#if any of this doesn’t make sense blame the weed

[dominiq-e]

I find it very ironic that radfems are accused of “bioessentialism” and conflating gender and sex when it seems that TRAs are the ones who cannot separate sex and gender by changing descriptive words based on sex to reflect a gender identity. Is it not bioessentialism to believe that femininity is innate to women and masculinity is innate to men, and therefore feminine people are women, regardless of sex, and likewise for masculine people?

Bioessentialism is the belief that biological sex determines specific traits and roles, often reducing individuals to stereotypes based on their sex. Accusing us of bioessentialism while insisting that femininity equals being a woman and masculinity equals being a man is a form of bioessentialism. This belief implies that certain gender expressions are inherently tied to one’s biological sex.

Sex: Refers to biological characteristics, such as chromosomes, hormone levels, and reproductive/sexual anatomy.

In mammals, including humans, “male” and “female” are classifications based on reproductive roles. Males typically produce small gametes (sperm), and females produce larger gametes (eggs). These definitions are rooted in biology and are used across scientific disciplines to maintain consistency and clarity in communication.

Gender: A social and cultural construct that relates to roles, behaviors, and identities society considers appropriate for men and women. It can vary across different cultures and time periods.

Gender Identity vs. Gender Expression: Gender identity is how individuals perceive themselves and what they call themselves. Gender expression is how they present themselves to the world, which can include behavior, clothing, and mannerisms. Radfems do not believe gender identities are tangibly real (like bio sex is) but we do acknowledge that they are different from biological sex. We also understand “gender expression” to be entirely rooted in gender stereotypes and misogyny.

Those who accuse us of bioessentialism while simultaneously linking femininity to being a woman and masculinity to being a man are themselves misunderstanding the separation of sex and gender. Believing that femininity or masculinity are innate traits that define one’s gender identity disregards the distinction between gender as a social construct and sex as a biological characteristic. This view reinforces the idea that certain traits are biologically destined.

Historically, societies have assigned gender roles based on biological sex. These roles often reflect societal norms rather than inherent qualities. This is what radical feminists are always talking about.

Historically, “man” has always referred to an adult human male, and “woman” has always referred to an adult human female. These definitions are tied to the biological roles and characteristics identified by science. In scientific and medical contexts, maintaining clear definitions of “male” and “female” is crucial for accuracy and understanding.

While language evolves, the scientific definitions of “male” and “female” remain grounded in biological reality. It is contradictory to accuse radical feminists of bioessentialism while promoting a view that inherently ties gender expressions (femininity and masculinity) to specific gender identities. True separation of gender and sex involves recognizing that gender identity and expression are independent of biological sex, and that femininity and masculinity are not inherently tied to one’s sex or some mystical sense of internal/mental gender.

It would be better if we just nixed the entire concept of gender and all its manifestations, though.

[yanderenightmare]

Aemond Targaryen

♡ TW: arranged marriage, implied incest, HOTD in general

♡ fem reader

Aemond took Vhagar, and you took his eye for it. It became the day your family tore down the middle. Your mother, heir to the throne, retreated with all of you back to Dragonstone, where you’d been hiding for a longer time—once again leaving Kingslanding in the hands of its dying King and the surrounding Greens.

You think it’s all the same, really—you’d rather stay away from that place anyway. Of course, you regret having taken your uncle’s eye. It was, after all, not even your fight—nor was it very ladylike. But you can blame your mother for that. She never taught you temperance—or any manners at all, for that sake. Still, blinding one’s own family isn’t right. And yet, it’s a sin you learn to live with over the years spent removed from its victim.

On Dragonstone, you’re free—on dragonback, for the most part. You’d long left the matters of the court to your brothers. Jace was the one who’d be King after your mother, while Luke would be Lord of Driftmark, and you’d stay here—on Dragonstone. By yourself and to yourself. You’d still have to marry, of course, there’s no way around it—but like your mother, you’d get to choose for yourself. That much, you have no doubt.

If you could, you’d always stay on Dragonstone, isolated from anywhere else, but it seems, once again, Kingslanding calls for your return. The King has taken a turn for the worse, and with it, your mother has grown wary of her claim. And so, the heir to the throne and her family along with her were all to voyage home.

You sigh as you look at the approaching castle. It’s not how you remember it, but whether it’s uglier or smaller or something else entirely isn’t clear to you as you watch from the ship. When all this bickering and uncertainty would end, you couldn't know but hoped it would be soon so that you could return swiftly. In a way and in a thought you would never voice out loud, the King’s death would bring about a much-needed calm in your family. Your mother would take the throne as is her birthright, and all else would be put to rest.

Oddly, no one came to welcome you when you arrived. Even your red Targaryen banners had turned green in your absence, as if the groundskeepers had neglected their duties and let the weeds grow as they pleased. No doubt, it would be yet another troubling topic over dinner.

But not one you’d bother yourself with. You make your way to refamiliarize yourself with the grounds instead—walking down a hundred turning memory lanes in the castle as if trying to find the center of a maze. You remember why you left this place—barren halls, all filled with nothing but the whispers of your hair color not being silver. Such things didn’t reach across the waters—they couldn’t touch you back on Dragonstone. Being back doesn’t feel much like a homecoming at all—more like a return to something foreign—even though that makes little sense.

You tell your assigned kingsguard to escort you to your chambers, but on the way, you hear the chimes of something more compelling. And following it, you find yourself on the balcony of the training arena.

And oh—you hardly recognize him. Tall and lean, all riddled with taut muscles he’s sharpened like the blade held in his grip. His hair is neatly combed, long, and perfectly silver like moonlight off a lake. The only thing disrupting it is the black leather patch covering his eye. And while you watch him swing his sword all so mercilessly but with a certain grace you’ve never before seen, you can't help but imagine you're the straw doll he's practicing on.

His eye meets yours without warning. One moment, he’s focused on his training and the next, he’s zeroed in on you.

You can’t help but flinch, skirting back as if the railing had suddenly burnt you. And then, well, shamefully, you very nearly ran away—skittering back into the maze as though wanting to find someplace to hide.

You want to return to Dragonstone. More than a yearning now, it’s almost a must. You’re nearly fetching your dragon from the pit to leave immediately, but you know that wouldn’t be proper. Your mother would be upset with you, and you’re not one to disappoint her. She has enough worries as is. You wouldn't make yourself one of them. And so you stay.

Your maids bathe you and then help you get dressed. And then you join the rest of your family for supper—dreading the presence you’d felt earlier, knowing he’d be there as well.

You keep your gaze fixed on your meal, and yet you can feel his one-eyed stare from across the dinner table. Neither of you looks anywhere else. And neither of you speak.

Aegon says many things—none of which you hear—though, possibly slights about your origin. It seems he and your brothers are arguing. But it’s nothing new. The King, your grandfather, the poor old man, shares words of family and love to defuse the tension once and for all. But you can’t agree—not when the one-eyed glare feels to lash out at you like the fire of an untamed dragon.

The Queen, of all people, salutes your mother. It seems genuine enough. And still, you don’t feel her sons share in her show of respect.

Jace rises and offers Helena to dance—ever the dutiful son. Luke follows in his lead and offers the same to Rhaena. And then, much to the twist of your own empty stomach—your plate of food untouched—Aegon also rises and takes a drunken step in your direction.

Still, he’s the lesser of two evils around the table. But shortly after taking his second step, he’s beaten to the punch by said greater evil. His hand reaches out, yet you don’t dare acknowledge the offer. Coated in goosebumps, you feel frozen.

“Didn’t you hear the King, dear niece?” he speaks—lowly in a hush. “The family feud has been resolved now. We ought to usher in its newfound peace while it lasts. You and I more than anyone. Take my hand and let us dance atop grievances, dead and buried.”

You recognize the threat in his words. To deny him would mean rejecting said peace. And so, with a deep exhale, you lay your hand in his death grip and follow him to the floor. And now you really feel no different from that battered straw doll in the arena.

“You’ve grown up rather beautifully since last we saw each other,” he says.

You know you ought to utter a thank you, but no words dare escape the choke of your throat as he positions an all but crippling paw on your waist—the other in the air pressed flatly against your own.

“I, on the other hand, am too hideous to look at, it seems,” he adds when you don’t answer. Voice lowering even more so into a brisk whisper that no one but you would be able to hear, “Won’t you face me, dear niece? And gaze upon the atrocity you dealt when we were children.”

Finally, you pick your head up. “I—” You falter just as quickly—his smile catches you completely off guard. Still, your eyes go to the scar escaping his patched eye—deep and unforgiving where you’d ruthlessly slashed your knife. You swallow thickly. “You have my deepest regrets, uncle. There hasn’t been a day I haven’t asked the Gods for forgiveness.”

To that, he laughs. “There’s no need. I long forgave you.”

There’s an utterly misplaced joy in his eye you’ve never before seen. And you’re left wondering if he’s really the same Aemond you remember.

“Not a blade has struck me since,” he says, simpering. “In a way, I ought to thank you for it. It seems it’s given me luck.”

He doesn’t seem grateful, despite his words. Yet, he doesn’t sound spiteful, either. You don’t know what to make of it. If anything, he seems satisfied with something.

“Anyway, it’s not right for a man to bear ill will towards his wife.”

Your brows furrow. And a creeping chill befalls you. Certainly, you heard him wrong, or he misspoke, or you’ve misunderstood something somehow.

“Oh? They haven’t told you?” he asks—his lips curling further at the corners. “Oh, dear niece—why do you think you’re here? Just visiting?” he snickers.

You still don’t understand. Or maybe it’s that you refuse to. Looking at him desperately in wait for him to stop laughing and explain the joke, even if it’s on you.

“The King spoke of peace, but peace, as you must know, isn’t brought about without payment.”

You remain silent. Still waiting to have your doubts eased.

“Oh, do I have to spell it out for you?”

Despite his sigh, he doesn’t look any ounce worth of exasperated—no, rather amused.

“You’re unwed. As am I,” he finally clarifies, and yet it does nothing to dispel your troubled head. “Marriage has always been the Targaryen way. I’m surprised you didn’t know,” he continues unbothered, a certain snideness to his tone, “But then again, you and your kin aren’t very Targaryen at all, are you?”

You don’t humor the insult. After all, you were way more concerned with what he’d said about marriage.

“Don’t worry. It’s not what matters. Not to me, at least,” he says. “I, for one, welcome our union.”

Your feet follow his lead as he dances with you in the palm of his hand.

“It’s rather poetic, isn’t it?” he smiles again. “You took my eye. And so, dear niece, I shall take your hand and everything attached to it.”

[angelsknifeprty]

streamer!ellie hcs ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

a/n: this is more focused on ellie and less on ellie x reader but i am for sure gonna follow this up with something else more focused on the both of you >:3

warnings | mentions of weed, the smallest hint towards struggling with eating if you squint

word count: 698

do not buy tlou | ways to help palestine | operation olive branch | keep eyes on sudan | haiti’s history | learn about congo

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ started off posting unlisted videos of her playing games with the stupidest, shittiest editing ever for you and her friends to watch and later decided to give streaming a try

‎ ‧₊˚౨ৎ starts off her twitch channel as a faceless streamer but does a face reveal when she hits a big milestone

‧₊˚౨ৎ has the creeper mini fridge for sure!!

‧₊˚౨ৎ has a ginger cat named garfield that she exclusively calls garfunkel on stream because her viewers made fun of her for garfield being too unoriginal

“guys, what do you mean it’s unoriginal, look at him. that’s literally garfield, the real deal. you’re all haters.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ plays a bunch of different games: minecraft obviously, fortnite, roblox (and argues with kids on there, you can’t tell me any different). also loves fnaf, elder scrolls and resident evil

‧₊˚౨ৎ more on her liking resident evil, i think she’s not super wimpy when it comes to games like that but she HATES the regenerators from the re4 remake (i’m totally not projecting…)

“i am NOT a wimp, but look at their freaky fucking arms!! and they have gross little butts too, that was not a necessary choice for the character design.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ she does find it funny when she kills them and they jiggle as they fall on the ground though

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ i’m throwing it in here that she smokes weed because i simply cannot help myself teehee :P

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ she does more chill streams of her eating n stuff as a way of comforting her viewers so they can eat along with her )):

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ and in turn chat always spams her with comments to drink water because that girl survives purely on energy drinks to combat her sleepy girl syndrome

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ abuses the soundboard so heavily, loves using a sound effect of an audience clapping and cheering when she tells the most painfully unfunny joke

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ she is ABSOLUTELY a jerma985 fan

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ loves putting her fans on blast and reacting to edits of her on stream and finds it so funny (especially the ones that have the reverb fart noise just randomly slapped in there, she thinks it’s peak humour)

“you guys think i don’t see this stuff? i have eyes everywhere. y’know what though, you guys are actually really talented.”

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ wears stupid t-shirts that say stuff like “i paused my game to be here” (omg i just found one that says “gamers make better lovers, they know all the right buttons” she would absolutely wear that)

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ she wears her silly t-shirts with pride and has the audacity to ask chat to rate how hard her fit goes

therealher0brine: BOOOOOO 🍅🍅🍅 0/10

elliebellie69: i beg that you don’t leave the house in that /lh  (╥﹏╥)

gnarpgnarp500: never beating the loser lesbian allegations i fear…

“guys you’re just not seeing the vision, sorry that you’re not this cool.”

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ oh my gosh she is OBSESSED with the little ikea alien, she has multiple of them in her room. she keeps one on her desk and when she sometimes doesn’t know what to say she’ll just hold it up super close to the camera and make incoherent high pitched babbling sounds

smelliams420: omg cancelled you can’t say that dude…

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ gets her viewers to send in clips and she’ll do high try not to laugh streams and fails miserably because she has the dumbest sense of humour ever. she’ll blame it entirely on the herb though as if her reaction wouldn’t be near enough the same when she’s sober

‧₊˚౨ৎ will occasionally play guitar on stream and she’ll sing too if you catch her in the right mood. she’s a bit awkward about it so it doesn’t happen often cuz she hates messing up and always makes a way bigger deal about it than necessary

“fuck- no wait, i was just messing with you. that fuck up was on purpose, shut up,” and her cheeks are flushed bright red as she tries to brush it off and compose herself before trying again

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ loves to get sidetracked and info dumps about stuff she is far too knowledgeable on

 ‧₊˚౨ৎ in conclusion, loser ellie supremacy

a/n: raghhh i love streamer els with my whole heart !!! i’m gonna eat her (˶˃⤙˂˶) anyways i hope you enjoyed, k bye mwah! >3< ♡

[marshmallowprotection]

Seeing as VAE Saeran remains as Ray, does that mean Suit is still able to emerge?

I sincerely think this is a complicated question because the game itself does not properly explain what happens.

If you want my opinion here, I feel that Ray and Suit Saeran still exist separately. I always write the two of them Post-V’s-After-Ending with that in mind. I can't see it going any other way given what's given to me when I read through what you’re given in the Forgiveness Ending. I'll cut out a snippet here to talk about.

So, one of my main gripes with Jihyun is that he just can't bring himself to understand Ray or Suit Saeran. That happens in V Route and Ray Route. He'll disregard anything you say about Ray because he doesn't want to take the time to understand given how wrapped up he is in his own self-loathing.

As if to say, his opinion appears to be that his Saeran is Saeran no matter what. He doesn’t know why Saeran is calling himself “Ray” other than the fact that Rika tortured this new name onto him and made him horrified to hear his birth name. His persistence in this realm serves to disrespect Ray and Suit Saeran without meaning to do so. It isn't his intention hurt others but it happens regardless.

But, that’s who V is. 

He is the path paved to Hell made with good intentions. 

"Saeran wasn't the one blamed. It was ANOTHER Saeran, the one who sought love."

"The REAL Saeran is safe."

"Listen to this very moment. Then, you would feel the real you. Feel your body."

"...I'm scared to feel the real me."

There's always this back-and-forth talk about who Saeran is and who Saeran isn't. It confuses him, confounds him, and leaves him unsure of what the person looking back at him in the mirror feels. A lot of it comes from people pushing him to identify one way or the other, his autonomy over his sense of self is normally lacking. People nudge his heart to be one way or another.

Both Ray and Suit Saeran are fragile. They are terrified and afraid of the world at large. Why wouldn't they be? It hurt them again and now it's hard to believe in anything. One of them lives to protect through decimation and destruction and the other holds on to this fleeting hope that maybe it's okay to believe in something good. They fill a role in protecting their body and believe in it greatly.

They cling to those feelings and pray, praying that they survive even if it's as a weed.

This is an apparent identity crisis for Ray and Suit Saeran. But, it doesn’t help that V only calls them Saeran. I wish they would dive more into this because it doesn't have the same conclusion that it does in Ray Route. The only reason GE Saeran is able to emerge the way he does is that Ray and Suit Saeran fuse, ultimately creating GE Saeran with every part of their being.

That came from a desire to not only protect themselves but to be able to protect the person they loved together. That doesn't exactly happen in V’s Route. No, they blow up and almost die in that bomb back at Magenta knowing their first love doesn't love them the way they love them. That was mainly Ray's feelings for you, but I know Suit Saeran had to have consented to that bomb just as much as Ray did.

They were abandoned by everyone in their eyes and had nothing left but the end.

Then, V swoops in and stops that from happening. No wonder they're lost and confused! Pointedly, what makes me believe that it's not just a singular Saeran here is the fact that he keeps having "episodes" as V might call them where he thrashes and acts out saying that he will kill his twin brother. V thinks it's the elixir causing that to happen, but we all know it's a combination of drugs, abuse, manipulation, and the feelings mixed between Ray and Suit Saeran.

Suit Saeran is angrier than Ray is by this point. Ray gave up when he decided to hit the bomb switch. He wasn't happy with the world he'd been given and wanted the pain to stop. Yet, we know in his last few moments... he would've prayed that he could live happily the way he did before Mint Eye. With his brother, with V, and maybe even Rika.

I just can't see Suit Saeran getting over that contempt for others. He's the one that would set back V's "return".

Suit Saeran is the protector.

How does he know that V is going to keep up his end of the bargain? How does he know that they're not going to be pulled into something dangerous? How does he know that it's all going to work out and there's nothing to be afraid of? How does he know that Ray is going to be able to survive seeing their brother again? How does he know that it's going to be okay when the V cannot promise that? He barely has any trust for V as it is.

Even as Suit Saeran tries to heal, and tries to overcome his hatred; That's not going to stop when he is angry and confused.

If he is cornered when he is upset, it's only a matter of time before he explodes and he can't exactly control himself when that happens. His body acts without thinking and he lashes out. I can imagine what that would be like because the game won't tell us shit about it. I have to sit here and make educated guesses.

V won't let them go back because the "angry" Saeran keeps lashing out. "Angry" Saeran, my ass. It's Suit Saeran still struggling to accept this reality. He needs time and patience to get there. At least, V has given him the opportunity to handle it at his own pace. The same way Ray has if Ray is still here like I assume him to be.

I don't think we'll ever have confirmation that the two of them are together or apart, you just have to figure it out for yourself. I just can't see any of that time spent with V bringing the right direction for them to come together as it does in Ray Route. It's just a shame that we're not shown anything about Ray or Suit Saeran enough to know what happened and how they're feeling.

So, honestly, VAE Ray, VAE Saeran, or VAE Suit Saeran could all very well exist. There's no right answer given so you just gotta make one for yourself.

[alwaysshallow]

single mom x price; PART 4

you try to stay away from john. and, surprisingly so, it turns out that it's not an easy job.

AO3 VERSION

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 5

You know that you usually keep your promises. 

When Janice had to leave for a week and asked you to water her flowers religiously three times a day, you didn’t skip any watering. You stood there, cursed multiple times under your breath with a more or less excited kid on your hip, but you did it. Even if your son was a pain in the ass and tried to destroy every little plant that Janice had because watering three times a day was stupid for him.

