruised Lucas sitting loyally at Max's bedside, reading to her just in case she can hear it inside her coma.

Lucas hasn't been perfect but he has spent yet another season physically protecting and emotionally supporting Max at great personal expense, and with little appreciation and no support in return.

. . .

the movie doodle didn't fix lumax

Max has had an epiphany, but a change of behavior has scarcely begun. being nice isn't the same as making amends. they've resolved zero of the old issues, plus 4 (even if the plan had worked) has heaped a ton of new shit on both of them.

she's still a grieving, neglected, depressed and passively suicidal child of a triply-broken home. dating doesn't fix that. they already broke up once under the same conditions.

plus Max has new catastrophic emotional traumas, some of which which explicitly exacerbate those very issues. she has catastrophic injuries and disability to cope with (and this is a girl who withdraws under stress normally). with a shred of realism, she's waking up in less a mood for dating than ever.

Lucas has also taken on new traumas, between the basketball team stuff, getting beaten up and almost shot/strangled, and watching Max get Vecna'd and die. he already has a history of guilt about not being there for her enough, so he's going to have a lot more about failing her in that moment (definitely not his fault but he'll still feel bad) and will likely be even more focused on her.

to me, this all sounds like a recipe for the same old dynamic except worse than ever. if they get sleeping beauty'd directly back into lumax, it'll be a disservice to both characters.

. . .

now let's talk about why Max treats Lucas the way she does 🔬

she's not a conniving bitch, she's just a scared kid from a toxic home. that doesn't excuse her behavior but it does make it understandable.

Max CAN be a great friend. she's just not to Lucas.

Max absolutely showers El with the good qualities she'll barely show Lucas. in fact I could loosely say Max is to El what Lucas is to Max.

Max is suspicious and disparaging towards Lucas, even while trusting that he can be counted upon to grovel. meanwhile El never apologizes for intentionally hurting Max both physically and emotionally, yet the moment El acknowledges her (only because she wants help), Max is instantly forgiving, kind, gentle, caring, generous and supportive towards her.

she throws her loyalty behind a friend of 1 afternoon over her boyfriend of a year who's been the only person in Hawkins to show her any true kindness and emotional connection.

if Max was half the friend to Lucas that she is to El, she'd be a decent girlfriend. why isn't she?

we can name a few reasons why Max IS so nice to El, but why she ISN'T to Lucas is a separate question. kindness isn't zero-sum.

she told us why. boyfriends lie.

and it's ANY boyfriend, not just hers. Nana's sick? more like Mike's a lying piece of shit! Suzie from camp? fake! Dustin's obviously lying! the only one of the boys Max has never accused of lying is Will - the only one who's been single the whole time.

just. the state of being a boyfriend (or even just liking a girl is close enough), makes any boy automatically a liar.

Max believes "friend" and "boyfriend" are mutually exclusive

"Friends don't lie!" "Yeah, well, boyfriends lie all the time." <- it's all right there.

back in 2 when Lucas was her friend, she was more open and trusting. she gave him the benefit of the doubt that monsters were real and he knew a girl with magic powers. starting to date flipped the switch, and now she doesn't trust him about mundane stuff.

now they're not friends, they're boyfriend/girlfriend, and she expects to be treated in a whole different way, including all the baggage that comes with romantic relationships in her mind.

what baggage?

Max's childhood is full of examples of awful, manipulative men and abusive, broken relationships.

her dad: I'd only be speculating about why her parents' marriage failed, but in 2 Max misses California because her dad is still there, then by 4 acts like it's doubtful he can even be tracked down for delivery of what's basically her suicide letter. it's clear she desired a relationship with her dad but was abandoned. Neil: abusive asshole who rules the household with an iron fist. I'd be shocked if he hasn't abused Susan, and see little reason he wouldn't do it in front of Max (after all, we see him verbally and physically abuse his first wife in front of his son, in a bad fight over suspected lies/infidelity). in his grief over Billy, Neil and Susan have "bad fights" and he leaves the family. he's not missed, but it's still a second abandonment by a father figure. Billy: Max's peer example of guys in relationships: a sleazy, two-faced asshole who treats girls like trash and completely changes his persona to manipulate them for sex or whatever else he wants (Max appears to be all too aware of his sex life and is disgusted). abandonment issues with him too: a good relationship with a big brother would've meant the world to her, but he rejected and probably abused her for years; her letter at his grave reads "ever since you left" - same word she used for Neil.

Max desperately hopes Lucas is an exception to the rule, but these are the behaviors she would naturally fear from any guy she dates.

Max is especially terrified of being abandoned (and that she deserves it)

to be abandoned over and over can naturally leave a kid wondering if it's their fault, if this is the treatment they deserve.

Lucas is overall quite honest, and there's not an abusive bone in his body. the most realistic one of Max's fears to apply to him is that someday he'll leave her, too.

and that's the worst fear Vecna chooses to voice in Lucas's form: realizing he's been wrong about her, that she's fundamentally bad and he's glad she's going to be killed. a gutting abandonment from the guy she most wants to trust.

Vecna-Susan also tells Max that she deserves what's going to happen to her, that she's "broken everything" and that her letters can't make things right. because he's in full Vecna mode when he says it, I just took those as very general condemnations at first. but they hurt even worse when I remember they're still coming from "Susan" - revealing that Max feels she has broken her family.

she wanted Billy to die, and she figures Neil left because Billy died, so that's two of the abandonments being "her fault". if that's true, Max would also feel responsible for destroying her mom's life - having cost her her marriage, home, and financial security.

in her addictions Susans has, in an emotional sense, abandoned Max just like all her other family members - and Max fears she deserves it. how desperate she was for this hug... :(

anyway, back to lumax: let's reexamine those s3 dumpings

what exactly did Lucas even do? we never find out.

on first watch, I took "boyfriends lie" at face value and assumed Lucas got caught fibbing. but that doesn't fit so well.

he's maybe the party member most invested in "friends don't lie". honesty to his friends is a pillar of his character. again, he caused friction in 2 because he so strongly prioritized honesty to Max. to assume based on one line from an unreliable narrator that he randomly became a huge liar over the summer is unfair.

via their counseling of Mike and El, Lucas and Max tell us what's been going on with lumax

Max tells El:

He'll come crawling back to you in no time, begging for forgiveness. I guarantee him and Lucas are totally wallowing in self-pity and misery right now like "ohh, I hope they take us back!"

I think we all clocked that one: Max thinks that because El followed her technique, Mike will come crawling back - because Lucas has come crawling back to her several times now.

but I haven't seen much discussion about how the spying scene (which "he'll come crawling back" is paired with) shows Lucas assuring Mike that he's been dumped for an unfair and illogical reason because that's what Max has done to him several times now.

M: I just don't understand what I did to deserve this. L: Nothing. Nothing. That's my whole point. You are the victim here. Stop asking rational questions. M: I know, I know, you're right. Because women act on emotion and not logic. L: Precisely. It's a totally different species.

Max is pissed. but has she been irrational, acting on emotion and not logic, and dumping him for no apparent reason all summer? signs point to yes.

and I understand Lucas saying this. it's not pure misogyny out of nowhere; he's been told that his mother expects gifts and apologies even when wrong, Max acts that way too, and now so apparently does El. all of his examples concur that this is just how women in relationships are. (Charles Sinclair how many relationships will your advice destroy lmao)

both Max and Lucas are bringing preconceptions from home.

Max acts this way on purpose

I don't think she's dumped him over truly nothing (although that's how it looks to him). I'm thinking she blows real, minor missteps out of proportion.

any time Lucas does something slightly insensitive, it looks like the first red flag to her, and instead of communicating in a constructive way, she just throws up this "boys aint shit" force field and dumps him. of course she doesn't truly want to be rid of him, she's just sorta snapping the leash.

I think Max knows what she's doing. I think she wants to keep Lucas always on his back foot, because the relationship isn't as scary if she feels like she holds all the power.

she's always trying to cover up fear/sorrow with anger, because anger gives an illusion of control. and she's been conscious of that anger, and the fact that it's unfair to Lucas, since the beginning - that's what she apologized for on the bus. "I guess I'm angry too, and I'm sorry."

she was mature enough at 13 to see the error in her behavior, but still not mature enough by 15 to fix it. every season has just been a slightly different flavor of "leave before you get left".

so, that's my take on Max's relationship behavior. but again, explanations aren't excuses. Lucas deserves to be treated well, and that's not happening.

what needs to happen?

simply maturing more will help them both a lot. being 15 is a terrible condition in of itself.

I don't see Lucas dumping Max's ass, but she should take her own advice before the relationship continues: explain herself and fix the garbage parts of her behavior.

before Max can be the girlfriend Lucas deserves, she needs a substantial period of physical and emotional healing.

she needs renewed connections with her friends and family, and a lot of general growth in the area of communication and processing her feelings.

in regards to Lucas, she needs to work on her trust issues, and learn to extend him the treatment warranted by his behavior, not the behavior she fears from others. she needs to learn that "friend" and "girlfriend" aren't mutually exclusive, that real friendship is the key to their relationship, and is a two-way street.

any Billy racism/assault acknowledgement would be better years late than never, especially if grieving Billy continues to be a focus in front of Lucas.

Lucas could also use a little work

the relentless positivity doesn't serve Max well. often it turns out to be empty reassurances which make her feel let down (so, a soft version of the lies she fears). she let him know in 4x4 that this hurts her, but he kept doing it for the rest of the season.

but the big one is that "happy wife happy life" doesn't serve him well, and rewarding unfair treatment perpetuates the problem. yes, the ability to compromise, swallow pride, and be the bigger person are healthy parts of a relationship, as well as the willingness to extend grace to your partner/friend when they're struggling. but it always being on one designated person is a recipe for dissatisfaction and resentment.

Lucas should voice to Max that he, too, has struggles and needs support. I'd like to see him pursue outside interests unapologetically.

no, this isn't an exhaustive list, and I don't expect to see everything fixed at once, or explicitly processed onscreen. but I sure hope we get some evidence of change, and that this has all been part of an arc.

for instance, I'd love for the final lumax reconciliation to be Max asking Lucas to take her back.

I kind of hope not to see them officially together until the very end. in fact I'd so much rather see ST end on a good Max / Lucas friendship with an implied romantic future than jump back to the status quo.

l don't want to see lumax until it's a new lumax, based on real, reciprocal friendship.

#even with the length I rambled this is still oversimplified and left out stuff re: both. but. just to get the conversation started.#you don't want elm*x because lucas. I don't want lumax because lucas. we are not the same #I think people fawn over lumax because they're kind of a milkvan foil and therefore must be perfect?#lowkey seeing lucas date someone else for a bit would straighten 4 max out. girlie careful acting like you're the only fish in the sea <3 #the more I think about it the more I'd like lumax to completely break up and live in different towns and then try again as adults #if the max waking up scene has a kiss in it I'm turning off the tv #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #lumax #givehimthemedicine analysis

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chlorinecake · 10 months ago

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A non con fanfiction? On sunghoon or jake

Btw love you're fanfics! Lots of lovee!🤍

cross my heart and hope to die

syn. Basically while your university hosts a school event, Jake convinces you to help him break into an abandoned frat house before fucking the living daylights out of you

pair. star student!fratboy!jake x gullible!fem!reader

warnings. swearing, guided f. masturbation, cum eating (?), tit play, hickey, petnames (angel, doll face), cnc themes, mild degrading and exhibition kink, light choking/slapping/hair pulling, unprotected sex (stay safe guys), creampie, not proofread

word count. 2.1k

Today marked the day of your university’s annual student and staff celebration, and as promised in the lengthy event criterion, would offer free refreshments, entertainment, awards, and most importantly, a place for everyone on campus to fit in.

Or at least… mostly everyone.

You and your university’s proudly dubbed star student and “spoiled brat,” Sim Jake, occupied yourselves with other plans for the evening.

To most people, Jake in a nutshell was someone who’s brain matched their pockets.

Not that you were particularly interested in Jake’s money or brilliance… you just simply found him attractive. Very attractive.

His strikingly sharp smile, almond brown eyes, perfect cupid's bow, olive skin, strong hands... you could go on for days about how beautiful he was to you.

Gosh, looking at him alone was like a wet dream.

So much so that you'd do basically anything just to be in his presence, despite your own impending bashfulness getting in the way.

And he noticed it. All of your fangirl tendencies...

Despite that, your relationship with Jake wasn't necessarily ideal: you basically just did whatever he asked of you, leading to the partial friendship you two now share.

Though, the only boundary Jake’s favors hadn’t passed yet was anything sexual, all the while one way or another, he planned to change that.

Now, you wish you could say this particular night was all his idea, but you knew deep down in your heart that you had every intent within your own gullible will to join him in his folly.

To give in.

“Hey, you almost done in there, doll face?,” Jake whispered from behind the halfway opened door to the dean’s office, extending his head to take a look down the hallways as if preparing to cross the street.

You two couldn’t risk getting caught.

Not in here, and not over this.

“Yeah, I.... I’m locking the drawer back now, just gimme a few more seconds,” you replied while focused on the task at hand, locking the dean’s desk drawer back and doing a quick check to make sure everything was in the same place you’d found it initially before leaving.

Everything except the key to your university’s former frat house, which had since five or so years ago become a vacant property of forgotten memories and potential.

Of course Jake thought to seek your help with getting the key, hoping that someday, he and his friends would be able to reoccupy the place.

“Alright, we’re good to go,” you said, meeting him at the door as you both ran down the left hall, a flight of stairs, along a few sidewalks, and onto the football field.

“The house should be a few more minutes from here,” Jake added, taking your hand in his to guide you, his touch practically sending electric waves to your heart.

It was starting to get dark quickly, and you weren't sure if the event was coming to an end or not, given how quiet everything suddenly became... but still, you were more focused on exploring anyways.

For better or worse, you were just too curious, too desperate for Jake’s attention.

Click.

You finally unlocked the door upon trying the three other keys you stole from the office, taking in the view of the place that looked as if it’d been kept clean over all these years, with an audacity to smell of pleasant florals, citrus, and pine.

“Hey, where’d you get that?,” you asked Jake, noticing the can of soda he sipped from, and the way his lips glimmered under the faint lighting.

“From the party… I must've been thirsty earlier and forgot I brought this with me,” he said, puppy eyes looking around before meeting you, “want some?”

“Uh, sure, thanks,” you said shyly, taking the soda can to sip, even though the fizz was a bit faded for some reason.

“Oh! Sorry, ____!,” he suddenly yelped, having nudged your hand to take the drink away and accidentally spilling some of the sparkling liquid all over the top you wore.

“Ahh,” you sighed quietly, feeling the cold and sugary drink stick to your skin, “it’s fine, Jake... there’s gotta be towels in here somewhere anyway.”

“Hey, maybe check upstairs, if there's a main bedroom, there should be some cloths in there,” Jake offered, going to discard the can as you did just as he said.

You found a room eventually, where hand towels with dainty cross embroidery at each corner laid on the bed. They stood out like a sore thumb considering the erotic playboy magazine covers hung up on either end of the headboard in gold picture frames.

Jake came back quickly, watching as you plopped yourself on the bed, your chest jiggling a bit with you’re movements as you wiped up your shirt.

He laid down beside you with a groan, yawning out of boredom more than tiredness, “Wonder what kind of shit went down in this room,” he though to himself before glancing back at you. “That’s not gonna work, you know? You’re gonna need to change your entire shirt at this point.”

“But… I don’t wanna risk getting caught by taking anything else, seeing how I’ve already messed up this nice towel,” you rationalized with him.

“Take off your shirt, angel,” Jake said in a husky voice, sitting up now on the bed to look at you better, his gaze practically undressing you itself, “you just look so uncomfortable with it on…”

Your nipples were hard thanks to the cold drink, so they poked through your outfit, just enough for him to get a good sneak peek.

There was something about the tone of his voice that made you feel different this time, though. Nervous.

“I’m fine… really,” you replied before continuing, “So what do you think about the frat house," you asked, still patting the wet spot of your shirt with the towel, ignoring his previous comment.

"Hmm… It's pretty nice... spacious... the condition isn’t too bad, so that means less work for me and the boys,” he answered, shamelessly staring at you, “plus, it already has everything we need in it.”

The place really was like a hidden resort house.

“Yeah… now that you mention it, I wouldn’t doubt they still have some soap in here, too. I really need to wash this stain out, anyway—”

Jake’s hands found your shoulder first, pushing you back first against the bed before straddling you, hooking the lower seam of your top with his fingers and pulling it up over your head.

“W-what’re you doing, Jake?” You stuttered, nervous as you laid half naked beneath him.

“What you obviously couldn’t do yourself,” he slithered, lips already meeting your sweet breasts, thanks to his little soda accident earlier.

You regretfully moaned, already feeling your core warm up at his actions. The effect he had on you was honestly a bit embarrassing.

“M-maybe we should go back downstairs-”

“But you don’t want to…” he whispered against your skin as he left a trail of kisses all over your chest.

“J-Jake, this isn’t why I came here with you-”

“You know how much I like it when you do as I say, angel... now I just need you to keep being a good girl for me, okay?”

“Jake, stop-” you whined, feeling as his hands toyed with your panties.

“Why? It’s not like you haven’t been dying for me to touch you like this,” he grinned, looking up at you with the sluttiest eyes as his hand sat just above the wet spot of your core.

He snickered to himself, “You want this, don't you?”

His hand harshly smacked the tender skin of your inner thigh, a loud sound filling the room as your body flinched.

“Yes,” you yelped in discomfort, biting your lip to hold back any tears.

“So why are you telling me to stop?”

“I was… I don’t…,” your mind was getting fuzzy, chest starting to heave as you struggled to think with his finger circling your clothed clit.

What had gotten into him?

“You were cold because I spilled my drink on you, and now I’m helping you warm up again,” he smiled, mouth connecting with your neck as he continued to suck relentlessly, skillfully teasing your heat as he marked you, “Right, ____?”

“Jake,” you whined, arching your back once you felt his fingers apply pressure.

“Shhh,” he cooed, pulling down your bottoms the rest of the way and spreading your legs.

Leaning back, he finally spoke, “Touch yourself for me… and use two fingers so I can see how your pathetic little pussy struggles to take it.”

And of course, you did just that, already slick enough to put on a nice show for him.

He slapped your face when you closed your eyes, telling you to look at him the entire time.

You continued to pleasure yourself before him, a bit of moisture seeping from your aching hole when he slapped your tit this time, “Oh, you like the pain, don’t you slut? Can’t come without it, can you?”

“Nngh, no,” you answered for reasons you don’t understand, fucking yourself faster as you circled your hips, just as he snatched your wrist, licking the juices from your fingers.

“Up,” was all he said before taking you to the window, bending you over the sill.

“It’s getting stuffy in here, I say we let some air out, yeah?”

All you did was nod dumbly as his words, his belt buckle hitting the ground with a clink as his dick found your entrance, shoving past your slimy tightness with his lips kissing down your back.

His grunts sounded animalistic as he picked up the pace, his accent thick and strong with each curse that slipped from his mouth.

Jake’s hands found your neck, gripping tightly as his thrusts sped up, fucking you back and forth with you your head resting at the window.

“Look up slut, so everyone can see your cute little face tear up while I fuck you from behind… fuck you like my good little cock whore. Taking all of me so well— mmm.”

He pulled your hair by the roots, causing a loud moan to slip past your mouth as he stretched you out. “You’re such a slut for pain,” he grunted, “am I wrong, angel?”

You whimpered at his words, barely even present with how dizzy you felt, “you’re always righ— mghh, yes, right there...”

He pulled you from the window sill, shoving your face against the ground as he continued to thrust from behind, your tits shaking with his aggressive thrusts.

Picking you back up by the elbows, he pistoled into you, fluids trickling down your thighs and glistening against his pelvis as your poor thighs shook from all the pleasure, your weak moans dancing off the walls.

He thrusted in and out of you, fucking you into overstim as he chased him own high, taking pleasure in the way you squirmed whenever you felt his tongue against your skin.

His hands slid up your ribs before cupping your tits again, gripping at them relentlessly as his moans grew louder, breathier.

Needier.

Your hips bounced against his as you helped by fucking yourself on his cock, throwing your head back against his chest as you both came at the same time.

“Aww, fuck,” he groaned loudly, loosening his grip as you felt him paint your walls with his warm release.

Despite how out of breath both of you were, Jake picked you up and brought you to the bed, taking the same towels from earlier to clean you up before joining the empty spot beside you.

The three keys you borrowed from the dean's office were as good as misplaced by now, you and Jake both too tired to give a shut about looking for 'em now.

“You can’t tell anyone about this…," he started with a rasp voice, "nothing about tonight… not your friends, and especially not mine,” he said, pulling you close to him as you laid in only his jacket and your panties, Jake himself wearing just a t-shirt and jeans.

You looked into his face, that was unbelievably more striking with a post-sex glow.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” you answered softly, as both of you stared at the ceiling, hearing nothing more than your hearts beating and a few faint sounds from outside.

Still, the fact remained that you’d do anything for Jake… even sexual favors now.

“Thank you,” he whispered back, but you were already fast asleep, the final thought on his own mind being that the abandoned frat house would be a place just for the two of you now.

❊ Thank you all so much for reading this quick fic !! I honestly think it's kinda garbage, but I hope someone out there finds it enjoyable at least (probably gonna make a revised version of this for another member tho, we'll see...) !! Also, make sure to check out my masterlist for more reads like this ~

❊ [Perm] Taglist: @squoxle @ashgonedash @nikisdubblchococake @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33

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merrybloomwrites · 3 months ago

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Spencer - Smosh UTI Live

Summary: When you apply for a cast position at Smosh, you're only goal is to get a job. But that job introduces you to Spencer, the cute editor on staff. You keep your crush a secret for months, but taking part in a livestream where alcohol is a key factor may lead to a turning point in your relationship.

Word Count: 3K

CW: alcohol consumption

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Getting hired to be a cast member on Smosh is a dream come true.

Literally.

You’d watched Smosh videos when you were growing up, and loved when it expanded to include new people. From that moment, you had one goal in life, and you did everything you could to achieve it.

The audition progress was equal parts exciting and terrifying, weeks spent on your application followed by multiple callbacks, each time meeting a new person who you have been a fan of for years.

Getting the call that you were hired was the best moment of your life. Not only were you excited that you achieved your dream, but now you have proof that your hard work paid off. Plus, the people that you always looked up to had chosen you. They liked your comedy, your personality, and thought you’d fit in with them.

