#and last time I did that in December over the break from college

[tieronecrush]

secret santa

dbf!joel miller x f!reader

summary: your parents throw a christmas party every year, and this is your first time in the “adult” secret santa exchange. the last few times home, you’ve found joel, your dad’s friend, staring a bit too long, flicking away when he’s caught. for the game, of course, you get joel’s name. and you’re going to make sure it’s the best gift he’s ever received.

rating: E

wc: 5.6k

warnings: daddy kink, age gap (sorry folks but i did want to try my hand at dbf!joel lol i pictured him around 50, reader around mid-late 20s), alcohol consumption, mentions of food, distant relationship with parents, party, christmas, gift giving, secret santa game, bit of deception on reader's part just to get joel alone, lingerie, body worship, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, restraints (using clothes/undergarments), daddy!joel, soft!dom joel, praise, a few instances of degradation, dirty talk (as always)

a/n: (images in moodboard do not convey what reader looks like, only the vibe! no descriptions of reader) my first dbf!joel…milestone moment lol <3 hope y’all enjoy my take on the dbf trope! and tysm to my babies for beta-ing @northernbluess and @kiwisbell love you both 😚

dividers by @saradika

Twenty years. This same godforsaken party has been happening every December for the last twenty years of your life, full of overserved middle aged parents, and never has it been less enjoyable than since you’ve been an “adult”. An adult still treated as a child, chastised, fawned over, always told to follow the golden rule. No, not treat others as they wish to be treated. Your family’s golden rule was speak only when spoken to.

And your father was the enforcer. Always required you home for the party, even away, out of state for college, away for the semester studying abroad halfway across the world. You were flown home and called upon to do the heavy lifting — groceries, liquor runs, cleaning the house, decorating to make it all feel magically festive.

At times, it felt like Cinderella had nothing on you. At least she had a prince.

The only time that this party has ever been remotely improved was when Joel Miller moved into the neighborhood. He’d snuck in under your radar due to the fact that it happened the few months you were living abroad, but coming back for the party and Christmas break, you were quickly introduced to him by your father. His new “best friend”. One among many. Each serving a unique purpose to get your dad ahead.

Upon meeting Joel, you were drawn to him immediately. Skeptical over the fact he found company with your dad, but much to your surprise, he was different. Maybe lonely and looking for a friend; you’d found he was living alone, his adult daughter, Sarah, in her final years at the University of Chicago — a choice that was hers but Joel admittedly feared, you learned. He only encouraged her, regardless of the fact he was anxious about losing his kiddo.

Not the same sentiments your dad had when dropping you off to school in the farthest, cheapest corner of the country you could find. He was nearly jumping up and kicking his feet together in glee to get you out of the house.

Joel, though, Joel was kind hearted and patient. He was curious and caring, asking you about school, work, your life every time he saw you over the years. Warmth radiated from him despite his more shy demeanor. Comfortable. You felt so comfortable with him.

Which is what made the smallest of lingering glances or the slightest of smiles turned smirks that much more exhilarating.

Maybe you were being naive or projecting your burning desire for him onto every interaction, but as you stitched yourself tighter into Joel’s life over the years, you haven’t been able to help but notice him checking you out at times or slipping a subtle flirty comment into conversations between the two of you. You would give it right back, and that would usually pump the breaks, bringing things back to surface level.

There was one time this past summer, after a neighborhood barbecue that your parents left early from, that you and Joel really had a moment. It was loud, music drowning out the back and forth you were having to the point where you couldn’t quite make out every word, and Joel must have felt the same because he made sure you heard his next words clearly — “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

Agreeing immediately, he pressed his large hand into the midpoint of your back, guiding you out of the confines of the party and to the open air of the street. He led you to his place and around back, pulling two lounge chairs next to his pool closer to each other.

That night, thanks to the alcohol buzzing in your system, you confessed more about your home life and your feelings around it. Joel was surprised, given the picture-perfect image your father paints for everyone, but he was comforting as always. Even as far as offering you his spare room if you ever needed a break.

That’s when you knew you were done for. Never in your life had you wanted to just kiss someone that badly. Let alone all of the thoughts that came along with it.

Harboring this crush for your dad’s friend, fifty plus and a father himself, you attempted to keep things growing closer when you came back. Friendly, polite, reciprocating any amount of flirty banter he threw your way. Even initiating it yourself.

You were so incredibly into Joel Miller. And returning home this time, you decided it was high time you acted on those feelings.

The noise of the bustling party dies down enough for your dad to introduce the game, as if the attendees haven’t been participating for nearly as long as you’ve been alive. But your dad loves the attention on him, cracking jokes that make you roll your eyes while everyone else gives him a laugh. Always so focused on himself. How everyone else sees him. Image obsessed enough to forget to assign anyone as a Secret Santa to his own daughter but not forgetting to give her someone to gift to.

Granted, you weren’t that upset about who you’d drawn.

Watching from afar, you see Joel survey the empty space under the tree, only the deep cherry red skirt laid out on the hardwood. Nothing for him. Everyone opens their presents, laughter and excitement bubbling across the room as the point of the game begins. Partygoers start to guess their gifters, hoping to nail down their Secret Santa in one go. Conversations are struck up as people meet their pair, ‘thank you’s exchanged along with the gifts. Joel observes from his spot with a few of your neighbors, also friends with your dad, and the sight of him shifting his weight on his feet is enough to draw up the courage to approach him.

Crossing the room, flashes of him checking you out, lingering in conversations with you about work and your new apartment in the city, seeking you out each time you visit home flood your mind, reassuring your choices the closer you get to him. The closer you get to completely jumping into the deep end, the last few steps teetering you at the edge.

Slowing to a stop next to him, a finger of yours gingerly taps his strong shoulder a few times, pulling his attention away completely. Joel turns his body to face you, away from others to solely focus on you in front of him. The subtle sign of his attraction to you has your nerves tingling, clearing your throat when he speaks up in greeting.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Y’alright?” he asks, eyebrow raised. Always so goddamn sweet.

You sigh, a tinge dramatic but attempting to sell the dismay and toying with the flute glass in your hand. “Lame surprise, but I’m your Secret Santa and I stupidly left your gift upstairs. It’s a bit obnoxious to bring down so d’you mind coming up to open it and you can grab it at the end of the night?”

Joel agrees with a jolt of nervous excitement down his spine. Shuddering out the feeling subtly, he clears his throat and nods, awaiting your lead. He thinks he catches the slightest drag of your eyes up and down his body, lingering at the expanse of his shoulders and the sliver of his chest that is exposed from the two undone buttons of his red flannel.

When no one’s paying attention, you bring Joel upstairs into your old room that you’re staying in while you’re back in town for the holidays. He stands around a bit awkwardly, sticking out like a sore thumb with his broad shoulders stretching his red flannel, thick thighs straining deliciously against the perfectly worn material of his Levi’s. Stark against the frilly softness of your room, with its bright white furnishings, and feminine touches. He’s all man. Nothing like the guys your age who think they’re like him.

Joel glances about the room before he asks, “So, what was so difficult to get under the tree, sweetheart? You didn’t have to get me anything so major.”

“I wanted to. I mean, noticed you eyeing what I got you for a while so figured the least I could do was give it to you…” Joel’s face twists up in confusion, perplexed by the riddled clue before you’re standing in front of him, reaching to the side of your plaid skirt and dragging down the zipper. Joel stutters out nonsense at your actions, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Doll, I think—you don’t—” His mumblings die in his throat when you drop the material to your ankles, revealing red satin panties. When you turn around, a bow sits at the top of your ass, tying up the material to stay on your hips while elasticated bands run along the outline of your cheeks to connect to the crotch. Very little of your bum is covered, showing off the supple flesh to Joel. He’s rendered speechless, averting his gaze after a second too long of staring, the mumblings starting up again.

“S’not a good idea, shouldn’t be up here right now…” Joel looks around, looking over his shoulder toward the door. One of your hands reaches up to gingerly cup his chin, turning his flushed face to yours again. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with desire. Your own gaze flicks down between the two of you, smirking at the bulge growing at the crotch of his jeans. So desperately trying to fight against what he really wants. Even when you’re serving it up in a pretty little package.