When Cassie’s mom came to you, telling you she’s pregnant, scared of having kids in her forties, you were the one that drove her to the abortion clinic and promised not to tell anyone. Because she was terrified of doing this alone, not to mention asking someone else. 

Information like this in a small town spreads like weeds in the garden, no matter how hard you try, and you knew it too well. So, as her best pick, you tried to take it like a hero.

And you didn’t even flinch when you heard that they thought you were the one that got rid of the baby, not her. You just stared blankly, acting as calm as ever, even if their stares were too much to bear when you shopped, talked with others. Easy enough, they watched you like hawks.

Eventually, it all calmed down, like the weather after the storm. Everyone started living their own lives again, got invested into another drama, forgetting the situation with abortion clinic. And, Cassie’s mom was eternally grateful for that. Probably still is.

You’re known for keeping your promises and getting the job done, so you really can’t be surprised when the neighbors choose you to be responsible for this year’s neighbors BBQ, something that this town is obsessed with, when it gets warmer. Can’t really blame them, as the town is dead during the winter months.

What is surprising in this situation is the fact that you have to break a promise—but the promise that you made to yourself. 

Just because you’re in a committee with John Price. John Price that you wanted to desperately avoid for some time, but right now, he’s looking down at you with a smile, patting your back with encouragement.

“We’re gonna have so much fun with this,” he murmurs, right to your ear. It’s nothing naughty, but it’s enough to make your whole body feel hot, like your body is full of lava. He knows you can’t say no to organizing this BBQ, and if you would, he’d find a way to get you back on board. 

And, he for sure noticed that you spoke to him less lately. As you learned, he’s not really a fan of that behavior, so when you go home, you have only one thought in your mind: you’re terrible at keeping distance from John Price. It’s either a terrible coincidence, or he has the help of God to make you run into him every time.

Ironically, the second option sounds more real than the first one, even if it should be the other way.

Planning with him feels easy, though. He’s quick to make a whole concept of the party with you, where exactly the BBQ needs to take place, what can be brought so it will be better than the years before. He’s ambitious enough that he makes small jabs towards the neighbors that hosted years before, saying something about not having a sense of style and stuff that shouldn’t make you laugh, but they do.

When it comes to the practical stuff of the job, it’s a bit different; John doesn’t let you touch anything or lift something by yourself, god forbid you try to say that you’re going to help him with moving things. The irritation because of it is enough for you to try to confront him, but he just shushes you. He says something about having “the boys” for that, and you’re not invited to the physical part of the job. 

However, you asking him for help? He seems to love the fact that you need him.

When you are trying out the recipes, he’s magically around you. Appears in the most random moments, just to annoy you a little, whisper some encouraging words, like “you got it, love”.  He’s more than eager to try out the food, always licking the spoon clean with such focus, like it was a military job, not his neighbor asking him for his opinion on BBQ food. Not only it makes you satisfied, but flustered as well.

Whatever you want to say to him about it, you forget it right away. You’re far too gone in his praises, slight suggestions, and so much more that has you wondering if this man is just nice, or he really means it. Because you truly believe that he does; no one could fake the glimmer in their eyes, lips twitching in a playful manner and this damn look of approval, when you do the right thing. When you think about it, you could easily get used to it if it would mean he’d be around more.

Hell, you never liked cooking that much. It was mostly something to do, so you won’t starve. With John? With John it feels like you want him to admire your food, so you try as thrice as you did in the past. 

What is also satisfying in this whole “planning” thing, you’re the commander if it comes down to decorations—you tell him if something needs to go to the left side, if it’s in the right place, or maybe it doesn’t fit the vibe at all. It's good fun for you, a lot of bickering with John, a lot of him actually respecting what you have to say. Sheer contrast to the contact that you normally had with other men, and the dad of your son. Constant problems, give me this, give me that, nothing really came from them. And if it did, you had to ask for it.

And John? John is just the epitome of a perfect man. The kind one that you like seeing on the street because he’s helpful and considerate. Always willing to help you, no matter what the hour is, or what the problem is, like—

Like a real husband, you think, trying to push that thought away the second you see that you’re losing yourself a little too much in it. Just because someone is nice to you, it doesn’t mean that they have a romantic interest in you. 

John isn’t helpful with making your thoughts go away; he’s so close to you, like he doesn’t know the meaning of personal space. At some point, you think that he has to do this on purpose. It’s not possible that he’s like this with everyone—so touchy, manhandling every time someone stands in his way, whispering little “I need you to move,” before moving the person somewhere else. It’s unnecessary, you would move if he’d only ask you to do it, but…

But you’d lie if you’d say that you do not like this. Because you do, with all of your heart, even if normally you’d be irritated by behavior like this. But, this is John Price that you talk about. He’s so delicate in this, joking around so much that you don’t even pay attention to the amount of times that he does that. 

The closeness doesn’t bother you; not until you realize that a bunch of people are observing you with sharp precision; they’re talking about something too, but it’s clear for you that they are watching the two of you. It’s even more obvious when they gasp right in the moment when John kisses you in the temple, squeezing your hip, silently thanking you for the help. Like you were doing it out of simple kindness, not because you two are responsible for it anyway.

“I’m gonna go,” you murmur under your breath, almost jogging to your house, just so no one will notice the flustered look on your face. 

You’re not free of John here either; after an hour, he asks you over the text if you have a minute because he has a sudden epiphany. So, like a good neighbor you are, you stay on the phone with him for another hour, when he tells you how a “kids friendly” zone is needed. Because some parents don’t have a nanny or anyone to leave their kid with; and it seems reasonable.

He makes a monologue about inflatable castles, houses, everything that excites kids.

“I already have a guy to buy it from. I just need your word,” he says. You can almost hear how he smiles on the other side from his tone. “So, what do you say?”

So, even if it seems a bit fancy for your town, you agree, thinking it would be his way of saying a proper “hello” to the neighbors. You even regret that your kid is currently at his grandma's place, as you dropped him a few days before the preparations, because he’d love this idea. More than anything.

Yet, you bet that with John being here, in your neighborhood, he’ll have multiple occasions to do fun things. 

The day you have to host BBQ, Price is here for you from the early morning. Making final touches, speaking like a motivational coach because he sees how big of a mess you are; he even helps you to do your hair before you two go outside and start everything properly. 

You’re the equivalent of a stress ball, when he’s literally the calmest person alive in the same moment. Water to your fire, easing your nerves in the moments that you’d consider as trivial, extinguishing the heat when you need it. Making you actually feel seen with your feelings, with how he acknowledges them and treats you the best he can in the moment. You feel less dumb for being so nervous, and automatically you feel better as well. 

Hours feel like minutes by his side. You greet your neighbors, make small talks about food or their families, asking how they are; you can easily leave any negative thoughts behind you, without caring about your emotions before the BBQ. All you care about is right now, and how John is literally around you at every moment possible—because this man does not leave your side, even if you’re talking with someone that he doesn’t know personally.

“Oh, she’s responsible for all of it,” he says, grinning like a devil, when you talk with the Smiths about the preparations. It’s so easy for him to sneak an arm around you, and you can’t even find in yourself the want to push him away. “I was just Santa’s little helper, ‘s all.”

“Stop that.” You laugh, shaking your head. “He was very helpful, actually. I wouldn’t know what to do without his help.”

“Only on her command.” John shrugs, looking down at you. For some reason, you feel your stomach tightening on the size difference that you two have. “Without her, it probably would look like a brothel. Maybe worse, so she is the real brain of the operation.”

He’s like that all night. Praising you, even if he’s not directly speaking next to you; him pointing a finger in your direction, sending a wink, it all makes you feel like you suddenly have your wings again. Like you can actually do anything with him by your side. He charges your batteries, and you’re thankful for that.

What also charges your batteries is alcohol—normally you wouldn’t be a drinker because of your son, but when you know he’s in your mother’s house, it’s a different situation. Drink goes after a drink when you have lots of food, shots come down your throat way easier with your favorite neighbors. It’s easy to lose yourself in the atmosphere of freedom, when you haven’t had that in a while, too busy, too focused on your son. 

Just like you thought, you have your wings again.

You don’t even feel like you’ve gone too far. Not when John accompanies you in the experience, asking if you need another beer, so casually, nudging you with his elbow. Taunting, like he wants to say that you won’t do it anyway. Maybe you wouldn’t, if you weren’t so drunk, but now, when there’s not a single coherent thought in your mind…

Things start to get fuzzy after that beer. You don’t even know when you put the alcohol away in order to dance with Price; you don’t know when his casual touches become something entirely different. It feels like he’s trying to help you, support you, as your legs start to feel more wobbly, but when his hand lands lower, fingers play with the material of your dress—a dress that right now seems like something you’d rather get rid of in the heat of the moment—you feel that something else is in the air. 

The “don’t do anything stupid” side is flooded by waves of excitement, by the thought that you feel like you deserve a bit of fun after so many times you told yourself “no”. Maybe that’s why you agree to him walking you to your house, maybe that’s why you invite him over for a little “drink”, to end the success of the neighborhood BBQ that you two “hosted”.

Even if you have enough drinks for a few months, if you’re being honest with yourself.

You really had everything innocent in mind about this. You even came up with the speech about how late it is in your head, but the brakes fail you just in the moment when you stand right in front of him. It’s all happening in slow motion, like a catastrophe that was supposed to happen and everyone knew it from the beginning—but that catastrophe is you kissing him.

He doesn’t say anything, at first. The potential consequences of your actions dawn at you, making you sober up almost immediately, when you see his face. Darkening with every second, making you doubt what you did. Because if it was good, why is he like this?

“I’m so—”

“—Don’t even try.”

And that’s all what he says before kissing you. Kissing you so deep that you forget to breathe for a second, and you just stand still, letting him pick you up like a doll and go upstairs because what can you do about this?

He doesn’t let you do anything by yourself. His lips are everywhere, just like his hands, when he finds the bedroom—you’re already out of your dress and lingerie, but he is fully dressed. You almost want to complain, have a protest that it’s not right, as you waited maybe even more than him for this exact moment, but any word that wants to come out from your mouth is gone when he sinks his finger into you.

It’s slow, at first. Deliberate, making you feel like he’s trying to know you before he does anything more, before he loses himself in you—because that, oh, that happens fast. Faster than you’d thought it would take, but you do not mind that; not in the moment when his two fingers pump into you, while his thumb is taking care of your clit. 

The moment his tongue replaces his thumb though, this is the moment when you see stars and all the restraints you had, completely break under the influence of his movement. He knows what he does, how to make you scream, and how to make you beg—because that’s what you want to do, when he suddenly stops.

"John—” 

He chuckles, amused. His eyes are glimmering, when he meets yours. "Patience, honey. Patience."

And when you finally come with his name on your lips, you know you have it.

He gives you maybe a fifteen second break—it’s enough for him to strip out of his clothes and pounce at you again; it makes you realize that is the main course you needed from him.

It’s far from casual sex, far from the scenario that you’ve created in your mind. It’s something deeper, as he intertwines fingers with you, insisting that’s the only way you’re gonna do it; and he doesn’t want to hear anything about it. Before you can ask any question, he shushes you with a heated kiss, his hips moving, but at a much slower pace than you expected, like he’s trying to devour the moment. Enjoy it until it lasts, maybe show you something so you’ll miss him in the future.

It’s almost like he wants to prove something here and you let him do it. Because for the first time, it’s nice having someone to take the initiative. Lead you, lure you into the mindset that you need him for that piece of heaven he’s busy to give you. Fixated on that, you plant bloody crescents on his back, not caring about the outcome.

It’s just you and him, at this point. You and him, no one else really matters. 

Afterwards, you pay no attention to the fact that he insists on staying. He, in fact, doesn’t say anything; he just states a fact when he puts his big arm around you, squeezing you tight and you just know he won’t leave. You think it’s only right—he’s drunk, after all. It wouldn’t be very neighborly to you to ask him to leave in that state, even if he lives right across the street. And, it wouldn’t be very neighborly to ask him that, considering that he fucked the shit out of you.

Because he'll probably leave in the morning anyway. Everyone leaves before the sunlight, it’s just the way the world is. It was nothing… serious, right?

But, he doesn’t. Oh, of course he doesn’t. 

He brings you coffee in the morning, right to your bed, sandwiches on the plate. You can’t quite put it when he had the time to make it, or when he got up—because you’d normally sense someone walking around your house, you’re used to being on high alert. Yet, there is John Price, smiling from ear to ear.

“Your mother called,” John says, which causes your heart to drop immediately. “Said that she’ll drop your son later.” 

“...and what did you say?”

“That I’ll tell you this, as soon as you’ll wake up,” he informs you, kissing the top of your head. Like it’s nothing, he sits next to you, pulling out his phone and typing something; as you peek, you can see the news website popping up.

Great. Now even your mother knows about him. It’s not like he is that important right now, but you know your mom a little too well, so it’s easy for you to assume that she’ll make a big thing about him and you’ll have to tell her something to blow her off. And, for now, you’re out of ideas of what exactly you should tell her.

Something other than “it was just casual sex because he’s my hot neighbor”, something other than “I actually don’t know him that well”. Words are spinning in your head; a massive hangover doesn’t help to form anything, so you just nod in acknowledgement, watching him for a moment, bewildered. He acts like he owns this bed, and doesn’t even think of leaving. It’s a potential threat, when you think about it. 

You’re not even surprised when you see text from your mother on your phone.

You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.

You decide it’s best not to reply to that, so you just grab the cup of coffee that John made you.

[thefreaksrunthisshow]

Eddie the Bitch

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Genre: Friends to Lovers, Smut

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, 18+ Only, Mentions Drugs, Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting, P in V Sex, Loss of Virginity, Pet Name Kink, Slight Dom Eddie, if I missed anything let me know! 

Summary: It’s your senior year at Hawkins High and you are becoming all too aware of your ever-growing crush on your best friend, Eddie Munson. Does he also have feelings for you?

A/N: I know the title sounds weird but trust me it’s cute and makes sense when you read the fic lol 

Masterlist

As you close your locker you jump at the sight of your best friend since middle school, Eddie Munson. He’s wearing typical Eddie attire; black skinny jeans with holes in the knees, a metal band tee, slightly tucked in at the front, his black leather jacket under his jean vest, black hi-top Converse, and a black belt with silver pyramid studs lining it. Of course, he’s also wearing the rings he never seems to take off, his long curly brown hair is still slightly damp from his shower this morning, and he’s got a goofy grin on his face.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, princess,” he chuckles, crossing his arms across his chest. Your heart flutters at his nickname for you. Even though he’s been calling you that for some time, it never fails to make your heart beat just a tick faster.

Though you had been best friends with him since middle school, it’s easy enough for you to admit that you and Eddie had grown a bit further apart in your high school years, mostly due to his extracurricular activities. Eddie was now known as the best drug dealer around, and though you disagree with his new career, it still doesn’t stop you from staying close to him, not when you’ve been becoming ever so much more aware of the growing crush you have on him. You know he will never see you as anything but his best friend, but there’s a part of you that wishes he will notice you, touch you, maybe even - fuck you.

Embarrassed at your thoughts, your face starts burning. “Ed! Stop sneaking up on me!” you exclaim, giving his shoulder a playful slap.

He holds his hands out in front of him, waving them defensively. “Woah, there! You have maimed me!” he laughs, feigning an injury. “I just wanted to check and make sure we were still on to hang out at my place tonight!”

You always hung out at Eddie’s place, a small little trailer located in the trailer park of Hawkins, Indiana, your hometown. Since Eddie lived with his uncle and he was never home, always away working the night shift at his job, it was the perfect place to smoke the occasional weed that you did and just hang out without being interrupted. You don’t blame his uncle, he’s doing all that he can to provide for them, but Eddie could have used some more parental guidance growing up, and perhaps he wouldn’t be a drug dealer now.

“Of course, Eds! What do you have planned?”

“That is part of the mystery,” he says taking a dramatic bow as he backs away from you. “Catch a ride with me after school?”

“Fine,” you huff, letting out a small sigh.

“That’s my girl!” he replies, giving you a wink.

All day you could not focus on any of your classes, your conversation with Eddie replaying through you remind over and over again. You know he doesn’t mean anything with his flirting, it’s just his personality, but it still makes you feel some sort of special way. 

Though Eddie has never been particularly well in social situations and you are his only super close friend, you know he has been in several relationships before whereas you have not. Yeah, you’ve dated every now and then, but the relationships never were steady and usually ended after the first date. 

Finally, the day ends as the bell sounds dismissing you from your last class. You stop by your locker to put away your books and then head to the parking lot to meet Eddie, but he catches you before you exit the school.

“Someone’s in a rush to get outta here, huh?” he smirks, placing an arm across your shoulder and pulling you close.

“Shut up, Ed!” you say, throwing his arm off of you and sprinting towards his van. He’s right on your heels the whole way, both of you giggling like small children.

You arrive at his van panting and out of breath and try to open the door, to jump in before he reaches you, but it’s locked. “Oh, come on! Since when have you started locking your van?”

He leans over you, trapping you against the door of his van, both hands on either side of your body. “I just did it today so I could trap you here,” he responds smugly.

“You bitch!”

“Ah, yes that is I, Eddie the Bitch!” he laughs. Reaching next to you he inserts his key into the passenger side door keyhole and unlocks it, holding it open. “Get in loser!”

The drive to Eddie’s house is short and you both sit in silence the whole way since he had turned up his radio to a rather earsplitting volume the moment he plopped down into the driver's seat. When he parks his car in the driveway he runs around to your side, opening the door for you and holding his hand out for you to grab onto for support. You gingerly take his hand, it’s warm, slightly sweaty, and it’s way bigger than your own. You can feel electricity pulse through you at his touch, but it ebbs down as your quickly release his hand, being sure to not hold on for a moment too long in case he gets weirded out.

Eddie throws his jacket off and onto the couch, revealing his tattoos. “Help yourself to a drink if you want, I think there’s some soda in the fridge,” Eddie calls from down the hall as he riffles through some stuff in his room looking for the perfect movie for you to watch.

Opening the fridge you see a pitcher of some sort of blue liquid, thinking it’s a fruit drink you pour a bit into a glass and give it a taste. “Ew,” you mumble, smacking your lips together at the disgusting taste. “That is definitely not kool-aid.” You pour the rest of the drink down the sink and replace the pitcher back into the fridge, opting for a soda instead. 

“You want one?” you yell down in Ed’s direction.

“Sure!”

Grabbing another soda for Eddie you also dig through the pantry looking for a snack. There’s not much there, but finally, you find an old bag of salt and vinegar chips. You taste one, and sure enough, they are a bit stale, but you decide they are still edible. Retreating down the hallway to Ed’s room with your stash, you join him on his bed, handing him his soda and setting the chips down between you. 

The two of you chat and watch the movie; before long you are snuggled up together on the bed legs intertwined and Eddie’s arm over your shoulder. Almost subconsciously one of his hands finds its way to your thigh and starts massaging it gently. You know he doesn’t mean anything by it, that it’s more a comfort thing for him, but the motion sends a tingling sensation right to your core. 

You do your best to divert your attention to the movie but when Eddie snuggles closer, his hand drifting slightly higher, and you feel his hard cock press into your leg, you have to stifle a moan.

“You okay?” Eddie whispers, noticing you tensing up. 

“Y- yeah, I’m fine,” you say, your voice accidentally coming out a bit higher than normal and your cheeks burning from a blush.

“You sure?” Eddie asks, repositioning himself a bit farther away from you. His hand leaves your thigh and instead finds your head, brushing a piece of hair back into place behind your ear before resting on your forehead. “You feel a bit hot. Are you feeling okay?”

“Well, you being so close to me surely isn’t helping. How am I supposed to concentrate with your hard dick on my leg?” you mumble under your breath, thinking it was low enough that Eddie couldn’t hear you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch all of that,” Eddie says, a lopsided grin on his face. “Something about my hard dick? Would you care to elaborate?”