Your first day is nerve wracking, as first days always are, but everyone is so welcoming that by the time you’re heading home, you feel only excitement about what’s to come.

Over the first week or so, you manage to meet almost everyone who works for the company. You recognize plenty of them. Of course you know all the cast members, as you’ve been watching videos of them for years. You also recognize some of the crew members who have guest starred in some videos as well.

It isn’t until the start of your third week that you meet Spencer the editor. He looks familiar, you know he’s been on the channel before, but without Kimmy doing an official introduction you wouldn’t have been able to put a name to his face.

Ever since that first conversation there was something that just drew you to Spencer. Maybe his fluffy hair, maybe his laugh, maybe even his passion for Mountain Dew kickstart. Whatever it was, it was the start of a great friendship.

It wasn’t long before you and Spencer ended up at the same lunch table every day. It also wasn’t long before your feelings for him switched from platonic, to maybe something a little bit more.

So yea. You developed a crush. On a coworker. Which is generally a pretty bad idea. There’s always the chance that if you started dating, you could break up and that would cause tension amongst everyone at Smosh. And with Spencer being there years before you, it probably wouldn’t end well for you. Plus, he probably doesn’t even like you back, so if you were to ask him out he’d reject you, and then everyday would be totally awkward.

That’s why you keep your feelings a complete secret. No one knows. You only tell your best friend, Katie, that you like someone at work, but don’t even tell her his name.

Time goes on, you make great friends and fun videos, and life is going well. You and Spencer talk every day, but nothing more ever happens.

Then you get put on a Smosh Pit video. It’s one of your favorite series, “Beopardy”. You adore trivia, having watched Jeopardy with your parents every night after dinner growing up. This is your second time on this series, and you had lost by only a few points the last time. You’re determined to win this episode, but they hadn’t revealed the topic yet, as they didn’t want any of you studying in advance.

It’s not until you’re on set sitting between Ian, Olivia, and Shayne, that you learn Spencer is the host of the episode which is titled, “Are We Smarter Than Our Editor?” You’re feeling pretty confident in your editing knowledge, having learned a lot from Spencer over the last couple of months. Your only problem is the potential for getting distracted simply watching Spencer be on camera.

It still is rare that he’s in this position, and from the start his confidence is, unfortunately, very attractive to you. Taking a deep breath, you center yourself to remain professional.

It’s a fun shoot, one of your favorites so far. You win by 200 points, and celebrate your first victory. When the cameras stop you joke with your video costars for a little bit before getting up to make your way to the lunchroom.

Before you can leave the studio Spencer comes over and says, “You did a great job today.”

Blushing at his compliment you reply, “Thank you. Guess sitting with you at lunch really paid off.”

“Wow, I thought my company was the prize there but it looks like you’re using me for my editor knowledge.”

“Oh absolutely. I knew that would come in handy someday,” you say with a laugh.

“Heading to lunch?” He asks.

“I am indeed,” you answer.

The two of you walk over together and grab some food before heading to your normal table.

“Be right back,” Spencer says after putting down his lunch. A moment later he walks over again, carrying a drink for himself as well as a can of your favorite flavor of La Croix, which he places in front of you. It makes your heart race just a bit faster, seeing that he not only knows which drink you like the best, but made sure to bring you one. Not the whole table, just you.

Things like this have been happening for a few weeks, little interactions and favors that make you wonder if maybe Spencer has feelings for you the same way you do for him. After thanking him for the drink, you sit quietly, lost in your thoughts while conversation flows around you. The table you’re at is full, the rest of your friends discussing a new game they’ve been playing.

But then you look up and see that Kimmy is being just as quiet as you. She’s looking at you, like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. It isn’t until she looks pointedly at you, then Spencer, that you realize she may have you figured out.

Turning back to your food you ignore her eyes practically burning a hole in your head. After finishing lunch you head to the bathroom, choosing one that’s hidden in a back hallway. You thought that would mean no one would find you, but Kimmy is waiting for you when you’re done.

“Is something going on between you and Spencer?” she asks with no preamble, a large smile on her face.

“Nothing is happening,” you reply.

“But do you want it to?”

You don’t answer right away, not wanting anyone at work to know the truth. But this is Kimmy. One of your closest friends here. If there’s anyone at Smosh you can confide in, it’s her.

“I may have the tiniest little crush on him. But that’s all! I’m not planning to act on that or anything. I don’t want it to get awkward at work if anything goes wrong.”

“And why do you think it’d go wrong?”

“Kimmy, I bet he doesn’t even feel the same way, so it’s silly to even worry about it,” you say.

“Oh, he absolutely feels the same way. Boy has heart eyes every time he looks at you,” Kimmy replies.

“He does not!”

“Okay, sure. Honestly I thought you were going to confess the two of you are dating in secret, not that you both have silly unrequited crushes on each other. I guess I could be wrong, but I’m certain that boy is head over heels for you.”

Just as she says this, your phone buzzes with a ln incoming text message. It’s from Spencer and reads, “You disappeared after lunch, you okay?”

You can’t help the smile that forms on your face as you read the message, endeared by him checking up on you. When you glance up, Kimmy is giving you a knowing smirk. You jokingly say, “shut up,” before walking back to the tables.

Spencer is standing there, looking around worriedly. He catches sight of you and relief spreads across his face.

When you get close he says, “Everything alright?” His hand rests gently on your elbow, and you feel like your skin is burning from just that small point of contact.

“Yea, I’m good. Just stopped to talk to Kimmy,” you reply, hoping no one notices your reaction to him touching your arm. Well, no one except Kimmy, who is giving you yet another knowing look from across the room.

Luckily it’s time to get back to work, and you can focus on something other than your crush.

The next few weeks fly by. You’re all getting ready for the first live show that Smosh will be doing in years. It’s a big undertaking, on top of all the normal videos you need to shoot, and everyone is incredibly busy.

And yet, you still get to see Spencer every day. At the very least you get lunch together, but he also often happens to be getting coffee in the kitchen at the same time as you, and you see each other during the rehearsals. Your heart skips a beat every time you get him to laugh, and the two of you share more eye contact than is strictly necessary.

All of this has you thinking that maybe Kimmy is right. Maybe Spencer really does like you as well. But still, it’s a tricky situation to date a coworker. And this job, as well as Spencer’s friendship, means too much to you to risk it. So your crush continues to remain a secret.

Finally, it’s time for the live show. Smosh Live: Under the Influence. Oh yea. That’s the other part of the live show. You’ll all be drinking alcohol during it.

Well, not everyone. A few cast members will be staying sober. One of them being Spencer. And you’re grateful for that. And for the fact that he’s your designated driver for the night.

The live show is an absolute blast. You make sure not to go too crazy with the drinking. Not only are you technically at work, but everything you do is being live streamed to thousands of people. The last thing you want is to make a fool of yourself, so you take it easy with the alcohol.

Or well, you take it easy until the celebratory afterparty. Where you may go a tad overboard. Not too bad, not blacking out or anything, but definitely feeling a bit inebriated. Your inhibitions are definitely lowered.

Which would be fine. Except Spencer is your ride home. Sober you should have realized this is a recipe for disaster. But now drunk you is in control. Alone. With Spencer.

It’s after midnight when everyone finally starts to head home.

“You ready?” Spencer asks, handing you a glass of water which you happily take sips from.

“Ready,” you reply once you’ve finished the glass. He takes it from you and places it on a nearby table before leading you out to the car, his arm wrapped around you protectively to keep you upright as you stumble slightly. You giggle as his hand wraps more firmly around your waist and you lean into him.

He opens the passenger door for you, and you pout as you’re forced to separate from him. When he gets in the driver's seat and looks over he sees the big doe eyes you’re giving him.

“What is it?” He asks.

“Nothing,” you quickly answer, making no move to look away. Spencer knows something is going through your mind but decides not to push. He begins to drive, hand resting on the center console, and in your inebriated state that seems like a perfect invitation for you to slide your hand into his. You’re so focused on watching his fingers intertwine with yours that you miss the pleased smile on Spencer’s face.

“Thank you,” you suddenly say.

“What for?” Spencer asks.

“For making sure I get home safe,” you reply.

“I’ll always make sure you’re safe,” he answers.

“You’re a really good person. I’m so happy we met. I’d be really sad if you weren’t my friend. Which is why I don’t want to mess it up.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“You know, wanting too much and ruining what we have. I mean, I like you but it’s complicated.” You don’t even realize you’ve just confessed your feelings to Spencer, but he immediately notices, and begins to feel hopeful. He hopes that this isn’t just drunk ramblings, that you actually mean what you’re saying.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” he says.

“But it is! What if you don’t like me back?”

Spencer can’t help but laugh at how honest you’re being, like you don’t even realize you’re admitting this all to him.

“Okay well first of all, don’t worry about that. Because I do like you back,” Spencer admits just as he parks the car in front of your building.

“You do?” You ask, eyes finally meeting his.

“I do. I have for a while now.” Spencer’s watches as your entire face lights up, eyes sparkling as you smile the brightest smile he’s ever seen.

“C’mon,” he continues. “Let’s get you inside.”

You’ve barely opened your car door before Spencer is there, once again wrapping an arm around your waist. You’ve sobered up a bit, no longer stumbling at all, but you’d never deny yourself a chance to be close to him. He keeps his hand lightly on the small of your back while you fumble with your keys.

He comes inside, needing to make sure you’re settled for the night. He’s been to your place a couple times before during group hang outs so he knows where to find what he needs. While you duck into your bathroom to change into pajamas and get ready for bed he fills a glass with water, placing that, a granola bar, and some pain relievers on your bedside table. He figures you’ll need all of that at some point between now and tomorrow morning.

You're about to walk into your room, suddenly feeling exhausted and just wanting to climb into bed. But you nearly bump into Spencer as he walks out of the bedroom.

“I left some things on your table,” he explains.

“Thank you,” you shyly reply.

“I should get going,” he says, but you don’t move to let him pass. Instead you ask, “Can you stay? Just a couple minutes until I fall asleep?” It’s bold of you to ask, but you always feel extra lonely after drinking, and you’d already been pretty bold in the car so you figure it couldn’t hurt.

“Of course,” he replies and steps to the side so you can enter the bedroom. You get under the covers, laying on your side, and look at Spencer with expectant eyes. Understanding your wordless request, he sits on the edge of the bed. His hand rests on your hip before he starts to gently rub your back.

You’re asleep in no time, comforted by Spencer’s presence.

When you wake up the next morning you’re feeling better than you have any right to after a night of drinking. You eat the granola bar and take the pain medicine in order to relieve the mild headache before it can get any worse. As you finish the glass of water you reflect on the night before.

Your eyes go wide as you realize what happened at the end of the night. You’d drunkenly confessed your feelings to Spencer. You’d asked him to stay with you until you fell asleep. You’re mortified! You actually told him you liked him. Were you insane?

But before you spiral too much, you remember his response to everything. How he admitted his feelings as well. How he stayed with you, gently lulling you to sleep.

Could this be the answer to months of pining? A drunken confession?

You pull yourself out of bed and decide a shower is definitely needed. When you get out you see a few texts in a Smosh group chat, you’re friends planning to meet up at a diner. You text that you’re in, and a moment later your phone dings again, this time Spencer asking if you want a ride. You accept his offer, hoping the ride won’t be too awkward after everything that happened.

You get ready and Spencer pulls up a little while later.

“She lives!” Spencer shouts as you climb in the passenger seat.

“Ha ha,” you answer dryly. “I’ll have you know I felt perfectly fine this morning.”

“Well then I am impressed,” he replies and you both laugh.

Throughout the drive there, during the meal, and even the drive back home, neither you nor Spencer acknowledges the elephant in the room. But the suspense is killing you, so you once again invite Spencer inside when you get home.

“I wanted to talk about what happened last night,” you say once you’re both seated at your kitchen table. “I didn’t mean to blurt everything out, but I guess I’m happy you know the truth.”

“So you meant it? You weren’t just saying that because you were drunk?” Spencer confirms.

“I mean, I probably wouldn’t have said it without some liquid courage, but I did mean it. I’ve liked you since I met you. But I never thought you’d like me back,” you explain.

“Of course I like you! How could I not? God, you’re so pretty, and funny, and kind. You’re like, the coolest person. So yea, I’ve liked you the whole time too.”

You both sit quietly for a minute, absorbing this information.

“What happens now?” You finally ask.

“Well now I can ask you on a date without worrying about you rejecting me,” he answers.

You blush and duck your head, bashful at this statement. But before you can hide too long, he gently lifts your chin so you’re looking at him again.

“Y/N, will you go out to dinner with me?” he asks.

“Spencer, I would love to,” you reply.

The two of you can’t help but start giggling like two high schoolers that just decided to go to homecoming together. You realize that this could be your future. Lots of smiles, and laughs, and time spent enjoying one another’s company.

You know it’s too soon to think about forever, but when Spencer suggests a round of Mario Kart to ease the tension, it’s clear that there’s something good between the two of you. And you can’t wait to see how it all unfolds.

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AN: Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! I have 5 more Spencer fics planned at the moment, but feel free to send in requests!

#spencer agnew x reader #smosh x reader #smosh fanfiction

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denim-mixtapes · 2 years ago

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Showstopper

And I know it's just a phase, you're not in love with me, but if you wanna piss off your parents, baby, that's alright with me.

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader Word Count: Just over 15k Summary: Dreading going home to strict parents over Thanksgiving break, your good friend Eddie Munson offers to tag along and pretend to be your boyfriend to get under their skin and take their focus off of you. Over tense dinners and pointed conversation, you seek comfort in his closeness, blurring the lines between fact and fiction. (Based on the song 18 by Anarbor) Warnings: NSFW 18+ SMUT, Minors DNI or I'll stub all your toes. Tense family dynamics, strict/overbearing parents, idiot friends to fuck buddies, teasing, fingering, oral (both f & m receiving), squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm if you blink, unprotected sex (DON'T DO THAT, STUPID), an stupid amount of pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, sweet thing) instead of Y/N. I think that's it but lemme know if I missed anything!

[Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] <- Coming Soon! [AO3]

a/n: I meant to post this on Thanksgiving, but it...got away from me as you can tell from the word count. Sorry for the delay and for the long lead up before the actual smut but I hope yall enjoy!!

The first time you met Eddie Munson, you threatened him with pepper spray.

Okay so maybe it was actually hair spray, but the threat was there.

He had walked into your dorm room unannounced, and in a moment of panic you completely forgot you had a roommate that could potentially have visitors. All you knew was that you were alone in your dorm, and then without any preamble or warning, there was a mysterious man with long hair, dark features, and wrapped in leather letting himself in.

And he believed you at first, he really did, held his hands up in defense and stepped back out into the threshold with wide eyes and an apologetic ramble. Until he noticed that your trembling hand was not clutching a can of mace, but a travel sized bottle of Aqua Net, shaking just as much as you were.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

He still stayed back, knowing that you were not his intended target and surely you must be nerrvous, but dropped his hands to lean on the door frame, his whole body shaking with laughter. Despite your initial fear, his humor was contagious. The once intimidating man who stood tall and broad was hunched with laughter, his eyes wrinkling around the edges when his smile widened. You couldn’t help but soften and lower your arm, chuckling a little (albeit nervously) along with him.

“Yeah, killer,” he laughed, voice low and smooth, “put that thing down before you hurt someone. Or worse, make ‘em crispy.”

“I– panicked,” you admitted, defeated. Then, standing taller again, trying to keep your defenses strong, “but what are you doing walking into random girls' dorms?”

“Uh, Buckley,” the stranger pointed to your roommate’s side of the room. “Robin Buckley? She lives here, right?” You nodded. “We’re friends, I’m meeting her for dinner and she told me to come on up when I got here. She said you’d be in class.”

Huh. You’d have to talk to her about warning you before she let just anyone walk on in unannounced.

“Canceled,” you mumbled in explanation, then gestured to Robin’s bed. “Uh I guess I won’t make you sit out in the hall. You can wait for her here.”

A wide, toothy grin spread over his features and he approached you with big, thankful eyes shining under the fluorescent overhead lighting. A hand outstretched, he replied, “appreciated. ‘M Eddie.”

And so began a blossoming friendship. Over the rest of your freshman year, Robin introduced you to more of her friends. You didn’t have trouble making your own friends, per se, you had a few classmates who you would grab lunch with between classes and a couple study groups, but the people your roommate introduced you to just clicked with you. You heard all about her girlfriend Nancy, though she was off in Boston at Emerson, so you only ever spoke to her when Robin had her on speaker phone. Everyone else just kind of came along naturally. You were attending school far from home, but within reasonable distance from Robin’s hometown of Hawkins, so even though Eddie and her best friend Steve weren’t attending college anywhere, they often found themselves on your campus to bug your roommate (and by proxy, you).

By the end of your first year at school, you were confident you were part of their crew, and you were happily signing up to room with Robin once again the following year.

Which is what brought you here.

You’re laying in bed, feet thrown up against the cinder block walls and your head hanging over the edge, Robin mirroring you on her own bed. Steve has long since gotten dizzy and sat upright next to Robin, and Eddie called you all ridiculous from the get go and chose to lay on your bean bag chair between the three of you.

“What the fuck am I gonna do,” you moan, scrubbing your hands down your face in defeat.

“I’m sure it’ll be okay, babe,” Robin assures, though you know she is just blindly trying to comfort you.

“Okay,” Steve leans forward, elbows on his knees and squints at you. The effects of Eddie’s special cookies are hitting all four of you hard, all of you lazy and sluggish and a little less cohesive than your usual state. “Explain to me again what the problem is? It sounds like your mom just wants you home for Thanksgiving.”

Sitting up slowly and trying to ignore the head rush you get from being upright once again, you gripe, “that is the problem. I went to school across the country from home for a reason. I’m already going back next month for winter break and I want to be there…as little as possible. So I was hoping I could work through Thanksgiving break like last year.”

“No dice?” Eddie asks from his spot on the floor, even though you swear you’ve gone over this with all of them three times by now.

“No,” you grumble, “last year I worked in the caf, so it was no problem, they were open all break for students staying on campus This year–”

“The library closes over break.” Robin cut you off to supply.

You only nod pitifully, slumping back into your stack of pillows with a hmph. You’re aware that you’re being dramatic, but you’ve grown accustomed to your life away from home. Away from watchful eyes and curfews at 19 years old and sharp comments about your wardrobe that honestly, could be much, much worse. The last thing you want to do is return home and be treated like a child again.

Eddie’s fingers wrap around your ankle comfortingly, but he hits a ticklish spot and you kick at his hand lightly, laughing all the while.

“Home is really that miserable, huh?” He asks quietly. Not prying, not judging, just pondering.

“I have a dad who still treats me like I’m seven and a mom who keeps trying to set me up with members of her church in hopes that they’ll ‘lead me back down the right path’…what do you think?”

Your three friends mumble a series of one word replies all at once. “Yikes.” “Barf.” “Christ.”

The conversation moves on after that. Robin and Steve arguing about Back to the Future, something they always seem to go back to when they’re high. She told you once that they saw it in theaters the first time they smoked together, but the way that neither of them could keep a straight face told you there was more to the story. You half listen, grumbling to yourself and counting the browning ceiling tiles above you.

Your mattress dips and you look up to see Eddie grinning at you behind a curtain of hair, sitting cross legged on the spot next to you.

“What?” You ask through a laugh, eyeing him briefly before going back to the task at hand, the ceiling tiles.

He nudges you with his knee, trying to get your attention. “You know what you should do?” Your response is no more than a hum adorned with a question mark, but it prompts him to continue. There’s a gleam in his eye when he goes on, “somethin’ wild. Show up at home with a tattoo or bright purple hair. Or a tongue ring! Something to push their buttons and shock ‘em a little.”

Eddie Munson always has a way of turning your mood around. His joy is infectious. If he’s laughing, you’re not too far behind him, and it’s always been that way. Likewise, he’s quick to follow when you dissolve into giggle fits, his demeanor and pose always mimics yours, just like now when he ends up on his back beside you, legs dangling sideways off the edge.

You end up passing ideas back and forth for a few minutes.

“Teardrop tattoo,” he says, snorting.

“A pentagram.”

“You could shave one side of your head.”

“Or my eyebrows.”

“Get tattoos where your eyebrows used to be. Something classy like…hail Satan.”

“Or Daddy’s girl,” you sputter, unable to hold back the raucous laughter any longer.

Eddie joins you, practically cackling with how sudden it is. “I think that’s it. That’s the one.”

And then it hits you. Something still just as shocking as showing up with a tattoo, but much less permanent. It’s right in front of you, it has been the whole time. You sit up suddenly enough to get Steve and Robin’s attention and grin wildly down at Eddie.

It’s his turn to mumble out a soft, “what?” enraptured by your sudden intensity.

“I think I’ve got something better. Something that won’t cost me hundreds of dollars or my future chances at employment.”

“Go on,” he urges.

“You come home with me.”

From the other half of your room, Robin and Steve shout their confusion in unison, but Eddie just sits up to mirror you, mischief etched in his smile. “How bold of you, sweetheart. You know, I’m surprised it took you this long to ask.”

“No- shut up,” you laugh, shoving at his shoulder lightly. “I’m serious. You just told us earlier your uncle has to work on Thanksgiving. Come back to my parents with me. You’ll get a home cooked meal, all the fixings, really, my mom goes crazy. I mean this with all the love in my heart but if I bring home a guy like you?” You giggle, “my dad’ll lose his shit.”

“You flatter me,” he chuckles. Then, smirking, “you askin’ me to be your fake boyfriend, sweetheart?”

“I– yeah.”

“Hell yeah,” he nods, “I’m in. When are we leaving?”

Robin throws a pillow at you, missing terribly but still getting your attention. “What the fuck just happened?”

—

As promised, as soon as your last class on Tuesday let out, you loaded up your car and headed to Hawkins to pick up your boyfriend-for-the-week. He’s waiting for you outside his trailer, leaning heavily against the stairway railing, ankles crossed, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t have much by way of luggage, just a tattered olive green backpack hanging off of one shoulder that he throws in the back seat alongside your prim camel colored leather duffel bag.

When he slides into the passenger seat he leans into your personal space, drawing out his greeting with a smug smile. “Hi, darling.”

“Hey,” you greet, palming his face and lightly shoving it away. “You ready?”

Eddie Munson practically pouts at you. “What, no hello kiss?”