He makes no movement toward the door, which you take as a sign of letting go of at least some of his apprehension. Fingers grip the hem of your sweater, pulling it up and over your head, discarding it on your carpet along with your skirt.

Matching red satin material, the bra you’re wearing has a similar structure to your panties. Held up with straps and the usual clasps at the back, the front is a large gift bow, pulled tight when you tied it earlier this evening to push up the flesh of your breasts. One tug at the tail end of both the ribbons, the one at your chest and at your ass, would fully expose you to Joel. Something you’re desperate to propose to him.

“Aren’t you gonna unwrap your present, Joel?” Picking up each of his hands in yours, you guide one to your lower back and one to your chest, coaxing his fingers to wrap around the ends of the bows. “Or do you not like your gift? I thought you wanted this…”

“No, no, no. I like it. I really fucking like it, sweetheart, I just…Everybody’s downstairs and—”

“I can be quiet. I’m a good girl, Joel.”

That flips a switch in him, hearing those words from you. His eyes darken further, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips. A burning stare combs over you, head to toe, alighting flames in your gut that lick against your insides. Heat crawls across the back of your neck, pooling in your collarbone, and craving oozes between your ribs and between each of your vertebrae. Joel’s right hand lifts from his side, skating up the length of your left arm and leaving goosebumps rising in its wake. Fingertips ghost over the strap of your bra, down to the center of your collarbone, and sitting there. That lasts only a second before his long, thick fingers wrap around the base of your throat, raising his loose grip to settle underneath your jaw.

The silence is heavy, airy breaths the only sounds passed between the two of you. His hand at your neck coaxes your head to tip back, staring up at him looking down at you. A flicker to your lips. A low, curious hum. Arousal pools in between your thighs as you wait with bated breath for something, anything to happen.

“You’re dangerous, doll.” His whisper is coated in lust, his gaze greedy as it drinks you in once again.

“I’m a gift,” you correct sweetly, feigning innocence as a smirk grows on your face at his dark chuckle.

“A gift that keeps on giving?” he questions. His hand twists to allow his thumb to find your bottom lip, dragging across its glossy, cherry surface.

“I guess you’ll have to find out…” Your mouth stays open after speaking, tongue slipping out to lick the tip of Joel’s thumb. He presses his finger further, pushing between your lips as you welcome it, sucking gently. Joel sighs, shoulders relaxing while his eyes flash with need.

“Christ…” he hisses under his breath, shaking his head subtly before clearing his throat. Speaking sternly, unwavering, he says, “Can I unwrap my present, babydoll?”

His thumb leaves your mouth with a quiet pop, hand finding its place again at the slack of the bow at your chest, other arm wrapping around to find the bow at your ass. A gentle tug moves the satiny smooth material a few centimeters, not enough to pull it fully undone.

“All yours, Joel. Picked out ‘specially for you.” Joel smirks at your candied reply, eager to give him exactly what he’s been wishing for. What you’ve caught him staring at the last few times you’ve come back home. What you have been wanting for just as long, if not longer.

“Such a sweet girl. Beautiful girl.”

The words send a tingle down your spine, stoking the flames inside of you. Your eyes stay trained on Joel’s face while his fingers draw the bow at your chest undone, the lengths of material hanging at your sides and exposing your breasts. He licks his lips at the sight of your pebbled nipples, rolling out a stifled groan from his chest.

“Fuck, baby…S’pretty.”

Joel’s hands fan across your lower back, holding your hips against his, pressing his bulge into your covered mound. His broad frame folds forward, draping you backwards in his arms as his mouth attaches to your chest. Humid, open-mouthed kisses are littered across your skin, nips taken at the tender flesh of your breasts. Closing his lips around one of your nipples, he sucks strongly, pulling a whimper from your throat.

“Thought you could be quiet, doll?” he rasps, raising an eyebrow as he looks up at you from your sternum.

Nodding furiously, you pout your lower lip out, whispering back, “I can be, I will be. I promise.”

“You promise? Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby.” Joel stands up straight, pulling you with him to press against his torso. Catching your lips in a deep kiss, Joel breathes a sigh into your mouth, melting his tongue against yours and drinking in the taste of you.

Dripping with saccharine sugar. Coated with syrupy goodness, plump and succulent like a maraschino cherry. A toothache, or maybe even a heartache waiting to happen.

He’s fucking screwed, but damn if it doesn’t feel good as he nails himself to his own persecution from whoever may find out about this.

Handfuls of your undulating curves fill his palms as he kisses you, groaning into your mouth as he grabs at the swell of your ass. Silky satin brushes against his hand, reminding him of the other part of his present to unwrap. Pulling away from your mouth with one last lick of your candied taste, he has the mind to imagine what the rest of your flavors all across your body might be.

Joel turns you in his arms, back flush to his chest as he grinds his bulge against the lustrous fabric, smirking to himself as you whimper quietly, so hushed he can barely hear it over his heartbeat thudding in his ears. Lips coast over the shell of your ear, nibbling your lobe before pressing a kiss right below.

“Can I undo your other pretty bow, babygirl? Unwrap the rest of my present?” Joel nips again when you breathe out consent. He walks you closer to the bed, hitting your knees against the frame before he takes one step back, touch still lingering on your skin. From behind you, he sighs appreciatively as he drinks in your form, licking his lips as his eyes devour you.

Pinching the ribbon between his thick fingers, he flicks it against your skin, satisfied with the way you react with goosebumps raised. One gentle tug unravels it all, exposing your cheeks to him fully and with the drop of the material from between his fingertips, your panties fall to the floor. One hand wrapping around your thigh, Joel coaxes you to step out to the side with it, kicking the fabric from your ankle.

He kneels behind you, pressing his lips against the swell of your ass. Flooded with the scent of your skin, vanilla and cinnamon, the smell of Christmas. Nose smashed into the supple flesh, teeth sinking into the curve, a gentle bite stealing another taste of you. A curse is mumbled against you, a sweet kiss pressed on the tiny birthmark on your ass, tongue tracing into the fading bite mark.

“Joel…” you whine above him, hand reaching back and nimble fingers tangling into his messy, gray curls.

“I know, doll. Got lost there for a second. You’re so perfect…”

He sighs again, standing up with a quiet crack in his joints. A blatant reminder of the difference between you two. Young versus old. Sprightly versus verging on doddering. Even if he is eager, there’s no denying the difference.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Joel’s about to be more of a gift to you than you are to him. The way he’s touching you, delicate worship before he’s even gotten to what he truly wants, taking his time despite the pressure of the party downstairs. Serves as a reassurance that he wants this as much as you do, wants to take his sweet time if this is going to be his only chance.

You pray to god it isn’t. Even before you’ve even laid eyes on his cock, you just know. He’s going to fuck you senseless. Ruin every other man for you.

In a blur, he guides you to fall forward onto the mattress, hooking fingers to remove your panties from your other ankle while you scoot toward the center. He finds solace between your legs, propping your hips up into a kneeling position to give him easier leverage. 

“Think this might be my favorite present I’ve been given, doll. So fucking gorgeous. Looking delectable…Can I have a taste, darling? You as sweet as you seem?”

Your head is turned sideways, laying against the plush comforter, opening your mouth to whisper to him in the same moment he swipes his tongue through your folds, groaning into your inner thigh before he dives back in, working to devour you like a man starved, quenching his thirst on your arousal. Flicking his tongue against your pearl, coated in your translucence, suckling at it with pure need. Turning to press the front of your face into your bedding, it muffles your moans and whines, raising in pitch as he fucks your tight cunt with his strong tongue, lapping at you with the same fervor he’d lick the color from a candy cane.

“Fuck, Joel, fuck fuck fuck!” you shout in a scouring voice, scratching your vocal chords together with a strain. Curling your fingers into the softened, washed fabric, you gasp when one of his solid fingers slips into your walls. He groans, holding back his louder reaction to your gripping walls, hypnotized by the way you even stretch around his fingers when he adds another.

Head against your thigh, he studies the way you take his middle and ring fingers, the velvety slick of your pussy, and the spongy spot he finds, curling his digits to press into it and watch you squirm helplessly from the sensitive pleasure.

“Talkin’ all well mannered and pretty. So quiet and polite all the time. With your ‘yes’sir’s and ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s. You think about saying those to me while you’re under me like this?”