“I - What? I didn’t say anything!” you exclaim, jumping up off the bed and turning around to hide your face from him.

Eddie inches forward onto the edge of the bed. “That’s what I heard,” he says with a shrug. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, (Y/N). I can take care of you if you’ll let me.”

“But we’re friends! Best Friends, Ed! Friends don’t - do that!”

“Oh, princess. You really are blind, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“I’ve had a massive crush on you since freshman year.”

Turning around, you look at him expecting to see him with that tale-tale look on his face that lets you know he’s cracking a joke, but that face isn’t present. “You’re being dead serious, aren’t you?”

“That I am. You know me so well, sweetheart. I don’t know how you didn’t notice my crush on you.”

“Ed, I’ve liked you since sophomore year.”

“Ouch, my heart!” he taunts, falling backward onto the bed grasping at his chest.

“Oh, shut it!” you giggle as he sits back up, brushing his long locks out of his face.

“Come here,” he says gently, moving back to where he was while you were watching the movie, his arms spread wide. You sigh and crawl back over to him, straddling him and resting your head on his chest. His arms come around and hold you tightly. 

“Hey, look at me,” he pleads and you glance up at him and into those dark eyes of his. “You are stunning. If you want you can be all mine,” he says, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. 

Those words have you pressing your thighs together in an attempt to lessen the growing tension there. The fact that you can feel his hard cock pressed up against you is not helping either.

“My, my,” he tuts. “Why are you pressing those delicious thighs together?”

“Oh my god, Ed! Can you not?” You roll off of him and go back to laying beside him. 

His hand attaches itself to your thigh giving it a squeeze, before wandering upwards every so slightly and then back down again towards your knee. Before you can stop yourself, you let out a little gasp at his touch and he quickly draws his hand away.

“I’m sorry. I - I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” He licks his lips in anticipation. He’s finding it hard to control his impulses right now, but for you, he will hold back.

“Ed,” you breathe, finally deciding to give in to your desires. “I - I want you.”

Immediately, he jumps on you like a stray dog that hasn’t eaten in weeks. Rolling over on top of you he rests his weight on his arms and devours your neck. Sucking and kissing you in all the right spots causing you to let out a low moan as he grinds down onto your thigh before planting a kiss on your lips.

“Fuck. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he groans. “May I remove this?” he asks tugging on the sleeve of your shirt.

You nod. He peels off your shirt and throws it to the ground of his room where it is sure to get lost amongst all his own clothing there, but you don’t mind. The cold of his room hits you like a ton of bricks, causing your nipples to stand so erect it’s noticeable under your simple t-shirt bra.

Eddie begins peppering your chest with kisses before sucking on the top of your breast. He lifts you up and grasps your bra clasp and waits for your approval before unclasping it and removing it, chunking it across the room. “Oh god,” he wails before taking a breast into his mouth and sucking on your nipple. His other hand travels to your other breast and massages it. 

Your hands soon find themselves under his shirt, raking at his skin for support as you squirm under his touch. He momentarily stops his kissing to remove his shirt and pants before returning back to your skin, trailing kisses down your stomach to the top of your pants and back up again. Fingers shaking you reach down and try to unbutton your pants, your nerves getting the best of you.

“Allow me, my queen,” Eddie says, expertly removing your pants. “Cute undies, too bad they are absolutely soaked,” he comments, pulling the band back before letting it retract back and hit your skin with a smack. 

“Ed, please” you whimper as he slowly slides your underwear off followed by his. His cock springs out of his underwear, already leaking with precum. The sight of it makes you almost burst with anticipation and you spread your legs, begging him to enter you with his cock.

“Not yet,” he says, trailing a finger through your wet folds, gently spreading them open. “Shit, you’re so wet, and all for me,” he hums. Removing his rings and placing them onto his nightstand, he carefully inserts his middle ring followed by his ring finger into your hole. 

He finger-fucks you gently, quickly finding just the right spot and speed to make you scream, hitting it over and over again until your eyes are rolling back into your head, your orgasm impending.

“I- I’m gonna cum, Ed!” you screech.

“That’s a good girl. Cum for me, princess.”

On his command you cum hard, panting and squirting your precious liquid all over his bed, soaking it. His eyes glaze over with lust at the sight. “Oh my god, that was so hot. Fuck, I’m never washing these sheets again.” 

“Fuck, you’re really good at this.”

“I told you once already, babe. You know me so well and I know you just as well,” he says, planting a kiss on your lips.

He reaches over to his nightstand and pulls out a condom, tearing it open with his teeth. He puts it on, rolls it up, and palms himself back to full erection. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as ever,” you giggle, butterflies in your stomach.

He lines himself up and slowly enters you, allowing you time to adjust to his length. It hurts a bit as he stretches you out but it soon fades away. 

“You good?” he asks, determined to make sure he’s not hurting you.

“Yeah. God, Eds. You’re big.”

He shrugs and slowly begins pumping into you, increasing his speed in accordance with how your body reacts to him. Your second orgasm of the night soon washes over you and at the sight of your beautiful face contorting under his control, Eddie loses all of his self-control. 

Relentlessly he begins pounding into you, chasing his own high. The thought of him using you to reach his climax has your pussy contracting around him. Your body shakes violently as you squirt again, this time all over him and his dick. 

The pleasure from you contracting around him and releasing more of your liquid is enough to finally tip him over the edge. With one last thrust and a screech, he cums hard, the hardest he has ever cum before. “FUCK!” he screams and then he stills, collapsing onto you.

Legs still shaking from your post-orgasm bliss you run a hand through his hair. The two of you stay like this for a few moments until you break the silence. “I could use some water, Ed. You fucked me too good.”

Eddie mumbles something incoherent as he peels himself off of you, returning a few moments later with two glasses of water in hand. You move over on the bed to an area that’s not wet as he hands you one of the glasses.

“Shit, did I hurt you?” he says, eyeing the bits of red blood on the sheets.

Your face immediately begins burning, you guess you should have told him beforehand. “I’m fine, Ed. Um, you just took my virginity.”

His eyes turn into saucers and almost pop out of his head. “You’re lying. You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not.”

“Shit! You should have told me! I could have been even more attentive to your needs! I just figured you had already had sex, you know? I mean you’ve dated before… damn it.” he runs a hand through his hair and starts looking for your clothes in the midst of his own scattered all over the floor. Not being able to find them, he tosses you one of his t-shirts and a clean pair of his boxers to wear as he throws on a new outfit himself

“Eds, it was perfect. You were perfect. It’s everything I could have ever imagined,” you say as you throw on his clothes.

Eddie climbs back on the bed and the two of you lay cuddling. “Did you try any of that blue drink in the fridge by chance?” he asks finally. “I saw an extra glass in the sink that I didn’t notice before.

“Yeah, it was disgusting so I poured it out and got a soda instead,” you reply with a shrug.

“Oh my god! (Y/N), that’s the experimental aphrodisiac drug I’ve been testing out!” he says with a chuckle.

“Eddie Munson! Why are you experimenting with such a thing? And why wasn’t it labeled?” you exclaim slapping his chest.

“Well, I guess it’s safe to say it works.”

“You bitch,” you mumble.

“Ah, yes it seems I am still Eddie the Bitch, huh?” he cackles, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Well, I’d say your Eddie My Bitch now.”

“Touché, my princess.”

[fangirl-writes]

Nightmares

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Warning(s): Mentions of physical abuse, nightmares, and blood.

Requested by @abiseifried : heyy i have a fic idea! so i thought you could do a secret relationship jj x reader (john bs sis) and jj shows up at her window beaten up and she cleans him up and they go to bed; then he has a nightmare and wakes up screaming and JB sees how good they are for each other? idk if that makes sense hahaha!

Notes: It totally makes sense! I love it and I hope you enjoy what I've written! The ending sucks, but I like what I’ve written.

JJ Maybank was a loveable goofball.

He smoked weed, made dick jokes, and got into trouble. He played pranks, wore snapbacks, and could make light of almost any situation. He surfed any wave he could catch, drank until it wasn’t fun anymore, and had a permanent place on the couch at the château.

Y/N Routledge was loving soul.

She stocked the cooler, picked the music, and threw red solo cups at John B’s head. She liked PB and J’s, wore flip flops, and was always up for a hug. She cooked meals for fun, cut the boys’ hair when it got too long, and was an expert in nursing a summer morning hangover.

Really, it was only natural they would fall in love.

That classic tale of the brother’s best friend and the little sister, but it wasn’t just that. What Y/N and JJ had was deeper than some shitty romcom.

“Hey,” JJ said.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, smiling at him.

She was standing in the chateau's kitchen, unpacking the cooler after a long day on the water. 

The sun was just starting to dip into the horizon and John B., Kiara, and Pope were out lounging on the hammocks, feeling lethargic and sleepy from the warm day.

JJ seemed similarly tired as he threw an arm over Y/N’s shoulders lazily and kissing her on the cheek before burying his face into her neck.

She chuckled softly, forgetting the cooler for a minute and wrapping her arms around his warm body.

She kneaded her fingers through his hair and whispered. “Do you have to go home tonight? You could just stay here and...”

JJ picked his head up, looking at her sadly. “You know I can’t.”

He could see the worry in her eyes and caressed her cheek softly. “I’ll be okay. He’ll probably be passed out when I get back anyway and I’ll just head straight to bed. No issues.”

She knew that wasn’t going to be true. There were always issues when it came to JJ’s dad.

She pulled him into a hug again. “You know you can always come back here if things get bad. You can sleep with me and if John B. says anything I’ll punch him.”

JJ laughed lightly. “As much as I’d like to see that, we can’t...”

Y/N sighed, pulling back from him.

It hadn’t been an easy decision, hiding it from everyone, but they both decided it was for the best. Ever since Big John had gone missing, things had been a wreck.

John B. had practically gone off the deep end trying to keep the two of them out of the system and together. But it resulted in bigger parties, worse grades, and him being very overprotective of Y/N.

Not that JJ could blame him; she was the only family he had left.

So, they both decided to keep what they had their own little secret...for now.

“Just...come in through the window?” Y/N said, looking at him with her beautiful (e/c) eyes.

He kissed her on the forehead softly, his lips lingering there as he whispered, “Always.”

The loud screech of the screen door echoed through the house and caused the two of them to jump apart to opposite ends of the kitchen.

John B. walked in just as JJ grabbed a water to make it look like that had been what he came in for and Y/N had returned to her job of unstocking the cooler.

“Hey, guys,” John B. said, slightly groggy. “Pope and Kie just headed home. JJ you staying?”

“Nah,” JJ said with a shrug. “I’d like to sleep in a bed that doesn’t have springs digging into my back.”

“Sorry we can’t afford a sleep number, J,” John B. replied, nudging his friend good-naturedly. “But you’d better get going. There’s only a little daylight left.”

He was right. The sun’s orange glow had begun to filter out of the small kitchen, replacing it with a dark gray hue that signaled the start of night.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” JJ replied, wrapping an arm around John B.’s shoulder and squeezing it. Their version of a goodbye hug.

Y/N wouldn’t be having any of that so she stood up, closed the fridge, and walked over to hug JJ goodbye.

She knew he needed it.

And, really, she needed it, too.

“Be safe,” She whispered, hugging him tighter for a minute before pulling away with a smile. “Night, J,”

JJ smiled softly at her, a look that only she got, and waved to the Routledges before disappearing out of the room, the slam of the screen door and the revving of his motorbike the remaining signals that he was leaving. 

“So,” John B. started. “You and JJ...?”

Y/N looked at him with a raised eyebrow, like she had no idea what he was talking about and dared him to assume anything.

“This is going to sound harsh, but I don’t want you to get involved with him.” He said. “I love the guy, but I know how he is with girls and I don’t want him to be like that to you.”

He’s not, she almost said, but stopped herself.

“JJ’s a good guy,” Y/N said with a shrug, seemingly indifferent.

“To you, maybe,” John B. replied, wrapping an around around her neck. “But that’s because you’re my stinking little sister.”

Y/N pushed his arm away with a frown and punched him in the arm.

“Ow!” He said with a big grin.

“Go to bed, you big wimp,” She replied, shoving him out of the kitchen.

“I’m going! I’m going!” He laughed.

The two of them split off into their separate bedrooms, throwing quick “night”s at each other before closing their doors and preparing for bed.

Y/N discarded her tank top and board shorts, as well as the swimsuit she’d worn underneath them. She put on a pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt she’d bought to sleep in over the summer.

She flopped onto her bed and the tiredness she’d not been feeling before came crashing down on her. 

She fell asleep quickly.

***

Y/N woke up with a start, a crash against her floor alerting her. She turned on her lamp and when she looked to the source of the noise-

"JJ, oh my god!" She exclaimed, throwing herself out of bed and onto the floor next to him.

It was bad this time. He had a split lip, a bruise on his eye that was slowly darkening, a few small cuts on his face that she knew was from a glass bottle, and god knows what else that she couldn't see.

JJ hissed as she gripped his side a little too hard.

"Sorry, sorry!" She squeaked, as quietly as she could. "Oh my god, JJ."

"Yeah," He replied, softly. "He was feeling especially pissed off tonight. Came in while I was asleep..."

She could see his eyes getting glassy and felt her own tears pricking at her eyes. 

She hugged him softly, trying to miss his bruises. If she hit any he didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms around her waist and tried not to cry.

Y/N could feel a few tears wetting her shirt, but didn’t care. She just raked her fingers through his hair, soothingly, and eased him over to the bed.

“Sit down, baby. I’ll go get the first-aid kit.”

JJ did as he was told and watched as Y/N went into the bathroom to find the first-aid kit she kept on hand for instances like this.

It made his stomach turn when he thought about it. Her having to have a first-aid kit just for him, having to nurse him back to health when something happened, having to hide it all from her brother, the only family she had left.

She came back in holding the red box she’d always kept underneath the sink in the bathroom.

“Can you take your shirt off for me?” She asked.

If he’d have been in better spirits he’d have joked about her wanting to get in his pants, but he didn’t have it in him.

He pulled the gray shirt over his head and tossed it onto the bed next to him.

It almost hurt Y/N to see the bruises littering his chest and his sides.

She pulled over her desk chair and sat in front of him, pouring peroxide on a cotton ball. “You’re lucky John B.’s a heavy sleeper of he’d have come flying in here when you fell through the window.”

JJ couldn’t help but laugh and then hiss as she pressed the cotton ball to his lip.

“Sorry,”

He met her eyes for the first time. He could see the sadness and the worry swirling in them.

“I wish I would’ve made you stay,” She whispered, tossing the first cotton ball and cleaning up his cuts with another one.

“It would have been worse the next time,” He replied. “You know how he is.”

“Yeah, I know that low-life, son of a-”

“Y/N.” JJ said, a little sharply, then sadly, “he’s my dad.”

Y/N sighed. “I know, it’s just...”

She didn’t have to say, JJ knew. He’d gotten her lecture before, from everyone. From all the pogues, Sheriff Peterkin, the people his dad worked for. They all told him he should just run away.

But he couldn’t. Because it was still his dad.

Y/N closed up the first aid kit after covering some of the bloodier cuts with band-aids. “Let’s get some sleep, okay?”

JJ nodded, laying down in her bed as she left the room to put the kit back. He pulled the sheets up to his chin and rolled on his side.

She came back with a small smile, shutting off the lamp and sliding into bed next to him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer.

“Thank you,” JJ whispered, he could see the sparkles in her eyes as his adjusted to the dark.

“You don’t have to thank me.” She replied, running her fingers softly over his arm. “That’s what you do when you love someone. You take care of them.”

JJ felt his breath catch at her words. That was the first time either of them had used the ‘L’ word.

“JJ?” She said, squeezing his arm. “You know I love you, right?”

He was silent for a minute and Y/N thought he might try to bolt, but he didn’t. He just let out a quiet sob and buried his face in her neck.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” She asked.

“Nothing,” he said with a sniff. “I just- I really love you too. And I can’t believe it took me this long to realize just how in love with you I am and you shouldn’t have to deal with all my shit-”

“Hey.” Y/N lifted his head off her neck and made him look at her. “Your shit is my shit, okay? We’re in this together. Just like I said, when you love someone you take care of them. Let me take care of you, J,”

JJ blinked back more tears and nodded. “As long as you let me take care of you, too.”

She allowed him to snuggle back into her. “Always,”

JJ fell asleep with many emotions, but he could deal with those when the sun came up. As long as Y/N was there with him, he could deal with anything.

*****

John B. wasn’t sure why he was awake. Usually he slept right through the night with no disturbances. Maybe being out all day messed with him or something.

So, he got out of bed and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. That usually helped him when he couldn’t sleep.

The turned on the facet, filling up a glass and taking a large gulp from it before leaning against the counter and staring out the window. 

The sky was barely starting to return to its daily blue and the moon was still most of the light out over the water. It was probably four or five am if he had to guess.

He let out a groan. He hated being awake this early.

John B. dropped his cup as screams started coming from Y/N’s bedroom. He bolted out of the kitchen towards her room, his mind not even registering that those shouts were male.

He just about made it to the room when he heard Y/N call out, “JJ!”

But it was too late, he’d already burst through the door. He startled Y/N, but she couldn’t be bothered by him.

“JJ, wake up, your having a nightmare. It’s just a dream, wake up.”

Her voice was soft, trying to coax JJ out of the nightmare without scaring him any more.

John B. was rooted to the spot, mesmerized by the way Y/N was able to calm JJ down. His screams lessening into whimpers.

John B. had a vague recollection of their dad doing something similar when they were kids.

When JJ finally woke up, he sat straight up and was sweating profusely. He was still obviously distraught from the dream.

Y/N gripped his shoulders and made him look at her. John B. could see the way JJ’s shoulders relaxed as he began to recognize his environment.

“It’s okay,” She said. “You’re safe. You’re with me and John B. and everything is okay.”

JJ choked out a soft sob and a mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. It was just a dream.”

JJ nodded and Y/N pulled him into a hug.

The siblings shared a look, conveying that they had the same suspicions on what the dream was about.

John B. reached out a touched his friend’s shoulder, a silent way of telling him that he was also there.

JJ turned his head and looked at John B., never breaking from Y/N’s embrace. “Hey, JB,”

“Hey, man. You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.”

“Good.”

John B. looked from JJ to Y/N who was looking at him with curious eyes. As if asking him how he felt about this.

It was then he realized exactly what was going on. JJ was sleeping in Y/N’s bed, wrapped in her hug. And suddenly everything started to make sense.

Why JJ was suddenly more protective of Y/N, why he always helped her out of the boat, and always disappeared when she disappeared. Why they had begun to grow closer, why their touches lingered and their hugs went on a hair too long.

Y/N and JJ were dating. And they didn’t want to tell him.

John B. looked down and then back up at his sister. He simply nodded.

Yeah. Yeah, this is okay. I don’t mind.

Y/N smiled and looked down at JJ.

They’re good together, John B. thought.