“Can it, Munson,” you chide before shifting your car in gear. “You’re not on the clock yet. We still have a four hour drive before you’re officially the boyfriend.”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, “it’ll be a hell of a lot more believable if we have a little practice beforehand. I mean- we’re going to have to put on a show, right? A good actor doesn’t go in blind. They run lines. Rehearse. Don’t want you freezing up in shock when I plant one on you in front of dear ol’ Dad for the first time, do we?”

He’s leaning into you again, speaking with a kind of intensity only Eddie can, and it makes you shake your head.

“Okay, well, I’m kinda busy driving at the moment. I’ll get back to you at the next rest stop.”

The first stretch on the open road is spent concocting a story. How you met, how long you’ve been together, things that might come up in conversation. Something not far from the truth, so that you could keep your stories straight, but embellished a little where you needed to. He supplies the story for your first date, dinner at a diner and live music somewhere on campus. You raise him dinner at a dive bar and listening to cassettes in the back of his van. He calls you diabolical.

At your first stop, about an hour in for gas and snacks, he offers to drive until the next stop and you pass him the keys with a soft smile and a hurried kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s fleeting, over before it’s even started because it stuns him, and you skip away to the passenger side feeling way more smug than you have any right being.

“Who were we worried about freezing up, again?” You asked over the roof of the car, ducking at the last second when he throws a balled up napkin at you.

For this portion of the drive, you take the opportunity to get to know one another. Favorites and firsts, pet peeves and guilty pleasures. Some things you knew already after a year of friendship, the little things like favorite bands and movies, but you knew you needed more than that to be a believable couple. You learn that he loves the smell after it rains and that even though he hates raisins, he loves cinnamon raisin bagels because they remind him of his Uncle Wayne. He learns that your favorite color changes with your mood, about your irrational fear of revolving doors, and the exact number of blankets you absolutely need in order to fall asleep (though he had his suspicions, he’s seen you make your bed before).

Over your game of twenty questions, his hand wanders from the wheel to the gear shift, the movement subtle because he’s always talking with his hands, and eventually it lands hesitantly on your thigh. You pretend not to notice, but bite back a smile and catch yourself flushing in the reflection of the window nonetheless.

After another hour or so of driving you make him pull over for a bathroom break and offer to take the wheel again when you’re done. You make to take the keys from him, but he’s quick to hold them over his head, just out of reach.

“Hey!” You complain, now your turn to invade his personal space to try and steal the keys back. “It’s my car. Let me take over!”

You’re suddenly hyper aware of how close your faces are when a slow smirk spreads over his lips. “Now, baby, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I made you drive when I’m right here, fully capable?”

“Damn, Munson.” You snark, “we’ve been together all of two hours and you’re already trying to turn me into a passenger princess?”

“Maybe I am.” His free hand wraps around your waist, landing at the small of your back to pull you just a little bit closer, closing the gap between you. You let out a small yelp of surprise that Eddie quickly swallows, his lips landing on yours harder and more insistent than the last kiss you shared. Your shock wears off quickly, leaving you leaning into his embrace with a happy hum in the back of your throat. Just as he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip, you’re made aware of your surroundings when a passerby clears their throat. When you pull away and catch a glimpse of his face, you’re certain you’re going to have to get used to that damn smirk. It seems to be his natural resting face since you asked him to do this, and god if it doesn’t suit him. “I kinda like that term,” he mumbles, emphasizing the new pet name as he ushers you around to the passenger seat, repeating it back into your ear with a hushed breath, “princess.”

You’ll have to get used to all the blushing too.

With a lead foot and a hand absent-mindedly tapping along to the radio on your thigh, Eddie manages to shave a half an hour off the rest of the drive, and before you know it and without another rest stop, you’re directing him off the highway and through the cozy streets of your small hometown. You managed to give him a run down on all of the relatives he could possibly meet this weekend. Who to watch out for and who to actually play nice with (really, it’s just your parents to look out for), names and how they’re related to you as if there would be a quiz at the end of Thanksgiving dinner. Hell, knowing how overprotective your parents are there very well could be.

It’s silent when he pulls into your parents driveway and cuts the engine, so quiet you fear he might hear your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. Staring down the house, the walkway seems to stretch out longer than you remember. Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Hey.” Squeezing at your knee where his hand is still resting, Eddie’s voice is sincere. When you turn to look at him, his eyes are soft, encouraging. He lets his head rest back against the seat with a thump and smiles. “I know I’m here to piss off your parents, but I’m still your friend, too. I’ll be right by your side all weekend, if it ever gets too much, just say the word and I’ve got you, okay?”

You’re not sure where this burst of sentiment came from, but you’re grateful for it. His words wrap around your heart and squeeze, and you blink back the tears they bring. Though you’ve had fun planning to torment your family, there was still a weight on your chest every time you thought about going home and Eddie, ever observant, could tell.

“Kay,” you say softly, mouthing an even quieter thank you. Then, leaning across the center console, you brighten up. “Run lines one more time before the big scene?”

It’s a bold request, a little selfish, partly because you want to stall a little longer but frankly, you just want to kiss him again in the safety and comfort of your car. Where it can be just that, a kiss. You want another moment all to yourself without the watchful eye of your family, and without the obligation of having to prove something.

He kisses you lazy this time, hands framing your face, lips dragging slowly against yours like he has all the time in the world. Like he’s stretching out this moment so you don’t have to face the next one. Your eyes flutter shut and you reach for him clumsily over the console, clutching onto the lapel of his leather jacket like he was going to float away if you didn’t.

You don’t want to admit it, but you could get used to kissing Eddie Munson, charade or not.

When you part ways and reluctantly make your way inside, Eddie insists on carrying both your bag and his own. You try to argue but he has none of it. You let yourself in the front door and call out a greeting.

Christmas music filters in from the back of the house alongside the smell of your mom’s famous baked spaghetti. “In the den!” Her voice calls out from the same direction as the music. Toeing off your shoes, you gesture for Eddie to follow you through the halls and into the den. It’s the picture of your childhood, exactly as you remember. Your dad is hidden behind the newspaper, houseshoes propped up on the coffee table. In her armchair facing away from the door, your mom is curled up with a book, reading glasses perched on the end of her slender nose. She feels your presence and greets you without looking up. “Hi honey! Give me just a second to finish this paragraph and I’ll get up, give you a big hug.”

Eddie’s presence is solid against you, warm, and his firm hand at the small of your back is a constant reminder that he’s there within reach. You try to speak up, to introduce him, but your throat goes dry, and soon enough your mother is tossing her book on the coffee table and standing to greet you.

“Sorry honey, I – oh, hello!” She’s shocked, clearly, but still keeps a polite, tight smile. “Who’s this?”

Prompted by her comment, your dad folds down one corner of the newspaper to glance up at you. His poker face isn’t as great. You can see the glare flash across his features before he folds the paper and stands. When he says hello to you, it's with a bright smile and a tight hug, but the second he addresses Eddie, his demeanor chills again.

“Guys this is Eddie,” you introduce, reaching behind you to take his hand. The words feel clumsy on your tongue, but you manage to play off the stutter as nerves. “My boy– my boyfriend.”

You could hear a pin drop.

In the silence that follows, you begin to rethink this entire plan. You suddenly feel so small, back in your childhood home and under the intense stare of your parents (though your dad’s eyes are definitely more trained on Eddie’s every move than your own). But you didn’t come all this way and drag your friend all this way to back down now, so you take their stunned silence as an opportunity to turn in Eddie’s hold and grin at him eagerly, mouthing the word showtime.

He takes his cue, cupping your cheek in a warm palm and dragging you toward him to close the little distance between you. It feels different this time, like he has something to prove. He’s insistent, leaning into you hungrily and nipping at your lips with a wicked chuckle under his breath as he retreats. He stands at full height again to finally address your parents.

“Thanks for having me, sir,” he quips, and he salutes, actually fucking salutes, much to your father’s outrage. Then he turns a charming smile on your mother, “ma’am.”

His kill-them-with-kindness attitude and sickeningly sweet fake politeness has you biting back a laugh, but nobody in this room is paying an ounce of attention to you.

Thank God.

The rage in your father’s voice is unmistakable, the heat of it pours from him in waves when he responds. “I would say it’s my pleasure but I don’t remember inviting you, son.” You’re afraid to look too closely, but you’re almost certain the vein on his forehead is fit to burst already and you’ve only just arrived.

“Honey,” your mother pipes up, putting a calming hand on her husband’s arm, though you can hear the strain in her voice as well. “When you called and said you were bringing a friend who had nowhere to go for the holiday I…well I thought it was going to be Robin.”

“Oh, no,” your lips press into a line, and without thinking, you reach out for Eddie’s hand for support, breath hitching at the bite of cold metal from the various rings he’s always sporting. “Her family is big on holidays. Never miss one. But…” Giving Eddie’s hand a tug to pull him closer to you, your other hand comes up to rest on his shoulder, giving it a gentle pat for good measure. You ham it up, laying your head on his shoulder with a dreamy smile as you continue. “Eddie’s only family is his Uncle Wayne, and he’s going to be workin’ a double on Thursday. I couldn’t just leave him behind with a frozen TV dinner for Thanksgiving of all days.”

Though strict, you know your mom isn’t made of stone. She can’t resist a sob story and she’s a sucker for any holiday, so despite the concern in her eyes and a husband fit to start screaming any moment, she smiles and nods.

“Of course, honey,” Her voice softens, though her guard is still up. She turns her pointed smile on Eddie and gestures to the door, “the guest room is already made up for you, and it would be a shame to spend the holiday alone, so we’re happy to have you, Eddie.”

The sound you make is somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Mom! That’s hardly necessary. I’m an adult, I’m perfectly capable of sharing a bed with my boyfriend.”

Eddie quirks an interested brow at you but you roll your eyes in dismissal.

It’s not that you want to share a room with Eddie. If you’re being honest, you haven’t really put much thought to the sleeping situation. It only makes sense that he would take the guest room…but you also know that if the goal is to get under your parents’ skin, this is the way to do it, so you give a petulant whine and a huff for good measure.

It’s your father who speaks up this time, pushing forward and deliberately between you and Eddie to break your embrace as he makes his way toward the stairs. “Absolutely not,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks, only stops near the door to pick up both of your bags and continue up the stairs. “You are nineteen, just barely. That may make you an adult on paper but you are still my child and a guest in this house so you’ll do as I say.” Passing your childhood bedroom, he drops your duffel at the door with a scowl and moves two doors down to the guest room where he throws Eddie’s knapsack even harder onto the bed. “And we don’t know this punk from Adam. You’re lucky we’re letting him stay at all, so be grateful for what you have, which is only two doors separating you.”

Ever the peacemaker, your mom steps in and clears her throat. “What your father means is that we would just both be more…comfortable if – for this trip – Eddie stayed in here. Right, Dear?”

Your father sighs, “yes, yes, that’s exactly it.”

“Anyway,” she tries to move past it, like she always has, sweeping his anger under the rug and trying to move on before there can be any more unpleasantries. It’s one of the things you hated most about being home, the fact that she so clearly agreed with most of his conservative and overprotective views but tried so hard to make it seem like she was on your side. She moves in to give you another tight hug. “We’re so happy you’re here, honey. Dinner will be ready soon, why don’t you two get settled in and then meet us in the dining room?”

You thank her softly and a little insincerely, and the pair of them retreat back down the stairs, allowing you to let out the breath you’ve been holding.

“Jesus Christ, I get what you mean.” Eddie Mumbles, and you only groan in agreement, falling gracelessly onto the edge of the bed with your head in your hands. The bed dips as he joins you, and soon enough you’re both laughing softly at the absurdity of the situation. “Hey,” he nudges your shoulder with his own, “you’re killing it.”

“Hardly,” you snort, “I feel like I’m a kid again. It just…this all sounded fun in theory but I forgot how small they make me feel.”

“All the more reason to keep on keepin’ on. C’mon, I want to see how many more times we can make that vein in his forehead pop.” A reassuring arm wraps around your shoulder and shakes you lightly until you let out a soft laugh. “There she is! Nice touch demanding that I stay in your room, by the way. Really! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually wanted me to.”

“You’re an idiot,” you giggle, standing up and stretching out your tired limbs. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

The rest of the night goes rather uneventfully. It’s tense, for sure, but the initial shock has worn off and by the way your parents are acting, you’re certain they managed to sneak in a drink each while you were upstairs. The conversation over dinner is mostly focused on you, how your semester is going and how much you like your job. You ask them about their careers, about family members you haven’t seen in a while. Eventually your mother’s need to be seen as polite prompts her to include Eddie in her questioning, but she keeps it mild for now, asking how he liked the drive to your hometown and if the food was to his taste.

After dinner your mom offers coffee and a movie, but the long drive and your early alarm for school this morning are an easy enough excuse to retire early and get a good long night’s sleep before the rest of your family arrives tomorrow.

When you part ways in the hall at the top of the stairs, he stops you with a hand on your wrist and a mischievous grin.

“What?” You laugh, looking down the stairs, “You want a goodnight kiss now, too? They’re not watching.”

“Here,” he replies, reaching for the back collar of his tattered Black Sabbath t-shirt and pulling it over his head effortlessly. He hands the shirt over to you and gives it a little shake, “wear it down to breakfast in the morning, yeah? It’ll drive them crazy.”

You thank him as you take the shirt from his hand and smile, trying your best not to let your eyes linger on his exposed skin, pale and littered with tattoos, some you’re just now seeing for the first time. With a blush and a shake of your head, you bid him goodnight and retreat to your bedroom.

—

The morning of Thanksgiving brings another early wake up call, but it’s hardly a surprise. Holidays have always been this way, up at the crack of dawn and helping in the kitchen all day since you were old enough to snap green beans. It’s not all bad, some of your best memories are with your mother and aunt in the kitchen. Cooking together almost made you forget how unbearable it was to be home.

It goes as it always does, the two of you still in your pajamas, getting the more annoying and time consuming prep out of the way before anyone else wakes up. When your dad joins you in the kitchen, already fully dressed and sporting a tired scowl, you make the coffee while your mom pauses to throw the breakfast casserole she’d prepared the night before into the oven. You’re like a well oiled machine, and you work together so well that she almost doesn’t notice your choice in sleepwear.

Almost.

“Honey, why don’t you go upstairs and change into something a little more appropriate?” She suggests coolly. “I can hold down the fort until Aunt Ellen gets here.”

“Aw,” you pout softly, pouring your own cup of coffee. You know why she’s urging you to change, and it makes you want to push the issue even further. “But we always stay in our pajamas until Grandma’s on her way! Even Aunt Ellen brings her comfies to cook in and a change of clothes for dinner.”

“You and I both know that is hardly your typical sleepwear, dear.” Your father grunts from behind the morning paper.

Although she bristles at his blunt choice of words, your mom looks at you with concern, clearly agreeing with him.

You only huff, watching the creamer swirl as you pour it into the darkness of the mug. You’re about to respond when a pair of warm hands wrap around your waist from behind, making you jump.

“I think you look killer,” Eddie chuckles at your surprise, his head nestling into the crook of your neck to press a kiss just behind your ear. “Y’wear that thing better than I do, Sweetheart.”

Head bowed, you roll your eyes at his theatrics but hug his arms closer around your stomach, turning in place to wrinkle your nose at him, a hint of jest in your tone when you greet him. “Good morning, baby.”

His eyes flick past your shoulder to your parents to be confident they’re looking (of course they are), then with another dark laugh drops his head to greet you with a feverish kiss. It’s too much for a simple good morning, utterly indecent the way his tongue slips past your lips without permission, and his hands drop to your hips to turn you further into his embrace, until one of your parents – you couldn’t care less which one – clears their throat and startles you apart.

Your face is hot when Eddie smiles brightly, hitting you with a wink and a cheerful, “mornin’.” He mumbles a soft, “gonna go for a smoke, be right back,” into your ear, and then louder, calling over his shoulder as he walks toward the front door, cigarette dangling from his lips, “smells delicious already, ladies, I can’t wait!”

You’re feeling quite smug at their stunned silence, until the door slams behind him and takes the breath from your lungs with it. You grip the mug so tightly your knuckles turn white, and the quiet from behind you turns deafening.

It’s your mom that breaks it first, talking in a hushed tone that she must think you can’t hear, despite only being a few feet away.

“He smokes?”

“Are you surprised?” Your dad quips, “look at the kid. I’m surprised you can’t smell it on him.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be cruel. I’m just as unhappy about this as you are but there’s no reason to be rude.”

That’s when you jump in, the scoff on your lips is almost as natural as your breath. “You guys know I’m right here, right? You are being rude, both of you.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry.” Her voice is more patronizing than remorseful. “But truly, what is it that you see in that boy? He seems nice enough I suppose, but he’s not what I would have hoped for you at all…and he’s so crude.”

That’s exactly what I see in him, you think, the ability to get under your skin.

“And what would you have hoped for me? Hm?” You press, arms crossed over your chest and hip cocked against the counter. “Some ivy league robot who only cares about your approval? Who I have nothing in common with? Why does it matter?”

“Oh, well, I–”

The phone on the wall wails, cutting her off, and a glance at the clock tells you that it must be your aunt calling to say she’s on her way.

“Saved by the bell,” you mumble as she goes to answer the phone, then spit, “I’ll go change so I don’t embarrass you.”

Back in your room, you decide there’s no point in changing twice, so you pull out the outfit you’d packed for dinner. It’s rather mundane, just a corduroy skirt and an oversized sweater, something you’d normally wear to a family gathering, but the skirt is quite a bit shorter than you’re used to wearing, and instead of the modest tights you would usually pair with this kind of outfit, you opted for some plush over the knee knit socks.

You take your time getting ready, feeling slightly guilty for leaving Eddie to his own devices downstairs, but he’s a big boy, he can handle himself. You need a few extra moments to cool down and collect yourself before more family shows up.

There’s a soft rap at your door as you’re finishing up your makeup with a thin layer of lip gloss and you sigh.

“I’ll be down to help in a minute!”

Except it isn’t your mom on the other side as you’d expected. Eddie’s voice is gentle when he calls, “It’s me.”

You let him in with a soft, apologetic smile. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he smiles, looking appreciatively up and down your form. “I take back what I said earlier. This look is killer, you look great.”

You brighten, flushing at his praise and taking in his own change of outfit. Nothing fancy by any means, just like you suggested when he asked about dinner attire. The same torn black jeans he wears often, a threadbare and bleach stained Metallica baseball tee, and his signature battle vest overtop. Hair clearly adp purposefully untamed, he’s decked out in his usual accessories. Thick, heavy rings on his fingers and a black bandana stuffed in his pocket, he’s even gone the extra mile and smudged a little eyeliner on his water line. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t pull it off.

“Thanks,” you breathe, playing with the cuffs of your sweater absent-mindedly. “You look…disheveled.”

He laughs at your choice of words, but takes it in stride, doing a quick spin and taking a dramatic bow as you laugh along with him. “Thank you, thank you, I’m only following your expert direction.”

The neck of your sweater scoops low when you sit on your vanity stool to zip up your boots, slipping off of one shoulder delicately, and Eddie’s gaze burns as it follows the movement. He doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s staring as he perches himself on the edge of your bed, his lopsided smile only growing when you giggle out a soft, “what?”

“I have an idea,” he beckons you toward him with a jut of his chin, “come here.” Though you furrow your brow in confusion, you cross the room to stand in front of him. Instantly, his hands reach out to take yours and hold your arms out wide so that he can take another good look at you. You pretend not to notice that his gaze lingers at the bare skin of your thighs on display, then pauses again at your exposed shoulder. He tugs on your hands until you’re even closer, standing between his legs with a curious look in your eye. Hands dropping to your hips, he noses at your neck, breath tickling your delicate skin as he continues, “you know what might make this outfit even better?”

“Better?” You question, reaching to tangle your hands in his hair, knowing exactly what he had in mind. “Or just more scandalous?”

Eddie’s lips ghost against your skin as he says, “darling, who said it can’t be both?”

It's cruel, you think, as latches onto the soft skin just over your pulse, nipping lightly and then soothing the sting immediately with his tongue. Cruel that this is all an act, that your friend Eddie Munson wouldn’t be adorning you with love bites if it weren’t for this stupid plan to piss off your parents. Cruel that you can’t separate fact from fiction as he sucks a deep bruise into the flesh just above your collarbone and your grip on his hair tightens, an involuntary whimper caught in your throat.

He pulls back to admire his work, pursing his plush lips with an appreciative hum. One hand leaves your hip to rest on your neck, thumb pressing into one of the fresh bruises there, pride shining on his face when the action makes you shudder.

There’s no way he doesn’t notice how red you’ve gone but he doesn’t mention it, only smiles brightly and ushers you toward the door with an encouraging, “break a leg down there, kid.”

Only then do you realize the commotion downstairs. The boisterous voice of your Aunt Ellen as she helps your mom in the kitchen, the sound of thundering footsteps as her kids play tag in the halls they definitely shouldn’t be running in.

Eddie keeps a tight hold on your hand behind you as he follows you down the stairs, but you’re squeezing his right back, suddenly even more nervous now that some of your extended family has arrived.

Your heart pounds through greetings, through quick hugs and happy hellos and nervous introductions. It hammers in your chest even harder when Eddie’s hand slips down to rest on your ass as he politely chit-chats with your uncle. This is the plan. This is what you wanted. So why are you so nervous? It doesn’t calm down until some time later, when your cousins convince Eddie to join them outside for a makeshift game of hockey in the iced over driveway. Your dad and uncle sit in the dining room chatting over scotch, while the rest of you return to cooking.

“So Eddie seems nice,” Aunt Ellen says with a smile while you peel potatoes with her at the kitchen island. There’s no sarcasm in her tone, no ulterior motives. It seems as though she means what she says, and it's a comforting contrast to the harsh words and sideways glances you’ve been getting from your parents. “You two kids meet at school?”

Outside the window, the hockey game has dissolved into a snowball fight, your younger cousins ganging up on a solo Eddie. You realize you’re staring, zoned out as he easily picks up the youngest to use him as a human shield, unable to stop yourself from smiling as your cousin giggles and brings Eddie down with a smashed snowball right to the face. You can practically hear his dramatics through the window as he mimes a wounded heart and dramatic battlefield death.

“Kinda,” you hum, shaking yourself from your daydream and smiling back at her softly. “He went to highschool with my roommate, Robin. Their hometown is a lot closer to school than here, so I got to know a lot of her friends pretty early on.”

You try not to elaborate too much, but your blush betrays you.

“You had it bad, huh?” She teases.

“I…might have developed a big dumb crush pretty quickly.” Not entirely a lie.

“Well it must have worked out well for you, huh? Seeing as he’s here and all.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “Mom and Dad aren’t too thrilled about it.”