“Yes, yes’sir. All the fucking time. Every time I—I looked at you, felt myself…felt myself gettin’ so fucking wet. Was always dripping around you, waiting for something to happen. For you to take me so I can be a good girl for you, sir,” you confess, obedience and need sitting every word so prettily into his ears. “M’so—Fuck m’gonna come, Joel.”

He nods slowly, taking last looks at your cunt before he moves his fingers in and out quicker, dipping his chin down for his mouth to find your clit against, lapping at your dripping wetness and sucking hard. At the next press of his fingers against that spot inside of you, your vision grows blurred, white haze painting everything with a dreamlike filter. You bite into the linen fabric of your comforter, gagging yourself to keep quiet as you come, digging the balls of your feet to the mattress to push yourself away from Joel who continues to work you through it. He grabs at you, tugging you back to get his fill until you sob, overstimulation drawing tears up to the corners of your eyes.

“All kept and composed and ladylike. Been taught to behave, haven’t you? Bet you fucking love to be such a little slut. Anybody ever let you? Such a dirty girl, aren’t you, babydoll?” Joel’s voice sounds distanced at first, senses falling back into place in your body as you come down completely. His work-worn hands coast over your body, roughening against your soft skin like sandpaper moving with the grain. Little resistance but catching in places it favors.

“Just—Just for you, Daddy.” It slips out smoothly from your mouth, the weight of the title heavy against your tongue in the same way you imagine his cock would feel. Filling. Satisfying.

Joel rises slowly from where he’s bent behind you, letting one leg fall behind him as he stands, the other propped on the bed. His eyes narrow in on yours, lips parted and tongue darting out as he replays what you said.

Daddy.

First, you’re already on his mind and years younger, yet he couldn’t stop picturing you in this exact position. Next, you’re the one to make the first move, dragging him away from this Christmas party and presenting him with a Secret Santa gift that feels way out of the budget. You’re priceless. And now, you’re laid out for him, already nearly at the level of fucked out from him only using his mouth and fingers, and you’re fucking calling him Daddy.

Best Christmas of his goddamn life.

“Now, darlin’, were you saving that to be the cherry on top of the cake? ‘Cause that’s just about the sweetest thing. My pretty lil’ babydoll saying she’s Daddy’s dirty girl,” he scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head while his fingers work his button open on his jeans, dragging the zipper down against his throbbing bulge. “Gonna have to be quiet, yeah? Gotta keep your sweet mouth closed while Daddy fucks you, doll.”

“I’ll be quiet, promise. Please, Daddy.” Your pleas widen Joel’s smirk, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips once again. He pushes his denim down with his cotton boxers in their wake, sighing softly when his hard cock is fully freed. His tip is aching and red, leaking precum and leaving a wet spot on his underwear. With one hand, he starts to slowly stroke himself, holding in a moan enough that it leaves his lips as a soft exhale.

“Good girl…” he mumbles, studying your form. “Move back toward me, babygirl. Hands behind your back.”

Complying with his direction, you inch back until Joel places a hand on your lower back. At that, you lay forward again, the side of your face pressing against the duvet as Joel steps back from the bed and searches the floor. A dribble of drool drips from the corner of your lips as you watch him, one large hand around his cock, spreading his precum along his length. Part of you has the mind to beg for him in your mouth, to completely disregard the need pulsating your cunt at the moment, and to feel his warm spend coating your throat as he finishes fucking it.

But you’re fucking selfish. This is also a gift for you, so win-win.

Pressing your wrists together at your lower back, you observe as Joel locates what he is looking for, standing up with a devilish smirk. Your panties.

He towers over you again when he steps back to you, one hand coasting over the curve of your ass, a gentle smack delivered that makes a quiet yelp escape from your lips. The same hand skims back up your skin, easily grabbing both of your wrists in his long fingers and holding them closer while he slips the silky material behind. In a quick motion, he has your arms tied together with a bow, a content smile on his face as he makes eye contact with you.

“Wrapped all up again, babydoll. Such a pretty gift for me.”

“Well you’ve got a pretty package, Daddy,” you reply with a mischievous giggle, earning a breathy chuckle from Joel behind you. He grips the knot of your makeshift restraint, tugging taut to arch your back and pull your hips closer. His other hand wraps around the base of himself, dragging the head of him through your drenched folds, circling your clit, and chuckling again at the jump of your thighs.

“Please, Daddy, I need—” you start pleading, muffled into linen before you’re cut off by the stretch of Joel’s cock filling your tight hole, a gasp escaping your lungs with a punch. Your mouth is stuffed with the duvet from your bite down, nursing your tongue against the material as he slowly presses into you, inch by inch. There’s an ever-so-slight pain candy-coating the pleasure, melting away to get to the gooey, oozing center that spreads over your entire body.

Pausing when he reaches the hilt of himself, Joel sighs, rolling his head back as he internally thanks whatever Christmas magic must be out there for this moment.

“So fucking tight, baby.” 

Your dampened whine shoots a wave of intense need throughout him, growling low as he holds your restraint tighter, dragging his hips back before he starts a punishing pace. Control escapes him, desire taking over his actions as he starts to properly fuck you. His cock teaching you how to take every single inch of it.

Messes of his name and your moans are stifled and stuttered into the comforter gagging you, chest hovering over the mattress as Joel holds tight to the knot in your panties.

“Can’t hold back any longer, baby, jus’—fuck—jus’ gonna take Daddy’s cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” The only precision remains in the soft cracks of skin on skin, not loud enough to draw any attention from the party downstairs. Poppy carols play faintly in the background, the only other soundtrack being the vulgar mumbles slipping from Joel’s lips.

Drawing you closer and closer, the edge is tasted on your tongue, so close but barely in reach as the man behind you rocks his hips, the tip of his hard cock brushing that same spongy spot inside of you that he managed to reach with his fingers, bruising into your cervix with each snap.

At the next drag-out, Joel pulls away from you completely. When you whine with protest, he’s tugging you to stand up on your knees, whispering in your ear amid his quick movements, “Need to see your face when I make you come all over my cock…”

Before you can be left with any thoughts to a response, he’s flipping you onto your back, hands tied still, and tugging you near again. He steals a pillow from the top of your bed, shoving it under your hips to lift your pelvis, gifting himself the perfect angle to thrust into you again from the height he stands at.

The new angle punches out moans from your chest, Joel’s name littering the empty room as you try so hard to remain quiet.

“Shh, I know, doll, I know. Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Y’love bein’ Daddy’s little slut.” Nodding furiously, another louder moan leaves your mouth, brows knit together with worry as you hurtle closer and closer to the edge.

A large palm moves to cover your mouth, shaking his head slowly to remind you of your promise to be his good girl, his quiet girl. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, Daddy…” He feels the vibrations of your voice against his hand, the words muddled into slight nonsense from pleasure clouding your brain. Joel holds onto one of your legs, pulling it up to hook onto his shoulder and press forward to get deeper inside of you. The switch has you screaming into his palm, eyes squeezing shut as you squirm under him.

“Eyes on me, babygirl. Keep your eyes on Daddy.”

Joel’s hips pound into you, chasing his own climax. Your eyes snap open at his instruction, mouthing at his hand and moaning loudly behind it, nodding your head furiously. Your tight walls squeeze around his hard cock, his grunts held back to keep quiet despite the noise of the party downstairs growing in volume.

“Come on, doll. Come on my cock…Fuck, you gonna let Daddy fill up your pretty little cunt?” The quick, speechless nods answers his question, both of you toeing the edge.

There’s a moment when both of you seize up, muscles tense and eyes burning into each other’s. It only lasts a split second before it explodes with a pop, at the same second a champagne bottle pops downstairs. Joel breathes out your name, over and over, mingling with your whimpers of his name and Daddy switching back and forth in your mind. Interchangeable to you.

Pleasure fizzes over your bodies like bubbles in the flutes being filled, the bubbling aerations trickling up up up to your head, making you feel lighter than air as pure bliss overwhelms you. Tingles aftershock across your nerves, a shiver sent down your spine as Joel pulls out.

Quietly, he groans as he watches his excess spend drip out of you, mixing with your come and glistening against your folds. One thick finger swipes at the spot, pushing the swirl of you back inside of your walls.