[munsons-maiden]

TW: drug abuse, vague hints of child abuse (physical and verbal) Warning: message is long and rambly Personally I can see Eddie taking more serious drugs in the past. I headcanon that growing up Eddie was often witness to serious drug taking and although he felt uncomfortable and at times scared around his father and his dad’s junkie friends, tragically he thought that drug taking, no matter the classification, was the norm and not a big deal. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that Eddie was ever an addict; but he could have easily descended down that path if he had continued living with his father / continued living in the toxic environment of his childhood. Eddie had become resigned to the belief that he would eventually be like his father (although never violent or cruel; such traits were just and would never be in him). It was only when he moved in with Wayne that he started thinking that maybe he wasn’t doomed to be like his dad. I mean Wayne was a Munson who had the same upbringing as Eddie’s dad (just my headcanon), yet Wayne wasn’t a violent deadbeat who blamed his problems on everyone else - when drunk Eddie’s dad would blame literally everyone for his crap life even Eddie (which did wonders for Eddie’s already crippling self esteem 🥺) - but Wayne was a survivor. Despite being dealt the same crap hand, Wayne had created a life for himself. He had a steady job, he was well liked by his colleagues and he had his own home. Sure he was called “trailer park trash” and “just another Munson” by the snobs of Hawkins, but those who knew him respected him. Most importantly though Wayne had given Eddie a home. To Wayne there was no question of him taking Eddie in. He was family and he needed him - that was all that mattered. (Some of Eddie’s looking after “lost sheep” is rooted in Wayne’s looking after him when he was lost, alone and vulnerable.) Eddie wanted (wants) Wayne to be proud of him so he stopped taking the harder drugs (Special K, pills, LSD) and gradually decreased how much weed he smoked - he only smokes the occasional joint now. Also seeing Wayne in a police station coming to bail him out made Eddie ashamed in a way he had never felt before. I think the reason he still deals drugs is because he wants to financially contribute to the Munson household. Wayne has never said anything, but Eddie knows that his uncle has to work longer hours because he now has two mouths to feed. Wayne doesn’t think anything of it - it’s a parent’s duty to provide for their kid - but Eddie does. There is still some guilt there of him burdening Wayne with his living with him. Eddie wants to help Wayne any way he can. He knows no-one will give him a job, not with his reputation, so Eddie resorts to selling drugs. (Also Eddie cannot work full-time as he is bloody determined to graduate. None of his family graduated and Eddie is desperate to prove to himself and Hawkins that he is not like his dad.) And so to financially help Wayne, Eddie sells drugs. Wayne has realised that it is pointless arguing with Eddie to stop - his nephew can be very stubborn - but he has made him promise not to sell any hard drugs; he doesn’t want his boy going to prison. I headcanon that Eddie bought the Special K before he made this promise hence why it was in the trailer in the first place and why Eddie struggled to find it. Maybe I’m just naive but those are my theories on Eddie’s relationship with drugs. Curious to hear your thoughts babe. Also I apologise for this long ass message. I have no one else to talk about our darling Eddie with in RL 😭

--

Hi dear! Please never apologize for sending long messages, I love hearing all your takes and headcanons and thoughts on Eddie!🖤

Second, omg. This ripped out my heart and then put it slowly back together and I can definitely see that. There's no way Eddie's father didn't have anything to do with harder drugs, and the way you summed it up makes absolute perfect sense. It's definitely possible that Eddie started veering down the dark path of hard drugs but was caught and it was the turning point just at the right moment.

One addition (because I've went through several semesters learning everything about drugs and drug abuse and cannot shut up): Special K is not a hard drug. It's a bit harder than weed, but it's used as anaesthesia for infants and at the vet, and it's a very common treatment for fresh trauma and the very hard cases of depression. While, like with most substances, there is a possibility to get dependent on it (not addicted! addicted = physical, dependent = psychological), that risk is classified as lower than for weed even. Adding to that, LSD and Ecstasy - common party drugs especially in the Eighties - are classified as less dangerous than alcohol regarding the risk for addiction. When I talk about hard drugs, I'm talking about those drugs bearing a high risk for addiction and/or dependency when taken (more than) once, which are coke, crack, speed, dope, meth, heroin, you name it. Since Eddie canonically doesn't show any symptoms of withdrawal or anything the likes, we know he isn't addicted to anything (except maybe from cigarettes but as I said, I don't think he is) means he's staying away from those drugs now. I agree with you that he might have started veering down that path but pulled himself together before he could really go down the metaphorical rabbit hole (disclaimer: this is in no way meant to demonize addicts or anything, it's just that I don't believe Eddie ever struggled with addiction).

I don't think if he had actually started going down the path of hard drugs in the past, he'd still be selling any drugs at all, not even weed, because it would hit too close to the path he steers clear of now.

And I'm wondering if his dad lived in Hawkins with him, or if Eddie only came to Hawkins to live with Wayne. If that's the case, it would canonically imply that, since Eddie has been in Hawkins for the final year of middle school (he and Chrissy hung out at the talent show in middle school, Corroded Coffin already existed then which means his friends = support system existed already back then. Since He was held back twice, the only possible way for Eddie and Chrissy's paths to cross in middle school would be that it was in his last and her first year since middle school has 3 years). Which means there are two possibilities:

a) He lived with his dad outside of Hawkins -> came to Hawkins some time before or during his last year of middle school (when he was 13? 14?) to live with Wayne

b) His dad lived in Hawkins so Eddie lived in Hawkins all his life and we can't know when Wayne took him in.

If a) is true, Wayne taking Eddie in might have come just at the right time to help keep Eddie off the dark path from the start (it is canonically implied how much Wayne cares for and loves Eddie. Wayne is Eddie's Joyce Byers, which would put Eddie's dad in the position of Lonnie. I'd argue Wayne's influence on Eddie was very similar to that Joyce had on Jonathan - comparing Edie and Jonathan here because they had similar backgrounds at a similar age).

If b) is true, it's possible Eddie had a time where he struggled and was already off the right path but the scared straight moment came at the right time to prevent him from going down the rabbit hole any further and he turned his life around, with Wayne's influence playing a role in it (your headcanon).

My personal headcanon is a) for the simple reason that b) would break my heart even more but I think both are equally possible.

About the present:

First of all, I absolutely agree with your take on the dealing. I think we can say it's canon or at least heavily implied that Eddie doesn't deal hard drugs - he's not the type for that. Hard drugs are destroying lives and killing people and it feels very out of character for Eddie to earn money with that, no matter how much he might need the money. I do, however, think the Special K and pills we see in his stash aren't leftovers from before (again, they aren't hard drugs - he wouldn't have given Chrissy or anyone else hard drugs). He was shocked/surprised when Chrissy asked for something stronger than weed in the woods scene, which might have been because he wouldn't have pegged Chrissy as someone who'd ask for stronger stuff or because he hardly ever sells stronger stuff than weed or maybe both, idk. But since he was searching for the stash with the stronger drugs for half an eternity, only remembering they were somewhere but not where, it's safe to say he neither sells nor does the stronger-than-weed stuff regularly. Which makes me headcanon that 99% of the time he sells weed (and if he takes drugs, it's weed 99% of the time as well, I'd wager. He talks about Special K in a way that implies he has taken it a few times before but again, it doesn't seem to be a regular thing. We don't know anything about the rest of the party drugs. I can see him selling them as well, and dabbling in them/taking them occasionally since the Eighties were pretty chill about party drugs as far as I can tell as someone who was born in the late Nineties - but that's all just headcanon because nothing in canon implies anything except that he's taken Special K a few times.) I vaguely remember a post from 2020/2021 when all the new characters were introduced in a few sentences calling Eddie a small-scale drug dealer or something like that (*Eddie's voice in my head* "SoMetHing LiKe tHat" like he does in the cafeteria making me realize once again I'm in very deep and will stay there for the rest of my existence), if anyone remembers, let me know.

And lastly the REASON for why he deals drugs: I completely agree. He makes a few jokes about his wealth (/lack thereof) when talking to Chrissy ("this is my castle", "the maid took the week off", "he works nights at the plant, bringing home the big bucks"). It never sounds ashamed, but rather a bit insecure which might be just the presence of Chrissy who (crush or no crush depending on whether you ship them or not, that's irrelevant here) clearly comes from a middle class or even upper middle class family with a big house etc. And I mean, if they were wealthy they wouldn't live at the trailer park but I wanted to point it out. I don't think Wayne would ever take the money Eddie makes - no matter whether through drug deals or whether he worked at Scoops - and Eddie probably doesn't want to ask Wayne for money (and there wouldn't be much left, anyways, to give to Eddie) but all the guitars and band equipment and D&D stuff we see in his rooms and the van aren't cheap so it seems the dealing is a way to finance his hobbies. And bringing in Eddie's comment "I swore to myself I wouldn't wind up like he did" and his obvious discontent with having to hotwire the camper in that moment imply that he wants to steer as clear of criminal activity as he can. I said it before and I'll say it again, though: working at Scoop's to sell ice cream to mean kids in a sailor's costume for three bucks an hour vs. selling weed and maybe a few party drugs...personally, I know what I'd prefer and it might simply be that Wayne sees it the same way.

Canonically, Wayne has to know Eddie deals or at least has dealt because Susan Hargrove commented the police arriving with "looks like that Munson boy got himself into trouble again" which sounds like it's a) not the first time it happened which b) is pretty impressive considering the Hargrove-Mayfields have been living at the trailer park only for a few months. But it can't have been harder offences because Hawkins is small and people know each other and we all know how the gossip mills are working so if Eddie had been busted for harder crimes, there's no way the Sinclairs, Claudia Henderson or Karen Wheeler would've let their kids join Eddie's D&D club and hang out with a criminal. I have so many questions. But underage drinking meant/means drinking below the age of 21 (which he isn't, he's 20) and it includes a single bottle of beer. Add to that the fact that the police tends to look very hard at those hailing from trailer parks instead of white-picket-fence homes and it's easily possible that Eddie got busted for drinking a beer instead of selling drugs. (Which makes me imagine Callahan the ignorant twat waffle sacking Eddie for drinking a bottle of beer while Eddie's on the backseat of the police car, his vest stacked with ounces of weed he was going to sell at some party that night, not sure whether he should laugh or cry😂)

And I agree, if he knows Wayne doesn't like Eddie's doing it but he can't stop him and he sees why he's doing it and that it's harmless stuff Eddie deals so they might have an agreement like "stay away from harder stuff and make sure I'm not called away from work at 3am because the cops got you and do what you have to since I can hardly stop you anyways". And I agree with your take that while Wayne doesn't see it as a burden that he has two mouths to feed (which is part of his A+ parenting, in this house we stan Wayne Munson) I feel that the time with his father and most probably his father's comments on Eddie being a burden, Eddie still sees himself that way. Which breaks my heart. But yeah, I think that's another reason why he'd want to finance his hobbies himself and he wouldn't ask Wayne for money even if there was some left to spare at the end of the month.

OR, another possibility: Eddie mentions that Corroded Coffin plays at the Hideout every Tuesday, which means they're getting paid for the gigs. Since Wayne and Eddie have very different daily routines (Wayne works nights at the plant) it's possible that Wayne thinks the money Eddie uses to finance his hobbies comes from the gigs and really doesn't know of Eddie's little side business or knew at some point and Eddie reassured him he's stopped. But the way I see it, Wayne is too attentive to not realize his nephew is dealing weed.

Possibility number three - my favorite, I think - would be: Wayne knows Eddie by heart. So much so that he knows Eddie didn't kill Chrissy even though everything looked like he did. But Wayne didn't hesitate or falter even for a second. He knew, with all his heart, that Eddie didn't have it in him. I could imagine Wayne knows that Eddie in general doesn't have it in him to go down the darker path. As you said, if anyone knows life can be tough and unfair, it's Wayne. Maybe he doesn't see any harm in Eddie dealing weed and the occasional party drug to buy stuff for the hobbies that make him truly happy, because those hobbies are huge protective factors to keep someone off darker paths. And since he knows Eddie wouldn't dabble in hard drugs, and he wouldn't steal cars or whatever, he knows dealing weed and the occasional party drug isn't something Eddie is passionate about but does so he has the money to do the things he's actually passionate about. He keeps a close eye on everything, but he doesn't intervene since there's no danger here.

The question still remains: why the fuck was Eddie searching for the Special K in his kitchen???😂

Again, NEVER apologize for sending long messages, darling! 🖤

[eremiie]

hi PLEASE i neee stoner eren amd stoner reader😩

high off of you

❥ 8k words | nsfw | eren x reader

❥ you’re dragged to a smoke session by your roommate, and you actually enjoy yourself— maybe a little more than you should have; and eren jaeger is to blame.

❥ content: choking, lowkey breeding kink ish, praise kink, slight orgasm denial, overstimulation, drugs (weed)

content.

content is how you were feeling.

you had just gotten done with your shower, your covers were finally draped over your almost bare legs, your laptop was sat in your lap and you had put your hair up to get it out of the way. you were relaxed, you were calm, and you had decided you were gonna finish off your night with an episode of your favorite show, no matter how many times you had saw it.

"c'mon, we're going to get high."

your peaceful vibe was interrupted, and in the most abrupt manner your roommate could muster; he swung the door open not even bothering to knock, leaned against the doorframe and let his eyes survey your slightly mess room before landing on you and giving you the most goofy grin.

"connie, what the fuck?" you frowned and went to pause your show only to realize you hadn't even started it. with a sigh you looked back up at connie with clear irritation written across your face.

"what? don't you want to get high?"

"i just got out of the shower, i'm in bed now," you moved your laptop and threw the covers off of your legs and pointed to your shorts. "i have pajamas on and i was about to watch my show, no i don't want to get high right now." wasn't that the obvious? you couldn't lie, the offer was tempting since you weren't the one paying, and it gave you the opportunity to see your friends again, but the getting ready process had made you shove the offer down.

as if on cue connie seemed to read your mind. "you don't have to get cute or anything. it's literally just our regular smoke circle. just throw on a jacket and let's go."

you groaned and leaned your head back letting your arm drape over your eyes. "didn't we just come from sasha's house earlier this week? who the hell is supplying y'all this fast?" you tried to come up with an excuse to stay home, but connie was clearly one step ahead of you.

"it's not sasha's house it's eren's." the stupid sly grin on his face appeared and he leaned further into your room already knowing he had you trapped. he knew, much like the rest of the friend group about the undying tension between you and eren, but nobody could pinpoint exactly what it was. it wasn't that the two of you necessarily liked each other but you were... friendlier than friendly best friends. eren and you would flirt with each other more often than not and were very hands on. not to mention how excited you'd get when you got to see him, and vice versa.

connie didn't even give you the chance to respond to that comment, your answer was evident just by the way your attention spiked at the mention of eren's name, and the way your body stiffened in the slightest. he shut the door to wait for you and couldn't help but laugh at your feeble attempt of getting out of a session with your circle.

you lost, and you were slightly upset. any other words in your defense were stuck down your throat, and connie was already long down the hall. the only thing you were able to mention was a loud, "and knock next time, dumbass!" before you did as he said, grabbing your jacket and slipping out the door with connie.

that's how you handed up where you were now, at eren's shared apartment with mikasa and armin, although mikasa's car was missing from the parking lot.

"i love the outfit. it's giving me very much... hobo." connie looked you up and down stifling a laugh while the two of you waited at the door after the first ring.

you followed his eyes looking yourself up and down as well. you did look a little silly, black crew socks with crocs over top. you didn't even take it upon yourself to zip up your jacket all the way, the black fabric draping off your shoulder on one side revealing your shoulder only adorned by a single white strap to your cropped tank top. of course the jacket was a little big, covering your sleep shorts slightly. you weren't even sure if the jacket was yours.

"shut the fuck up." you kicked connie with your croc and he hissed, grabbing his shin before being a fool and hopping towards the door some more, spamming the doorbell.

"help! i'm getting abused!" and in that moment you wondered how you managed to share an apartment with the clown.

connie's ringing only stopped when the door flew open, sasha's figure standing there with a small smile. "hey!" her tone was cheery and loud as she grabbed connie's hand pulling him into a dramatic hug before reaching a hand out to you and pulling you into one too. "i missed you guys!"

"sasha we saw you earlier this week." you forced yourself out of her grip with an apologetic smile just in case your gesture came off as rude. connie nodded in agreement and stepped aside already heading towards eren's room. i mean seriously, wouldn't it have made more sense for you not to come if he was that eager to smoke? they could've had more rounds!

"that doesn't mean i couldn't miss you." her hand embraced yours once more and she slammed the door shut, locking it and leading you to the door opened ajar on the other end of the hallway, of course eren's as he always had those red led lights bleeding from underneath the doorway. "connie told me you didn't want to come also, so this is a surprise."

you rolled your eyes. "so he knew i didn't want to come and still asked?"

"well it was worth a shot; and look where it landed you, you're about to be faded." and she wasn't wrong. she finally let go of your hand and opened the door, the bright LEDS hitting you straight on making you squint for a second before your eyes surveyed the room. jean was already chatting with connie on the futon while eren was sat on his bed with a tray in his lap, rolling the blunt.

what you didn't see was the glance he gave you when you first started scanning the room, immediately trying to look focused on rolling the blunt while attempting to hide his boyish grin. you likewise, you bit the inside of your cheeks to stop from smiling at the sight of the pretty boy; his brown locks pulled back into the sloppiest ponytail, and the hairs in the back of his head skimming the black top he wore.

"so she actually came?" jean voiced looking over to you and making his way over to you from his position on the futon to embrace you in a side hug.

"jean boy," you used his nickname to mock him before returning his hug causing him to grimace at you and pull his arm back. you started to laugh and rolled your eyes at his dramatic actions once more. "yes, yes i did come."

"doesn't she look stupid?" connie looked up from his phone at you and jean giggling under his breath. jean took in your appearance and tried not to laugh, a small smirk on his face that was wiped off when you slapped his chest then flipped connie off.

"shut your bald ass up, connie." you retorted.

"i'm growing hair, i keep telling you that!" and the whole room burst into laughter, sasha doubling over because there still wasn't a trace of growth on his head.

"connie, you have no room to talk you are actually stupid." sasha added before going over to sit with the boy after grabbing a bag of chips from the desk next to the open door.

you shut the door behind you and continued to stand awkwardly until eren spoke, "you're laughing but as soon as she takes that jacket off you're gonna try to jump on her, kirchstein." he said with a raise of his eyebrow before letting his eyes wander over your frame.

now you were really trying to hide your smile, and you cursed yourself when one graced your face anyways. "eren," you dragged out his name walking over to him on his bed before plopping yourself down and resting your head on his shoulder. "get me away from these idiots." you faked a sigh before eren chuckled and gave you a side hug much like jean’s before continuing to roll his blunt.

"damn jaeger, you were so quiet i forgot you were here." connie said, not looking up from his phone that sasha peered over as well.

"and stop making slick jokes and hurry up with the blunt." jean huffed scooting off the futon and resting his head on his palm. "i'm tryna smoke."

you watched eren look down at jean with a negative expression before continuing to roll, and you watched intently loving the way he looked while he did it. the way he let his tongue slide over the gutted blunt was enticing  and you looked from your position on his shoulder.

he let his eyes drift over to you without moving his head and then he placed the blunt on the tray grabbing the grinder and holding it out in front of you. "you wanna grind it for me?" he asked with a small smile and it caught you off guard. you took a minute to process what he said before you grabbed the grinder and let it come apart in two.

"i mean, i guess." he slid the tray over to your lap and did that chuckle again.

"do you even know how? i bet you've always had someone roll for you, huh?"

you couldn't help but break out into another smile, this one out of slight embarrassment before you bumped his shoulder playfully and setting down the grinder on the tray. "bye... i've only rolled once."

"she doesn't know how, and plus just earlier she asked me who our supplier was. even sasha knows that!" connie looked over and you met his eyes with a glare, a deadpanned expression crossing your face and the group broke into laughter again besides you.

"connie i'm gonna fuck you up." you muttered. your mood shifted once more though when eren began placing the weed into the grinder and closed the lid handing it to you.

"work some magic, babe." you were really trying not to show how excited you were, butterflies flapping their wings and flapping them hard in your stomach, especially at the nickname. you began twisting the small container and eren's calloused hands stopped yours from grinding too much. "that's good, that's good." he took it from your hands then pulled the tray over. "i got it from here."

"yeah cause she's gonna fuck it up." jean laughed and connie joined in his eccentric laugh filling the air as well causing you to groan.

"can y'all shut up? damn. you can't roll either jean."

ooohh's from connie and sasha bounced around the room and jean looked up at you amusement dancing in his eyes. "better than you."

"at least i look good while doing it." you sassed playfully while moving invisible hair behind you ear. you could've sworn eren nodded his head from next to you, and those dumb butterflies in your stomach began moving again.