She shrugs, wrinkling her nose at you and leaning in to whisper, “to be honest, this could be good for them. They need to loosen up a little, maybe this’ll push ‘em in the right direction.”

You snort, “you’re telling me.”

“You could make it a little easier on them though,” she chuckles, gesturing to her own neck not-so-subtly, “maybe show them his good side before you try to intentionally rile them up.”

Rolling your eyes, you throw a potato peel at her and shake your head. You had the feeling going into this that if anyone was going to find you out, it would be your aunt. Though much to your relief, she seems to still believe you’re actually together, so maybe you can keep the act going through the rest of the weekend.

She gets pulled away when her cell phone rings, most likely your Grandma calling to ask your parents address despite the fact that they’ve been hosting thanksgiving here since you were born, and in the blink of an eye her seat is taken by your mom. Her arms are folded on the table in front of her, ignoring the pile of potatoes that still need to be done and eyeballing your own paring knife pointedly until you slow to a hesitant, confused stop.

“Honestly, young woman, I don’t know what’s gotten into you.” She scolds, voice hushed but harsh as ever.

With a roll of your eyes, you answer, “if I didn’t think you’d kill me I would say you know exactly what’s gotten into me.”

“Enough!” She looks over her shoulder to ensure that her outburst wasn’t heard and that your aunt is still occupied. God forbid anyone realize she’s experiencing any emotion that’s less than pleasant. “I don’t care how much you care for that boy or how you act at school but right now you are back under our roof and you’ll carry yourself with grace.”

“But-”

“No buts.” She hushes to a whisper as your aunt approaches again, “now go put on some makeup or a turtleneck before Grandma gets here or your father notices, because I assure you he would not be nearly as kind as I.”

“Yeah,” your chair makes an awful screeching sound as it scrapes against the floor as you stand. “Because you’ve been so peachy keen.”

—

Halfway through Thanksgiving dinner, things are going swimmingly. Eddie seems to get on great with the rest of your family, which somehow only seems to upset your parents even more. He talks music with your uncle when he comments on his tee shirt, and compliments you and your mom on the cooking no less than five times, thanking her profusely for the meal, and chats excitedly with your cousins about DnD when they ask about the tattoo of a D20 on his forearm. They’re all eating up his attention, but your parents only sit in silence, observing.

It isn’t until your grandma asks him about school that you finally get a reaction out of them. She had unknowingly uncovered the ace up your sleeve without either you or Eddie having to bring it up and you’re downright thrilled to see where this goes.

You’ll have to thank her later.

“Oh, uh, no ma’am.” Eddie chuckles. Confidence puffs his chest as he grins knowingly, stealing a peek at your mirrored expression from the corner of his eye. “Wouldn’t you believe it, I’m shit at school?” He pauses for everyone to balk at his bold wording. “Who would’a known, right? I’m the picture of a 4.0. Anyway, to answer your question, I just graduated in June, so I’m taking some time to focus on my band.”

His age had already come up in conversation, so it was only right for your uncle to assume, “oh, well, well school isn’t for everyone. What’s important is that you made it through. What was your degree in?”

You clear your throat uncomfortably, ducking your head to hide the smile threatening to break out.

“High school, actually,” Eddie snickers, “took me three senior years, but I did it!”

Silence takes over the room once again, even shocking your extended family. You could hear a pin drop, and you do hear your dad choke on his turkey.

Acting oblivious to their shock, you prompt, “tell them about your band, baby.” Giddy smile plastered on your face, you reach out for his hand and address your family again, “they just booked a consistent gig! How exciting is that?”

“I’d hardly call Tuesday nights at the Hideout exciting, but you gotta start somewhere, right? Plus,” he drops your hand in lieu of resting his on your thigh, his grip warm and familiar. Turning another wily smirk on you he adds, “we’ve got at least one fan who won’t miss a Corroded Coffin show. That’s what counts, right?”

Leaning across the table to pester you more quietly, your mother hisses, “I thought you had study group on Tuesdays.”

“I do!” You defend, “we just…meet at the Hideout.”

In reality you’ve only been to one of Eddie’s shows, the first one at the Hideout that they played as a tryout, and you had a damn good time. But you do have a study group that meets on Tuesdays, regrettably not at the Hideout but in the common area of your dorm building and even more unfortunately, right when Corroded Coffin is about to go on.

You can’t stop yourself from smiling at their shock. Every little thing he or you say to surprise them makes it a little more amusing.

Last night their anger felt overbearing, casting a shadow over you, made you feel small. But the more you catch them off guard, the less they say, and the more you want to laugh at the surprise and disgust in their eyes.

Dessert brings pumpkin pie, coffee cake, another round of drinks, and more inquiry from your aunt. She even managed to slip Eddie one of her husband’s beers, much to the disapproving glare of your father.

“Eddie,” she hums, grinning at him over the rim of her wine glass. “Were your ears ringing earlier? We were gossiping about you.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, a sly smirk and a raised brow pointed your way. He leans back in his chair, right hand reaching out to rest once more on your thigh under the table. He tilts his head even further toward you, “all bad things, I hope?”

“Aunt Ellen was asking how we met,” you smile sweetly, licking away the remnants of cool whip on your dessert fork.

His eyes darken as they follow the motion and his hand creeps higher, pinky finger stroking at the hem of your skirt absent-mindedly as he speaks. You fight to keep your breath from getting caught in your throat at the cold bite of his rings against your flushed skin. “Oh I see,” he hums, then, his attention snapping back across the table, cutting through the tension you both just created, “did she tell you how she tried to hairspray me to death?”

“She didn’t,” your grandma exclaims, “please do tell!”

“So I’m planning on meeting my good friend Robin for a nice meal, right? Sounds like a nice evening! Except…”

You try to stay engaged in the conversation, to tell your side of the story, you really do– but the weight of his hand high up on your thigh is distracting. It’s hard to focus on much else, especially when he kneads gently in time with his elaborate storytelling, his thumb caressing the rolled hem of your thigh-high socks and stroking the skin just above it.

Why, you can’t help but think. You’re the only ones seated on this side of the table, and sheltered from view by the tablecloth. There should be no reason for him to be touching you like this when there’s nobody to see it happening. You wonder if he knows there’s no point, but then his hand creeps even higher and his fingertips slip under the edge of your skirt and into the crease where your thighs press together. This time you can’t stop the stutter in your breath and he notices, smiling at you wickedly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He knows it’s affecting you, and even worse he’s trying to get a reaction out of you.

But he just keeps on talking, stealing the show.

The story of how you met melts easily into the previously fabricated story of your first date, and so on. The stories just keep flowing. That’s the thing about Eddie, he could be reading you the instruction manual for a toaster, but the way that he tells stories is captivating. The way he speaks of your first date, and then of your first anniversary (something you hadn’t discussed on the drive, but damn it if he wasn’t quick on the draw with it) has your family on the edge of their seats. Your aunt listens with glee, but your parents are horrified at the thought of him taking you to a dive bar for dinner or staying overnight in your dorm. Whether they like it or not, he knows how to command a room.

When things start winding down, after goodbyes are said to your Grandma, you’re rescued from having to do the dishes when your cousins talk you into a game of Monopoly. Eddie picks your favorite piece, but relents quickly when you send him a pout and opts for the thimble instead.

“So what are you, a $100 on Free Parking family, all taxes on Free Parking family, or a boring family?” Eddie asks, digging out the loose bills in disarray at the bottom of the box.

“Better,” you hum, “you boys know where the stash is, d’you mind?”

Your cousins laugh, the eldest pulling a bag of halloween candy out from under the coffee table you sit around. “Already on it, cuz.”

Watching as he dumps a few pieces into the middle of the board, you grin. “Perfect.”

—

After a rousing game (where Eddie absolutely made fun of your candy pot right up until he landed on Free Parking and won it), your extended family starts to pack up to make the hour’s drive home. You say your goodbyes, Aunt Ellen whispering a reminder to go easy on your parents into your ear when she hugs you tightly. Eddie high fives your cousins as they pass, and shoots them a devil horn gesture as they make their way to the car. You swear you hear your dad mumble under his breath about him corrupting them, but bite your tongue.

You barely made it back to the den to start cleaning up the board game when the knock comes at the door – their car won’t start. It’s cold and it’s dark and without hesitation your mom offers them shelter for the night.

“The boys will have to sleep on the pull out in the den,” she muses quietly, thinking out loud. “It’s not much but they’ll be comfy there. Ellen, you guys can take the guest room.” You crack a smile as she keeps talking, mentions that your dad and uncle can take a look at the car when they’ve had a good night’s sleep and the sun is up, and Eddie catches your eye with a mirroring grin.

“I’d be happy to look,” he offers, drawing both your parents’ attention. They’d forgotten about him in their plan. “I’m no professional, but my uncle and I have lifted parts from enough junkers to know my way around an engine.”

Your mom looks between you and the boy next to you, brow drawn together in concern. “Oh, I’m not sure that’s the best–”

Cutting her off, you rest your hand on Eddie’s elbow and smile saccharine, “that’s so kind of you, Eds, thank you.”

He knocks your hand from his arm in favor of wrapping it around your shoulders, curling your body into his side and kissing your temple with a loud smack! His grin is downright smug when he says, “looks like I’ll be bunking with you after all, huh, Princess?”

“Lucky me,” you mumble, turning away quickly to hide the rapidly forming flush in your cheeks. “Um, hey, can you help my dad with the pullout? It sticks. I’ll go change the sheets in the guest room.”

“You got it, baby,” he smiles good-naturedly. “Where can I help, Dad?”

As you walk away, you can hear the exasperation in your father’s voice as he informs the boy that it would be in his best interest to call him Mr. or Sir, and you can’t help but giggle at the stuttering response Eddie gives.

You’ve tossed Eddie’s bags into your own room and stripped the sheets from the guest bed by the time your mom meets you in the guest room with fresh sheets. You quietly make the bed together until she speaks up.

“I’m sure you find yourself so lucky to have gotten what you want,” she muses, tucking in the top sheet on her side of the bed a little more harshly than necessary. “But under no circumstances does this mean you can take advantage of my kindness. I was not about to let our family go without a place to stay for the night so you may have found yourself sharing a room but I expect no funny business.” So casual in her cruelty, she emphasizes where she needs to but otherwise her voice is calm.

“Right,” you snort, “because the mood is so perfect with my parents down the hall and aunt and uncle in the next room.”

“I’m only saying, that boy is changing you. You’re acting so differently since you brought him ‘round and I-”

You cut her off, throwing the pillow you just put a new sham on back onto the bed violently. “I care about that boy,” throwing air quotes when you repeat her words, “and if I’ve changed, it’s only because he showed me what it’s like to be cared for in return!” The words flow from you freely, without much thought. You’re reacting with what you know will hurt right back, but you’re also speaking from the heart. Even just being friends with not only Eddie, but Robin and Steve as well, has built your confidence and taught you plenty about love and support, even if it was just platonic.

Her voice drips with condescension when she replies, “Honey. Do you truly think a boy like that has good intentions with a girl like you? He drinks, he smokes, he’s skipping college and doesn’t have a job because he’s in a rock band for Pete’s sake. I’m just worried about you. Guys like that only want one thing.”

With your back to the door you don’t notice Eddie approaching, and he hovers just outside the door and out of your mom’s view. He doesn’t want to eavesdrop, but he could hear your shouting match from downstairs, and he wanted to be close by if you needed a comforting word or pep talk.

“What’s that, Mom?” You argue, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Sex? Who’s to say we haven’t gone there already? And what could you do to stop us from fucking all night tonight? We’re both adults. We could go at it for hours, under your roof, right down the hall from you and technically all you can do about it is kick us out. Oh well!! We’ve got a car and a couple hundred bucks between the two of us, we could swing a motel for the night. The point is, it could happen anywhere, so wouldn’t you rather know that I’m safe at home and not sharing a wall with drug addicts and prostitutes down at the Motel 6?”

She’s silent for a long moment, both of you unmoving and staring angrily at each other.

“...You’re not actually going to have–”

“OF COURSE I’M NOT, Mother,” you groan, “and do you think I would tell you if I was!? God, I knew bringing him here was a mistake. Don’t worry, we’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning. I’m not going to bother staying the rest of the weekend in a house that makes me and my boyfriend feel unwelcome.”

Suddenly very reminiscent of your high school days, you stomp away with an exasperated groan, brushing past Eddie in a fury and you couldn’t even begin to care in the moment to ask how much he’d overheard. You were hot in more than one sense of the word, livid at your mother’s attack, blood boiling at the fact that even she – who has always been more lenient and quick to defend against your father – could think so lowly of Eddie without even giving him a chance. You know that’s the point. You know you brought him here specifically to get a rise out of them, but God, this was so much worse than the stunned silence and speechless stuttering you were expecting.

With every step closer to your room, the need to get out of this damn outfit gets stronger. Despite your aggravation, every brush of your skirt against your thighs brings your mind back to dinner and Eddie’s curious touch, the gentle squeeze as his fingertips brushed at the crease of your crossed legs, the casual nonchalance as he kept talking even though he knew exactly what he was doing.

It's annoying, really, how easily he infiltrates your thoughts and without even trying distracts you from your rage. Only, now he’s all you can think of as you slam the bedroom door and rifle through your suitcase. By the time you start the shower, you’ve moved past wondering why he was touching you like that when it didn’t benefit the plan, and when you strip down and step under the steaming spray you’re more than curious how far he’s willing to take this. You have to admit after shouting about how much sex you were going to have with him tonight, you’re starting to wonder how much of a possibility it could be.

Would he actually touch you? Let you touch him? He was eager to paint your skin with possessive marks earlier. Was he just that committed to the bit, or did he really just want to?

Would it be so bad if he did?

As much as you want to draw this shower out, slow, careful caresses of your skin as you touch yourself the way you imagine a certain guitarist might, you decide it’s not the best idea with a houseful of family. Soon enough you’re toweling off and feeling less angry than before, though no less frustrated.

When you make it back to your room, there’s an open copy of Advanced Dungeons and Dragons and a weathered journal laid out on your bed, suggesting that Eddie had been hiding out there, however he’s nowhere to be found. You manage to get your hair most of the way dried by the time he comes back in, the faint scent of smoke and fresh snow billowing behind in his wake. The stick of a lollipop he won in your game of Monopoly earlier juts out from between his lips.

Smiling softly in greeting, you expect him to beeline back to his notes, but to your surprise he turns your way and leans one hand on your vanity. The other comes to rest under your chin, urging you to look up at him. He smiles back, bigger, encouraging. His lips are tinted pink from the candy and he even nods a little when your own smile grows, as if he could tell that your first wasn’t that genuine.

“Y’okay?” He murmurs, thumb stroking absently at the sharp of your jawline. “It’s been fun messing with them, but that screaming match must’ve been a lot.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, “I’ll get over it, but are you okay? You were the one she was insulting.”

He waves off your comment casually, a wrinkle in his nose and the hint of a laugh in his voice. “I’ve been called worse, and in her defense, we are trying to make me look bad.”

“I guess, but I still didn’t like hearing her speak about you like that,” you chuckle and stand, scooting the stool back in order to wrap him in a hug. After a brief pause, you mumble into his neck, “... and thank you. For checking in.”

Eddie’s hands squeeze where he holds your hips fondly, and he pulls away from your embrace just enough to get a good look at your face. His eyes shine beneath his furrowed brow, impossibly deep brown in the low light of your room, they search your face for any hint of distress, and when he’s confident you’re telling the truth, only then does his gaze land on your lips. You swallow thickly, blink slowly, try to convince yourself you’re making this up. He pulls the lollipop from his mouth, slurping obscenely as he does. There’s nobody around! He has nothing to prove! So then why is he leaning in? Why do you let him, and lean up onto your toes to close the gap?

Quiet takes over the room as Eddie’s eyes fall shut, followed quickly by your own. You gasp gently, but lean into his kiss eagerly, the hand around his shoulder reaching up to tangle in the mess of curls at the base of his neck. His lips meld with yours, working you over in a deep and tender kiss that makes your stomach flip. It’s soft. Familiar in a way you wouldn’t expect.

It might be your favorite one yet.

He tastes distinctly of cherry and leftover tobacco, lips sticky with sugar and oh, so delicious.

When he breaks the kiss he doesn’t go far, lips traveling to press sweetly at your temple for a fleeting moment.

“What was that for?” You ask, breathless. “There’s nobody else around?”

Eddie hums, “maybe I just felt like it.” Taking in your choice of pajamas, he grins even wider, “kinda like you just felt like wearing my Sabbath shirt again, I’m sure. Did you mean what you said back there?”

Stalling, you pluck the candy from between his fingers and take a moment to savor it. Sure, it’s a little bit of a tease, the way your tongue darts out to lick it salaciously before taking the whole thing in your mouth with a soft hum, but it’s payback for both times he’d gotten you worked up earlier today. By the look on his face, payback is a bitch.

“How much did you overhear?”

“Oh, you know…” his hand trails up the length of your forearm, enveloping your own, only to take the sucker back from you and toss it into the bin, forgotten already. “Just the part about us going at it for hours.” Hands on either side of your face, he crouches until he’s fully in your space, lips just a hair away from your own. “How it was going to happen no matter what.” You feel his smirk more than you actually see it, and your breath gets caught in your throat. His hair curtains around you, tickling at your neck and shoulders.This can’t actually be happening – right? His thumb drags lightly at your bottom lip, “that we were gonna fuck all night?”

“I– I didn’t know you were there.” You stutter out, afraid to admit anything more than that.

“...Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

You don’t. Instead, you find yourself falling forward, colliding once more in a clumsy kiss. You stand slowly so that he doesn’t have to crouch, never once letting your lips leave his. It’s an intoxicating contrast to the last kiss, all bruising pressure and teeth and tongue and desperation. He licks into your mouth without asking permission, though you would have given it freely anyway, and his hands creep downward on your body, caressing your waist and falling to rest on the swell of your hips, squeezing gently. When you surge up onto your tiptoes to kiss him deeper, he notices the wobble in your legs and shifts, hooking his hands on the backs of your thighs and lifting you to rest on the edge of your vanity. You gasp in surprise at his boldness, at the strength you didn’t know he possessed, and break the kiss in the process.

“You know, I was hoping you weren’t all talk,” he beams with pride, taking in the sight of your bite swollen lips and chest heaving with ragged breath. Placing a hand on either side of your hips, his head drops to mouth hungrily at your neck, giving the same attention to the opposite side he had earlier, pulling at the neck of your stolen tee-shirt to suck another bruise into your collarbone. In between passes of his tongue and nips at your sensitive skin, he keeps talking. Eddie Munson does not know when to shut up, not even now. “Been wanting to get my hands on you since we met,” he mumbles into the hollow of your throat, you can feel another smile pressed to the skin there, “somethin’ about being threatened by a sweet little thing like you…” working his way back up to find your lips, he basks in the small noises coming from the back of your throat. “...really does it for a guy.”

“Oh yeah?” You tease, hooking a finger in the collar of his shirt and tugging, but before you can continue the thought, the vanity beneath you gives an awful creaking sound under your combined weight. Giggling, near mortified, you bite your lip and shift your eyes toward the bed, “you wanna…?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he jokes in return, helping you down from your perch and crossing the room. He shuffles up toward the headboard, pulling an old teddy bear from under him when he leans up against it and raises his brow at you.

Taking the stuffie from his hands to throw it across the room with a soft glare, you settle into his lap comfortably, one knee on either side of his hips. His hands land on your own hips and pull you closer to him roughly with a soft, amused huff. He kisses you like it's his last chance, hands firm on your hips holding you in place where you can feel his cock, half hard with interest pressing against you.

You kiss him for what seems like hours. For all you’re concerned it could have been. Eddie consumes you, the scent of smoke and leather engulfing you and invading your senses. It’s a scent so perfectly Eddie, with a little sweetness and a little bit of something dark, just like how he kisses. Sweet pecks and soft caresses of his lips against your jawline immediately followed by lewd, wet passes of his tongue and sharp, stinging bites. He kisses hard and messy, unabashed, fingers squeezing at the meat of your ass and pulling your hips harder into his.

This time when he kisses down your neck, he doesn’t stop at your neckline. He pulls at the shirt collar, carelessly stretching it past the point of no return in favor of uncovering more and more of your unexplored skin. Cold fingers prod at the skin of your lower back, making you squeal and grind harder against him, heat pooling in your center.

Your position is making you hyper aware of just how wet you are, your panties sticking to your lower lips with it as you rut against his clothed length. Your hand stays firm on the back of his neck, nervous and unsure how far to take this, but Eddie clearly knows what he wants, his own hands exploring. Not an inch of your body goes unnoticed as he caresses you, light fleeting touches here and there followed by rough, possessive hands, kneading at your curves hungrily. He’s taking his time learning what makes you tick. Thumbs brush featherlight over pebbled nipples through the worn material of your shirt, drawing another breathy moan from your lips. Though he grins in satisfaction, looking up at you with a mix of admiration and provocation.

“Careful,” he murmurs, gaze falling on your chest as he seeks out the hardened buds again and pinching, cocky smile only growing at the responding whine you let out. “Don’t want anyone to hear you, pretty thing. Or did you forget where we were?”

Not one to go without a fight, you grip his jaw and turn his face back up toward yours, “shut up and put your mouth to good use, baby.”

He smirks at the pet name, capturing your lips once more and turning you both until you’re laying back against the mattress. Eddie hovers over you, staring, eyes raking over you briefly before he makes his way down your body, stopping at the waist of your sleep pants with a happy hum. He traces the elastic teasingly before hooking in and pulling them down, tossing them out of the way carelessly. You press your thighs together when he does, and he tuts disapprovingly, thumb caressing the crease between your thigh and hip.

“Aw, sweetheart, you’re not gettin’ shy on me now, are you?” He teases, gently coaxing your legs back open, chilled air hitting the damp cotton and making you shudder. Lowering himself so that he’s eye level with your clothed cunt, he smirks, “that’s what I thought.”

You expect him to rid you of that layer as well, but he doesn’t, not yet. Instead, he noses at the growing wet spot, inhaling deeply and giving a dramatic, gleeful sigh. He’s not so cruel to keep teasing you though, quickly mouthing at your pussy through the thin material of your panties. The added friction is unbearable, pleasure settling low in your belly as he licks broadly at the wet spot with a low groan, pointed tongue finding your clit surprisingly quickly. Pulling back briefly, he admires the way that the material clings to you, now wet with your slick and his saliva, the soaked cotton hides nothing. He murmurs something about “isn’t this a pretty picture?” and reaches out to touch you, fingers stroking over your clothed cunt in a rough drag, but the way your blood is rushing in your ears you barely hear him.