A soft whimper slips from your lips and Joel’s eyes meet yours in a flash, a gentle smile stretching across your face. He coaxes you to sit up and unties your hands behind your back, slowly massaging your wrists with his thumbs and kissing where the skin rubbed against the fabric. The tender touches accompany the soothing, comfortable silence.

Redressing you, Joel attempts to tie the bows of your bra and panties, huffing softly in frustration. You giggle when he’s working on your bra, taking his chin gingerly between your fingers and turning his head to look at you. Leaning in, his lips catch yours in a sweet, sugary gumdrop kiss. 

It’s another moment before both of you are fully dressed again. You study yourself in the mirror above your dresser, smoothing your hair down. Joel steps up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder through the knit sweater. He turns you around to face him again, grinning shyly as his eyes comb over your face.

The two of you share another kiss, his calloused hand cradling your cheek when he pulls away.

“You gonna be under my tree again on Christmas day, doll?”

“Depends…Were you naughty or nice this year?” you counter, earning a quiet laugh from Joel as he shakes his head.

“Think what just happened has put me on the naughty list for a long time, babygirl. And you, too.” He shoots you a cheeky wink and you laugh, shaking your head as you lock your fingers together in front of you.

“I did actually get you something though…” you admit shyly, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.

Joel grins, eyes flicking down to your anxious hands. His thumb brushes against the skin of your cheek, eyes meeting yours again as he replies, “You have another gift for me? Didn’t need to do that, doll.”

“I mean…Kinda needed a backup plan if this whole thing didn’t work out.” A chuckle is shared between both of you before you continue, “Sorry for spoiling the whole guessing game of Secret Santa.”

“Darlin’, you could spoil any games for me if it ends up with this kinda surprise.” Joel smirks before stealing another quick kiss, pulling away when you step back to fish out the small, meticulously wrapped giftbox from the top right drawer of your dresser.

Handing over the square package, Joel’s eyes glitter with boyish excitement. The corner of his mouth pulls up to one side while his thick fingers slip under the creases of the paper to rip the tape, undoing the festive wrapping to reveal the lidded giftbox that he opens quickly. Inside, Joel studies the contents. Small triangles with rounded corners made from thin nylon plastic. A deep emerald green, all sitting like precious gemstones. His initials are branded into one side with gold paint, the flip side emblemed with the silhouette of an owl.

“Sweetheart…Thank you. These are real nice…” he speaks softly while he picks one up between his index and thumb, turning it between the tips of his fingers. “They’re perfect. Gonna be sad if I end up losing one of these like all my other picks.”

You smile sweetly, stepping closer again and resting your hands on his biceps, “Guess you’ll have to take good care of ‘em.”

As he looks at you, he mirrors your smile, sharing one more gentle kiss before whispering against your lips, “Can think of another something I have to take good care of.”

taglist: @atinylittlepain @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsmando @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @anoverwhelmingdin @spishsstuff @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @vickie5446 @pertinentpostmortem @livingdeadmaria @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @its-nebuleuse @marini03 @piercethevic03 @joeandpedrosimp @planet-marz1 @txtattoostark @jrosie25 @thereaperisabitch @tbniarq @vee-bees-blog @spidermanfrog @belliezz @joelsflannel @cartoon-garbage04 @bianqueee04 @nostalxgic @xyzstar @cumberpegg @b00klvrs @burningnerdchild

[hoe4sports]

“Take my heart, dont break it”

Alexia Putellas x reader

A/N: You voted and picked Alexia. This is a series based on Myles Smith song called stargazing. No triggers. P2 here.

The fresh Barcelonian air was flowing into your hotelroom as you found yourself sat in the frame of the window m next to one of your teammates, Alexia Putellas. You were both sitting together in silence with your eyes closed soaking up the morning bliss. The sun was slowly waking up as the gentle rays felt like a warm cup of cocoa in December by the fireplace with a book and a blanket. Not too warm, not too cold. You were taking in all the fresh salty air you could possibly fit into your lungs before exhaling through your mouth. It felt blissful, peaceful; like a morning mindfulness class. You could smell the gentle strawberry scent from the tea Alexia had made you when you got up in time for sunrise. You and Alexia had known each other forever. You grew up with her and Alba next door and you had religiously played football with Alexia for your whole life. You did it all together: High school, college, Barcelona and the national team. You sat together on buses and flights. Even though she was entitled to her own hotel room as captain; she still wanted to partner up with you.

“Can I interrupt your peace?” Alexia asked as you opened up your eye to see her still in the same relaxed position with her eyes closed. “If you must” you said as you giggled. Alexia sighted. “No, no, go ahead big al” you corrected as you looked out on the beach below the hotel.

“I’ve been having some issue with Olga; she seems spaced out. She’s there, but she isn’t really there. It’s strange, I don’t really understand and she keeps insisting that everything is all good. I dont honestly know what to do.”

You could sense the tension in the room as the Catalan poured her heart out to you. It was like thunder from a crystal blue sky. They seemingly had the picture perfect relationship. Amazing vacations. Nice cars. Fancy dinners.

“It’s just, I know it’s selfish but I can’t stop my mind from wondering if she is cheating on me. She’s always on her phone, and she deleted her location off of the life360 app.”

You spent a second figuring out what words Alexia wanted to hear and what she needed to hear. It was clear as day that you needed to knock some common sense into her. Who would cheat on one of the hottest women in the world of football? Nobody could ever be able to commit to adultery without anyone taking notice of their famous girlfriend.

“Ai, Ale. Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear or what you need to hear? Pick your poison capitana.”

You looked over at her. She was still sitting in the sun in the window while taking on the fresh air. Her chest rhythmically rising. Her brown eyes were still closed and her blonde hair was up in the messiest Lucy Bronze style bun you could imagine making the sight of her almost wanting you to giggle.

“Hm, buena pregunta…Tell me what I need to hear.” Alexia said softly as she opened up her eyes to look at you showing off her worried grin. Her body language changed. Like she was getting ready for a fight.

“Estúpida, Olga loves you! She adores you. She practically worships the ground you walk on. You need to talk to your girlfriend, and you need to tell her what you told me.” You finished as you looked at her with an attitude.

Later that day at practice, you were doing drills with Claudia. It was evidently warmer now, and you had popped off your shirt to avoid getting overly warm. You kept passing the ball at the right time in the right height to help Claudia with her first touches. It was always fun working with Claudia. Her humor was incredible and if her humor didn’t do the job; her infections laugh would. As you passed the last ball to Claudia, she ended up whacking the ball senseless and the ball went flying into the open field. It caused you to laugh hysterically as Claudia flopped down on the grass. Claudia was a vibe; you got along so well and she’d been like your little sister.

The next practice begun at the gym, and it was individual programs. You, Alexia, Claudia and Ingrid has the same program for the day meaning that you partnered up together. You noticed that Alexia seemed distracted. At first, she had placed the weights in the bench press without securing them causing them to go flying off the pole. The next situation was when she tried filling her waterbottle from the water cooler and she overfilled in for a good 10 seconds before she caught the little spill. The last situation was when Claudia was doing squats and Alexia was supposed to be spotting her right side as you spotted the left. The weights were a little heavier than what Claudia normally lifted so you expected her to need assistance. After four lifts, Claudia went for the fifth and it caused her to fail. You grabbed the pole from the left side as the younger girls hands were wobbly violently to hold up the other side of the pole. Alexia didn’t caught on. “Alexia” No answer. “Alexia for fucks sake, help!” You yelled causing Ingrid to shove her away to help you with the spotting.

In the warderobe that afternoon after everyone left, you decided to stay behind and talk to Alexia again. Alexia liked taking her time in the shower so it wasn’t uncommon for her to be the last woman standing. You approached her as she stepped out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around her lower half leaving her chest open.

“Ale, you have been distant. You could’ve caused an injury. What’s going on?” You crossed your arms as you stood in front of her with a stern look on your face. The feeling you had wasn’t something you could shook away easily. You just couldn’t act in situations that maybe had happened. That wouldn’t be fair to Olga or Alexia.

“Ai, Y/N, it’s just hard. I’m in my head and Olga is too busy to talk. I cannot shook the feeling I’m having in my gut. But I need to trust Olga, right?”