"got that right." jean snapped back just as quick a flirtatious tone to his voice that caught you off guard and you raised an eyebrow at the sudden demeanor. eren looked up for a split second before glancing at you again, his eyebrows furrowed in... confusion maybe?

"weren't you just making fun of me earlier?"

"chill, we were just playing around, girl." jean responded with a shit eating grin before forming a heart with his hand and pouting at you.

"you better stop for eren gets on your ass, you know that's his girl." connie scrunched up his nose then looks towards you and eren for a reaction that he succeeded in getting. both you and eren looking up at him; eren's eyes holding more of a curious stare and yours more threatening. eren continued sealing the blunt soon after seemingly unfazed by connie's comment.

sasha gasped and widened her eyes at you. "stop! you know they don't date." she winked at you and wiggled her eyebrows and you pretended not to see her.

"yeah, they don't even date." jean added on, wondering how the conversation flipped from you to your relationship with eren so fast. it was annoying to him in the least, the group constantly commented on how you and eren should just get together and were clearly not just best friends, but the two of you seemed to haven't taken action yet.

"might as well." connie shrugged his shoulder. "anyways, jaeger finished rolling, let's get high." connie sat up, sasha lifting her head off of his arm as he did so and clasped her hands clearly ready to hit the blunt much like everyone else.

"you want the first hit?" eren rolled the blunt between his fingertips while letting the flame singe the end looking at you with those jaded green eyes, flecks of blue dashing across them in a way that made your heart melt.

"she gets the first hit too?" connie exclaimed staring at you and eren with a bored look on his face.

"who rolled the blunt?" eren asked raising an eyebrow at connie before letting his tongue run over his bottom lip and lifting the blunt from the lighter to watch the smoke float into the air, and ugh did he look good. when connie didn't answer he answered for him, "i rolled it, i choose who goes first."

"plus shes low key a newbie, this is what? her third session with us?" sasha chimed in grabbing the pillow that connie was laying on previous and rolling onto her stomach on the floor in front of the futon.

you pursed your lips before grabbing the blunt from eren, not even noticing that his arm was placed behind you until he rubbed your side in slight encouragement, his warm smile aimed at you. you put the brown wrap to your lips and inhaled the smoke, the gas irritating your airway causing you to let out a cough you tried to hold back.

eren began to laugh at you as you broke out into a fit of coughs, your throat attempting to clear up for you, and the worse the coughs got the more of your friends started to laugh, the only thing you could do was stick your middle finger up while sasha crawled to the same desk near the door to grab you her water bottle.

"i'm crying!" sasha laughed as she rolled the bottle over to the foot of eren's bed. eren's laughs died down too after he hit the blunt and then bending down to pick it up for you, untwisting the cap and passing the drug towards connie.

"woah, chill." he said before blowing the smoke from his mouth in your face causing you to suppress more coughs and fan it away. he tilted the water bottle to your lips and you let it swim down your throat, relishing in the sweet gesture from the boy next to you.

"eren," you mumbled his name taking the water bottle from his hand. you didn't get time to finish your sentence before his door opened revealing armin standing there in his pajama pants and sweatshirt.

all gazes turned towards him as he scanned eren's room growing accustomed to the new faces and scenery. "hi." he mumbled rubbing his eyes. "when did you guys get here?"

"did you just wake up?" eren asked slight concern lacing his face.

"yeah... i heard laughing. don't forget we share a wall." armin gestured towards the wall in which eren's futon laid against.

"i didn't even know you were here. i didn't see mikasa's car so i thought both of y'all just dipped." connie passed the blunt to sasha and fanned the air of the smoke letting the rest disperse after speaking.

"mikasa is at the library. she can't stand the smell of smoke and how loud you all are. i don't blame her." armin chuckled before walking over towards sasha who hit the blunt and gave it to armin's outstretched hand.

"armin you smoke?" you couldn't help but ask, the last two smoke sessions you went to with connie, armin wasn't there. as a matter of fact you never saw much of him because he excelled above you by some and the two of you didn't share any classes, yet you definitely knew him through eren.

"everybody hear smokes except for you." sasha said hoping her words would coerce you to come to join the smoke circle more indefinitely, not just pass by a few times here and there.

armin let the smoke inhale his lungs then removed the blunt from his soft lips. "i smoke with eren sometimes. not usually with all of you guys but... sometimes?" his response came more like a question than an answer as he bent down to give the blunt to jean.

"let armin hit it a couple times." eren used his head to motion the blunt in jean's hand to armin and armin nodded in agreement.

"yeah, i'm about to go back to my room anyways." armin took the blunt back holding it between his lips while leaning against the doorframe.

"why aren't you staying?" sasha pondered sitting up and cradling her pillow to her chest. armin took one last hit then walked over passing it to you which you accepted with a kind nod.

"i should be studying with mikasa but i fell asleep. i have a test tomorrow, eren does too."

"so eren's here getting high and he has a test tomorrow?" you give eren a playful disappointed glance that lasted a little longer than it should've. he met your eyes and then let his drop down to your lips before breaking out into a smile and leaning forward, burying his head into your neck. his chain dangled almost touching your lap and you felt the strands of his hair brush against your chin causing you to twitch at the tickling feel while inhaling the smoke from the blunt. when your hand dropped down to your lap he replaced your hand with his and put the wrap in his mouth while nuzzling into you.

"mikasa made me study with her for like a week straight, i'll be fine." he whined. you let a sigh leave you and found yourself stroking the hair on eren's nape while fiddling with the clasp of his gold chain adorning his neck. the smell of his cologne was mixing in with the weed, but yet that woody pine still overpowered the plant and you couldn't help but rest your head on top of his in efforts to get closer to the source of the fragrance.

"i still don't understand why the two of you haven't gotten together." armin announced eyes flickering back and forth between you and his roommate.

sasha flailed her arms out and her expression was relieved, although her eyes went wide and her eyebrows went up, "that's what i been trying to say! they already act like they date." armin nodded his head agreeing with her.

"we don't like each other, we're just friends i don't know why you all say that." you said a little too quickly, eren pulling away from your neck finally and giving you a once-over. you missed the warmth he brought but then turned your head back towards armin.

"yeah, yeah." he giggled rolling his eyes. "okay well goodnight." eren stood up and passed the blunt to armin who took one last hit then handed it back to sasha, then the rest of the room murmured a goodnight to the blonde relaxing in silence for a minute after his leave.

eren took it upon himself to scoot back on his bed until his back was hitting the wall once he sat back down, using his hand to beckon you to follow him. "c'mere." and you obliged until you were next to him, shoulders touching.

jean looked over to connie and sasha, connie still scrolling through his phone aimlessly giggling at his home screen for whatever reason and sasha looking up at the ceiling on her back now, bag of chips on top of her stomach as she got lost in her thoughts.

"remember when we used to like each other?" jean took it upon himself to abruptly reminisce on the past in the presence of his friends. he took a hit of the blunt thats length was beginning to falter, it on the verge of becoming a roach. he leaned over and passed it on to you, eyes trained on yours, completely ignoring eren's gaze

you furrowed yourself eyebrows trying to recall the time once you figured jean was talking to you, his stare telling, which you actually could. "...oh yeah, last year. i guess i did."

eren pulled one of your legs overtop of his and let his hand settle onto your thigh.

sasha's head perked up at the sudden conversation. "oh my gosh... you did like jean for a little bit. you used to gush over him-"

"sasha! i know, i know, but that was last year."

"i wonder why we didn't get together if we both liked each other, hm." jean looked upwards and tapped his chin in almost a mocking manner. "we used to hang out a lot actually now that i think about it, me, you, sasha and connie."

connie let out another burst of laughter and let his phone to drop to his chest. "yeah, remember that one time we got kicked out of the library because sasha got caught eating like four times and she wouldn't stop after that lady told her to?"

you chortled and sasha's mouth dropped open. "i don't even remember that, i thought you got kicked out because you wouldn't stop fucking laughing and that same lady told you to shut up like seven times!" and more laughter erupted from the ones who were there that day.

you passed the blunt to eren for the umpteenth time watching him take a quick drag then beckon to sasha to grab it as he didn't want to get up. "you both got kicked out, those were two different days." you shook your head at your friends antics and looked up at eren. "they're so dumb."

eren returned your stare and only then did you notice the way his eyes were half lidded, you were sure red was rimming them even though you couldn't really tell because of the red emitting from the lights in the room. he squinted at you and scrunched up his nose. "you look high." he ignored your last sentence wanting to stray away from the conversation he was barely apart of.

"i am high, stupid."

a small 'hmph' came from the back of his throat and it happened again, his eyes dropping to your lips causing him to lick his before he brought those same eyes back up to yours. you could've kept getting lost in them if you didn't jolt at the sound of jean clearing his throat and holding the blunt out to you.

you leaned over to grab it once more. "careful, it's a roach. don't burn yourself." he warned you, so you pinched it between your pointer finger and thumb and started to put it up to your lips but eren grabbed your wrist.

"wanna try something?" he asked you, plucking the faltering blunt from your hands and using the lighter beside him to fire it up a bit more. "wanna shotgun it?"

you had to trace back where you hear those words again... like a shotgun when you get to sit in the passengers seat? no, that wasn't it... you couldn't recall, but by the way sasha widened her eyes for the several time that night, the way connie's mouth dropped into an 'O', and the way jean's features were exasperated, him looking down to the bright light of his screen, you could only wonder eren's intentions.

he didn't even wait for a response from you, pulling through with his actions anyways. "inhale slowly, okay?" he inhaled as much smoke from the blunt storing it in his cheeks, the skin expanding from the inside and then leaned over his face mere inches from yours. he grabbed your chin with his fingers and you opened your mouth slightly watching as he opened his and let the smoke pour out of his tinted lips. you followed his instructions; inhaling very slowly hoping the moment could last a little longer, both of you staring at the transition of the smoke from one mouth to the other.

eren glanced to the side for a second to see if the others were watching, mainly searching for one pair of eyes. you saw his upper lip curl upwards slightly and you inched forward a little more subconsciously. eren watched the smoke grow thinner and felt the way your hands grabbed at his shirt tightly. he watched your eyes flutter and felt your noses brush together.

eren watched both of you lean in a little more until your lips brushed and came together, and felt the fireworks go off in both of your bodies, electric like sparks getting sent through his.

he ignored the gasps and groans of your friends and instead focused on the gasp that left your lips when they first connected with his, and the groan you elicited from him, lips meeting so fervently. he couldn't admit it until today but he wanted your lips on his so bad, your body on his so bad. he was so infatuated with you and the two of you being around each other majority of the time didn't help. he could only reminisce in the little touches and flirtatious gestures you passed back and forth on a regular day and use that to fuel his thoughts at night.

"eren," you mumbled against his lips your voice coming out like a whimper that went straight to his dick, causing him to wrap his arms around your body and pull you into his lap letting your legs swing over either side of him. eren didn't forget about the guests in the room, and as much as wanted to put on a little show in spite of jean, he pointed towards the door snapping his fingers twice.

"five dollars that they fuck?" sasha nudged connie's shoulder as they stood up and walked towards the door while she rolled up her chip bag bringing it with her. jean's figure was already halfway out the door, slamming it hard and making his way to the living room with the other two following.

"hell no, you're gonna owe me five dollars instead. i'm betting that they fuck."

"no, cause you know they're going to that's why i said the bet first, peanut head." sasha stuck her tongue out at connie and he shoved her out the door closing it softer than jean.

he kisses you even harder just basking in the feeling of your smooth lips against his slightly chapped ones, lips working in synchronization like they were made for each other and he felt so needy. his hands roamed your hips and waist, going underneath the jacket now hanging off your shoulders and feeling the bare skin of your stomach. your skin was so hot underneath his hand, just like the air surrounding the two of you.

you ground down into his lap and he hissed stilling your hips at the feeling, his mouth dropping into a circular shape, his eyebrows pointing up until a sigh left his lips once yours disconnected from his. you studied his face; his eyebrows scrunched up in lust and his lips parted slightly already missing the feeling of your lips. his nails dug into your hips as if you would run for whatever reason.

"_____... fuck." his tone was low and light and he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your cheek, his skin warm on yours. "you're so pretty,"

your face grew hotter than it already was and you leaned your forehead against his while your arms draped around his neck. "thank you,"

"i want you."

you closed your eyes and relished in his grip that became impossibly tight on your hips. "i want you too-"

"i wanna fuck you... i wanna feel you." eren's eyes fluttered shut as well, his forehead moving from yours to the crevice of your neck, planting his lips and nibbling on the thin skin. your breath hitched and your hold on his neck tightened. "i wanna have you."

"i'm right here, eren."

he held back a moan at how gentle and soft your voice was when you said those words, but you caught on and wanted to actually get one out of him. you wanted to pleasure him, you wanted him to shudder because of you, and you wanted your name to leave his lips like a song; but he wanted the same from you.

he was high, and high, and high off of you.

"lay down."

eren obliged with a smug smile, turning himself to the side while steadying you on his lap until his head hit the pillow, his flyaways bouncing to the sides of his face. "c'mere." just like earlier you listened to his words and leaned down so he could press his full lips against yours. his hands cradled either side of your face as you rutted your hips against him and swallowed his groans. his tongue swiped against your bottom lip and his teeth pulled at it as well until you gave him entrance to slip his tongue inside your mouth. you moaned at the feeling of your tongues colliding and dancing around each other even though both of your mouths were somewhat dry from the earlier smoke session, it still felt all good.

you felt fuzzy and your body felt like it was melting into his. when you pulled back for air eren gave you that same smile he gave you earlier, and you moved your kisses down his neck. once you reached the crevice between his shoulder and neck you moved his chain aside and licked at the spot, the feeling of your warm tongue against the shy skin causing eren to hold you a little tighter. you nibbled at the pretty skin and wondered if the mark you proceeded to leave would even be visible under the gleaming red lights.

"i don't know why you're trying to give me a hickey, they already know we're fucking." eren taunted letting his hands travel up your spine until they reached your neck, smoothing his fingers over it. you bit down on the mark as a way to punish eren for his comment then kissed it, finally pulling back.

"shut up."

eren let out a low laugh, and his low eyes raked over your figure with his lip trapped between his teeth. "when did you get my jacket?" he raised and eyebrow and began to remove the fabric that was resting at your elbows after unzipping it the rest of the way to reveal your top.

oh, so it was his jacket. you let out a laugh at your idiocy; you knew it was a couple sizes too big. "you look cute in it, but i want to see you now." he threw the fabric off of his bed and let his warm hands travel up until they cupped your breasts, your back arching in the least. his thumbs ran over your nipples, the feeling making you clench on top of eren. "like this," he pulled them hem of the white top up until you lifted your arms, now only left in your shorts and socks. he didn't even question the fact that you weren't wearing a bra. "shit..." he pushed you down until he could latch onto on of your breasts his tongue swirling around your nipple and you let the tingling feeling go down your spine until he popped off. eren begins to remove his shirt swiftly throwing it somewhere near his jacket.

you make work of your position on top of eren, scooting down on his legs and pecking his chest, abs, then v-line until your head was leveled with his dick. he stared down at you with a look of sultry while your hands worked to pull down his sweatpants. his hips lifted to help you out and you palmed at him with your hand watching him throw his head back when such a simple gesture relieved some of the tension he was feeling.

your mouth connected with his dick through the fabric, feeling for his tip that rested on his thigh and smirking against it when he hissed, hand flying to your ponytail that you threw up earlier that evening. "fuck, don't tease me like that baby."

"i wanna take my time with you." a pout formed on your face and your hands made their way to his waistband, the elastic material detailed with 'calvin klein' circling his hips.

eren's hands grabbed your jaw forcing you to look up at him before you could pull down his boxers. "and i want to fuck you... make you feel good."

your stomach twisted and even though you were just trying to do the same you couldn't help but rush pulling down the brunette's briefs until his cock slapped against his lower abdomen, your pussy squeezing around nothing at the view. his tip red and leaking and you knew that it'd be heavy on your tongue.

"eren..." he watched the way you eyed his aching dick, and he took it in his hands rubbing himself up and down with his hand while basking in your expression.

"hm?" you didn't even know what you wanted to say, you were just mesmerized and wasted no time prying his hands away to replace them with your own. your nimble fingertips ran over his tip to gather his precum and slide it over his length and he twitched, no, his dick twitched, and his fists clenched in anticipation for your hot mouth on him.

he decided to be courageous, to look down and try to watch you without spilling over himself too fast, i mean could you blame him if he did? your hands, the feeling of you over him, the way you would feel around him... he'd had wanted this forever and now it was in front of him.

in a way, he wanted to ruin you, not let this moment go in fear it wouldn't happen again.

so you finally attached your lips to his throbbing member, and he sucked in a breath hand trying to choose between flying to your head or to keep his hands to his self for now, but he chose the former his fist keeping a grip on your locks while you began to bob your head up and down. small sounds of pleasure left him and his eyes closed again, him trying to focus on not fucking your pretty throat so early in. he just wanted you and him to be one in every sense for as long as possible.

a mantra of 'yes,' and 'fuck,' left eren's mouth while your worked around him slicking him up and drawing lines up and down his cock with your tongue watching his reactions for a particular sensitive spot he might have; and you found it.

you went back up to his tip kissing it gently before letting the heat of your tongue slide down a vein on the side of his dick. "_____," eren moaned lifting his hips although he wasn't engulfed in your mouth. "i need it, shit, i need your mouth."

you giggled and placed his heavy dick back where he liked it for now. you felt it brush against your throat and you wondered if you could go any farther, sucking fervently and coming back up to spit on his head, adding more slick to him. when you went back down eren couldn't help it, he had felt when his tip touched your throat earlier and he most definitely wanted to feel that again.

his grip on your hair tightened when your swollen lips were wrapped around him again. he pushed your head down a little bit causing your hands to put more pressure on his thighs. eren opened his eyes to stare at you again, your mouth stretched out so lewdly over his cock, saliva starting to slide down his length from your mouth and your eyes shut as you tried to focusing on breathing. this only encouraged him further.

"i know you can take more, c'mon, go a little further." he said in a tone near a whisper while he lift his hips up more so that he could feel that ridge of your throat and hear another gag.

you pushed yourself, letting him take more control and then he felt it again; "mhm, right there baby, right there." he moaned when you whimpered, groaned and gagged, but this only pushed his animalistic fervor and he tried to push you down more but you lifted your head to catch your breath. "fuck, that feels amazing, angel."

you let the praise run over your body and went back down on him seeing how far you could go without his extra nudge then focused some more attention on his tip.

eren could feel the curdle in his lower abdomen but he tried his best to ignore it, letting your work him more. he let you swirl your tongue around him and pepper kisses down his length. he watched you try to deep throat him again and watched the tears spring from your eyes before you came back up, and all of this built up further until he tumbled over the edge spilling white heat into your mouth with a shout.

you were satisfied.

aching for him? yes, but satisfied at your job.

eren's thigh twitched and his eyes screwed shut as you didn't remove yourself from his length yet, cupping his balls and paying attention to his tip, overstimulating him, watching him shudder and gasp under you like you wanted. his dick hardened again while he contemplated whether to remove you from his length or let the over sensitivity go until he had no choice but to stop, and once again he picked the prior. "_____, please i want to be inside you now, wanna fuck you still."

you slipped off of him and crawled forward only now aware of the wet spot on your panties.

eren brought your face towards him kissing you with no hesitance despite him just being in your mouth. he pecked your lips and you smiled as he praised you. "you did so good, so good..." another peck and then his hands trailed down to the shorts you were still wearing, giving your ass a squeeze and spreading them. "but now i want to see that pretty pussy on my dick, yeah?"

you let him slide off your shorts and underwear simultaneously until your slick heat was exposed to him and to the air, feeling it brush over you before eren's hands could. your head fell to his chest feeling the cold metal of his chain underneath you, and your sore jaw parted when you felt his rough fingers gather up your wetness on them, rubbing through your slit. "eren..."