When he finally peels the ruined panties off of you, you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at him between your legs. His hair’s a mess, disheveled by your hands running through it, bangs pushed back from his forehead from his efforts. His lips are kiss swollen and red from the cherry candy, pulled back tight over an eager grin. He licks his lips, eyes glittering as he stares down at you, utterly enraptured. He looks at you as though you were his last meal, like you were the most delectable treat, and it makes your stomach flip.

He dives back in, tongue gliding between your lips easily and circling your clit once, teasingly, before retreating back down to your entrance. With a huff and a repressed squeal, you drop back onto the bed, hand flying to tangle in his hair as he tongues at your hole eagerly. Nose bumping your clit with his efforts, he laps at your juices until you’re whining for it, a weak little “please,” falling from your lips. Any other day he would tease you. A quipped please what, what do you need? But he senses your desperation and relents.

“So wet, sweet thing,” he chides, reaching out to drag two fingers through your dripping folds and pushing them into you without warning, forcing the air from your lungs. You bite your lip in an effort to keep quiet, only letting out the softest whimper when his thumb joins in, rubbing at your clit lazily. “Tell me, are you always this eager?”

“When some asshole’s been teasing me since dinner, yeah,” you quip, throwing an arm over your eyes to hide your embarrassment.

“Oh, I’m an asshole?” Eddie asks, scissoring his fingers and leaning down to lap at your nub, suckling lightly until your thighs tremble and your pussy clenches down on his fingers. “Do you even know what you were doing to me at dinner?” His pace quickens, fingers drawing obscene, wet sounds from your cunt as he pumps them faster. Resting his head on your thigh to watch as his fingers disappear in and out of your dripping entrance, he continues, “The way you were lickin’ that fork clean after dessert should be illegal. Had me wonderin’ what else you could do with that tongue, I just had to level the playing field.”

He strokes at that spot deep inside you right as his lips wrap around your clit once more and you swallow a groan.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you whimper, hips moving on their own accord, canting down to meet his eager ministrations. “Right there.”

He almost sounds pitiful as he coos, “I know, baby, I know.”

He continues to work at your g-spot, languid, repetitive strokes that bring you closer and closer to the edge each time. Pressure builds in your pelvis, an unmistakable ache in your limbs as you tense up. He can tell you’re close, the fluttering of your walls around him and thighs caging his head in firmly. If he minds, he doesn’t let on, only doubling his efforts and adding a third finger as he thrusts back in. You’re getting close, but words are hard to find when he’s smiling so pretty at you and those long, thick fingers stroking deep within you with a come-hither motion.

“Eddie, I’m– fuck, you gotta–”

“That's it, Princess,” he encourages, leaning back on his heels to get a good look at you. Your whole body flushed, his tee shirt rucked up on your chest, your fingers curled in the bedspread beneath you. With his fingers still buried inside you, he reaches out with the other hand to abuse your clit, quick, messy back and forth motions that are absolutely maddening, just on the edge of too much. “C’mon, sweet thing, come for me.”

There’s nothing you can do to stop your body from obliging, bearing down as your orgasm rips through you, your release coming from you in waves, splashing over his hands and the bedsheets between you. Your fingers go numb as you white-knuckle the bedspread, toes curling and mouth hanging open in a silent scream as he works you through your orgasm.

Though he gives your oversensitive clit a much needed break, to your dismay, he doesn’t let up on fucking his fingers into you, gazing down at the mess you made in awe, a lopsided grin on his face. “You didn’t tell me you're a super soaker, sweetheart. What a pleasant surprise.”

“I–” you try to interject but gasp at his unrelenting fingers. “I’m not usually.”

“Oh?”

You’re too embarrassed to admit it again, so you only shake your head, flushing even deeper under his scrutinizing stare. It’s all too much, you’re oversensitive and spent already but god that doesn’t mean you don’t want more.

“Please,” you start, reaching for his wrist to still his motions. You aren’t above pouting when you say, “let me return the favor.”

“Uh-uh, sweetheart,” his grin is downright evil, “not yet…I wanna see you do that again.”

You weren’t sure that was possible. Hell, until a few moments ago you didn’t even know you could squirt at all, let alone twice in a row. But he’s determined, and he’s already kept you teetering on the edge since your first orgasm, so it doesn’t take much. He speeds up again, hand curling to cup your cunt with his efforts, and the slick slip-slide of your previous release gives him the perfect traction to continue the onslaught of attention to your overstimulated clit. Your hips can't decide whether they want to twitch away from the attention or grind down into it, ultimately going with the latter, much to Eddie’s satisfaction.

Ducking his head, he sinks his teeth into the swell of your inner thigh, relishing in the way the pain makes you clench around him yet again.

“You got another one in you,” he encourages, “I know it.”

And he’s right.

The coil in your belly has been threatening to snap as soon as the last orgasm dissipated, his constant attention on your g-spot enough to send you over the edge again, but it’s not until his lips latch onto your clit one more time, the delicious drag of stubble against your inner thighs a whole new sensation, that you let loose. Gripping onto fistfuls of his curls again, you take note of the wild growl the action draws from him as you spill onto his tongue, your release puddling under you and soaking into the sheets.

“Shit, Eddie, stop, I–” You pull at his hair lightly to get his attention, “s’too sensitive.”

Despite your complaint, he grins happily and crawls back up your body, taking the hem of your shirt with him and pulling your last bit of clothing off of your body before capturing your lips in a deep, languid kiss. The distinct taste of Eddie, of tobacco and sugar and your own release is intoxicating, and you sloppily make out with him until you can no longer taste yourself on his tongue. You can’t help but giggle as you pull away.

“You still with me?” He asks gently, damp fingers brushing through your hair, though you have no energy to care about the mess.

“Yeah,” you mumble, “just needed a second.” Reaching down to palm at the achingly hard bulge in his pants, savoring the moan he swallows, you tease, “I feel a little underdressed, here.”

“By all means,” he hums, turning to fall on his back beside you, a cocky smile dancing on his features, “be my guest.”

You follow suit, sitting up to straddle his lap again, lifting the hem of his shirt up and over his head. Peppering his skin with the same attention he showed you, you take your time nipping and sucking and adoring his newly exposed skin, appreciating your favorite mark (an angry looking, deep purple bruise forming just above his demon head tattoo) with a bitten lip and smug smile. He looks ruined and you haven’t even touched him yet, not really, and you take pride in the way his head lolls against the headboard, eyes heavy-lidded and crinkled from his smile, pupils blown as he watches your every move. As you rake your nails down his chest (an act that pulls yet another deep growl from within his chest), you cant your hips down against his. The drag of denim against your bare pussy is almost too much, on the brink of both pleasure and pain in your overstimulation, and the way that it makes you shudder has his cock twitching with interest.

Scooting down his legs, you lay between them lazily, twirling your finger around the button of his pants and savoring the impatient noises he’s clearly trying to hold back. You decide he’s been too kind to you already to deserve anymore teasing, so you make quick work of unzipping his jeans and freeing his aching member. He helps you shuffle them, along with his underwear, down his legs and as soon as you get a good look, your mouth starts to water. Flushed at the tip and weeping, it’s the most enticing thing you’ve ever seen.

Leaning in to catch the bead of precum on your tongue, you moan at the earthy taste and let your eyes fall shut. Eddie swears above you and that only eggs you on, reaching out to take his length in one hand, you give it a long, broad lick from base to tip and around the head before taking it into your mouth, reminiscent of the way you’d enjoyed his lollipop earlier. (If you’re being honest, you much prefer this to candy).

“Shit, sweetheart,” he groans, leaning up on one elbow to get a good look at you and burying his free hand in your hair. “Just like that–look so perfect like this.”

He babbles as you suck him off, an incoherent string of desperate phrases that all circle back to one common theme – how good you look with his dick in your mouth. His praise goes straight to your throbbing core, more slick dribbling from you with every word. You find yourself clenching down on nothing, feeling suddenly empty without Eddie’s thick fingers there.

You pull off of him with a satisfying pop, beaming with pride as your hand works him over in your absence.

“Do you ever shut up?” You tease, cupping his balls lightly with your free hand before ducking to take one into your mouth.

He chokes out his response, “not often,” sighing as you take him back into your mouth, your tongue running over the thick vein that runs up the underside of his shaft. “But you’re gettin’ close… Get up here.”

Pulling you off of him by the hair, he urges you back up the length of the bed. Propped up against your mess of pillows at your headboard, he pulls you back to hover over his lap and drags the head of his cock through your wet folds teasingly. Capturing your lips again, he licks hot into your mouth, positioning your hips square over his waiting member, but leaving it up to you to seal the deal.

You sink down onto him slowly, inch by thick, delicious inch, savoring the stretch and the slight burn that comes with it. Even with proper preparation, he’s big, and fills you to the brim when you finally settle into his lap, his cock fully sheathed inside you.

Drawing a shaky breath, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your forehead to his, all sweaty bangs and shared breaths. He gives you a moment, pressing a gentle kiss high on your cheekbone and lingering there until you thread your fingers into his hair again and give an experimental roll of your hips. Both of you share a groan, breathing each other in as you slowly start to move.

It's like a dance; you push, he pulls, moving together like you’ve rehearsed this a million times. You feel impossibly full as you bounce on his cock, lewd, wet sounds coming from where you’re joined, and the pressure builds in your stomach once again.

Eddie’s hands fly to your hips, guiding your movements and holding you in place to fuck up into you without restriction. Unable to hold back, an involuntary moan tumbles from your lips and you fall forward, biting into the crook of his neck to stop yourself from making any more noise. He hisses at the sting and his hips stutter, but if he’s more affected than that he doesn’t show it. His hips continue to piston up into you, his cock forcing tiny little hiccuping noises from your throat as you clamp your eyes shut.

“Yeah baby,” he encourages, pulling your hips down for a particularly harsh drag, the wiry hair at the base of his cock tickling at your clit from the force of it. “Y’can’t stay quiet, can you? Even now?” Reaching between you, he circles your still sensitive nub with his middle finger, kissing you to swallow the sounds you make as he spreads two fingers over your puffy lips, prodding at the taut, stretched hole where he thrusts up into you. “Christ, if you sound this fuckin’ pretty when you’re trying to keep quiet I can’t wait to hear you when you aren’t holding back.” He speaks low in your ear, his voice impossibly deep and his words go straight to your core, zapping like static over your skin. “You’d like that, huh?” He prompts, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth, “wanna make you scream my name.”

You lift your head to kiss him, if only to shut him up, and whimper into his mouth, eyes screwed shut, but give him what he wants with a soft whine of “Eddie,” against his full lips.

“I guess whining will do for now. Look at you, messy thing,” he’s unrelenting on your clit now, swift, circular motions made jagged by his stuttering thrusts. He’s just as close as you are, if his jerking motions and labored breathing tell you anything. “You gonna come on my cock? C’mon sweet thing, I wanna feel you.”

“I don’t– I can’t, ‘s too much,” you babble, lost in the way his cock drags over your inner walls and the insistent swiping of his fingers at your clit. It’s so good but it’s all too much, and you’re certain if you have another orgasm, it’ll be the end of you.

The hand that isn’t buried in your cunt comes up to hold your chin, forcing you to look at him as he says, “sure you can, baby, c’mon,” then after a surprisingly tender kiss pressed into your lips, he demands through lidded eyes, “come for me, princess.”

Even if you didn’t want to, your body obeys, the pleasure licking up from your core and spreading through your limbs like fire. Your skin burns, your cunt spasming with the force of it, and when you force your eyes shut, forehead pressed against Eddie’s in exhaustion, you swear a tear leaks out.

He groans, the fluttering of your walls triggering his own release, pulling you into a hard, toothy kiss to dampen the sound he makes. He pulls out just in time, splattering your stomach with his seed and already you’re mourning the loss, feeling impossibly empty but sated nonetheless.

Your mouths hang open against one another, sharing damp, hot breaths for a few moments as you come down from your high.

“Fuck,” you sigh, rolling off of his lap to lay beside him, a delighted little chuckle falling from your lips.

“My sentiments exactly,” he muses, turning on his side to brush the mess of your hair behind your ear. With a kiss to your temple and a soft, “wait here,” he rolls away, pulling on the first pair of pants he can find (which just so happens to be your pink snowflake pajama pants) and looks both ways before stepping out of your room and toward the bathroom.

As you wait for him to return, you can’t help but return to your thoughts from earlier.

Would he touch you?

Yes.

Would you really mind if he wanted to?

Fuck no.

What does this mean for your friendship?

Fuck off, don’t worry about that right now. Enjoy the moment.

Soon he’s back with a warm washcloth that he uses to gently clean you up, taking care around your sore, red center, and then mops up his spend with a surprisingly delicate touch. In the other hand he has another fresh set of sheets, which he holds up with a snarky smile.

“When your legs work again we can change these out,” he teases, “seeing as you ruined the ones on there now.”

Running a hand down your face, you blush. Even after everything, you blush at his remarks. “Shut up.” Giggling, you hop down from the bed and pull on his discarded boxers and the now stretched out Black Sabbath shirt before helping him change the sheets.

In the end, you decide that it’s not worth it to finish out the weekend at home and set an alarm to get up before any of your family. It’s far too early for either of your liking, but it’s a necessary evil.

When the car is loaded up and you drop into the passenger seat, it feels natural when Eddie’s large hand lands on your thigh. The sun is just starting to rise in the rear view mirror, and you’re eager to get a move on, but not before properly thanking him.

Leaning over the center console, you press a kiss to his cheek, then again to his lips when he turns to meet your affection. You sigh, a dumb smile plastered on your face as you breathe your first full breath all weekend. “Thank you, Eds.”

“Hey,” he chuckles, squeezing your thigh happily, “I’ll help you piss off your parents any day.” One more longing kiss, his lips sliding against yours without urgency, without anything to prove, just an exchange of affection between two maybe-more-than-friends who don’t have any roles to play anymore. He bites your lip as he pulls away, winking, and throwing the car into drive. As he drives away he laughs again, fixing you with an adoring stare. “My little showstopper.”

#eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson/you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #fem!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things reader insert #stranger things fic #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson fic

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hedgehog-moss · 2 years ago

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I’ve been having a bit of a hay shortage lately—January was very cold and snowy so the animals ate a lot, plus I have an extra mouth to feed this year, and I hadn’t realised Poldine would eat so much in her first year! Next summer I’ll make sure to buy enough hay for 4 animals rather than 3 and a half.

In the meantime I’ve been offering various hay substitutes, such as brambles, or my Christmas tree. It was waiting on the pile of green waste I intend to burn in early spring, until I remembered seeing someone’s ad in the local paper that went “if you want to recycle your Christmas trees, give them to me, my goats will love them!” I figured well, llamas are tall goats, maybe they’ll enjoy a bit of Christmas tree, and they did !

(Baby Poldine is always very circumspect about new foods, but she did end up tasting it.)

Pirlouit was also pleased with this unexpected breakfast. They all took turns nibbling at the tree until only the trunk was left :)

Still, I was trying to contact nearby farmers to ask if they have some hay to spare (it’s not that I’ve run out, I just want to be prepared in case of another cold spell), and I also moved the animals to my other pasture down the road, as there’s still some dry grass there. It’s not well-fenced though, and I wasn’t very confident in this pasture’s ability to contain Pampe, but I figured—there’s no grass to be found in any nearby pasture, so why would she try to leave this one?

(Because Pampe.)

I left the llamas & donkey frolicking in this exciting new place (Poldine looked enchanted to explore a new pasture, she was bounding around like a baby goat!), and I went skiing today, as a (late) birthday gift to myself. The skiing station is just half an hour away and this has become a very anticipated birthday ritual since I moved here! This year I waited until I had found some way to keep the animals busy before taking a day off, so there would be no llama leaks in my absence.

So of course I got a text from a neighbour in the afternoon, telling me my llamas had been spotted on the road, going towards the village. (“Pampe looked determined. She was going to the grocery shop to get muesli.”) (Pampe is so famous, people even know her favourite snacks 😭)

Since I was literally on a ski slope I decided to turn my conscience off and pretend I hadn’t seen the text. I thought, if the llamas do end up in the village I’ll get more texts updating me on their position and I’ll be a responsible llama owner and go home (promise), but they’ll probably get off the road and into the woods somewhere between my house and the village and they’ll spend the afternoon eating communal shrubs and they’ll be fine.

When I went home a few hours later, I found my donkey alone in the pasture where I’d left him in the morning—we both had to wrestle with a moral dilemma today, and Pirlouit’s was “do I loyally follow my friends and potentially starve to death, or do I stay by myself in this place with very adequate dry grass to munch on?” He really hates being alone, yet he chose food over friendship.

I brought Pirou back to his normal pasture (he wouldn’t have liked to find himself alone after sunset) and went looking for the girls. I’d had a neighbour on the phone who had talked to someone who’d talked to someone who had seen the llamas and had “shooed them in the general direction of your house.” That was some very helpful shooing, because I found them just a couple of kilometres away, and indeed going in the right direction.

Pampelune leading the way, determined to go home before night; Pampérigouste last, internally grumbling that it was still early and they could have explored the world some more.

I usually jog with the llamas when I bring them home so we don’t spend too much time in the middle of the road, but there aren’t many cars when the road is icy and also after a day of skiing, you don’t really feel like jogging a few km at a brisk pace in heavy snow boots. So we went home in a slow and solemn procession.

I called the people who had told me about the llamas’ whereabouts to thank them, and explained that this escape was the result of a failed attempt to move the animals to my poorly-fenced second pasture because I don’t have a lot of hay left—and one of them told me he could spare a bale and he’d bring it to me tomorrow!

“So I’ve done everyone a favour” (is probably Pampe’s conclusion.)

I gave them hay as I figured they hadn’t had time to graze much in the other pasture, but only Pampe was hungry. Well, Pirlouit is always hungry, but Pampe indignantly rebuffed him. “You chose food over adventure. You don’t get to eat the food I’m getting as a reward for a successful adventure.”

Pirlouit is completely resigned to the fundamental unfairness of a dutiful donkey’s life.

#crawling along

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dixons-sunshine · 6 months ago

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Someone To Love | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

Summary: Daryl treasured his friendship with you. You were everything to him, someone he could go to when he needed you. On his sixteenth birthday, you did something for him that made him realize that his love for you ran much deeper than he had initially thought.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Pre apocalypse.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word count: 1.8k.

A/n: I'm really sleep deprived, so this potentially sucks really bad. It's also not exactly like what was requested, but I went with my gut and this was born. However, I hope you like this! (Requested by @ddamm. I'm not gonna be home this weekend and won't be able to write something for your birthday, so I wrote this for you as an early birthday present!)

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Where are ya takin' me?”

“I can't tell you that. It's a surprise, Daryl.”

“Y'know I hate surprises.”

“This one you'll like, I promise. Now shut up and just follow me.”

Daryl rolled his eyes at you, a small, affectionate smile annoyingly tugging at the corners of his lips. He walked with his hands tucked into his jean pockets, carefully stepping over any logs and big rocks in his path. You were walking slightly ahead of him, a skip in your step as you lead him somewhere—to his supposed surprise or his death, he wasn't sure.

“Ya sure ya didn't jus' bring me out here to kill me?” Daryl questioned playfully, chuckling at the glare you threw his way over your shoulder. “Jus' askin', sunshine. No need to get mad. S'a valid question. Most'a those murder books ya read start in the woods, so m'jus' curious if yer takin' a page outta those characters' books.”

You looked at him over your shoulder. “Believe me, if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't do it in the most common, boring way. I'm more creative than that.”

Daryl raised his eyebrows at you. “Should I be scared?”

“No, of course not!” you laughed and shook your head, reaching over to grab his wrist. You tugged him along behind you, taking off into a steady run.

Daryl stumbled over his feet for a moment before laughing, quickening his pace to keep up with you. “Jeez, girl! Ya dun' have to rip my damn arm off.”

You giggled. “Sorry, I was excited,” you apologized, stopping in your tracks. You turned to Daryl when he stopped next to you, releasing your grip on his arm. “We're here. Happy birthday, Dar.”

Daryl looked ahead and was surprised to be met with a small, intimate setting—a picnic basket resting on top of a blanket. You had really gone above and beyond, Daryl thought I'm surprise, trying to ignore the odd feeling of warmth that spread through his body when he looked back at you and saw an excited smile on your face.

“You said no parties, so I thought we could have a little picnic instead, just the two of us,” you explained, taking Daryl's hand in yours and leading him over to the blanket. You motioned for him to sit down, following suite and getting comfortable on the blanket you had swiped from your mom's closet.

Daryl eyed everything around him curiously. The two of you were in a part of the forest he wasn't familiar with. It was rather surprising, considering he spent most of his time either at your trailer or in the forest, so seeing that you were able to locate a spot he didn't know was rather impressive.

The movement of your hand towards the picnic basket instantly peaked his interest. He watched as you pulled out an old portable CD player that your mom had gotten you a year prior, settling it onto the blanket and fiddling with a few buttons before pressing the play button.

Daryl's eyes widened when the melody to Ozzy Osbourne's “Crazy Train” flooded the relatively quiet air. His eyes met yours and he let out a shocked noise. “Where'd ya get an Ozzy CD?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back on the palms of your hands. “Mr Jones owed my mom a favour. She finally called it in and borrowed a bunch of music for us for this.”

“Ya got other artists?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Guns 'n Roses, Dio, Led Zeppelin, Metallica, Queen—”

“Ya got Queen?” Daryl questioned in amusement. “Ya know I dun' listen to 'em.”

“And you know that I don't believe that,” you countered, sending him a teasing smirk. “I've seen you quietly sing along when I play Queen in my room. There's no hiding the truth from me, Daryl.”

“Nah, yer only seein' things. Gotta get yer eyes checked out or somethin',” Daryl replied defensively, crossing his arms over his chest in mock annoyance.

You rolled your eyes and sat upright, reaching into the picnic basket to grab a sandwich to hand to Daryl. “Whatever you say, birthday boy.”

Daryl accepted the sandwich and took a bite from it, humming in approval at the taste. “Taste's real fuckin' good. Thanks.”

“Only the best on your birthday,” you mused, reaching into the basket to grab your own sandwich. “You deserve it. And as long as you have me around, we'll always celebrate it.”