You nodded. Olga hadn’t done anything that wouldn’t give her chance to explain herself. For all Alexia knew, this was all just a big misunderstanding.

Olga was amazing, you knew her from before her and Alexia started dating, and they were perfect for each other. Olga was always so perfect, almost to the point where it annoyed you. Olga was picture perfect and rarely looked out of line or did Alexia wrong. Alexia’s observations were however not unlikely. A few weeks ago you went to a new restaurant with Claudia, and you could’ve sworn you saw Olga with another woman. You couldn’t be sure though because you had excused yourself to the bathroom to get a better look, but when you got out of the bathroom; The mystery woman was out of sight. Quite frankly, she had also been out of mind.

That was until now however, but it couldn’t have been Olga. Olga was sweet, genuine and had a heart of gold. You couldn’t wrap your mind around what Alexia had said, but you could also not tell her that you might saw Olga. You were having an internalised conflict of trying to decided whenever to tell her or not. You didn’t want to seem pushy and like you didn’t like Olga, but you didn’t want Alexia’s heart to break either.

At least, that was the lie you continued to tell yourself.

[shaunamilfman]

'tis the damn season

Summary: “You hadn’t seen Nat since the two of you screamed at each other outside Lottie Matthews graduation party, but you can’t deny that you’ve missed her dearly. Long before she was your girlfriend she was your best friend, and when you're given the chance to hang out with her while you're home from college for the holidays you jump at the opportunity no matter how unique the circumstances. When the two of you have to work together to solve a surprising mystery, maybe a few truths about what really went down between you will be revealed along the way.”

December 23rd, 1996

You’ve been home from college for a grand total of 10 days before they’ve started to run together. You’ve been drifting in and out of sleep on the couch for the last few hours, Christmas movies playing quietly in the background. You're just on the edge of sleep when your mom walks up to shake you awake. You groan softly as you bury your head further into the cushion, but get up quick enough to give you a headrush when your mom tells you someone’s calling for you. Thank God, You think. You were dying of boredom. You’ve seen a lot of your high school friends since you’ve been back, but they all remind you of her. You still can’t gather the nerve to call the one you really want to talk to, so you're more than willing to accept the distraction the phone call provides.

You grab the receiver from the table and lean lazily against the wall as you answer. “Hey.”

“Hey,” You hear a familiar voice say.

“Lottie!” You greet happily, twisting the cord aimlessly around your finger as you speak. “Do you want to hang out later? I know we just saw each other the other day b-”

“I think someone's been following me,” Lottie interrupts quickly, sounding noticeably anxious. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise as you immediately straighten up. “Can you come get me? I don't want to be alone.” She asks pleadingly. 

“Absolutely,” You promise immediately. “Just let me get changed and I’ll be right there.” You exchange a quick goodbye as Lottie seems obviously distracted as you run to your room to change. 

What the fuck is happening? You wonder as you hurry out to your car.

You get a bad feeling as you drive to her house, but you do your best to ignore it as you break almost every traffic law known to man on the drive there. It’s ominously quiet as you pull up, her family home seeming somehow more imposing than usual. You shut the door of your car as you start walking up the driveway, only to be interrupted by a voice calling out your name. 

“Y/N?” Nat calls out in disbelief. You whirl around in surprise as you watch her standing at the base of the driveway. You bury your hands in your pockets to hide the way they shake with your nervousness. You weren’t prepared to see her today, not that you thought you ever would be. You exhale shakily as you look her up and down. She looks just as good as always, maybe even better than usual. Your eyes glance down at her nails, noticing their unusually bare state. You barely remember a time when they weren’t painted black, but maybe all things change over time.

She seems annoyed to see you, making you grin slightly at the familiar sight even if it’s never been directed in your direction before. You knew Nat was just as nervous to see you as you were to see her. You think you might know Nat better than you know yourself, or you did at one point. Your smile fades at the thought.

“What are you doing here?” You both ask at once. You laugh softly as you look down, catching the way Nat kicks nervously at the ground. The familiar sight of her boots fills you with confidence as you look back up at her.

“Lottie called me. Said someone was following her?” You say. Nat scoffs, raising a hand to run it messily through her hair.

“Said the same shit to me,” Nat complains. You glance up at Lottie’s house, suddenly getting suspicious. Lottie’s tried more than once to convince the two of you to start speaking again after you broke up, but her pleas always fell on deaf ears. You knew it must be awkward to be stuck in the middle of the two of you, but as much as you felt for Lottie’s predicament you thought manipulating you like this was too fucking far. Nat gives you a wry look as she follows your gaze, rolling her eyes as she turns and starts walking down the street.

“You're not going to make sure?” You ask.

Nat huffs. “It’s obvious what happened, isn’t it? Lottie not minding her own fucking business.”

You stare up at the house a little unsurely. “That doesn’t sound like Lottie.” You say, unable to stifle your concern. You and Nat catch each other's gaze for the first time in months, and you think you might miss her more 10 feet away from her than you ever have before. You suspect Nat feels the same as she quickly breaks your eye contact, looking uncharacteristically shy as she scuffs her boot against the ground.

“Yeah, well people change don’t they.” She accuses pointedly. You scoff, storming back up to your car. You weren’t sure what crawled up Nat’s ass all those months ago, but it's certainly still there.

“Go fuck yourself, Natty.” You jeer, throwing the door of your car open. You climb back in as you forget about whatever Lottie thought she was pulling as you turn your anger at Nat instead. You slam the door shut, resting your head against the steering wheel. You exhale slowly as you try to calm down. Nat’s always been able to get to you like this, even when no one else could. It’s one of the things you loved about her. Love about her, you admit even if only in the privacy of your own head.

You stare at her in the side mirror as she stands in the same place you left her in. She looks strangely guilty, but you know better than to expect an apology from her. Nat almost never apologized to anyone even if she thought she should, prideful to a fault. You used to be the one exception but you won't hold your breath anymore. You sigh quietly as you back out of the driveway around Nat. You roll your window down next to her as she stares expressionlessly at you. “Do you need a ride home?” She pauses for a second as she considers it, but slowly shakes her head. You nod easily, not bothering to fight her against it as you drive down the street. 

You don’t look back, no matter how much you want to. You miss the way she watches you all the way down the street; The way she watches you until you finally turn off the street, disappearing from view.

…

September 7th, 1986

Even now you remember how upset you were when your dad up and moved your entire family across the country right before you started the third grade. To New Jersey of all places. You weren’t really sure why moving to New Jersey was a bad thing, but your best friend Kaitlin had told you that her mother said it was. So in your mind, there was no place on Earth worse than New Jersey if even your best friend thought so. Thinking about your best friend only made you angrier knowing you wouldn’t get to see her again.

You were brooding the whole way to your desk, righteously angry in the way only an eight-year-old could be when you caught curious eyes looking up at you. You returned her curious look even as you moodily took your seat. There was something about her that caught your eye even then. You didn’t exchange a single word but you still felt a strange sense of comradery with her. You stormed off during recess to go angrily kick at the tree, deciding that that was a far better use of your time than sitting with someone from stupid New Jersey.

You're too far away to hear it at first, but it catches your attention as the catcalling gets louder. You see a couple kids surrounding your desk mate, obviously making fun of her. You weren’t sure what ‘trailer trash’ meant, but it was obvious by the look on her face that she knew. You weren’t sure even now what caused you to storm over there and grab the ringleader by the back of the shirt and whirl him around. Maybe you were angry and he just happened to be there, or maybe you knew even then how important Nat would be to you. You slammed your little fist into his cheek, sending him sprawling to the ground in surprise. 

He starts crying loudly, immediately garnering the attention of your teacher who starts walking over from across the playground. You stare down at your hand in surprise: You’d never been particularly violent before and hadn’t realized it was going to hurt your hand this much. A pale hand reaches out and grabs you, turning your wrist over so she can see your red knuckles. She grins toothily up at you, her grin slightly crooked. “I’m Nat.” She says.

“Y/N.” You say, a little teary-eyed from the pain. You smile back weakly as your teacher drags you away from them and to the office. You don’t get in nearly as much trouble as you should considering it’s your first day, but you certainly wouldn’t complain. You get sent back just in time for lunch, looking around unsurely until you see Nat waving you over. You practically skip over to take your seat next to her. You talk for the rest of lunch and hold hands on the way back to class. From that moment on you were inseparable. 