"c'mon, sit baby. we're not done yet; fuck yourself on me." he placed his lips on your the top of your head. "please?"

you picked yourself up and scoot back taking eren's dick in your hand once more. you didn't even care that he didn't have a condom, you trusted him, and you trusted the birth control you were on too.

finally you slipped down onto him and for him it felt like you were sucking him up inch by inch until he bottomed out inside of you. "so fucking tight... you're so wet." he groaned with his hands on your hips and yours on his chest steadying you. it had been awhile since you had been fucked and feeling so full again felt good, the stretch felt good and the slight pain subsided so quickly.

slowly, you guided yourself up and down eren's cock until you could find a good rhythm. your chest bounced above him and your ass clapped together, mixing in with the sound of your slick getting pushed in and out of you. "yeah, like that," eren hummed watching you focused, your pussy squeezing around him and you putting in the efforts to fuck yourself on him for both your pleasure.

eren's hands helped guide your body up and down him, and you leaned forward a little to add some more pressure to your clit. everything felt so good, the way he hit your cervix, the way your bud rubbed against his lower abdomen, you could definitely say this was one of the best fucks you had in a while. eren slapped your ass for encouragement before massaging the same area and relishing in your gasp.

"this feels good... and so much better when you're high." you sighed out while your face contorted in pleasure.

"or is my dick just that good?" eren joked looking up at you after your comment.

"shut it, eren.. and," you leaned forward some more. you were somewhat exhausted from riding already, thighs aching and body shivering from the pleasure. "i’m tired..." you admitted almost shamefully.

"you're tired?" he spoke in the way you would to a child while turning you around so you were on your side. his chest was against your back, the cold gold material resting between your shoulder blades and your ass snug against him. he lifted your leg and held it up while you guided him back inside of you until he was buried deep once again, this angle hitting even better.

"i got you," eren murmured against your neck while starting his pace slow. his hand trailed up to your neck and he gave it a light squeeze while pushing you further against him. he loved the way your ass bounced against his lower stomach when he started going faster, making him speed up his pace. "'m gonna fuck you so good."

you let out a slutty moan at his dirty talk, bringing a hand over to your mouth and shutting your eyes. he found that sweet spot inside of you and you couldn't help but react as well as he hit it over and over again. eren's hand on your throat went up to pull your hand off of your mouth. "don't try to hide that pretty voice, i want to hear you, i want them to hear you. get loud baby."

you were sure he felt the way you clenched around him, suffocating his dick as it slid in and out of you at a steady speed, and this time when you let out a moan you let him hear it, you were loud like he asked and tried to put your leg up even further so he could hit deeper.

"eren, fuck!" you were left pondering why you didn't think about this earlier, why you didn't listen to everybody who told you to get with eren. you could've been getting the best dick you'd gotten in years but both your stubborn, wavering feelings got in the way. "yes, oh my god, yes!" you cried out while eren bucked his hips up into you tightening his grip on your neck.

he turned your head towards him and engaged your lips again swallowing your cries and whimpers as he abused your pussy. your hand shakily made its way down to your clit to give you another push but he was quicker, dropping your leg and grabbing your wrist causing you to yelp. "eren, please."

"beg me." that same fervor from earlier returned. being edged on by your cries and shouts of his name, knowing how good he was fucking you and making you feel was such a turn on. "tell me how you want me, how you want my cum."

your breath was ragged and your leg was aching but you wanted it stretched out again where you could feel it deep. you were on the verge of tears. your hips rutted against eren for any boost, any pressure that you could get you to your high. the hand around your neck only gripped further as you didn't respond yet.

"c'mon, beg me baby."

"eren," his name came out broken, your back leaving his chest as your arched hard. "please fuck me, fuck me... please," he started to move again in the least, after all he was on the verge of cumming as well. "fuck, cum inside me, i want it, please." the sobs that left your mouth were so hot and of course he gave you what you wanted.

he fucked up into you after lifting your leg again and letting the fingers that were choking you slip into your mouth while he kissed and nibbled at your neck, speaking in between, praising you and marking you. his hand slipped from your mouth and he brought his wet fingers down to your clit rubbing for you until you toppled over the edge with a loud cry of his name. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your cunt gripped him like a vice over and over again as if you were trying to milk him.

"ah, fuck," the way you were squeezing around him caused him to unravel himself, white painting your walls as he filled you up with his cum, shaking himself. "_____," he heaved as the two of you tried to come down from your escapade.

your breathing was beginning to steady again but you could still feel yourself pulsing around him causing him to pull out before it became too much. "eren.." you answered back as your head relaxed against his pillow while you rested in his grip. you felt his lips against your neck again, then stopping at your shoulder blades.

you were blanking out from tiredness, only then did you realize the state you were in, hair in somewhat of a mess, a sheen of sweat covering both of your bare bodies, and marks littering your body. not to mention the cum trying to ooze out of you. you didn't even realize when eren had gotten up until he came back, wiping you clean and only assuming he did himself too. he locked his door on the way back in and slipped his boxers back on, reciprocating on you with your underwear.

you could feel the bed shift, eren crawling in bed beside you after drawing out the covers from underneath both of you and wrapping them around you and him, bringing you against him before you fell back asleep.

༄ ༄ ༄

you woke up to a hand shaking you, your eyes lazily opening.

"wake up, _____."

"eren?"

the pretty boy smiled at you and studied your features as you tried to wake up completely. you were no longer naked, or in the same position you were from last night, now wearing a plain white shirt and your underwear.

"morning, i gotta head to class soon, remember i have a test, or did i-"

"don't finish that sentence." you rolled your eyes as you sat up completely eren laughing at you. you followed his eyes, them resting on your lips like always and you took it upon yourself to lean up and kiss him, this time quite innocently, domestic almost. "sorry, morning breath, but,"

eren this time cut you off with another soft kiss, his cheeks rising from his smile as he pulled you closer to him.

you didn't want to talk it out yet, you were somewhat fine with where everything was at now, although you knew your friends and eren wouldn't want to coax a direct answer out of you sooner or later.

but you were content with the way eren kissed you just seconds ago, content with his jacket and sweats you had to wear, you were content with having to use spare bathroom products at his house, you were content with the wave armin and mikasa gave you out the door, content with the walk you and eren shared to the college, content with the last kiss he gave you before his class.

content is how you were feeling.

content.

[cf56]

Many things in Animaniacs are deeper and sadder than they initially seem when you really think about it. Welcome to another episode of overanalyzing a comedy cartoon.

I’m specifically talking about a bit of backstory from the Warners’ 65th Anniversary Special. Around the middle of the episode, we’re shown many of the Warners’ early cartoons, and introduced to their first director, Weed Memlo. The Warners were, of course, hard to direct, and Memlo explicitly states that he hates them. The final straw seems to be the short “Kitchen Krazy,” where Wakko is in the kitchen and doesn’t interpret Weed’s yelled directions correctly, leading to Memlo quitting the Warners’ films.

Look at the little guy. Now, Weed Memlo's directing is mean and unfair to the Warners, but that's not what I want to talk about. Do keep in mind, though, that it was Wakko who seemingly caused Memlo to quit.

I want to talk about the cartoon short shown right after this, "Yankee Doodle Warners," directed by none other than Wakko Warner. I have no idea how they decided that Wakko would be the one to direct (probably just eenie-minie-moe) or why Plotz approved it, but he did. And Wakko took his job seriously.

According to the testimony of "Professor Kingsfield," Wakko worked day and night on the script, along with famous director Joseph Mankiewicz. I assume this means he also designed the set, picked the costumes, and arranged the musical number. He put a lot of creativity into it, and it actually turned out quite nice.

Look at how proud he is, and also how happy his siblings are. They were happy to not only let Wakko direct the short, but also star in it, taking the backing roles for themselves. Now, the actual script isn't quite as great as the set and costume design- the siblings hum and armpit-fart to the tune of Yankee Doodle. Harmless, really, but I guess I can see how it might be considered low brow comedy back in 1934.

Anyway, Bugs Bunny says that Plotz was "furious" about the cartoon and cancelled their contract immediately after seeing it. This is, of course, where I start to feel really bad for Wakko. He worked hard on this film, completed it to his version of perfection, and it was immediately dismissed as trash. But it gets worse.

After their contract was torn up, the Warners used their free time to run amok around the lot. If you've watched the old series at all, you know where that led- to them getting locked up in the water tower, for 60 years. I could make a whole other post about how they weren't really that bad and definitely didn't deserve such inhumane punishment, but I think anyone who's read this far already knows the general opinion on that.

This is where you might start getting my overall point. Wakko was the final straw that led to Weed Memlo quitting the Warners' cartoons. Wakko then directed a film which got their contract cancelled. This eventually led to their imprisonment.

That's right. If you want to look at it this way, Wakko is directly responsible for getting his siblings locked up in the tower. He didn't even do anything wrong, either. It wasn't his fault that Memlo didn't understand how to direct him. Wakko takes everything literally, that's just who he is. It also wasn't his fault that Plotz hated his film so much. He did everything he could have to put together a good cartoon, working as hard as he could, seeking the advice of professionals. Just because Plotz didn't appreciate Wakko's sense of humor, though, their contract was cancelled.

I know his siblings would never blame him for it, but I do have to wonder if Wakko felt any guilt over all of this. I really hope not. He did the absolute best he could, and I'd watch his cartoons any day of the week. The real blame lies at the feet of the studio that created and then immediately rejected them, just for being... well, them.

There'll be one last installment of my "overanalyzing the Warners" series before season 2 releases on Thursday/Friday. It's one I'm really looking forward to.

[local-redhead-bookworm]

Just finished Season 4 volume 1 and hooo boy.

Spoiler warning, and there’s a lot here, so scroll past now or forever hold your peace yadda yadda yadda.

Henry Creel and parallels

So, right off the bat, Henry Creel is paralleled with both Will and El in his backstory episode. He’s sensitive, artistically inclined, shy. He’s labeled “broken”. But he’s also cruel in ways no other character is. (Yes, I know, antis, I can hear you from here, but hush.) He torments innocent animals simply because he can, and he sees all humans as parasites and him as the only righteous one. Now, I don’t think Henry was broken and evil from birth, but even people raised with everything can become evil. I don’t know what made him that way.

My guess would be that he looked up to his parents, especially his father. But when he saw what his father had done, colored by the lens of his father’s own guilt, he lost that trust in his father and subsequently all of humanity. And when he chooses his victims as Vecna, he chooses those most wracked by guilt (often because these characters blame themselves for their own trauma).

Will and Billy as Vecna’s victims

Others have said this, but Will and Billy were both Vecna’s victims. It’s not as overt for either of them as it is later on, but it connects. Will was also traumatized, by Lonnie. However, Will survives the Upside Down by singing his favorite song. I don’t remember any bells or clock chimes, I’ll need to do a rewatch. His connection to Vecna is the most weak.

Unfortunately, Billy does not have the chance to be saved like Will does. But Billy sees his double in the Upside Down. I think this means that Billy’s greatest source of fear and guilt is himself. He blames himself for his mother leaving, for never being good enough for Neil, he’s afraid of becoming just like Neil but doesn’t know what else to do. There are bells or clock chimes when he is being possessed (someone else found those, it’s during S3 E2, when he’s stumbling to the shower).

Religious Imagery

Secondly, I have a lot of thoughts about the uses of religious imagery in this season, but I’m putting those in a reblog I’ll make later. Huge credit to @strangerthings4theories and @patheticnature pointing those out. I would like to add that Jason gives off “charismatic preacher” vibes, which immediately made me distrust him.

Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan

I’m putting these three all together because my points for them all connect.

I’m disappointed that Jonathan has been reduced to “Will’s pothead older brother.” The writers took legitimately good character motives, like Jonathan being afraid of holding Nancy back and not wanting to be like his dad, and used those lines as jokes. They could have had a genuinely interesting plot point with Jonathan using weed as a way to cope with the stress of everything, but they abandoned that too.

I love Nancy, she’s awesome, she’s brilliant. Watching her figure out that the Upside Down is stuck in the past was such a shock. But we never saw her escape Vecna’s curse. My guess is that she’s gonna wind up flayed in Volume 2. I’m worried for her.

But why are we having Stancy shoved on us again? I really liked Nancy and Jonathan together in past seasons, because I felt like they were a good team. But going back to the Season 1 dynamic feels like undoing character growth. It puts Steve right back where he was early in Season 2, pining for Nancy. And he’s clearly not over their breakup in Season 3, it hurt him deeply. But he deserves to have a character arc outside of romance, and I feel like we had that with Season 2 and 3.

In case it wasn’t obvious, Steve is my favorite of these three. But I’m so worried for him. I adore him, but he has no sense of self-preservation. He got bitten so many times by those demobats, and the previous vampire references make me worry he’ll end up semi-flayed. Not that I wouldn’t be down for Vampire!Steve, but I don’t want to lose him too.

Also we were robbed of seeing lifeguard Steve. What do you mean, he worked as a lifeguard for three years and then just… didn’t do that again over Season 3? Was he too shaken by Barb’s death to lifeguard?

Russia Arc

Did this arc feel weak to anyone else? It had a few compelling moments, like Hopper hiding in the church and talking to Antonov (or Enzo, take your pick), and the demogorgon fight was kind of fun. But it just felt like a lot of “Hopper gets beat up, knocked unconscious, dragged around, and beat up some more.” I think they could have done better.

Also, it feels very out of character for Joyce to run off and leave her kids like that, especially for her to lie to them. Why not just tell them “hey, we think Hopper might be alive, and we’re gonna follow a lead”?

I feel like more could have been done with this, and I thought “oh, Joyce just didn’t see Hopper” was lazy writing. Why not have him get sucked into the rift and spat out in Russia? That would have been more believable.

California Gang

I’ve already talked about some of my issues with how Jonathan’s being handled. Argyle has his funny moments though, and I loved that about him, and I loved meeting Suzie’s family (I loved how smitten Argyle was with Eden, and of course he was, she’s very pretty). I do wonder if Will’s birthday getting completely ignored is going to be addressed. But beyond that, I found it hard to care?? Maybe it’s just me personally.

El getting her powers back

I’m going to go into a more meta post about how central El is to the story later, but I felt like she lacked pizzazz for much of the season. I loved her early on, and seeing her bullied so relentlessly hurt a lot, especially since there were implications that these kids thought El had a learning disability (is that the correct term?). She was so sweet and wanted to make friends.

I understand how important dealing with her past was to the plot, but I’m tired of El being a lab rat and seeing her stripped of her identity just to be a hero. Because that’s all that most people see her as: not as a teenager, not as a trauma victim, not as a person, just a convenient way to save the day. And when the writers shove El back into her role of superhero, she loses some of what I loved most about her in Season 3, her personality, joy, and energy. It’s like she’s sapped of all that to be nothing more than their puppet.

Eddie

I did not expect to like Eddie. I thought he would be nothing more than a cookie cutter Billy replacement. Up until the scene in the woods with Chrissy, I hated him. But after that scene, he became goofy, lovable, and so out of his depth that I wanted to hug him.

I don’t know if he’ll survive the season, though. I want him to, but I don’t know if he will. Characters introduced for only a season typically die. We haven’t seen that clip of him from the trailer yet, the one of him drawing a swarm of demobats. He could die like that, or he might wind up as a puppet.

Max

Oh my gosh, Sadie’s acting was phenomenal this season! I’m glad that Max is responding to trauma in a way that feels realistic. I don’t have experience with the kind of loss Max deals with, but it feels authentic. So glad she has her friends that come through when it counts.

I think she’s downplayed how messed-up her family situation is, though. Neil canonically verbally and physically abused Billy, and suddenly he can’t stand to be around without Billy? That doesn’t make sense to me. Did he die, drink himself into oblivion? Did he start beating Susan? And now Susan is struggling with an alcohol addiction, but at least she still cares about Max. She never stood up for Billy, but at least she’s not become a horrible mother.

The cinematography of Dear Billy was phenomenal. I know everyone loves the “Running Up That Hill” scene, and they should, because it’s So Good. But the scene with Vecna isn’t getting nearly enough attention. She gets grabbed by a tentacle and dragged across the floor, just like Billy in Season 3. The look on her face when his hand is over her face is exactly what I envisioned Billy like before he was possessed by the Mind Flayer.

Dear Billy

In case it wasn’t clear enough already, I love Billy so much and not seeing him this season was crushing. His absence left a noticeable hole in the story. No one acknowledged that Max saw her own brother die in front of her, and then they wondered why she was suffering.

When we do see Billy again, it’s not even him, it’s Vecna using him. Or so we think. If it’s just Vecna, why did he cry? Why was his chest healed and not a mess of open wounds? The whole story feels like at the very least Max has a lot of healing and grieving left to do, and at best, Billy will return to make things right.

Seeing Max and Eddie constantly having people support them is wonderful, but it also hurts to know that Billy was so isolated from them all. It’s like he was stuck in the worst case scenario the entire show. Every time the others have someone watching their backs or showing them they care, all I can remember is how no one tried to help Billy until it was too late, and it’s like a knife to the gut every time.

[foxilayde]

what were you like during an ugly phase of your life where you felt you could of been a better person than what you were?

I’ve been thinking about this question a lot today and it reminds me of a conversation I had with my brother a few nights ago.

My 13 year old Boston terrier has recently befell a series of ailments/accidents that currently has him on lots of pain meds, in a cone, and more than likely facing eye removal surgery in the near future. I’ve been beside myself with grief and guilt the past few days.

The grief, because he is suffering and I feel very deeply for him. The guilt, for myself because I feel like I could have/should have done better as a mom. My brother told me a simple phrase in response to my feelings. “We can all be doing better.”

We can all be doing better.

That statement is true for everyone. There are areas in everyone’s life where they can be doing better. But I fully believe that we are all doing the best that we can with the tools that we have been given. Even if it doesn’t feel like that. Even if you feel like you’re a cruel person. You are doing the best that you can.

I do not tend to extend the same leniency towards myself that I give to other people in my life. It takes those friends and family members, the close ones, the loved ones to show you your true self sometimes.

In my self-esteemed-shot mind I am a horrible dog mother. I don’t give Django nearly the attention that he deserves, and I could be far more patient with him. and especially seeing him in this beleaguered state, my first response is to hate myself.

And maybe I hate myself because it’s easy. Because it’s option A. Maybe I hate myself because it makes sense. Maybe I blame myself for these things that are out of my control because at least I can make it logical. If I can hate myself, then there is a solid entity to blame for the madness, for the inconsistencies of life. But the fact is that life is not logical. Life is full of curveballs. And in reality, each person truly is doing their absolute best when faced with the curve balls.

We are each our own worst critic. Close your eyes and think of someone whom you love unconditionally. Do it. Imagine that person doing the things that you beat yourself up for. All that deplorable shit. Are they a bad person? Are they an ugly person? The answer is likely no. You likely want to hug that person and tell them everything is going to be OK.

Nearly all the past incarnations of Danny are cringe worthy. I have had many awful incarnations of myself. There is the Danny of 15 years ago who supported YES ON 8. There is the Danny of 8 years ago who was content being a Side Chick… and I have to extend that same loving leniency towards her. I have to give her a hug. Because she really truly didn’t know any better. She was trying to fit in. She was trying to be loved.

And most difficultly, I have to extend that leniency towards myself where I am now. I am in the weeds, I am too close to the trees, and I’m too tired to pay my full attentions to my ailing dog. But I’m doing the best I can.

One thing I think you will uniformly hear from very elderly people when you ask their advice on life in general is: be kind. Be kind. Be kind. Be kind. Be kind to yourself. Be kind to the people around you. Life is hard. Be kind.

And if you do life correctly, you will have many many versions of your past self that can be deemed as “ugly” or “vile”, because we keep growing, we — through experience — keep changing. And babygirl that is the definition of life. To adapt. To grow. To change.