Daryl gave you a small smile, taking another bite from his sandwich to avoid saying something that could potentially ruin the moment. As he looked at you, he couldn't help but admire you. From the beautiful colour of your eyes to the way your lips curved when you smiled, to the outfit you were wearing that day that hugged you in all the right ways. Everything about you in that particular moment was perfect, and Daryl found himself very confused at the feeling that entered his body. There was a strange knotting in his stomach when you met his eyes, and he froze at the weird sensation.

Thankfully, you started talking about some band you had discovered that snapped him from his thoughts, and Daryl pushed the strange feelings down. He wouldn't ruin a perfect moment with his best friend because of some stupid sickness he was getting. He would worry about his health later. For now, he would appreciate your company on a day that he rarely celebrated anymore.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Stay right here. I'll be right back.”

Daryl looked up at you in confusion when you got up from the blanket, the Lynard Skynyrd song that was playing in the background forgotten for the time being. “Wha' do ya mean? Where are ya goin'?”

“Just wait here. I need to go grab something I put here earlier,” you explained, turning on your heel and walking off.

“Ya sure ya ain't jus' gon' get yer gun to shoot me? I knew ya were plannin' on killin' me.”

“Very funny, Dixon.”

Daryl chuckled and shook his head, watching your retreating figure in wonder. He leaned back on the palms of his hands, humming along to the song playing. He looked around at the wildlife that looked even more beautiful in the light of the setting sun, content for the first time in a while. The day had been uneventful; he had spent most of the morning and early afternoon in your trailer watching movies while you were busy setting up the surprise for him, then he had a calm picnic with you, swapping jokes and stories, and after that, he would go back to your trailer for the night.

Daryl felt calm, and it was all because of you. All because you refused to let him spend yet another birthday on his own, cooped away in his room.

The rustling of the leaves alerted him to your presence. He looked up at you, instantly noticing the box in your hands.

“Wha's tha'?”

You sat back down on the blanket and extended the box to him, giggling when Daryl only eyed the box in suspicion instead of taking it. “Daryl, it's just a box. It can't hurt you.”

“Las' time someone handed me a wrapped box, I found a bunch'a spiders inside tha' crawled all over me,” Daryl told you, still refusing to take the box.

You shook your head and laughed lightly. “Let me guess, Merle?” When Daryl simply nodded, you continued. “I promise there aren't any bad surprises in here. Only a good one, I hope.”

Daryl hesitantly took the object from you and lowered it onto his lap, slowly starting to peel the wrapping paper away. Once the simple brown box underneath was revealed, he looked up to you, but was only met with an encouraging smile. He opened the box at a snail's pace, but once the object inside was revealed through the small opening, Daryl practically ripped the rest of the box open.

Daryl carefully picked up the object, inspecting it carefully as his eyes widened in surprise. He looked over at you again, a shocked smile on his face. “A Walkman?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, a smile on your face at his obvious excitement that your best friend failed to hide. “I know you've wanted one for a while now, so I spared up some money to buy one for you. It's not new because I didn't have seventy bucks to buy a brand new one, but it works and it's not all banged up. I made you a tape as well. It's already in there.”

Daryl looked surprised. Unwillingly, a few tears started to well up in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away. There was no need for tears in a moment like that. He sent you a small, unsure smile, feeling that same strange feeling from earlier creeping up on him again.

“Thank you,” Daryl whispered, moving the Walkman around in his hands. “This is the best birthday I've ever had. S'jus'... Ya gave me somethin' I've been wantin' fer so long, even though ya didn't have to. Yer amazin'.”

Not realizing the true, deeper meaning behind his words, you leaned forward and hugged Daryl tightly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Anything for you, Dar. You know that.”

Daryl hugged you back tightly, lowering his head to rest on your shoulder. Daryl's feelings hit him with the force of a hundred freight trains—he was falling for you. He was falling for his best friend, and he didn't even realize it until that moment. The only reason he realized it was because of the gift you gave him. And it wasn't the picnic or the snacks or even the Walkman. No, it was something much deeper than that, something much more valuable to Daryl than anything else in the world.

You gave him someone he could trust. You gave him someone he could go to with his problems, someone who never judged him or belittled him for feeling emotional. You gave him someone he could love without the fear of being disappointed, someone he knew would be there for him.

You gave him you, and that was more than enough for him.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

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hazelnutsforellie · 2 years ago

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i was all over her | e. williams ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

PAIRING— dealer!ellie williams x fem!reader

SUMMARY— you and ellie are best friends, first year college roommates that never separated. when a friend asks for your help in making her ex jealous, you succeed... and seem to smash not one, but two hearts with one singular kiss.

WARNINGS— NSFW, smut [18+], mutual pining, sexual tension, college!au, alcohol use, explicit marijuana use/handling(?), jealous/protective ellie, ellie having dirty thoughts about you, ellie masturbating, hints of angst & fluff, kinda proofread.

WC— 7.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE— thank you so much for 1k!! consider this a gift from me ♡ this is part one to a potential multi-part series... please feel free to leave feedback!! (also, stream i was all over her by salvia palth)

Soft footsteps mixed with whispers and the flicking of musky pages filled your ears while your eyes scanned the directory signs in the library. You were looking for a particular genre, your eyes jumping from the signs to Dina as she continued on about how Gentoo penguins use pebbles to propose to their girlfriends.

"I just think... if someone proposed to me like that, I wouldn't mind as long as their heart's there," Dina joked, causing you to playfully roll your eyes as you slowed in front of a large bookshelf. You needed a particular book for your world history course, your eyes scanning the titles as you responded.

"Well aren't you a hopeless romantic?" you quirked back, your eyes creasing as you softly laughed. You often found yourself hanging with Dina during the day, mainly due to you having classes together.

You shared more classes with Dina than Ellie did, but you weren't close with her like you were with Ellie, your best friend since the start of freshman year. Naturally, because you and Ellie had different majors, you found yourselves in different buildings during the day. While apart, your time was spent with Dina more often.

"You should come to this party later tonight," Dina said in a low tone to avoid disrupting near students as you pulled the book you wanted from the shelf, examining the cover. "Jesse might be there... I'd like to have you there."

You quirked a brow at her, knowing of her ex boyfriend Jesse. You've spoken to him numerous times, and you thought he was a cool guy. You felt the buzz of your phone in the pocket of your sweatpants, causing you to instinctively pull it out as your eyes shifted to Dina's face.

"I'm interested, but why do you want me there because of Jesse?" you raised a brow before glancing down at your phone screen.

Ellie: told kyle i'd meet at his party tn. you in?

"Who is it?" Dina whispered, glancing from the side of your phone to your face.

"Ellie. Whose party is it?" you asked quickly.

"Kyle's," Dina quickly answered, to which you nodded in understanding. It wasn't a surprise. Kyle was a cool dude and often had chill parties.

Ellie: doesn't matter. already told him im going so

Ellie: you are too.

Despite Ellie being your best friend, little things about her made your stomach twist in tingly knots. You loved how audacious she was, clearly taking the leading role in your friendship. Other than that, your feelings for her controlled your reactions as well.

"Looks like I'm already going," you sighed, tucking your phone back in your pocket before completely facing her. "But seriously... Are you wanting to avoid Jesse, or something?"

"Sh!" she whisper shouted, suddenly becoming nervous that someone could hear you say his name. "You're being loud."

"I'm whispering," you whisper-shouted defensively, causing Dina to playfully roll her eyes.

"I want to make him jealous," Dina admitted, a tiny smirk tugging the corner of her lips.

"Seriously?" you scoffed as the two of you made your way over to the counter, passing a few students studying with earbuds in on the way.

"Don't you think that's a little... I don't know... toxic?" you asked, unsure whether she saw it that way.

"Oh c'mon," Dina drew out, softly nudging your arm. "It's harmless. It's up to him if he wants to make a move."

"Or you could stop being stubborn?" you suggested with raised brows, nearly making Dina's jaw drop. Since you didn't receive a response, you pushed. "So.. what? You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend or something?"

"Not girlfriend, per se. More like... arm candy," Dina smirked, slightly spinning on her heel as she spoke. She seemed a little nervous to ask you, despite her outgoing personality. She gave you flirty eyes, the same eyes you fail to say no to every time. Sure, you thought Dina was cute, but you didn't have feelings for her. She was your friend, one that seemed to be too convincing at times.

A sigh puffed past your lips as you walked up to the counter, giving Dina one last glance before greeting the cashier. Dina's soft smile never went away as you checked the book out, and she was hot on your heels as the two of you left the bookstore with her shiny puppy eyes.

"Fuck, fine. I'll probably show up with Ellie, though," you explained, your shoes padding against the concrete as you walked alongside her, toward your next class. Dina softly squealed in excitement, thanking you before splitting off.

The rest of your day was a lot less exciting than what awaited you in the later hours. You felt a little anxious, but it was just for one reason. Your best friend.

Upon unlocking the door to your dorm and pushing it open, you saw Ellie sitting on your shared couch, manspreading to reach the coffee table. The various sidelamps and hanging lights illuminated the space. You both had a slight hatred for big room lights, your choice in smaller ones giving the space a comforting aura. There was enough light for you to pick up on the outfit she'd chosen for the party. Jeans, and a blue and white button down with a white wifebeater underneath. Her sleeves were rolled up just below her elbows, exposing her tattoo to wondering eyes. She drove you insane, in a good way.

Ellie's fingers were tending to the weed she was preparing to sell at the party, sizing bags as she'd summarize to you. Your best friend was also your roommate, and since she was a rather-lowkey dealer on campus, it wasn't a surprise to walk in and see her with the bud between her fingers.

"Hey," you greeted her with a small smile as you closed the door, locking it behind you as you both usually would. Ellie's attention had already snapped off her task, her bright green eyes meeting yours as you entered. She greeted you back with a smile, her eyes never leaving your face as her hands continued to work. Upon fully entering, you were blanketed in the slight smell of weed (of course) and a lit candle, sniffing and humming in satisfaction before questioning. "Is that cedar?"

"Yeah, it is. Smells good, doesn't it? Did you find what you were looking for?" Ellie inquired a rhetorical question before asking a real one, knowing you were going to the library for a particular book for class.

"Yeah," you sighed, kicking your shoes off by the door. You slipped your backpack off your shoulders, letting it rest on the floor next to the couch before sitting down beside her. "Dina went with me, and she also invited me to Kyle's party."

You didn't bother waiting before just airing it out, wanting to figure out the plan for the night. What you couldn't ignore, though, was how good Ellie smelled. She had hints of musk, spice, and fruits. She tended to switch between scents, but above them all, you could smell her. Ellie had her own scent, and it comforted you to no end. After a fresh shower, it was overwhelming. It was as if the atmosphere was blanketed with the smell of her. You loved it, really.

"She did?" Ellie asked, her eyebrows raising as she sealed a baggie closed before tossing it to a pile of various baggies of the same size.

"Yeah," you sighed again as you placed your water bottle you'd been holding onto the coffee table, making Ellie quirk a brow before a smile began to break on her lips.

"What happened?" Ellie laughed, suddenly becoming nervous as she wiped her hands on her knees, turning her head in your direction as you sunk into the couch beside her.

"Dina wants to make Jesse jealous," you explained, crossing your legs in your lap. "She asked me to help her."

"What does that mean?" Ellie asked, to which you shrugged.

"I don't know, but I said yes," you admitted.

"You what?" Ellie's eyebrows were knit together, her attention suddenly fully on you. Her hands halted from where she was pulling apart nuggets of weed. You watched as her back suddenly straightened after hunching toward the coffee table.

"I couldn't say no! She did the eyes," you frowned, making Ellie roll her own.

"I mean, how bad could it really be?" you defended, watching Ellie's fingers as she pinched weed onto the paper between her fingers, rolling a new joint despite the small pile of prerolls just inches from her slender hands. "If anything, just touching her hip in front of him would be enough."

"So..." Ellie trailed off, realizing that you had most likely agreed to arrive with Dina.

"Yes, we're picking her up," you confirmed what Ellie was thinking. "You didn't give me an option to come to the party, so I figured it'd be fine."

"You were already going!"

"You didn't know that!" you shot back, both of you having cheeky smiles plastered. Ellie didn't mind it, she did mind the task you had at hand, though. She had to admit that the thought of Dina using you to make someone jealous would only have the same effect on her.

Ellie couldn't bring herself to tell you that she didn't like the idea, ultimately ending the conversation as she brought the joint she was rolling to her lips, and you could feel your chest begin to tighten. No matter how many times you've seen it, it continues to have the same effect on you every single time.

You openly watched as she dragged her tongue across the top to seal the joint, and she knew you were watching despite her eyes tracking the paper. You always did, it wasn't new. She just wondered what you were thinking. And oh boy, you hoped she wouldn't realize.

"We have enough time to smoke a little before we go. You game?" Ellie suggested with raised brows as she finished sealing the joint. You knew Ellie had a high tolerance, and that the offer was merely for you. The idea of being a little high when you get to the party put you at ease. You'd hoped you'd feel relaxed in helping Dina.

"Definitely," you replied, sitting up from your slouched position against the couch. Ellie smiled with a nod, reaching into her jean pocket to retrieve her lighter. She then tucked the joint between her lips, sparking the lighter to allow the flame to burn the edge of the joint a bright orange.

Immediately, you were wafted with the smell of it, the familiar smell of herbs, wood, and a slight hint of plum invading your senses.

"Mm," you hummed, watching the smoke escape through Ellie's nose as she passed the joint to you. Her eyes flickered to yours from as you accepted it, lifting it to your lips to pull a drag. You nodded in satisfaction, the taste being familiarly smooth.

"Do you plan to sell a lot at the party?" you asked breathlessly before exhaling the smoke, watching as Ellie reached for your water bottle on the coffee table, handing it to you. She knew you always wanted to have a drink on you when you smoked, the light gesture causing butterflies to swarm in your belly. You accepted it from her as you passed the joint back to her, thanking her before taking a sip from it.

Ellie shrugged as she took a drag from the joint. You watched her face slightly scrunch and her eyes narrow as she stared at the tip of the joint.

Fuck, you thought. You wanted to clench your thighs together, the weed instantly making its way to your core. You knew you couldn't make a move, you were afraid. You had to suffer every single night. Everything you could imagine in a smoking interaction, you've seen it. Her tongue, her eyes, her smirks. It was all too much sometimes, and you'd have to go to bed early.

Ellie passed the joint back to you, to which you accepted before taking a rather-large hit. Ellie's eyebrows raised as she eyed your water bottle, noticing you had added one sticker to it after leaving it bare for so long. A sticker Dina had given you. Why that made Ellie jealous, she wasn't sure.

"A few kids are gonna be there that wanna buy," Ellie finally explained. "We're gonna make a few stops on the way, though."

"Should we leave soon then?" you asked.

"Err," she grumbled, pulling her phone out of her back jean pocket to check the time. "Yeah, probably."

You took one last hit of the joint, Ellie's bright eyes meeting your glossy ones as you finished inhaling, allowing her to take it to finish it off. You then lifted yourself off the back of the couch to prepare to stand, grabbing your water bottle as did so, her eyes remaining on yours eyes she lifted the joint to her lips. The prolonged eye contact had begun swirling more feelings than you'd like to admit, and you needed to avert your attention elsewhere.

"Are you changing?" Ellie asked, eyeing your sweatpants but mainly your ass as you stood up.

"What? Are these not hot?" you joked, turning around to motion toward them with silly jazz hands, causing Ellie to roll her eyes in response and take another hit of the joint, her eyes flicking right back on you as she sucked the smoke into her lungs. You sighed, muttering a drawn-out whatever under your breath as you made your way to your bedroom, which was right next to Ellie's.

Of course your sweatpants are hot. Everything you wear is hot, in Ellie's opinion. Ellie wanted to, but she couldn't stop her eyes from following you as you shuffled toward your bedroom. One thing Ellie couldn't control was her obsession with staring at you, watching you. Her stare was soft, sometimes hungry... but it was in admiration. Upon entering your room, you had decided to change into a comfortable pair of jeans, since you knew it was a somewhat casual party to begin with.

It wasn't long before you were in the passenger seat of her car, controlling the music from your phone as Ellie made various drop-offs. You remained quiet in your seat, greeting people you knew and ignoring those you didn't. Ellie chose which customers to deliver to wisely, not wanting particular people to see you, or try and spark a conversation. She chose the ones she clearly intimidated, and with some spots, she would even get out of the car to avoid them paying any attention to you. Some of her customers were frat boys, and although Ellie couldn't stand them, she needed someone to give less-favorable stuff to. She knew a cocky jock when she saw one, and that's when she would step out of the car. She didn't want to hear their pathetic attempts to bring you into the conversation, knowing well that you had zero interest to begin with.

She tried to hide it, but she was protective. She was cautious of who you were around, all the time, and you couldn't help but feel like she was attempting to shield you. You didn't mind it, though, hence why you never cared to mention it.

As Ellie was finishing up her last deal, her back was against her driver's side window, the only thing you could see being the back of her blue and white button up. You could hear her voice faintly, a deep chuckle leaving her lips before you heard her tug on the door handle, saying her farewells and slipping back into the car.

"Alright, you ready to get Dina? Is she ready?" Ellie asked, shifting the gear from park to drive with her right hand while her left remained on the wheel. Your eyes flickered from her slider hands back to your phone.

"I'll message her," you said, clicking her contact and texting her.

You: we're otw. ellie's driving

Dina: ofc she is. when is the last time you ever drove?

You: wtf i drive sometimes

Dina: LOL since when

Dina: passenger princess.

You scoffed with a laugh, pressing the power button on your phone to lock it before dropping it in your lap. When you arrived to Dina's place, Ellie rolled her window down to greet the girl, with you tilting your head to see her over Ellie's shoulder, waving her to the car. It was a cute sight that Dina would chuckle to herself about.

It wasn't long before you arrived to the party with Dina alongside you and Ellie behind you. Ellie planned to separate from you two shortly after entering, wanting to get her deals over with so she could find someplace to sit. Ellie wasn't much of a... partier. She preferred sitting or standing off to the side, her eyes wondering around her surroundings, and opening dealing from where she sat the entire night.

Most the time though, unbeknownst to you, she would watch you. She would watch you for multiple reasons, one being to purely take your appearance in and appreciate it. What else is a girl to do that's pining for her best friend? Instead of trying the numerous girls attempting to get in her pants by buying from her, her attention is completely taken over by her best friend.

Shortly after entering the house, you and Dina were immediately welcomed by fellow friends. The house was cutely decorated, surprisingly, with string lights hanging off the ceiling.

"Is there a theme?" you wondered near Dina's ear, not getting the memo for the party as Ellie continued to walk behind the two of you, her eyes scanning the house. You continued, "Because I really hope not... I'm wearing jeans."

"No idea," Dina answered loud enough for you to hear over the music. It wasn't blaring, but it was loud enough to make talking difficult. "Kyle shares his place with his sister, they rent together, or something. She probably decorated it."

"I'll be right back," Ellie told you with raised brows, waiting for you to nod in understanding before she left to find Kyle, you assumed. You averted your attention back to Dina, whose eyes were glued to something else, or rather someone else. Jesse was standing off, speaking to another girl. Funny how he was so easy to spot, but it was damning for Dina.

Dina grabbed your wrist, and before you could say anything, you were being dragged toward the bar to get drinks. Dina settled on a vodka cranberry, deciding to make you the same thing. Eventually, after lots of small talk, you and Dina were in the living room, sitting on the couch with a few other strangers, surrounding the coffee table.

You learned their names upon greeting, but the alcohol coursing through everyone's veins had them rather comfortable and giggly. You were playing truth or drink, and you just so happened to choose drink more than truth. You couldn't think of a lie on the spot for some of the personal questions, wanting to avoid mentioning Ellie's name, especially in front of Dina. After what felt like an hour, the auburn returned.

"Hey," you heard a familiar raspy voice from behind you turning your head to see Ellie behind the couch, looking down at you and Dina. Ellie's eyes nearly widened when she noticed the empty bottles on the coffee table.

"Oh, Ellie! Sit down," Dina urged before you could, to which Ellie obliged, taking a seat beside you on the couch. Why would she turn down the opportunity to stick by you?

"Don't mind if I do," Ellie replied, already wanting to sit and relax until you decided to leave. The party was rather calm besides the fairly large dining room, which was cleared to be a dance floor. Everyone was calmly drinking on one side, or loudly playing party games on the other.

Ellie lightly lifted her hips, your eyes unintentionally watching as she lifted her ass to retrieve a lighter and rolled joint from her pocket, not wanting to smash it. Ellie lifted the joint to her lips, sparking the lighter.

"Is this your girlfriend?" one of the girls asked you with a bright smile, you couldn't remember her name, but she was more than gone. Ellie's eyes shifted from the tip of the joint to the girl, the flame continuing to burn the tip until you cleared your throat.

"Oh, no. This is Ellie, the roommate," you explained with a gentle tilt of your head toward the green eyed girl. You had told them a funny story or two about Ellie while she was gone, nothing that would give Dina any suspicions of your feelings. You'd thought about telling Dina you liked Ellie, being good friends and all. It seemed as if you were just more afraid to admit it to yourself, preferring to ignore it and enjoy what you have.

"Oh, your roommate," she smirked, playfully wiggling her eyebrows at you and Ellie. A teasing smile began to tug the corner of Ellie's lips as she exhaled the smoke, glancing over at you.

"Not like that," you laughed, which secretly struck Ellie. You were telling the truth, she understood that, but she wished it was like that.

"Haven't I sold to you before?" Ellie asked, motioning toward the girl with her hand that still had the joint between her index and middle finger. She found the girl fairly familiar, not that it mattered.

"I'm trashed," the girl answered honestly with a flirty smile. "I have no idea right now, but..."

The girl's eyes trailed Ellie from head to toe, and she clearly seemed pleased, "Most likely."

Ellie's eyebrows lifted gently before she brought the joint back to her lips, unintentionally flirting with the girl. Ellie had an effect, that was true. One glance or smile had you convinced you were on her mind. It left you craving her attention, but since you were her best friend, you had it often.

Dina held back a gasp as she took a sip of her mixed drink, her eyes glancing up to the dance floor across the large room. She managed to spot Jesse dancing, but with who, she couldn't tell.

"You want a hit?" Ellie murmured to you, leaning closer to offer you the joint.

You accepted it with your left hand, placing it between your lips. Ellie's eyes immediately began to search for a drink you had on you, noticing the empty cup in your right hand.

"I'm gonna go get a drink, want something?" Ellie asked, instinctively offering as she knew you liked having a drink when you smoked. Though, she also just liked getting drinks for you.