Maybe New Jersey wouldn't be as bad as Kaitlin said.

…

December 24th, 1996. 

You stare guiltily down at the phone as you get Lottie’s answering machine for the third time in a row. You were positive that Lottie was just setting you and Nat up, but the longer she went without calling you back the more worried you became. Certainly, it wouldn’t hurt if you just stopped by just in case, right? You set the phone back down on the receiver as you exhale shakily, unable to calm your racing heart. You try to shake it off as you walk out to your car Maybe you were less sure about Lottie being okay than you thought. You would just stop by her house and yell at her a bit, and then you could guilt her into watching your favorite movie and everything would be just fine. Still, your hands shake the entire drive there.

You walk purposely up the drive, pulling your jacket tighter around you in an effort to fight the cold. You knock firmly on Lottie’s door as you shiver on the porch. The longer you go without an answer the more frantic you knock until you're banging your fists against Lottie’s door. “Y/N!” Nat calls out, making you whirl around in surprise. You don’t even want to imagine what you look like right now, how wild and crazed your expression must look, as you quickly walk towards Nat.

“Have you…” You both start, trailing off as you realize Nat hasn’t spoken to Lottie either.

“I’ve been banging on her door for the last five minutes and she hasn’t answered.” You say nervously, glancing back at Lottie’s empty-looking house. You look at Nat in disbelief as she reaches around you to try the door handle, finding it locked. “If only I would have thought of that.” You snark. Nat shrugs, holding her hands up placatingly as she spins around and starts walking around the side of the house. 

You reluctantly walk after her, watching curiously as she tries all of the ground-floor windows. You end up back at the front door after fruitlessly trying every window and the backdoor. You sigh as you start looking around for a fake-looking rock or something. You catch Nat giving you a curious look out of the corner of your eye. “Maybe they have one of those hidden keys or whatever?” You suggest, squatting down to look closer at the welcome mat.

“Oh shit, you’re right,” Nat says wryly. “I found it.” You grin widely as you stand back up, backing up so she can unlock the door. Your eyes widen in horror as Nat smashes the glass of the front door with a heavy-looking rock she found on the ground. You stare down at the rock on the floor of Lottie’s living room in disbelief, slowly turning your head to look at Nat. Nat shrugs, looking proud of her little joke, as she carefully reaches through the newly installed hole in the door to unlock it from the inside. The two of you step over broken glass as you trudge your way up the stairs, heart jumping further and further up your throat the longer your presence goes without answer.

You step into Lottie’s room behind Nat, finding it just as empty as the rest of the house. “Maybe she just went out?” Nat suggests, seeming as if she doesn’t believe it herself.

“She always gives her driver Christmas off.” You say anxiously

“Maybe she walked?”

“Without her shoes?” You gesture to Lottie’s favorite pair of shoes lying by the door. “Without her purse?”

Nat nods stiffly as she dumps Lottie’s purse out on the bed, riffling through the contents hoping to find something indicating her location. You exit Lottie’s room and check the rest of her house as quickly as you can, still finding no sign of her. You catch Nat waiting for you outside of the room, staring anxiously at you as you shake your head. The lack of Lottie’s presence combined with the panicked phone call you received the other day paints a disturbing picture. Judging by the look of concern on Nat’s face you can tell she feels the same.

You quickly make your way back downstairs, making a beeline for the phone as you race to call the police. You tell the story to the officer, taking great care to leave the breaking and entering out much to Nat’s quiet amusement. There’s a long moment of silence after you finish and you hear the officer take in a shaky breath as he says, “Are you sure she didn’t just run away? She’s an adult, you know.” You scoff, immediately drawing Nat’s attention as she leans in closer trying to listen in.

“Lottie wouldn’t just run away like that, especially after that phone call she made.” You immediately refute, not even humoring the idea. Nat starts to nod in agreement, wincing halfway through as she realizes he can’t actually see her.

“Look.” He says, voice sounding annoyed. “There’s nothing we can do until she's gone 48 hours, and you're going to have a hell of a time getting someone to come out there on Christmas to look for her.” You’re almost positive he had more to say, but you slam the phone back down on the receiver so hard you're surprised it didn’t crack. You look over at Nat teary-eyed as you try pointlessly to blink away your tears. She instinctively draws you into her arms, wrapping them tightly around you just like she always has. You freeze in her arms, not having the luxury of muscle memory to explain it away. You bury your head in her shoulder anyway, soaking up any comfort offered to you in your moment of need.

Nat tenses up as she becomes aware of her position, but she still holds you tightly until you get yourself calm again. You clear your throat as you pull away from her, wiping the lingering tears away with your hand. Nat shifts her weight from foot to foot as she looks anywhere in the room but directly at you. You can’t help but laugh at the pure awkwardness of the situation, and Nat quickly joins you. When your laughter finally dies off the two of you share a look as you seem to come to a mutual agreement. If they wouldn’t look for Lottie, it seems that you’d have to do it yourselves.

…

December 27th, 1992

You’d rushed your mom into going to pick Nat up the second your extended family fucked back off to their own houses, feeling like you were going through withdrawal from not seeing your best friend for so long. Nat had come running down the street to meet you, equally as excited to see you. She’s been enraptured by your new gameboy and you were all too happy to let her play around with it. Nat lies back on your bed focusing intently as she frantically presses buttons. You sit next to her watching fondly as she gets her ass kicked at Tetris again. “Fuck!” She curses, a moody look on her face as she sets it down on the nightstand. Your face twitches in amusement trying desperately not to laugh, but Nat gives you a dirty look anyway as she crosses her arms over her chest.

You reach over her to grab it off the nightstand, giving her a smug look as you turn it back on. “I’ll show you a master at work.” You tease. Nat scoffs but dutifully looks over your shoulder as you play. Her mood gets more and more sour the longer you play as you blow her score out of the water. She puts her hand on your leg to support her weight as she leans closer to watch the small screen more carefully. You tense slightly as you try to pretend it doesn’t make you nervous that she’s close enough that you can almost feel her breath against you. You weren’t sure when you’d developed a crush on your best friend, but you desperately wished it would stop. The two of you had only gotten closer since high school had started a few months ago and your weird responses to Nat were only getting more noticeable as time went on.

You nearly breathe a sigh of relief as you finally reach the cap of your skill level and lose the game. Nat hums as she leans back away from you, crossing her legs underneath herself as she looks at you. “You’ve had more practice.” She accuses, ever the sore loser. You shrug in acceptance even though you haven’t actually started this game yet, being much more concerned with playing Super Mario Land. What Nat didn’t know certainly wouldn’t hurt you.

“If you say so, Natty.” You grin in anticipation, knowing what’s coming.

“Don’t call me that!” She grumbles immediately as she gives you a weak glare.

“Since when are you too cool to be my Natty?” You tease. Nat flushes slightly, pale cheeks going bright red as she turns away from you. One of your favorite things about Nat was the way she would blush to her ears at the slightest embarrassment, though you figured she probably couldn’t help it.

“Shut up.” She mutters. You concede easily as you start a new game. Nat glances up at sees you’re playing again.

“You’ve had enough practice,” Nat complains, reaching to grab it out of your hand. You move it further out of her reach as you grin playfully at her. You’ve lost interest in the game itself, much more interested in her desire to play it herself. You wiggle it just out of her reach as you taunt her with it. She scoffs and lunges at you so fast that she reaches you before you even realize she’s moved. Nat catches you by surprise as she overshoots and sends the both of you sprawling to the ground.

You groan breathlessly as the fall knocks the air out of your lungs. Nat hisses in pain as she rubs at her knee that she banged against the ground. As you catch your breath your eyes go wide as you realize the position you’ve found yourselves in. Nat lies fully on top of you with her arm still stretched fruitlessly out over your shoulder. You’ve got one hand trapped between the two of you, and the other stretched up still keeping the Gameboy out of her reach. Nat groans as she slowly shifts up to her knees, leaving her straddling you. Your breath gets caught in your throat for a different reason as you look up at her, Gameboy more than forgotten.

Nat’s got a strange look on her face as she looks down at you, her eyes fixating on your lips. 

“Hey.” She murmurs shyly, trying to gauge your mood.