It’s easy for me to be harsh on past-Danny. She didn’t know shit. She needed a hug. She needed guidance. Just as present-Danny does. As fucking hard as that is to admit.

So give yourself a hug. Give yourself the benefit of the doubt. Treat yourself the same way you’d treat your best friend. To quote Conor Oberst “forgive yourself for the many times, you were cruel to something helpless and weak.” (Including yourself)

Whatever it is you’re going through, you’re not alone. You’re not “bad”, and you deserve to be loved.

[locke-writes]

In the Silence

Author: locke-writes

Title: In the Silence

Song Fic: White Rabbit - Jefferson Airplane, with Klaus Hargreeves For: Anonymous

Rating: T

Word Count: 697

Warnings: Drug Mention

Tag List: Ask to be Added

The TV playing in your living room should have frightened you but you knew who it was by the shouting at whatever show he had chosen to watch. You didn't bother saying anything to him as you walked into the kitchen and he didn't say anything either. It was fine, it was unusual for the two of you to work around one another in silence, someone would talk when it was time. For now you were pulling items out of the fridge having decided to make grilled cheese for dinner wanting something simple and quick to make. Not to mention you knew Klaus would want whatever it is you were making and a grilled cheese was an easy bet.

Klaus doesn't start speaking until the commercial break. You've known him since the two of you met at a party when you were nineteen, sometimes you think you've gotten used to everything about him and then you realize there's so much more to figure out. You're never really prepared for anything that he says, and this moment is no different when he launches into a story about a new coat he's purchased from one of his favorite vintage shops. You sense that he's avoiding something and that if you pushed a little further he might tell you what's really going on but you don't.

It'd been this way for years. He was talkative when he wanted to be, mainly when there was nothing at all to say at all, bringing up nonsense facts that he knew off the top of his head. He was only ever silent when his mind was racing, when there was something weighing heavy on him. Truly if you could see Ben for yourself you wondered if he would have given you advice on how to get Klaus to open up or if he would simply let you know that the silence was some sort of coping mechanism. Avoidance rather than acceptance, or something of the sort.

Really you don't blame Klaus for developing some damaging and not so damaging coping mechanisms. If it was you in the Umbrella Academy being raised by Reginald you don't know how you would have handled it. Whether every detail of the stories you'd been told were true you didn't know but it didn't matter because there had to be some semblance of truth in them and what a horrible truth it was. Pitted against siblings, always judged and criticized, the experiments to 'control' powers. Fear was the only response you could imagine Klaus or any of his siblings coming out of that situation with.

Klaus has continued to ramble on about everything and nothing. You know he's not speaking about something, purposefully tracking his words so he doesn't leave clues. You also know him well enough that you know there's never been a visit that's about idle conversation. He's just not that kind of person, and it's fine, truth be told neither are you. Unfortunately there's really nothing you can do without knowing what's wrong and you know that's something you may never come to learn.

You ask if he wants to watch a movie only getting a hum in response. He's been known to slip in and out of silence, silence often creeping in when something takes him off guard. Or, when he's in the middle of a particularly good acid trip but if he was then it'd be incredibly easy to know that. Whatever this is it's some form of semi-catatonia, not quite able to communicate but not quite able to not speak. You offer what you can in that moment, a movie, a grilled cheese, too many blankets, and the promise of some weed later if he wants it.

He'll stay the night and he might be gone in the morning before you're even up. It's not anything that he hasn't done before. There are times when Klaus is fully in his own world, stuck in his head waiting for the end of whatever torment he's currently experiencing be that recent action of memory. You don't quite know just what to do, you'll ask and fall down the rabbit hole far later on.

[blahkugo]

Manual

Terushima Yūji x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

Word Count: 4.5k

TW: dub/noncon (noncon filming & voyeurism), manipulation, drugs (weed and alcohol), implied virginity, degradation, exhibitionism, daddy kink

A night of danger and debauchery with the city’s infamous drug dealer. 

It was a simple enough text that started it, but you’re not even sure how he got a hold of your number. A few days ago, a plain ‘hey’ had flashed across your screen and before you knew it, you were agreeing to go for a ride in his speedy car. ‘How fast is it?’ you had asked as an attempt to stall the conversation. But it was his reply that settled it for you: ‘As fast as you want it.’ 

It’s stupid how easily swayed you were, but the words left a knot in your stomach that you had never encountered before. Like a ship setting its anchor on the seafloor, though not one of anxiety nor tension caused by any of the usual stressors of your life—something entirely alien. The real issue wasn’t its unfamiliarity, but how much you took pleasure in it. And as ships do, the feeling set sail as quickly as it appeared, and you were left wistful and aching for its return. 

Never had you been like your classmates at the private school, who used familial wealth to excuse week-long benders and avoid lengthy jail sentences, because never had you felt that depravity necessary. But as you make your way down the block, you envision daddy waking up to find his little girl simply vanished, and you can’t help the wicked smile that spreads across your face.

When you arrive at the grimy, red sports car— music blasting through the open windows despite the dead quiet of the block— that ball of thrill settles in your gut yet again. As long as you’re in the company of Terushima Yūji, you’re well aware that the feeling isn’t going to go away.   

The car is low. So low, in fact, that you have to balance a hand on the roof and slide in legs first. How does he even drive around in this metal death trap without scraping the asphalt? Your leather skirt bunches and slips further up your thighs no matter how hard you tug it lower. 

“Alright?” It’s the only form of greeting he calls out to you over the ear-splitting music. Terushima eyes your lustrous, bare legs resting in the passenger seat of his beat-up Camaro, but doesn’t bother turning down the tune. He’s not very polite, but you didn’t exactly accept his offer to be drowned in refinement, did you? 

“I’m okay,” you shout, struggling to be heard over the booming voice rapping about ‘drugs and bitches.’ Typical. “How are you?” You’re not sure if it’ll break the ice, not even sure he wants to speak at all, but anything’s better than fidgeting awkwardly in your chair with nothing but the god awful music to drown out your anxiety.

He mumbles back a simple reply, fixing his gaze on your breasts straining against the tight, low cut tank. You fished the two-piece outfit out of the depths of your wardrobe, a revealing number borrowed from a friend that you never even bothered trying on before tonight. His stare has you itching to cross your arms over your chest, but you hold out. You can’t have him thinking you’re a prude, even if it is the truth. 

His hand grips the stick shift lazily and before you know it, the engine is rumbling and you’re peeling away from the curb. Terushima’s driving is every bit as reckless as you assumed, stop signs appearing to be soft suggestions rather than mandatory decrees. The residential roads are practically deserted, but the lack of caution has your heart racing wildly all the same, fingers clutching at your seat. As the adrenaline rushes through your veins, your stomach sinks further into the frayed leather seat. 

When the music is shut off abruptly, you believe he must finally want to speak to you, perhaps even exchange pleasantries— but the next words out of his mouth are a sly, 

“Do me a favor, yeah?” You nod, before realizing his eyes are still fixed on the road ahead. It’s not like it matters anyways, because he continues on as if you had answered him. “Grab the bottle under your seat for me, princess.” Princess. It’s uttered so nonchalantly, but there’s a certain edge to his tone— the tiniest hint of a teasing lilt. You don’t like it, but logical as your brain may be, your stomach still swirls with butterflies. 

Swiping at the floor, you search until your fingers make contact with glass. Low and behold, you pull out a bottle of– 

“Smirnoff,” your eyes scan the label intently, attempting to place the emblem among the liquors you’ve seen at the country club. While you weren’t exactly expecting a water bottle— that’d be much too off brand for Terushima— you aren’t too keen on the idea of reckless and intoxicated driving. He glances towards you once, but doesn’t make a move towards the drink at all. 

Only a few seconds later, he shoots you another look, single brow raised in quiet anticipation. The long-forgotten burdens of high school peer pressure washes over you again, fingers quivering as you unscrew the cap. 

You’ve never had vodka straight out of the bottle, never had vodka in general except for when it’s mixed into your cocktails. But his expectation weighs heavy in the confined space. So, fuck it. What did you come out with him for if not to live a little? 

Nail polish remover, children’s cough syrup, and liquid fire. That’s all you taste as the lukewarm fluid glides down your throat. The burn is unbearable, but a pool of warmth oozes through your chest and your hand relaxes a bit on the edge of your seat. You don’t even realize that you’re coughing.

“First time drinking?” He offers you a lazy smirk, tone edged in ridicule. 

“What?” Holding your breath, you silently beg the itch in your throat to disappear. “No, I- I have wine with dinner.” 

The laugh that rumbles through his throat is deep and hoarse, much too loud to be laughing at your comment— and thus, is only perceivable as taunting. Even so, you can’t deny the seduction threaded into his smoky vocals, or the wire deep within your core, pulled taut and ready to snap at any moment. 

“Wine,” he snickers again. “You’re funny, you know that?” He swipes the booze out of your hands and chugs. If there’s ever a proper time to start worrying, it’d be now. But at least he stops for lights? 

Besides, you can’t say you’re not enjoying the view. Terushima’s defined jaw ruts outward with every swill, his lips puckered towards the bottle as if his life depends on it. As cautious as you should be, he’s too pretty to keep your eyes focused anywhere else; your mouth surely knows it, practically salivating at his Adam's apple, bobbing as he gulps. If you reach your hand out just a few inches, you can run your fingertips against it and–

“Gross,” he pushes the bottle back towards you. 

“Black cherry,” you counter, as if it’s an explanation for the disgusting taste. 

“Is that the flavor I nicked? Damn, wasn’t paying enough attention,” he shrugs. 

“Nicked?” Mouth agape, you stare intently at the side of his face and hope for a valid answer. 

“Bottle looked lonely, so I swiped it,” he brushes a finger at the alcohol trickling down his lip; one of your own digits twitches in envy. “Is that too criminal for you, princess?” 

So he is mocking you. The vodka must be melting your brain, because all your body comes up with in response is a wind chime of a soft laugh— an entirely foreign noise to your ears. It must be a mistake, or the music playing tricks on your hearing, because you don’t giggle. 

Still, according to Terushima’s awful pet name, you have something to prove. Not sure how else to shut him up, you opt for the easiest way out. 

“I’m not drunk enough for this.” The bottle meets your lips and liquid fire waltzes through you again. Seconds pass as you chug, the haziness of your last sip urging you to down just a teensy bit more. Just enough to get you tipsy, just enough to prove him wrong, just enough to drown out the voice in your head claiming this is a terrible idea. 

This time, you don’t cough. 

“‘Atta girl.” 

Then, you’re drinking, and he’s drinking, and the two of you are having the grandest of times. Never mind the fact that he’s consumed far less alcohol than you have, or that lines are blurring and you’re no longer able to see straight. Gone is the anxiety you were plagued with upon meeting him and the worries that shadow you day and night in your regular life. And that’s all that really matters. 

He blasts the music once again. Maybe it isn’t as terrible as you originally thought. A deep, pumping bass resonates through every bone in your body and Terushima seems to be pressing the pedals harder with every beat. 

Up you go, higher, higher— higher?

Your eyes have been scouring the mischievous man next to you so intently that you never bothered to ask where you were going. But can you blame yourself? Even now, as you round up the side of a cliff, every thought passing through your murky brain pertains to him. 

His lazy half smile that won’t drop, as if he’s keyed in on a secret that’s all his own, lidded eyes that make him look entirely apathetic and alluring all at once. Hell, even his fingers are beautiful. Slender and graceful, one hand is placed leisurely at the wheel and the other is shifting the gear stick with meticulous precision. Terushima Yūji has always struck you as raw and vulgar, but now you see there’s a sense of finesse to him as well— and of course, you’d need to be halfway into a drunken stupor to truly notice it. 

You’re shaken from your thoughts once he cracks the windows, hair whipping around violently. If you only knew the lyrics to any of these songs, you’d be singing along. Instead, you settle for kicking your legs out the window and tapping your fingers to the beat. Who cares that your fingers are moving too slowly to match the rhythm? 

Terushima says nothing at your erratic behavior, only smirks when your head leans against his shoulder and you stare idly up at him. Relief. It’s the only identifiable emotion you’re able to place in the midst of this haze. Yes, the world is foggy and black spots take over half your vision. But you hold onto that feeling— the breeze, the weightlessness. All the while, the anchor in your gut makes its home further into the sand. 

“We’re here,” he chuckles, pointing at your windswept hair when you turn to him. It’s the first time his laugh sounds genuine, bubbling up naturally instead of forced and vicious. And he’s finally looking at you; not in stolen glances, with eyes glazed over in mockery or lust, but truly looking at you. You break out of the murkiness clouding your brain to catch what ‘here’ is, only to gasp at the sight in front of you. 

He’s brought you to the very top of a cliff, overlooking the city. Cars and buildings seem nothing more than blips on a map, insects to your God-like view. 

As beautiful as they are, the dazzling lights of the world below you pale in comparison to the deity seated inches away. It’s difficult to believe that you had never once taken notice of him, though your younger self filed him away as a troublemaker—an invaluable waste of space— based on gossiped knowledge and without a second glance. 

“Y’know what I never noticed?” You’re well aware the words tumble out a whine, drawn out and a bit slurred, but proper diction is the last thing on your mind. “You’re really pretty.” As soon as you’ve said it, your face is set ablaze. Control yourself. 

“Pretty? Haven’t heard that one before,” he throws his head back and you’re struck with that gruff, raspy laugh once again.

“But you are,” you’re unable to contain yourself at all now, all proper thoughts replaced by the cut of his cheekbones, the messy bleached hair tumbling over his sleek undercut— and best yet, the tiny piece of metal prodding through his tongue and now balanced between his teeth. “A pretty bad boy, with pretty teeth, and a pretty piercing, and you texted me why?” With the hurried words, another wave of heat spikes your body. 

Perhaps his eyes brighten at your little confession, or perhaps his face gives away nothing. You can’t really tell much of anything.

“You really wanna know?” You nod hungrily at his whisper, his hushed tone teeming with temptation. Terushima creeps closer, so much so that you feel his breath fanning your face. Underneath the overwhelming scents of cigarettes and booze, he smells a bit like tea leaves. Strange, but pleasant. “Are you sure?” He’s smirking now, obviously finding your curiosity entertaining. 

At the same time, one of his hands inches towards you— cautiously, deliberately, like a predator creeping towards its skittish prey. You tremble in your seat, unsure why the proximity has your heart beating out of its chest. 

All at once, his hand shoots past you and towards the glove compartment. Terushima lets out a snicker, flashes you a brilliant set of teeth, and proudly offers you nothing: “Sorry, not tellin’ you.” 

Your slurred gripes do nothing to sway the tease, who’s now engrossed by the itty bitty ziploc baggie he pulled from the glovebox. Though your head is spinning, you yourself can’t help but feel enthralled by his movements— staring shamelessly as he sprinkles the weed onto paper. His fingers prove precise yet again as he rolls the greens into pretty little cylinders. 

Almond eyes meet yours only when he brings the wrap to his lips, gazing directly at you while his tongue slides across the paper. A chill prickles across your skin, but there’s only heat within the parked car. 

Before you know it, he’s extending a large hand towards you, silently willing you to take the first hit. Somewhere far away, you hear your own voice mumbling, ‘I don’t know how to.’ As hard as you try to put up a front, to exude sex and confidence in front of this well-versed man, you’re not quite sure you can pretend your way through this one. 

A wispy laugh, a sly comment and a wink later, two of his fingers have the joint pressed between your lips. ‘I’ll teach you,’ he promises, instructing you on precisely how to breathe. You barely register the palm fastened at your chest. Is he being a creep? Maybe he’s just trying to help. Either way, you don’t pay it much mind. 

And then, smoke fills your lungs, fills your head, fills the already-depleting air of his tiny car. You’re coughing again, but he warned you of the burn this time, and ‘besides, it’ll get you higher.’ 

You were hoping to see chalky hues of pinks and blues, but the drug does nothing but provide you with lidded eyes and a tingle that runs from head to toe. A single stroke of your finger against the leathered seat sends waves of shivers throughout your arm. Your palm splayed against your own thigh feels unfamiliar and ticklish. 

The buzz is only truly worth it when you finally turn to look at the wicked man next to you; Terushima has a slick smile dancing across his face, eyes heavy and probing you for any sort of reaction. The bleached blonde hair at the top of his head pales under the moonlight, suddenly seeming impossible to resist. When you reach out to grasp a strand, he moves quicker, gripping your fingers tightly between his. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” His low drawl is lazy, more amused than genuinely angry. But your fingers twitch beneath his grasp all the same, completely embarrassed and still itching to touch his locks. “Princess doesn't know how to ask for things politely?” You don’t have to look into his eyes to feel the smugness radiating off of him. 

“No, I-” There’s no saving face now, and he knows it as well as you do. 

“Or are you just so used to getting what you want?” Even as he taunts you, his digits thread through yours, pulling you towards him so that your hands hover over his lips. “Is this what you wanted?” 

You shake your head, but the thought of grazing his pillowy lips— of your trembling fingers exploring that tiny metal ball in his mouth— is now etched into your clouded brain. 

“No? What about here?” He trails your digits down his crisp t-shirt, stopping only when you’ve reached his midriff. You should stop, should adhere to the yellow tape bound around this entire encounter; instead, you stare at the blonde with wide eyes, tongue poking out of your mouth as you debate your answer. He breathes an airy laugh, “use your words.” 

But before you can, his lips are meshing into yours. And here are the hues of the pinks and blues you so desperately wished to see, hidden in his caress all this time. There’s heat, and heat, and more heat— and a quiet hum traveling from the very tip of your mouth to your toes, as you melt together. 

When he releases your hands, they fly towards his hair, finally tugging at the soft pieces. A simple clasp of your waist and you’re moaning into his mouth, a warm welcome for his tongue to slide in. Embers spread through the tiny space, setting your lungs ablaze far quicker than any drug could. His cool, metal piercing tickles the roof of your mouth; if you were coherent enough, you may wonder what it would feel like skimming other stretches of skin. 

But your thoughts are cotton candy melting at his touch and allowing one, singular thought: him, him, him. 

Your sugar-spun mind loses track of the time he spends pressed into you. Seconds, minutes, hours later, he finally pulls away, the long string of saliva between you the only remnant of your lip-locked endeavors. 

“It’s getting late,” his words are a whisper, a break in the heavy silence of heaving chests and spinning minds. You’d have thought the infamous heartbreaker would urge for more, and a part of you wishes that he would. But instead, he drives you back down the cliffside in silence, his hand on your thigh rooted in place, keeping you longing for another taste. 

Only when you’re coming down from the high, still a bit tipsy, do you realize you’re almost home. Terushima’s fingers still play at the hem of your skirt, stroking at the fire deep in your gut. With all his teasing, you figure you may as well make your move now. 

“You can pull over here,” you instruct, happy to have found your usual domineering voice. Perhaps it was buried under the weight of weed and wandering lips. 

“Your house is another block away,” he refutes with a grumble, but heeds your demand anyways. When he turns to you, you’re caught in that bewitching gaze, finding yourself at a loss for words yet again. “Anything else you need?” The words are laced with possibility, a dangerous challenge. But any gall you felt coursing through your veins has vanished without a trace. 

“No- I- I should get home,” your eyes drop, staring at a loose thread on his pants— and all at once, moving to leave the car. “Daddy’ll be mad if he catches me out.” The words are barely out of your mouth before he’s chuckling, repeating them.

“Daddy will be mad? You still call your father daddy?” And there’s the Yūji Terushima you thought you knew, mockery and taunts always at the tip of his tongue. You throw a weak punch against his chest, huffing in confusion. 

“What’s so wrong with that?” 

“Nothing,” He exclaims a bit too smugly, climbing out himself.

Next thing you know, you’re caught between his body and the hood of the car, sturdy arms trapping you in place. Chilled air nips at your bones; a single skim of his knee against your thigh and that cold is forgotten. You really should be at home. 