"Sure, thanks," you nodded with a small smile after you exhaled, keeping the joint between your fingers as Ellie got up from her spot, the girls on the couch across from you and Dina going on and on about their own conversation, too drunk to pay attention to you and Ellie's smiles and Dina's longing eyes at Jesse on the dance floor.

Just as you pulled another drag, Dina grabbed your right hand, pulling you up to your feet. She began tugging you toward the dance floor as you laughed, passing Ellie at the bar on the way.

"Hey!" Ellie tried to call out for you as she watched Dina drag you to the dance floor with her joint between your lips. Ellie nearly overfilled the cup of water she was preparing for you, getting caught up in seeing you jog away. She hissed, feeling the cool water run over her bare hand. She then placed the cup of water on the bar top before beginning to make her own drink.

After getting a glass of whiskey, she turned around and pressed her back against the bar as her eyes quickly found you. She watched as Dina spun you around, your usual cheeky smile spread across your lips. Ellie began to feel as if the scene was in slow motion, her thoughts turning vulgar before she could take a second glance at you. The music was catchy, though it was nearly muffled to Ellie's ears since her eyes found you. Despite numerous pairs dancing together in the same room, Ellie managed to spot you. She always could.

Ellie smirked as she sipped her drink, watching you dance with Dina. She couldn't control her mind from wandering as her eyes scanned your body, the alcohol taking its course in her blood. She was completely immersed in you.

No, Ellie, she thought to herself as she finished sipping her drink, a small smile on her lips as she swallowed. She couldn't stop her lips from curling into their form as she caved, her thoughts taking a turn as you continued to dance. Sure, Ellie wanted to be in Dina's place, but the sight before her was something else.

She visualized you underneath her, looking up at her with your usual doe eyes you'd use when you wanted Ellie to do something for you.

"Please, Ellie," she imagined you whimpering, never losing eye contact as she kissed down your chest, between your breasts, then lower, and lower.

Ellie's tongue darted to swipe against her lips in a swift horizontal motion, the icy burn of the alcohol cooling against her tongue. She took another small swig, her eyes glancing back up at you after leaving for a split second to check the glass.

"Fuck, just like that," she imagined you moaning, the thought nearly sending shockwaves from Ellie's spine to her core. Sure, Ellie had heard you moan before, on occasions you thought she was asleep and you would release your own tension. You knew the walls were thin, but not that thin. Ellie wouldn't admit it to you, not wanting to embarrass you but also because she... liked hearing it. Ellie swallowed her whiskey thickly, feeling the coolness of the alcohol drill down her throat. She shook her head to herself, shaking the dirty thoughts out of her mind as she watched Dina bend you backward, your back bending enough to make Ellie choke down a groan. Oh, to be the one doing that to you.

Dina then pulled you back up, your face just inches from hers and that's when Ellie noticed Jesse looking from the sidelines as well. Ellie smirked to herself and glanced to the floor, thinking that Dina's plan was working, and she'd secretly hoped she wouldn't have to take Dina home since it was already late enough. Just as Ellie glanced back up to you, she saw Dina lean into you, her hands on your cheeks, and then it happened.

Dina kissed you. You weren't sure if it was due to the alcohol or the heat of the moment, but her lips were planted directly onto yours either way. Both Ellie and Jesse saw at the exact same time, all movements in their bodies tensing. As much as Ellie wanted to instantly convince herself it was part of the plan, she couldn't control the burning jealousy that began to boil in her stomach.

Although Ellie hoped it was part of the plan, she hated it. She didn't consider how it would feel to witness someone else kissing you, no matter the context. Since it wasn't her, it hurt, even though it shouldn't have. That is when Ellie realized you could have anyone you wanted. Ellie placed her glass of whiskey on the bar top, which was barely sipped on. Her eyes met yours one last time before she made her way out of the dining room.

You watched as Ellie made her way out of the room, a displeased look painting her face as her eyebrows furrowed together in frustration. You didn't understand what suddenly snapped, causing Ellie to storm off after meeting eyes for one mere second after the kiss. In fact, you began to grow a little nervous. She knew it was part of Dina's silly scheme, but you couldn't help but regret it as the auburn disappeared from sight.

"Do you think that worked?" Dina asked you as her back faced Jesse, her big eyes looking at yours as you looked past her to find him. He was staring, and finishing his beer.

"Oh yeah," you answered with a nod, looking back at her. "Is this where you leave me?"

Dina smiled, pulling you into one last embrace. She gave you a small wink before making her way out of the dining room, Jesse following shortly after. You stood alone in the loud room, your drunken eyes scanning the area for your best friend.

Ellie found a small bathroom to slip into, locking the door behind her. The music and loud chattering was instantly muffled, allowing Ellie to let out a huff of relief. She glanced at herself in the mirror, letting out a long sigh at the sight of her slightly hooded eyes. She knew she had to drive soon, and despite not feeling any sort of high, she still looked the part.

Ellie leaned forward and twisted the faucet on, the cool water shooting out against her slender hands. She cupped her hands to collect the water before splashing her face numerous times. She didn't like how she felt, angry. Jealous. She wouldn't admit it if you asked, that's for sure.

"Fuck," Ellie cursed to herself as she twisted the faucet off, wiping off the leftover droplets that remained on her cheeks and chin. She then hissed to herself, "You're being stupid, Ellie."

To pine after your best friend is one thing, but to get overwhelmingly jealous when you see them kiss someone else? That's a slight issue.

The door handle to the bathroom began to rattle, nearly making Ellie jump out of her skin. Ellie quickly unlocked it, no longer needing the bathroom anyway. Her green orbs nearly popped out when she was met with Dina and Jesse on the other side of the hallow door.

"Wha... you know what? I won't ask. Where is she?" Ellie asked Dina, knowing Dina would know who she was talking about.

"Still dancing, I think," Dina said with a smile, looking back up at Jesse as she was overcome with their sudden reformation. Ellie awkwardly stepped out of the bathroom, allowing Dina and Jesse to take the room as she searched the house for you.

After not spotting you in the dining room, she began to have a slight internal panic. Ellie found her way back in the living room, spotting the same girls you were hanging out with before Dina pulled you out to dance.

"Have any of you seen the girl I came with?"

"Oh, your roommate?" one girl teased, nearly making Ellie roll her eyes. "I think she went outside. Looked like she was ready to fall asleep."

Ellie took that as her sign to bolt to the front door, exiting the house. She quickly spotted you next to her car, leaning against the side of the hood with your arms folded over your chest. You looked exhausted, your eyes nearly closed as you hummed a tune.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," Ellie quickly apologized as she approached you, fumbling through her pocket to retrieve her car keys. You blinked, still conscious as Ellie pulled your door open in front of you. "Are you okay?"

"Mhm, I want to go home," you murmured, beyond consumed by exhaustion and the alcohol that continued to make your head spin. You quietly thanked her as you got into the car, Ellie closing the door after you were fully inside. You sunk into the comfortable seat while you lazily buckled yourself, your eyes hanging half-open, threatening to close. You were drunk, but not incapable of simple tasks.

"It's really cold," you softly whined, wrapping your arms around yourself as Ellie slipped into the car. Ellie shoved the key into the ignition, starting the car to get the heat going for you. She then buckled, her arms flexing as she tightened the strap over her chest, glancing over at you to make sure yours was on as well.

"We'll be home soon," Ellie assured you kindly, shifting the gear to drive. You were afraid you had upset Ellie, remembering how upset she looked after Dina kissed you. You weren't sure why, but you had the feeling Ellie had feelings for Dina, wishing it was her instead. Your mind ran and that's when you found yourself outside, waiting on Ellie to go home.

The entire way back to your dorm, Ellie would take occasional glances at your sleeping form. Her left elbow was pressed against her door, her right hand resting on the top of the wheel as she leaned against the door. You were fast asleep soon after the car started, curled into a ball in Ellie's direction. It allowed her to easily catch a glimpse of your face to make sure you were still okay, and to admire.

Ellie was aware of her obsession with staring at you. She couldn't help it, you were gorgeous. She learned every crevice and mark on your skin, the way your lashes would relax against your cheeks.

You entire walk to your dorm from the car, Ellie's hand was gently resting on your middle back, guiding you until you reached your door, her hand then moving to your lower back as she used her other hand to search her pocket for her keys. Ellie was used to taking care of you like this — making sure you wouldn't fall over, exactly.

"I'm fine, Ellie," you'd murmur, though she'd ignore it, since you have indeed fallen on her or the floor numerous times. She managed to swiftly unlock the door and guide you inside, pulling the keys out of the lock with her other hand, then closing the door behind her with her heel. Ellie felt thankful for her tolerance, feeling completely sober as she walked close behind you to your bedroom, stopping in your doorway as you kicked your shoes off.

"You don't have to babysit me," you tiredly slurred, nearly tripping as your hands landed on your bed, using it to stabilize yourself for a moment, a sudden swirl of dizziness finding its way behind your eyes.

"You sure?" Ellie asked, stepping inside your room to help you onto your bed. "C'mon, I got 'ya."

Ellie gently grabbed your forearm, her eyes glancing to your face before guiding you onto the bed. You plopped down rather harshly, sinking into the middle of your bed as Ellie pulled your blankets over your frame. She wanted to tuck you in but she didn't want to be weird with the state you were in, so she merely made sure your entire body was covered, excluding your face.

"Thank you," you murmured with your eyes closed, causing Ellie to smile as her eyes trailed from your eyelids to your nose. She was leaned to your level from covering you, instantly smelling the liquor from your lips, as well as the sweet smell of just you.

"Anytime," she smiled as she leaned back up, taking just one step away to leave until you spoke.

"Are you not sleeping with me?" you whined, reaching to gently tug on her button down, fully expecting Ellie to stay with you during your drunken state. Ellie smiled from how bold you've always been with your words when you were drunk, though they were respectful.

"I want to smoke a little bit," Ellie chuckled at your neediness. Sure, being your best friend and all, she became accustomed to your occasional need for affection, and sleeping in the same bed was one of them.

"Will you come in after?"

"Maybe," Ellie joked, making her way toward your bedroom door after you released your grip from her shirt.

"Please?" you whined, lightly slurring as you fell into a slumber.

The sound made Ellie want to say fuck it and lay down with you right then and there. She could've sworn she felt her knees quiver, her breath halting as her hand froze on the door handle. It was obvious you were dozing off, if not already sleep talking. Ellie realized you were asleep and quietly snuck out of the room, leaving the door cracked before heading for the couch.

As she sat on her side of the couch in the quiet living area, Ellie could smell the leftover lingering of your perfume, instinctively making her grin to herself. She grabbed a pre rolled joint off the coffee table, something she needed to stop leaving out so carelessly. Lighting the joint for herself, she thought about the party and her reaction. She remembered meeting your eyes for that one moment before she left. She didn't want to leave that way. She was angry, and she hated she was. She hoped you'd forget about it... not want to talk about it.

She was annoyed with herself for not being able to forget about it. She wanted to, she really did. Her mind began to wander as she tugged the smoke into her lungs, softly puffing it back out through her nose and mouth. She watched as it slowly crept toward the cracked windows beside the couch, which were always open, of course.

To avoid the thought of the kiss, she thought about what happened beforehand. The way you were dancing, your beautiful smile, all of it was too much for Ellie to ignore. She couldn't stop the thoughts from running, the rather-dirty thoughts that would lead her to shiver in her seat in desperation.

"Fuck," Ellie grumbled to herself, feeling herself growing wet at the memory. Your smile and the way your back arched was something different. The weed was surely enhancing her arousal, and she quickly got lost in thought about you, sinking into the couch, laying across it as she continued to puff on the joint.

The overwhelming tension in Ellie's heart corresponded with her core, a desperate need for you in particular. She couldn't help herself as her left hand brought the joint back to her lips before she used both to begin unbuttoning her jeans. She needed to release at least a little bit of tension.

Her mind began to wander, instantly picturing you. She wouldn't admit it to your face, but she used her imagination a lot. A lot. She felt wrong... naughty, even. She would be blatantly lying if she told you she had never thought about you while touching herself from being so smitten, but also because she heard you before. She knew what you sounded like when you were making yourself feel good.

Picturing you back on the dance floor and the way she could see the crevices of your neck, the way you smiled as you spun— it drove her mad. She wished she could've been in Dina's place. Once Ellie had pushed her jeans off her hips just enough to give herself comfortable access, her right hand instantly found its way underneath the band of her underwear, her cold fingertips making contact with her throbbing bundle of nerves. Her index finger and thumb of her left hand pinched the joint, pulling it from her lips after she took a long drag, her eyes fluttering shut as her head fell back against the couch.

"F-fuck," Ellie muttered under her breath, nearly sounding like a gasp for air, the sensation sending pleasureful waves through her core as her high only intensified it. She thought about how you'd watch her when she was licking a joint or a blunt when she'd roll. She would notice the way your legs would twitch in the slightest, the way your lips would part ever so slightly. Ellie wouldn't watch you the whole time, of course, because you were watching her. She had good peripheral vision, though, and she took note of everything she could. She always has.

Her fingers then dipped down to her folds, tenderly swirling her own arousal on her fingertips before pulling them back to her swollen clit. Ellie pleasuring herself is a sight, one that no one ever had the chance to see. It was shameful, for if you were to accidentally walk in, you wouldn't know what to do. You would stop in place, your eyes locked on her. She'd thought about the situation before, and had admitted to herself that she would want you to watch.

She just wanted you. In any way she could. She couldn't deny the way she would feel herself grow more and more soaked at the thought of you begging for her.

Please, you had whined. Maybe you intended to make her feel that way, maybe you didn't. Either way, the thought of you begging as she teased you, the sexual tension she had built up over time was astounding. It's a wonder how she never caved, but it was for one thing only. She wanted more than that with you, and the thought of risking your friendship was unbearable.

"Shit," Ellie whimpered under her breath. She wanted to hear you beg for her, but at the same time, she knew that she wouldn't be able to hold herself back from pleasing you the moment you'd ask. She was so distracted with pleasuring herself, the joint was seconds away from slipping between her fingers.

She suddenly brought it to her lips to take a hit, muffling her own moans for a moment as she pictured herself above you, peppering kisses on the pretty, delicate skin of your neck. Ellie imagined saying various things to you, things she would be mortified to admit. It was almost as if she could hear the sounds of your moans, echoing in the back of her mind as she recollected the memory. She wanted to know what you felt like, tasted like, truly sounded like. Ellie knew she could make you feel good, having an internal battle with herself whenever she heard you pleasuring yourself, your soft moans bouncing against the thin walls. You wouldn't say anything besides a string or curses, and Ellie would never tell you that she hoped to hear her name.

"O-oh.. f-f..fuck!" Ellie whisper-shouted, followed by a harsh grunt as Ellie pressed her left forearm against her mouth, careful to avoid burning herself with the joint. She muffled her moans as soon as her peak crashed, her shoulders shuddering and her thighs clamping together, locking her own hand against her soaked cunt.

Ellie laid in the same position for a moment, allowing her muscles to relax as she caught her breath, lowering her arm from her face to glance at the joint. The ash was gone, and Ellie's heart thumped in her chest. She glanced to the side, an obvious burn mark in the couch just inches from Ellie's view.

"Oh, fuck," Ellie groaned, pulling her hand from between her legs to sit up. She tapped the edge of the joint against the center of the ashtray that sat on the coffee table before leaving the joint in it. She then stood up, rather comically, as she nearly fell over from the sudden weight on her feet.

She turned around to face the couch again, her eyes landing on the burn mark in the couch as she buttoned her jeans. She didn't think you would be upset, since it was Ellie's couch, but she wasn't sure how she was going to explain the cause. She reached to scratch the nape of her neck, too exhausted to finish the joint let alone worry about a cover story.

Although you begged her to lay down with you after she finished smoking, the sight before caused a gentle chuckle to erupt in Ellie's throat. Upon gently pushing open your cracked door, she saw you completely sprawled across your bed with zero room for her to join you. She shook her head to herself, unable to control her lips from curling into a small smile as she pulled the door back to its previous position.

Ellie stood outside your door for a moment, letting a soft sigh escape her lips before she turned on her heel and pushed open her own bedroom door, right across from yours. She was thankful you were asleep, unable to question her own inability to sleep as she laid in her bed, eyes open as she watched the city life outside her window beside her. It wasn't often that she would stay up, unable to fall asleep despite feeling such exhaustion.

Ellie was many things, and an overthinker was one of them. She couldn't help but wonder how you felt when Dina kissed you.

It was just part of the plan, Ellie thought over and over again.

Ellie was afraid that if she didn't consider Dina a friend of her own, she would have acted a lot differently. Over the time Ellie has known you, she never witnessed you kiss another person until Dina kissed you, and she had never prepared herself for the sight. The sight of you kissing someone else, no matter the reason. It struck her, and she knew she couldn't tell you. She just hoped you wouldn't question her for her reaction.

TAGLIST @kurosaaki @prrimordiais @bellswlw @rxllingstones @coeurify @dergy @elliesstar @elliephobic

#hazelnutsforellie #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x y/n #dealer!ellie #the last of us game #tlou smut #the last of us smut #tlou ellie williams #tlou #ellie williams oneshot #ellie williams imagine

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drdemonprince · 22 days ago

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do you have any advice for navigating a friendship with a trans kids whose parent is transphobic? my uncle started dating this woman when her kid was 2 or 3, and then they broke up 8 or 9 years later. i consider this kid my cousin and xe has been an active part of my life through that whole time up until the break up just under three years ago. ive still been able to see xem occasionally but certainly with much less frequency. ive suspected for a few years now that xe is trans. xyr christmas gifts from me are almost always queer/trans books of some kind, and to be honest a lot of the reasons i show up in my family the way i do is so that a) xe can see a happy queer adult just being alive and b) to pave the way for xem to have a better experience with our family if/when xe chooses to come out. xe came out to only me a month or two ago and expressed a lot of gratitude to me for being there for xem. fast forward to today, xe is now saying xyr mom is uncomfortable with us texting and will be monitoring our texts. ive always known this was a possibility, and have followed xyr lead on what is and isnt safe to text about, and i stand by 100% of what ive texted xem. but i am really devastated by this news. xe is deleting our texts and i am not really sure how to navigate this because im sure there is a way for xyr mom to get deleted texts and i dont really want that to be like…an indicator of anything. and regardless, this is going to impact how much i can show up for xem. also this is like…just so obviously transphobic since i have known xyr mom, and known her WELL, for over a decade at this point. and shes had some pretty awful and bigoted and homophobic things to say in the past. im just really fucking sad about it to be honest and i dont really know how to navigate this in a way that preserves the relationship we do have, allows me to actually be myself, and lets me continue to have this kid as part of my life.

I think you gotta reframe this situation to make it less about how you get to still keep the kid in your life, and focus instead on what is gonna keep the kid safe. Right now, the kid being caught with any messages from you makes xem unsafe in an abusive, isolating home. My recommendation would be making yourself easy to find. Maybe even do some visible trans activism in the local community that everyone in the family will be able to know about. Make sure you have some kind of email or blog or social media page the kid could theoretically access at a better time. The kid should know where to find you when xe has a safer means of making contact. When xe gets a little bit older, then xe can begin to make decisions about potentially escaping this abusive environment and asking you for practical support, and the time may come when you can provide xem with a burner phone, some cash, or a place to crash. But for now you will have to tread really lightly so that the kid's mom doesn't escalate against xem.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months ago

Note

Im not really sure if I am or not so I'm going here.

WIBTA for forcing someone to give me closure?

Hi, I (22NB) have a crush on a guy I'll call C (21M). I've had feelings for him for a very long time even though we don't know each other that well. I was tired of not knowing him and only seeing him every once in a while, so on his birthday (the only day I was sure I could see him).

I told him I liked him, but I didn't know him well, so I was interested in getting to know him better over time. I also understood that we were both busy with college and work, so we might not spend a lot of time together this semester.

He reacted vaguely receptive to my confession. He was nice about it and told me he also wanted to get to know me better.

A few months later and the ambiguity is killing me. He never said he returned or didn't return these feelings, and I don't really understand hints or implied language unless they're obvious. I know I should move on at this point, but I'm stubborn, and the nature of the ambiguity leads me to believe that there might be something more in the future.

What I really need is a direct yes or no, but I'm afraid it'll ruin our friendship. And I'm afraid to let go of our friendship but I really can't ignore these anxious what if's.

The breaking point for me is that today we hung out with his friends, and they started talking about relationships, and he said he'd like to find someone one day. I didn't make eye contact and became quieter afterward. I really dont know what to think, and all I did was feel angry and depressed.

Later, I told him I wanted to talk privately at a later date, but we have not had this talk yet because I don't know what to say and I feel stupid for wanting to say it.

I feel like he doesn't care about my feelings and just wanted to keep being friends by not telling me directly what he felt.

I feel like I'm being an asshole because I am forcing my mental well-being on him for closure and potentially throwing away our friendship because of some feelings I can't tamper down or ignore.

I feel like I'm being a weird, desperate incel but I also feel like he's trying to avoid a conversation with me. He never talks to me first, and even though he is nice to me and kind, I just feel like I don't matter to him at all.

Would I be the asshole for forcing this from him? I feel like the only person who'd really benefit is me. If I am rejected, I can accept that, and if I am not, then I can feel a little more secure with where I stand with him.

If he rejects me, he might lose me as a friend (because I will want time away from him to process it). I can't forsee him returning my feelings because if he wanted to be with me, we would have already been working our to that together by now. Am I just impatient? WIBTA for doing this?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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unconventional-lawnchair · 2 months ago

Text

I'll Look After You Chapter Two

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Summary: {Y/N} reunites with a lost soul, learns the fate of two of her old friends

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, mentions of injury and mourning}

Wc- 5142

Taglist- @otterlockholmes @stylesann @adhxmoony

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound of your quill tip against the edge of your inkwell filled the small cubicle. With Moody away on a mission, you had no one to snap at you about the small fidgets and bits of noises you made. This was your least favorite part of your internship, just waiting and acting like you had things to do. You knew once Moody got back he'd once again break down how to fill out the mission reports and go back to ignoring your existence.

You sighed out dramatically and pressed the feathers of the quill between your upper lip and nose. Not noticing as a bit of ink stained your cheek. It had been a few weeks after the dance and the last thing you needed was to be alone with your thoughts. Instead, you focused on the ambiance of moody’s office. The sound of ruffling paper and the scratch of quills to parchment. The buzz of battery operated lights were preferred to the heat trap that was Moody’s desk, his instance on candlelit space and lanterns that burned threw oil like mad, only succeeded in making the small space unbearably hot.