“Hey.” You murmur back, slowly raising your now-freed hand to her cheek. She gives you a crooked grin as she leans down to kiss you for the first time, but certainly not the last.

…

December 24th, 1996. 

The longer you’ve been driving around town the more you realize just how much of Wiskayok reminds you of Nat. There’s nowhere you’ve looked for Lottie that you don’t associate with memories of Nat, no matter how weak the connection may be. With a town this small it’s hard to escape from anyone no matter how much you want to. During the awful few weeks between when you and Nat broke up and when you left for college, you found yourself almost haunted by the sheer amount of memories you were unable to separate her from. It almost makes you feel a little bad for her, knowing she has to live in them all the time.

As you pull up to the stop sign you can’t help but grin at the site of the old playground. Nat smiles slightly at the sight, turning her head to better get a look at it. It hasn’t aged well, the dilapidated wood and peeling paint not doing it any favors, but that’s not the important part. This mess of rotting wood and rusted swings holds some of your fondest memories, all of them involving Nat. “Do you remember,” You start, but Nat soon interrupts.

“The time when we pushed Jackie down the slide when she wasn’t ready?” She says with a wide grin.

You laugh loudly at the memory, nodding in agreement. “We had to spend the rest of recess running away from Shauna.” You reminisce fondly.

“God, she was fucking fast.” Nat comments.

“She was Princess Jackie’s loyal defender. No one could doubt her prowess.” You add, knowing it would get under Nat’s skin. Nat had always loved pretending to be Princess Lottie’s knight as a kid, always dragging you into it even though you’d rather be on the swings. Lottie and Jackie would sit up on the swings watching the rest of you duke it out for their amusement. Nat and Shauna had often gotten into mock battles as kids that Nat always seemed to lose by herself, no matter how hard she tried. Eventually, she always dragged you into it so she could win, uncaring of the way Shauna and Jackie would accuse her of cheating. Nat wasn’t one to play fairly as a kid, even if she later grew out of it.

Nat scoffs, turning fully in her seat to face you again. You turn your blinker on innocently, watching her fume out of the corner of your eye as you finally let your foot off the break. “Just because she was willing to bite people doesn’t mean she was a better knight than me.” Nat defends with just a hint of a pout. “She was ruthless.”

“Of course. Could you find it in your heart to forgive me Sir Scatorccio?” You tease. Nat grins, chest puffing up in an imitation of pride.

“Don’t doubt me again.” She warns playfully. 

You pull into the gas station to fill up your car, finally coming to the bright idea of trying to call any of Lottie’s other friends to see if she was with any of them. You fiddle with your loose chain for a minute, pulling out a handful of quarters as you head to the phone booth. Nat looks slightly impressed at the idea, following you over and leaning against the wall next to you as you begin dialing.

You roll your eyes as Nat's shivers start turning into shaking as she stubbornly crosses her arms against the cold. You shift your shoulder up to keep the phone pressed against your ear as you start rummaging around your pocket for your keys. Your fingers are numb enough that you nearly drop them as you get them out, flailing slightly with your hands as you finally manage to get a grip on them. You hold them out to Nat by your car key and point her toward the backseat. She gives you a confused look as she mouths the word what, careful not to interrupt your conversation. 

You cross your arms over your chest as you mimic being cold, and point back at your car. Her eyes widen slightly as she looks over, slowly walking up to the car and looking in the backseat. She gives you an unreadable look as she pulls out her favorite of your jackets and slips it over her shoulders; The jacket you always kept in the backseat for her because she constantly forgot to bring a thicker one. Nat zips it up as she leans against the car with her arms crossed against her chest. She doesn’t say anything, but you know her well enough to know by the small twitch of her lips that she’s a little pleased it’s still there. You turn further into the phone booth to hide a grin of your own, though it slowly falls as Shauna confirms that she and Jackie hadn’t seen Lottie either. 

You hang up the phone as you turn to face Nat, slowly shaking your head as you walk over. Nat’s face falls, a slightly stricken look taking its place. You’ve called basically everyone that Lottie knows, and still nothing. Honestly, you were starting to give up hope that you’d be able to find Lottie anytime by yourselves but you weren’t quite ready to admit it yet. “What now?” You ask Nat. She shrugs, pulling the jacket tighter around her. “We could try driving around, I guess?” You prompt, but she just shrugs again.

You scoff as you run your fingers frustratedly through your hair. “Nothing to say, Nat? That seems to be a common problem.” You accuse.

She scoffs as she pushes herself off the car to get in your face. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Y/N?” Nat asks gruffly.

You stare her down unafraid: Nat was generally all talk as far as you were concerned. “Just that your inability to communicate hasn’t changed while I was gone.” You knew damn well that you were blowing her little shrug out of proportion, but you’d been holding on to this anger longer than you’d care to admit.

“You seriously want to do this right now?” She asks, throwing her arms out dramatically to gesture around.

“When else are we going to do it, Nat? Why won’t you ever just fucking talk to me?” You spit out frustratedly. The two of you stare each other down for a long moment before Nat seems to deflate. She turns away and storms off to the car, sitting down and slamming the door behind her.

You take a minute to calm down before climbing back in the car yourself. You start the car without even looking at her, knowing you’d only make yourself angry again. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Nat says quietly.

“Sure. Whatever.” You say simply, pulling out of the gas station as you get back to looking for Lottie. You hope you find her soon: both because you’re worried about her, and so you can get away from Nat once and for all. If she wanted to be stubborn she could be stubborn, you were sick and tired of trying to reach out to her only to get shot down. If she wants to be miserable and alone so badly, who are you to stop her? You fume in silence.

…

June 18th, 1996

Your smile is a little strained as you walk up to your girlfriend, a little hesitant about what her mood is going to be like. You weren’t sure what was up with Nat recently, but she’d really been worrying you. Her mood was prone to change on a dime and she was more emotional than you’ve ever seen her. The closer you got to her the more sour her expression looked. Fucking great, You thought wryly. You held her cup out for her and she accepts it without comment, throwing her head back and drinking it in one gulp. Your eyes widen as you slowly sip at your own drink, taking your place leaning against the tree next to her as you watch the rest of the party.

Neither of you had really wanted to come out to the party tonight, but you knew that Lottie’s graduation party was one of the last times you and your friends would all be in the same place at the same time. Normally you’d just assume not wanting to be here is what has her so annoyed, but she had seemed perfectly happy when she was talking to Lottie earlier. You haven’t much liked how insecure Nat was making you feel lately, but you were going to wait until things calmed down a bit to bring it up. There was so much going on with school ending that you haven’t had the chance to bring it up.

You tentatively lean your head against Nat’s shoulder, feeling the way her body tenses underneath you. You sigh quietly as you decide to leave Nat to her own brooding, pushing off the tree as you begin to walk away. She stops you in your tracks with a hand wrapped loosely around your wrist, gently spinning you around. 

“We need to talk,” Nat says seriously, an unreadable expression on her face. You glance around the party to make sure no one’s close enough to hear you before you respond.

“You want to do it here?” You ask in disbelief. Nat shrugs, fingertips tapping rhythmlessly against her cup. “Fine, Nat. I don’t like how distant you’ve been lately.” You say firmly, still questioning Nat’s decision to hash this out in the middle of the party. She scoffs derisively.

“I haven’t been distant.” Nat refutes, “You’ve just been so fucking clingy.” Your eyes go wide in shock. Never in your entire life has Nat spoken to you like this.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” You ask in disbelief, your voice getting louder with each word until you're practically yelling at her. You can tell the parties almost come to a stop around you but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“I said,” Nat continues as her voice rises to meet yours, “That you’ve been all over me recently! You won’t even let me breathe without commenting on it.” As angry as you are you can’t help but glance nervously around the party as the comment gets a little too close to revealing the nature of your relationship. Lottie seems to be corralling everyone into the house and smiles awkwardly when you give her a grateful look.

“Don’t act like I’m being crazy, Nat! You’ve been pulling away from me and you know it!” You accuse pointedly.

“Maybe I’m just getting tired of doing the same old thing all the time!” Nat yells back.

“Oh? Am I boring you now?” You ask mockingly. “Poor Natty and her boring little girlfriend, huh?”