“Terushima.” It’s funny how a single word— a person’s name— can contain a thousand different meanings. You’re not even sure how you say it, questioning the inflections of your cracked voice and wide eyes. He whispers your name right back, the gleam in his eyes magnifying tenfold. 

You’re well aware he has you right where he wants you, a little bird caught in a cage, though you’re more than happy to be singing any song he asks. 

But there’s only silence as you stare at each other beneath the flickering street light. So much so, you can hear your hearts pump blood, can hear the engine of a car rumbling by, can even hear your neighbor’s pesky dog barking a block away. 

“Do you need something, or do you just like saying my na–”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in. 

It feels different now. Perhaps your nerves aren’t frenzied, and you don’t attain euphoria with every graze. But you feel him. You can taste the smoke on his tongue as it knocks against your teeth. Black cherry floods your brain, the same flavor that drifted you up that cliffside to begin with. 

Terushima’s hands grab at your waist before you’re hoisted up and placed on the hood of the car. Gone are the lazy kisses of two heads in the clouds. His movements are quick and decisive, aggressive even. A hand roams your body, trailing under your tank and across your breasts. The other shoves aside your panties, nimble fingers circling your bud. 

A low whimper leaves you when he runs a digit across your slit. 

“Careful,” hot breath fans your lips as he chuckles, “too loud and he’ll hear us.” 

But you can’t stop your wanton mewls. Not when he dips into you, curling his fingertips to hit a spot that has you seeing stars. Not when his teeth nip at your jaw, your neck, the shell of your ear— leaving soft marks behind. And most certainly not when you can feel his cock straining against your thigh. 

“Fuck, Teru I–”  Within minutes, your entire body trembles, hands clutching at soft hair as you chase your high. 

“Tell daddy what you want,” his eyes pierce into yours, completely unashamed of his perversion of the pure term. You try to shake your head no, to refuse his order— but he simply flicks his wrist quicker, pumps into you faster. You’re so fucking close, too near the edge to care, so you simply allow the words to tumble out, 

“Daddy p-please, I want to cum.” 

A few circles on your clit, and you’re putty in his hands. The high hits you with a loud, leg-shaking cry— far more dizzying than any of the debaucheries of hours past. 

You’re flipped over without a moment to breathe, breasts rammed into the frigid car hood. Terushima pulls your skirt up with one hand, the other nudging your cheek firmly against the metal. 

Never would you have thought you’d be one for such public indecency, but the elation of your last orgasm still hasn't even completely resided. For the third time tonight, you find yourself drunk off the ambrosia of this wayward god.  

“Beg for it,” he slides his cock up your slit, coating his thick member in your slick. 

“Please Teru,” you whine helplessly. A loud slap echoes through the empty street as his hand meets the globe of your ass, the pain more shocking than painful. 

It reminds you that anyone could walk out of their homes to see you being railed against a beat up car— and the thought of one of your neighbors waking up to that sight wracks your body with a twisted pleasure. 

“What was that?” The bastard actually laughs, gruff and hearty, as you writhe against him. 

“Daddy, I need you.�� And then he’s thrusting into you, pushing into the tight ring of muscle. Though he prepped you, you claw at the car, searching for any sort of relief from the overwhelming pain. 

A few snaps of his hips later, you relax as the stretch becomes bearable. He takes his time rutting into you, spreading your legs further, making sure you feel every inch of him deep inside you. 

Only when you begin bouncing back to meet his drives does he quicken his pace, a single hand gripping your waist— five finger-shaped bruises you’re sure will be evidence for days to come. You barely recognize your own voice; high-pitched wails spill from your lips, curses and pleas and cries of ‘daddy’ like a broken record on replay. 

“Look at the little slut, creaming all over me,” a particularly hard thrust sends you reeling, tears flowing freely down your face as you blabber mindlessly. “Who’d have thought the city’s very own ‘prude princess’ would be blacking out over some dick?” 

You should be ridiculed, would be utterly offended by the insult, if not for the fact that his cock has you teetering the delicate line of consciousness. Those words are precisely what send you over the edge for the second time tonight. 

“Fuck, stay right there,” a low, gravelly groan as Terushima continues pounding into you. Then, a few more prods and he’s following suit, pulling out to spill his seed all over your backside. 

Vision still spotty, you finally turn to look at the beautiful man, hoping for rosy cheeks and that soft smile you believe is a secret saved just for you. Instead you’re met with a dull frown and a look of pure apathy. 

He won’t even meet your eyes. 

“Can you walk the block or should I drive you?” Though he poses the question, the lack of his typical liveliness tells you everything you need to know about his preference: he doesn’t have one. 

Somewhere far away, you hear yourself tell him you’ll walk. Your head’s still caught on cloud nine, or perhaps it was only ever the ninth circle of hell—twisted and contorted by black cherry and rotten greens.

“Are you sure? You look a little shaken,” he laughs, that same hoarse tone you once thought charming now seeming gnarled and vicious. The taunts once endearing, now simply malicious. 

From the corner of your eye you spot his phone, unlocked and teeming with messages. A flash of a familiar black leather skirt bunching, a flip of your hair, pieces of your purity plastered across his screen for the world to see. 

You walk back home in silence. 

[cringejum]

As both a big c! Techno and c! Tubbo enjoyer, I always wonder.. How much of their hatred is personal, and how much is just tied to their morals/personal views?

Techno didn't hate Tubbo before he was president, and Tubbo didn't hate Techno before he was a threat to L'manberg. We don't even know if they actually hate each other or if they just do the thing they've been doing all this time (anarchism and weeding out potential threats)

Tubbo said he doesn't blame Techno for his execution. When Tubbo did the Butcher army thing, according to him saying that at least, it's just to protect L'manberg. There is no personal grudge there.

But that's only what Tubbo said, and we can't really trust a character to tell the truth, right? So we don't even know if there is any personal hatred between the two (which would make a lot of sense) or if it's all just political/moral/whatever.

On the other side, Techno is doing his usual quips about the government and so on, but I think after his own execution and doomsday, he kinda sees everything as even again - I don't think he believes that Tubbo forgives him for anything, but I do think after the visit in snowchester he believes that they're neutral to each other instead of enemies.

Firework duo is just so fascinating to me... They're the biggest "under different circumstances..." story I've ever seen. I do hope we get some kind of satisfying conclusion for that duo

[psychdelia]

max showed up on his doorstep with blotchy red cheeks and puffy wet eyes, board discarded on his lawn as she pounded on the door with her free hand, holding a shoebox in the other.

“okay, okay!” steve called out as he rushed downstairs. “i’m coming! jeez.” he huffed as he opened the door, ready to bark out a what, shithead? because who else would show up to his place and pound on his door for a minute straight?

except his mouth snaps shut when he sees her shivering in the winter cold and cheeks still damp. it’s been about 4 months since billy died and he hadn’t seen max in this state for a couple months now. he thought things were getting better.

maybe not.

“max.” he frowned. “what’s wrong? what happened? are you okay? are you hurt?” he asked, the panic in his tone increasing with each question.

she just shoved the box into his hands, giving him a determined look. so similar to billy’s. too similar.

“i found this in his room.” he can hear the suppressed tremble in her voice as she fights the urge to cry again. “i never gave it you because i thought maybe,” she frowns, looking down. “maybe he-“ she lets out a shaky breath. “but he never came back so it’s yours now.”

then a switch is flipped and she’s suddenly glaring up at him, yet another expression too similar to billy’s.

“you can’t tell anyone.” she clenches her shaking fists. “if you tell anyone what you find in there i swear to god steve i’ll hurt you.” her upper lip is twitching into a snarl and steve is genuinely scared of this little fiery teenager.

“jesus, max,” he sighs. “first of all, you two are way too goddamn similar for not being blood related.” he ruffles her hair with a free hand. “second of all, you can’t just tell me what’s in here?”

“no.” she shakes her head as she bats his hand away. “just,” she plays with the hem of her jacket nervously. “just keep an open mind.” she frowns. “we’re not from here. things are... different back home.” her shoulders sag a little and he can tell she misses home. misses life before hawkins. “promise you won’t tell anyone?” she looks back up at him.

he frowns as he stares at the box in his hand before nodding. “promise.”

“good.” she nods. she rubs harshly at her face with her sleeve before turning away to walk to the lawn.

“you need a ride?” he calls as she grabs her board. chuckles when she rolls her eyes, tosses back an i can get myself around, steve. then a quick thanks, though. see you around. then she’s taking off.

steve practically sprints up to his room after that. sets this mystery converse box down in front of him on the bed as he sits, unsure of what to expect. maybe porn mags? weed stash? who knows.

so, naturally, he dumps it all out on the bed. stares at the pile of magazines, books, seashells, pictures, papers. the first thing he grabs are the magazines, expecting to see a half naked chick on the cover. he freezes when he finds a half naked man instead, clad in leather.

drummer. drummer. drummer. all of these are the same magazines, different issues with different men. he wonders if they’re targeted towards women, but then he’s opening them up and finding men... with other men. figures maybe hargrove had been holding onto them for someone else because there’s no way in hell these are his. no, no, no. that boy was straight as hell. loved to show off a different girl hanging off his arm every week, made shows of flirting with both girls and women.

but then he’s grabbing a polaroid dated 1983 and it’s billy with shorter hair and fuller cheeks kissing another boy with a big smile and lovesick dopey look on his face.

holy shit. this can’t be real. billy hargrove wasn’t gay. he couldn’t be. he was the womanizer, ladykiller, heartbreaker of hawkins. he loved women and they loved him 10 times more. none of this makes sense.

he grabs the journal next, the leather on the cover worn and threadbare. the first entry is dated from 1983 and the last just a couple weeks before starcourt. right before he got possessed.

steve sets the journal aside, opts to look at the other pictures and items billy had stashed away before he reads about the last three years of the guy’s life. there are a couple pictures of a blonde woman with striking resemblance to billy, the same saint christopher pendant and thick silver ring billy wore present around her neck and finger. some of them feature billy when he was a baby, toddler, kid. he finds jewelry that seems feminine, womanly. figures they must’ve been his mom’s.

there are also some california souvenirs. he finds seashells and movie, concert tickets that read “san diego” on the top. there are also some books steve remembers he was supposed to have read or heard about in school, but also some more he never heard of.

at the very bottom of the box he finds expired makeup and empty hair product. there’s black and dark blue eyeliner and mascara, baby pink lip gloss. nail polish in black, dark red and a deep purple. in some polaroids, the slight sheen of the gloss and his dark, thick lashes are barely visible, but he still catches it.

steve can’t help but chuckle when he finds some candy wrappers and leftover weed grinds at the bottom of the box alongside the butts of joints and empty cigarette packs. marlboro reds. there’s scrunchies, too. shimmery and purple, probably stolen from max.

once’s he’s finished digging through hargrove’s secret belongings, he leans back and sticks his nose in the journal. it takes him the rest of the day and all night to read it from cover to cover.

the beginning is mostly about missing his mom and hating his father, documenting his abuse. there are a few pages about his crushes and boyfriends, allowing him to figure out that the boy he was kissing in the polaroid is named santiago, but billy calls him santi. once he reaches the end of san diego and beginning of hawkins, billy’s tone and messy scrawl is full of hurt, anger, and melancholy.

and then steve’s name pops up. KING STEVE in all caps, taking up nearly half the page. there are hearts around his name, alongside a big drawing of a dick. below, billy writes about feeling like a foolish schoolboy with some stupid crush on some guy with a huge dick he saw in the showers. steve’s already blushing and it only deepens when he gets to the part about billy wanting to feel said dick in his hand, his mouth, inside of him.

he has to take a break after that. doesn’t realize things only get spicier until he gets back to reading and finds out billy’s jerked off and fingered himself open to the thought of none other than king steve. his eyes immediately flick to the half empty jar of vaseline, finger-shaped holes indenting the jelly.

he spends the rest of the night reading about billy’s remorse and guilt towards him and lucas after that night, how billy still wants to hop on his dick and kiss him stupid, his and max’s relationship and how it’s gotten better even though they still blame each other for the move.

it’s both of their faults, steve realizes. billy missed his curfew for a boy and max had no choice but to lead neil to him.

along the way to the end, a couple pictures of steve fall out of the journal. pictures that steve has no idea how billy acquired. some are from school yearbooks, others just random polaroids that might’ve been taken by tommy or carol or jonathan. when he finally reaches the end, he reads about billy’s pool job and plans fo move back to california for college as soon as he graduates.

i know it’s stupid but i’m gonna miss him. his stupid hair and big brown eyes and pretty face and pink lips. i didn’t know anything about the guy but i wish i could drag him out of this shithole and take him home with me. i still haven’t apologized to him. maybe kidnapping him and showing him the ocean would count. but i can’t fall for a straight boy, no matter how big his cock is. i don’t get to fall for someone i hurt. it’s not fair. none of this is fair.

that’s the very last entry. it’s 1am and steve is wide awake. too awake. before he thinks too hard about what he’s doing, he’s shoving everything back into the box and flooring it to robin’s house. he knocks on her window incessantly until she opens it with a glare and he’s pushing his way inside before she can greet him with a snarl.

“billy hargrove was gay and in love with me and-and and jerked off to me and,,, pretended his fingers were mine and his dad was hurting him and his mom left and he was alone, robin.” he’s rambling, eyes wide as he paces the room with the box in his hands.

“he was s-so hurt and alone and no one paid any attention and now he’s dead because of a monster in some town he got dragged to as punishment for being gay and,” his voice cracks. “he’s gone.” he whispers brokenly as he shoves the box into her hands.

robin is very confused and surprised but all she knows is that her best friend is in distress, so she sets the box down and grabs his hands.

“steve. look at me.” she only continues when he does. “sit down and talk to me. let’s go through everything together, okay? just calm down and breathe.”

by 3am robin’s looked through the box and the majority of the journal - steve dog-eared the important pages and she’s a fast reader - and she’s just as shocked as steve, apparently, if her bewildered expression and silence is anything to go by.

“robin? rob, say something.” he urges. “please. i need you to talk to me.”

“holy shit.” she finally raps. “steve, i’m gonna ask you a question and i don’t want you to freak out, okay?”

he nods.

“do you think you could’ve... reciprocated billy’s feelings?”

he opens his mouth to answer but halts, eyes wide and crazy as he stares at her.

“i-“ he gulps. “maybe?” he croaks out. “i-i think so? maybe yeah. yeah.” he nods.

“so you’re bisexual.”

and that’s throwing him on a whole other whirlwind. steve’s had too much thrown at him for the night and he doesn’t have it in him to deal with a sexuality crisis on top of everything.

but billy’s pretty. so fucking beautiful and steve can’t admit it just yet but he wishes he were still here. he wishes he could travel back in time and reach out to billy and save him from the horrors of hawkins but also kiss and fuck and love him properly but now it’s too late and steve and billy have one thing in common.

they’re both alone. lonely. so much love to give but no one to receive or give back.

“bisexual?” he chokes out.

“you like both. boys and girls. like david bowie. and david bowie’s awesome. you’re kinda awesome too, i guess. for a dingus.” she playfully punches his arm and it makes him feel better for all of 2 seconds until it’s hitting him again that the person who wanted to love him is dead. died right in front of him.

“do you have hot chocolate?” she nods. “with marshmallows?” she nods again. “can i have some?”

he feels like he’s about to faint. completely black out. wonders if he looks pale to robin. he needs something warm and comforting and hot coco will do the trick.

———————————

billy comes back in february. hopper and joyce gathered everyone up in joyce’s living room early february. sat everyone down to announce that hop had gotten... a call. a call from some doctor named owens who hop has a history with, the same doctor who helped will.

owens was nursing billy back to health in some secret lab in indianapolis, hence the funeral with no body. apparently billy was in comatose, then a medically induced coma when his brain woke up but he wasn’t strong enough to just yet. then, when he did wake up, he had to relearn how to eat, write, walk in physical therapy, alongside the heavy emotional therapy.

owens hid billy from the world until he was ready to be exposed to it again. then he called hopper one afternoon and told him to come pick the boy up.

max was angry. screamed and yelled until she was reduced to tears in joyce’s arms. the other kids were shocked and confused. didn’t know if they should be happy or scared. will and el were the only positive ones. nancy and jonathan were mostly shocked and indifferent, numb to these crazy surprises the shithole town throws at them. steve and robin just stared at each other knowingly, a million thoughts racing their minds.

a week later they were all in joyce’s living room again, nervously anticipating hopper and billy’s arrival. everyone looked up when the doorknob began to jerk and the lock turned, their eyes trained on the door as it opened to reveal hopper standing beside billy.

billy. clad in a big hoodie, gray sweats and converse. the same ones that were once in the box steve has hidden under his bed. his hair is long now, flowing freely and curling wildly at the ends, looking so soft with the lack of product. he looked tired, fading blue bags under his eyes. he hadn’t lost his tan, steve noted, and looked a little softer around the stomach and legs. for someone who went through all the shit he did, billy looked good. healthy.

max got to him the second he stepped inside, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close. he immediately clung to max, holding her tight and whispering a shaky, wet hey, shitbird, only audible to her, resulting in her wet laugh. the siblings stayed like that for a few moments before pulling away to let billy see and greet everyone.

joyce had demanded they all not coddle billy because it would be suffocating and he probably couldn’t deal with that. except now she was serving and feeding him a million things, coddling him just like any other mother would. billy was hesitant and tense at first, but slowly relaxed, especially when he was given cookies.

sweet tooth, steve distantly remembered. billy has a sweet tooth, if the candy wrappers and lollipop sticks in the box were anything to go by.

everyone takes turns greeting and talking to billy. steve’s last in line to have his quick one-on-one with the guy and by the time they’re face to face, everyone’s sitting together, talking and laughing and eating.

“hey,” steve greets with a small smile. he can feel robin’s eyes on him and not-so-slyly flips her the bird, his eyes trained on billy and only billy. “it’s good to have you back.”

“you know you don’t have to say that, harrington, especially if you don’t mean it.” billy tries to joke but his eyes and smile are sad. “i only died for, like, two minutes. not a big deal.”

“shut up, man.” steve rolls his eyes and chuckles. “i do mean it.” he chews on his bottom lip nervously, doing a quick scan of the room to make sure there are no eyes on them before he looks back to billy.

then he’s reaching out and grabbing billy’s hand. running his thumbs over the scars along his palm and knuckles. he looks up to find billy confused and blushing. he smiles before pulling billy into a tight hug.

“you look good. so good.” steve whispers in his ear, getting a whiff of generic coconut shampoo. he has one arm wrapped tight around billy’s waist, holding him close with their bodies flush. he slides his free hand down and rests it on billy’s ass, barely squeezing. he chuckles when billy jumps a little.

“harrington.” billy chokes out, voice wrecked. “what’s your hand doing on my ass?” steve can feel billy’s lips moving on his neck and it makes him shudder.

“just doing what i should’ve done a while ago.” he sighs, content, just holding billy’s warm, very much alive body close to his.

“if you wanted to get in my pants, pretty boy, all you had to do was ask.” billy flirts with a smirk steve can feel on his neck. then he pauses. “you’re not fucking with me?” he asks, tone serious.

“nuh uh.” steve shakes his head. “actually, uh,” he pulls away just enough to meet billy’s eyes. “max gave me your shoebox.” he watches as billy’s eyes widen and go fiery. “hey, no, don’t get mad at her. it’s not her fault. she didn’t know you were comms back.” steve reasons. “plus, now i know big bad heartbreaker billy hargrove has a crush on little ole me.”

“who says i still do?” billy raises his eyebrows, as if his hands aren’t tightly holding onto steve’s shoulders and he’s not blushing and making heart eyes at the guy.

steve’s not too bright, but he knows when people have a crush on him. he’s always been bright in the language of love. and sex, for that matter, as billy will eventually find out when he inevitably get lovingly and romantically railed and fucked into steve’s mattress later that week.

“just have a feeling.” he shrugs, giving billy’s ass one last squeeze before he rests his hands on his hips with a grin.