It did set a melancholy, the warm yellows and hazy space truly made you a bit tired. Arms crossing and leaning down on your desk, chin against your arm, before a voice cut threw the monotony.

“Having fun here, gorgeous?” A voice cut threw your thoughts and dragged you out of your slump. Slowly, you smiled to yourself, leaning back and looking over to the familiar figure in the entrance of the mini office.

“Barty Crouch Jr.” you hummed and he put his hand over his chest in a fake offense.

“My full name? What happened to ‘little bastard’?” Barty purred and you couldn't help but laugh.

You and Barty never talked at school, even with your small friendship with Pandora and Regulus. He had a certain hatred for your rowdy bunch, and in turn, you hated him. However, ever since you got picked up on your apprenticeship, he was always around the corner.

The first few days of pretending you didn't know him didn't work. His father had a habit of dismissing him during hearings, leading him to stray to you. After the first two trivial encounters of fiddling fingers and weird familiarities, the visits became more willing, unfortunately. He was funny, a bit of a flirt, but you learned quickly it was his expression of love, both platonic and intimate. You usually spent this time together listening to him rant and rave about that Evan Rosier kid in Slytherin.

He was another you didn't care for, but Barty was smitten and you never had the heart to tell him how much you disliked to hear about how Rosier had very kissable lips.

Barty was depraved and his filter was non-existent.

You liked him a lot.

“A thousand apologies, lil bastard. What brings you to my slums?” You hummed and he walked over, taking Moody’s seat, man spreading and leaning all the way back. Using his heels to spin the chair around to face you, before idly swaying.

“Dad stuff.” He hummed and looked at you before gesturing to the paper in front of you. You lifted the page so he could get a good look at the scribbles. Doodles, your signature signed the paper in several different ways, and some places with swirls and stars. He laughed.

“That's what they have you doing all the time?” He cheeked and grabbed your quill, still between your lip and nose. He fiddled with it while you smirked.

“Yup, I am the big dog here. They wouldn't dare give me real work. They fear my potential is too great. I may tarnish a record or two.”

“Or your father’s reputation.” Barry mumbled and your smile slowly fell. You sat up and leaned your head in your palm. You carefully looked him over. His confident and excitable posture seemed a bit mellow, and his eyes were drifting everywhere but you.

Ah, that's it.

“Did he say something to you?” You mumbled and he gave a loud exaggerated groan, trying to cover up his watery throat. “I just hate coming here. I mean, my dad is kissing ass all day for a chance at the Minister role, basically ignoring me until he's telling me just how awful I am.” He scoffed and tossed your quill on the counter.

Your brow pinched at his words. Over the very short time you've known Barty, he's always been honest and open with you about his feelings. Maybe it was the anonymity, knowing you wouldn't say a word, you were practically strangers. Or maybe it was how he was with everyone, again, you hardly knew him.

“You know that's not true, right?” You whispered, inching yourself closer by your toes. Barty looked up and slowly smiled at how ridiculous you looked.

“Yeah?” He mumbled.

“Yeah.” You nodded firmly. “You don't have anything to prove to him.”

“It certainly feels it.” He admitted, looking down. Only for a voice to cut in.

“Ah! Good to see you feel comfortable, Junior, please, take the whole desk!” Moody boomed from the entryway before he gestured to the two of you. “The two nepotistic children fancy each others company? Who would have guessed.”

You sighed and gave Barty an apologetic look and he waved his hand. You almost didn't catch the black ink peaking through the top of his sleeves. You quickly reminded yourself that it was likely just a tattoo. Barty was one of the smartest boys you knew, if not the smartest. He wouldn't.

“I'll see you next time.” He put back on his confident look and sent you a wink. You slowly smiled and rolled your eyes, watching as he left. You gathered your things as Moody began to sit down.

“And where do you think yur goin?” He snarked as you filled your bag.

“It's five, Moody. I don't have to waste any time in this building after closing for another two years. Be seeing you.” You dismissed him and he scoffed, “Just because the clock says you're done, you give up? That's not how this world works, girl!”

You scoffed at him, before a familiar voice called out to you two. “Oh, come on, grump. Let the lil Niffler go, she had school in the morning.”

You snapped around on your heel to be greeted by the Prewett twins. Smiling bright at Fabian who was rubbing the back of his neck with a yawn, before Gideon gestured you over. Both of them clearly packed up and ready to go.

“Come on then, we'll walk you to a floo flame.” The older twin spoke up and you nodded, smiling brighter. Hurrying over with a mutter of thanks.

“And stop calling me Niffler.”

“Anything for our little coffee runner.” Gideon mused and threw his arm over your shoulder, making you groan.

“Actually, Niffler is fine.”

~~~

You woke with a stir, once again, from a knock on your bedroom door. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, taking in your surroundings with a start, before you slowly calmed. That wasn't the first time you had a dream about your past memories, but it was the first time it had been that vivid. It was reassuring to be met with the dark thistle print wallpaper, the wood furniture, and the absolute plush mess that was your bed.

Your bedroom wreaked of your youth, records on the wall, half eaten by the vermin that invaded the home. Gryffindor memorabilia that trumped your small touches of green, somehow staying the brightest thing in your home. You did your best to restore it, but it had been a three month long mission returning it to its past glory.

The knock came again and you snapped from your thoughts, sitting up and groaning. “Come in!”

You rubbed your eyes as the door opened, peaking between your fingers as they strained the skin around your eyes, as if that would help wake you.

“Morning.” The familiar sweet honey-like sound filled the room. You slowly smiled as you saw Remus enter, holding two cups of coffee. His voice was always deep in the mornings, more hoarse than most. He must have been up for a while.

“Moony, you're the absolute best.” You mused and made grabby hands for the cup. He laughed and set it in your hands, tapping your calf. You bent your legs on command and he took the space your legs previously occupied.

“Did I wake you?” He hummed before he took a sip of his own bitter mixture. You nodded along and took in the rich smell of what was once expensive and surely delicious foreign coffee, drowned out by an excessive amount of sugar and milk.

“Mhm.. how long have you been up?” You quizzed and took a sip of your overly sweet drink.

“Just a few hours. Padfoot took Harry out to go fly on his new broom over the fields. Woke me up.” He chuckled and you gave a fond smile. The summer had gone so smoothly so far, everything was domestic and homely. It had only been two months, but you fell into an easy routine.

“I hope he takes good care of this one. It would be poetic, Sirius gave him his first and last broom.” You smiled and stared down at the bubbles forming on the top of the coffee. Remus turned to look fully at you, before he slowly reached out to grab one of your ankles, his large hands covering a bit of your calf as well, before he began to rub the skin a bit. You had to bite your bottom lip to keep your mind on one side of the road.

Living with the boys was domestic bliss, living with Remus and Sirius was marital hell.

“You're drifting.” He whispered and you nodded, setting your cup down.

“Just.. odd is all.” You mumbled and looked down at your thumbs. He pressed his thumb flat against your ankle and tried to persuade you to continue. “Odd?”

“Odd. I know the years I lived as a muggle weren’t real, based on fabricated memories..” You trialed off and looked away. “But finding out those memories weren't real and..” You gestured around. “Learning all that's happened. I'm sure there's more I don't know. I had to learn from an old newspaper what happened to Harry, Moody wouldn't give me specifics.”

You slowly sunk into the pillows and folded your arms over yourself. “And I just.. I missed 12 years. 12 years of my life. I've learned not to be bitter about it, no use to it. But sometimes I'll remember things about people I… I should have known better. Then Harry.” You whispered and covered her face.

Remus leaned forward and reached out to tilt your chin up, his touch gentle and comforting. His deep hazel eyes locked onto yours, filled with understanding and a hint of something more. Something so familiar. Something that once broke you down to your most basic form and shattered your heart. Something you hated to say you longed to see in his eyes again. The air between you crackled with unspoken emotions, a tension that had been building for some time now. Like the egg shells you walked on when it was just you two the first month were swept away.

“I know it must be overwhelming, to feel like you've missed out on so much,” Remus began, his voice low and soothing. “But you have a chance now, to make new memories, I don't think I've seen Harry so happy. He's reverted to a child, it's amazing to watch.” He chuckled. “And you're not alone in this, I'm here for you, always. Uhm..” He cleared his throat. “Sirius too.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, his proximity sending a rush of warmth through you. Then the guilt sunk in at his last words. Quickly, you looked away from him and took your face from his hands. Right. The reminder of Sirius made your heart ache helplessly in your chest. You closed your eyes with a small sigh before looking back to Remus. The way he looked at you, with such intensity and care, made your heart race in a way you couldn't quite explain. A painful way. A way that showed just how badly you wanted him.

Then, the words from the Shrieking Shack would ring in your ears.

“Ah yes, how could I ever forget my favorite of the furry bunch?” Remus’s words sunk into your mind easily.

“She's yours?” Harry gasped.

“She's mine.” Sirius snapped back before he looked at Lupin.

The guilt settled in quickly. If you were his, why did he act this way? Why did he push you away? Why did he act like you were nothing? Why didn't he give you the ring back?

You looked down at your fidgeting hands and Remus gave a low sigh through his nose. You met his eyes again and he gave you a strained smile, patting your knee. “It's alright.” He mumbled, before he could dismiss himself, the door suddenly rushed open.

“{Y/N}, darling, are you ready?” Sirius’s excitement was cut off when he saw you both. Remus’s hand on your lax knee and practically swallowing your form from where Sirius stood. Both boys clenched their jaws and you shooed Remus off, standing and turning to your wardrobe. “What is it, Sirius?”

“I uhm..” He gathered himself before he shook his head. “Harry, has been invited to the Weasley’s for the World Cup, seems they would like him to head there early.”

The room was thick with tension and you cut through it as if it wasn't there. “I'll be right out. I have to change first.” You spoke to them without turning. Remus slapped his palm to his thigh and sat up. Nodding to Sirius as he passed him, but Sirius never moved.

You turned to him and arched your eyebrow, he crossed his arms and leaned in the doorway. “Its nothing I haven't acquainted myself with.” He mused nonchalantly, slowly smirking. “Intimately.”

This bloody bastard, what was he trying to prove here?

You gave a laugh turned scoff and lifted up your left hand, wiggling your ring finger. Sirius frowned and you glanced back at him again. “Out.”

You put on something light, simple for the heat. Your eye caught the snake ear clip the twins had gifted you years ago, looking around the red covered room before you slowly smiled and picked it up. The only Slytherin inspired gift you'd ever received, of course, the twins always saw the houses for what they were. It only made sense they would be the ones to admire that about you.

You and Sirius packed up the car, as Remus went over everything Harry needed to buy this year, making sure he had packed everything.

After a fair bit of goodbyes, you and Harry set off to the Weasley’s. Not after Sirius asking for the thirteenth time if he could tag along. During your ride to the Weasley’s, Harry managed to stay up the entire time. Talking to you about his morning venture into the town with Padfoot.

~~~

When you finally made it to the burrow, it was midday. Molly and who you assumed to be Ginny were sitting outside the house, talking idly. You landed the car a bit away from the house, and from the corner of your eye, you spied how interested Harry seemed to be that the girl was coming to greet him.

Interesting development.

“Boys! Come help {Y/N} with her bags!” You heard Molly shrill and laughed, climbing out of the car and waving off Molly.

“Me and Harry are plenty alright, Molly! It's just his bags for now!” You called over and she tutted, closing the distance between you two. The grass fields brushed against your calves and the sun was practically cooking your skin. Harry grabbed his bags and his owl himself and hurried over to Ginny.

“Harry, why don't you go greet Ron?” You hummed and he nodded, turning to Ginny who stuck her tongue out at him and ran inside. He laughed and hurried after her, making you smile. That was so familiar.

“Oh, now, {Y/N} dear, before you go inside I have some news for you.” Molly fussed as you both walked to the front door. You began to fan yourself with your hand and use your other to block the sun from your eyes.

“Oh please make it quick, it's bloody scorching out here.” You laughed and put your hands on your hips, leaning forward to squint at her. Both of you facing each other outside the cracked front door.

“Well, we have company,” She started, her hands clasped together in front of her. “I don't expect him to be here so soon, honestly I forgot I lettered him, and he certainly didn't tell me he would be coming so soon.” She rambled on and you gave a nervous laugh.

“You have me worried here, Molly.” Before you could continue your thought, you felt something wet and cold against your ear and Molly’s face dropped. You snapped your head around and your eyes locked onto two beady black ones. A bloody Niffler. Pilfering your ear ring!

“No! You put that down!” You shouted and tried to catch the weaseling little thing. It crawled down your entire body in a spiral motion before dashing inside.

“You rotten rodent!” You shouted and ran inside after it, Molly’s cry for your attention falling on deaf ears. You were not going to lose one of your favorite pieces of jewelry to a damned backwards goose. “Get back here!”

You dashed across the house for it, knocking around tables and hitting your hips on protruding corners, before it wiggled its way into the kitchen with squeaks of distress.

You were panting, coming up the the lively open kitchen, grabbing a chair back as you gathered yourself. “Who's ever.. bastard child that is.. I have a few words..” You wheezed, gesturing to the blurry figures in front of you. It seemed the full family was there, talking to someone you thought to be Arthur for a moment.

The murmuring settled down before you rubbed your eyes as spotted the little criminal. You gasped and pointed at it, as it crawled up the leg of the man. The small group, George, Fred, Ron, all stepped aside and watched as you gathered yourself.

Then you heard a laugh.

A laugh you knew better than the owner's voice.

Your face fell and your eyes raised to meet hazy brown ones.

Gideon fucking Prewett.

You took the chance to take him in, still in shock. He was older now, had to be in his late forties, looked it too. His smile was fuller, his eyebrows bushy and his fiery red curls were long enough to frame his bearded face, with speckles of white.

Broad shoulders, if you were allowed to say that, considering his left arm was completely gone, up to his shoulder. He just kept smiling at you, reaching back with his palm out for the Niffler to return it. “Don't steal from your name sake, Vix.” He tutted and you crumbled.

“Gideon-” Your voice broke and he opened his arm. You hurried over and wrapped your arms around his stomach. He chuckled and patted your back, returning the earring to your ear.

“I thought I lost ya, Niffler.” He whispered in your ear and you gave a watery laugh.

“So you replaced me?” You jabbed and he laughed.

“Needed something to annoy me. You and Fabian…” You shook your head and hugged him tighter.

Molly entered the kitchen and smiled fondly at the reunion, before ushering her kids out. The twins complaining as they left. Molly and Gideon shared a nod before he nudged you softly. “So, I assume you have some questions.” He mumbled into your temple, and you nodded.

“And me to answer them?” He chuckled and you nodded again.

“Just.. just a little longer..”

~~~

You found yourself again, at the Weasley’s, having a conversation with a dear old friend.

You both set up in the kitchen, sitting at the table. You were fiddling with your finger and he gave you a patient and loving smile. It seemed he grew calmer as he aged. You could still see that spark of mischief in his eyes, but it was mellowed out, possibly drowned out by the excitement he had when he looked at you.

Your eyes slowly fell to his arm and he gave a small chuckle. “Well, I guess it's time I tell you what's happened, hm?”

“That night, when you apperated?”

He nodded and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I panicked when I heard Fabian scream. It broke my concentration. I was redirected home.”

~~~

The crackle of apparition snapped through the empty room. Not even the moon light slipped into the dark space, as it became more and more clear to him, he wasn't at the ministry.

He heard thundering footsteps hurry up the stairs, he was growing foggy. The door slammed open and he slowly looked over, his eyes locking with Mary’s. She was smiling, holding up her status reports he had tasked her with before he left with his brother merely an hour ago.

Her face slowly fell as her eyes widened in horror at what she was faced with. Gideon Prewett, sprawled out across a broken desk, with a brutal twist to his arm that she could practically feel. Slowly, he grimaced and tried to stand up, only for all the pain the adrenaline had kept at bay to come rushing forward.

He let out a pained wail, much like his brother’s, and fell forward. His mind was still not clear, but he saw Mary. The only person he could protect at the moment. From what? He didn't know, but she was within reach. The sounds of papers falling to the ground and heels against his wooden floor filled his ears as Mary ran over to him and put her hand to his chest. Lifting him back up as he wrapped his good arm around her shoulder. Clinging to her arm with a rough grip that made her wince. “Boss-”

“We need… we need ditany.” He spoke carefully and through his grinding molars. She quickly tried to pull away but his grip tightened on her. Suddenly, the idea of his own apprentice leaving him, with you and Fabian’s status unknown, was far more terrifying than he would like to admit. Mary looked at his hand and quickly looked around the office. She took her free hand and lifted her wand to the roof, commanding her patronus forward.

Her glowing brown bear manifested before her, as Mary felt her throat tighten as her eyes grew wet watching Gideon slipped in and out of consciousness. She had no choice, she knew, even with all the pain he had caused her in their youth, she couldn't lose her Prewett. “Take this message to Snape..”

Gideon slowly faded away, loosening his grip on her shoulder and falling limp against the shredded wood and scattered parchment, the last thing he could recall was her patronus running off into the curtained windows, the very blinds she soon opened when he lost his grip.

He woke up an hour later, in his bed. He winced, a muted and groggy pain filled him. The tense and rocking pain was something he was used to, his muscles tightening and his blood rushing, paired with a splitting and deep sting. Without that sting, he felt off, like the pain was just around the corner, waiting to bite back.

He could feel something in his hand. Gripping a bit tighter the numbing buzz was pushed aside and he was able to feel the familiar warmth of another hand in his own. He turned his head and blinked away his grogginess, seeing Mary staring at him with so much worry and care. He gave her the sweetest smile he could muster but it only worked to break what little resolve she had.

He rubbed his thumb over her smaller hand, and she leaned forward from her chair to press her head to his knuckles. Like she could process that he was alive, but the fear of losing him was so great that him smiling at her could only show her what would have been lost.

“I'm alright, grizzly.” He croaked and she shook her head, sniffling as she dried her cheeks.

“Dumbledore went to retrieve them..” She whispered and he was snapped out of his mind and shoved back into reality. He tried to sit up, but his left arm didn't quite respond and with Mary clinging to his right hand he could only lay back. He looked across the room and noticed Snape’s slight wince and his drifting eyes.

“What's happened?” Gideon commanded across the room and Severus avoided his eyes. He tried again to lift himself but Mary tightened her grip, pressing him closer as she began to cry. His face fell and a dread filled his chest.

“What's happened to them?” He croaked out, his turn to try and hold back a sob. He knew the moment Mary began to let her sobs wrack her body. The way she held his hand let him feel the warm tears that wet her face. He knew they were gone.

He let his head fall against the pillow and he stared up at the ceiling. He tried to stay stoic, only for his grip on Mary to once again tighten as he sniffled, letting out a sob, crying out. Mary quickly let go of his hand and looked down at him, only for him to wrap his arm around her back and pull her full weight against him. It was grounding and she was quick to hug him, letting him sob into her shoulder.

She was all he had left and he didn't plan to leave her behind.

~~~

“When I left for America, I took her with me.” Gideon mused and took a sip of his tea that Molly had hurried over to make. Your eyes widened and your jaw went slack. A million questions passed through your mind at once, but one took president over everything else.

“Mary? Mary is alive?” You pushed and he grimaced a bit.

“She is. She sends her love but..” He rubbed his neck and bit his cheek, trying his best to gather himself. “This place, it's painful for her. Even with you home, she doesn't want to face this.”

You nodded and furrowed your brow at your hands. Giving a low huff. “Not that I ever had the choice.”

“Given it, would you have come back?” He pushed. “She's built a life out there. I have too. You can't blame her for choosing her peace.”

You clicked your tongue before slowly nodding and leaning back in your seat. Trying to think back on everything you had been told, before you winced a bit. “Madeye. He said she was attacked, that they found her at our hideout.”

“She was hurt. But alive.” He reassured and took a steady breath. “I was out of commision and Remus couldn't face it. Mary went to retrieve what she could from your safe house. Her clothes, her research, her gear. I had offered her Fabian's room until she could join me in America.”

You began to pick at your nails and slowly looked up. Your voice crackles a bit. “And?”

“Mulciber was there. Mary told me bits and pieces of what's happened but.. it seems she's blocked a lot of it out. Says it was similar to what happened back in her school years, she hardly managed to hold on. Then Remus found her and..” He sighed through his nose. “The boy was already rattled by what was going on, sent her to St. Mungos and then she came to live with me.”

You nodded and closed your eyes. You remembered what had happened to Mary in your seventh year, you didn't happen to see it but you remembered the night terrors and the bits she told you in your shared dorm. You always thought it was unfair, Mary was such a sweet girl, quiet and reserved, but she was brave to a fault. When she told you she defended a first year muggle born you already knew it would end poorly. She was alone, she was scared, and what happened to her terrified you.

You were sure that night is what made her change her profession choice. She wanted to protect people, be able to protect herself if that ever happened again. She said she wanted to be strong, like you.

It made you wonder how differently she would see you if she knew the truth. Yes, you could fight, yes, you were strong, but that meant nothing if every time you were faced with significant danger you folded in on yourself.

“Where have you gone?” Gideon called over to you and you snapped out of your trance.

“Sorry just.. a lot on my mind.” You admitted and looked down at your own tea cup. “Are you going back to America after this?”

“As much as I'm sure you'd love to get rid of me.” He mused and shooed his Niffler away from his spoon. “I am here to help with the tournament this year.”

“Really?” You huffed with wide eyes, straightening your back. “Do they really need all three of us? I thought it was excessive that they wanted me to come along with Moody.” You huffed and he chuckled.

“Well, he's getting old.” Gideon mused. “Also said we'd be a great help to the defense against the dark arts class.”

“You are an awful teacher.” You deadpanned and he gave a playfully horrified gasp.

“Mary seemed to catch on quick.”

“Mary is as smart as a whip.” You challenged and he scoffed. You slowly found yourself smiling before you looked down again. “We should start heading there now. Don't want to give Moody any more of a reason to be upset with me.”

“Upset?” He parroted.

“Yeah… turns out, if you don't want to be on Moody's bad side, don't run off with a wanted criminal to confront a dead man.” You waved your hands about. “And definitely don't get caught with a lycanthrope on a full moon.”

You looked back up at Gideon after a moment of silence and couldn't help but laugh at his shocked and scandalized look.

“You what!?”

You stood up and rang your hands together. “Do you have your bags? I'll tell you on the way to Hogwarts.”

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