“We’ve been doing the same damn thing since we were kids! You can’t tell me it isn’t getting old!” Nat shoots back.

Your face falls as you stare back at her with an undeniably hurt look on your face. “Getting old?” You ask quietly as if you’d lost all of the fire you’d had a minute ago with just one remark. Nat nods solemnly, looking down at the floor so that she doesn’t have to look you in the eyes.

“I think we should break up.” Nat rushes out as if she’s ripping a bandaid off.

“Break up?” You ask quietly, almost in disbelief.

“We’ve been growing apart,” Nat says simply as if that’s the only reason she needs to break up your four-year relationship. As if that’s the only reason she needs to walk away from your 10-year-old friendship.

“We’re different people. We grow apart all the time Nat, but we always come back together. That’s what we do.” You can barely get it out, so desperate that it verges on a whisper.

“Not this time,” Nat says sadly, shaking her head.

You focus on her chipped black nail polish as you try not to cry. You’d done it for her, you always have ever since you were kids; Nat never had the patience to do it herself, always getting nail polish all over her fingers as she impatiently tried to rush through it. You still remember the first time she’d asked fondly, Nat sheepishly handing you the bottle of dime-store black nail polish you’d picked up for her. It's been a while since she asked you to do it, but you don’t think you were truly aware of just how long it’s been until now. You wonder how long she’s been planning on breaking up with you; Was she thinking about how to let you down easy while you were scheming on how to sneak her into your dorm room? Was she grinning along at your idea of regularly scheduled calls while knowing in the back of her mind that she'd never make them? 

You think the worst part is the premeditation of it all. Had she just sprung it on you that would be one thing, but it's clear from her moods and the way she's speaking that she's been practicing this conversation. It stings more than you thought it would, not that you'd ever imagined the two of you breaking up. Nat was your person, she always has been ever since you moved here. You barely remember a time before her, and now you're going to have to live without her?

“Fuck you.” You choke out, turning around and storming off deeper into the party as you try to wipe away your tears. You miss the way Nat’s hand twitches after you as if she's resisting the urge to stop you. You never see the look of regret on Nat’s face that remains long after you disappear from view.

…

December 24th, 1996. 

Your bad mood lasts long after the moment passes, still looking around as you drive off to the last place you can think of that Lottie might go to. Misty was the only one who hadn’t answered the phone, and while you're doubtful that Lottie would go there willingly you still hoped that at the very least Misty would be able to help you find her. Misty always seemed to know things that everyone else didn’t, even when you were children.

The two of you drive in a slightly uncomfortable silence broken only by the sound of your blinker as you navigate your way across town. The longer you drive the more you notice the way Nat’s eyes always seem to dart away just as you have to look in her direction. Her gaze is a little unnerving now, even if it never used to be. “What is it?” You ask finally, growing tired of her little game.

“What are you talking about?” Nat deflects immediately, too soon to be anything but suspicious. You sigh, pulling your car off to the side of the road as you decide to confront her.

“You’re staring.” You accuse gently, giving Nat a curious look.

“So what? You look nice.” She admits with a shrug as if it isn’t a big deal. You can’t help but grow a little angry at the admission, your face twisting as a result of your mood. Nat’s eyes widen as she tries to mentally review what she could have done to upset you.

“I look nice?” You ask dangerously. Nat nods unsurely, feeling like she’s walking into a trap. “You like my outfit?” Nat nods again, fingers tapping anxiously against her thighs. “You don’t think it’s too boring?” Nat winces at the reminder, immediately turning to look out the window as she finds herself unable to meet your eyes. You scoff at the uncharacteristic display of cowardice. You aren’t sure what changed with Nat, but you desperately wished she’d get over it. You’d forgive her in a second if she just bothered to ask you for it.

“I don’t think you’re boring,” Nat says, leaning her head against the window as she looks at you.

“Change your mind so soon? It seemed pretty important a few months ago.” You remark bitterly, stuffing your hands in your pockets in an attempt to fight the cold creeping in.

“Well you’re so worldly now, aren’t you?” Nat jokes weakly, “With your college education and your cool new friends.”

You give Nat a weird look. “I’ve been at college for one semester, Nat.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure you’ve got those college girls lined up down the hall right?” Nat says with a strained smile. You shrug listlessly.

“Haven’t really been interested in dating.” 

Nat’s fingers clench into a fist as she stares down at her lap. “You haven’t… Haven’t wanted to be with anyone else?”

You sigh. “Not really, Nat. They’re not…” You trail off as you try to search for the right words, but can’t seem to find any that fit. “They’re not what I want.” You say finally.

Nat inhales sharply at the admission, looking strangely angry as she stares up at you. “No one? No one at all?” She asks.

“What are you going on about?” You ask her annoyedly. “It’s not like it’s any of your business, Nat. Not anymore.”

Nat deflates at the comment, hands unclenching as she leans back in her seat. She looks devastated as she stares over at you, seemingly lost in a way that you haven’t seen since her dad died. “It was for nothing, then?” She asks, quiet enough that you don’t think you were supposed to hear her.

“What was?”

“I didn’t want to hold you back,” Nat admits quietly. You stare at her in shock as you contemplate what she’s just said. Out of all the self-sacrificing bullshit she could have pulled, this is what she decided on? You’d be angrier if it didn’t make you so fucking sad at the thought of it; Leave it to Nat to break both of your hearts because she was being self-deprecating again.

“You broke up with me to do me a favor? Is that it?” You demand bitterly.

“You're leaving this fucking town, Y/N. You didn’t need me to drag you down with me.” You roll your eyes at her excuse– because that’s all it was, an excuse. Not even a particularly good one, certainly not the truth.

“Since when do we lie to each other, Nat? You started at the party and can't seem to bring yourself to stop can you?” You accuse.

Nat mirrors your look of anger as she stares you down in return. Nat was always too stubborn for her own good, always getting herself into trouble because of it. The longer you sit in heated silence the more Nat seems to calm down, until finally she sighs as she looks at you defeatedly. 

“What was I supposed to offer you?” She asks softly.

You give her a questioning look as you feel like you’re finally making some progress, eyes widening at the sight of tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. She clears her throat pointedly as she wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand in an attempt to erase the evidence of her outburst. “You were going across the state to all those smart girls that you can talk nerd shit to.” She offers weakly, “I was afraid you were leaving me behind.”

“You were afraid I was going to break up with you, so you broke up with me first?” You ask in confusion.

“I didn’t think you’d break up with me.” She admits. “I was worried you’d resent me for it.”

“Why didn’t you just talk to me about it, Natty? Like adults?”

She laughs wetly, giving you a wry grin. “I wasn’t exactly self-aware about it when I did it. Honestly, Lottie was the one who told me about it.” You snicker, running your hand through your hair as you look at her fondly.

“Lottie does seem to have a sixth sense for these kinds of things.” You admit with a small smile. You stare at her for a long moment as you consider it in your head. Nat hurt you pretty bad, but she’s always been bad with her emotions. You don’t think she meant to be as malicious as she was, but the fact of the matter is that it still happened. “I need you to say it.”

She tilts her head in confusion before her eyes widen in realization. “Oh.” She murmurs quietly, sitting up straight as she gives you her full attention. “I was being stupid, and I’m really sorry about it.”

You hum teasingly, tilting your head to the side with a playful grin on your face. “I don’t think I’m feeling it.” You say.

Nat smirks as she holds her hands together in front of her as if she was begging. “Please, oh please could you ever find it in yourself to forgive me?” She pleads, sticking her lip out in an exaggerated pout. She’s playing along because you want her to, but you can see how relieved she looks. You sigh dramatically, never able to resist matching her energy.

“I think I just might.” You say, serious even in your playful tone. Nat nods, ever-present smirk never leaving her face for a second. You watch as her eyes slowly lower to your lips, tilting her head in question.

You lean in close to her so that your lips are just centimeters apart. “We should talk some more, later.” You murmur seriously. She hums in acknowledgment and you finally allow yourself to close the distance, meeting her in a gentle kiss. You’ve missed the way she felt, the way her lips moved against you. You pull back to speak again, but Nat just follows along as she refuses to let you break away from her again. She’s nearly straddling you as she leans over the center console, stretching unsteadily to reach you as you keep backing your head up. You wince as you smack your head against the window, Nat finally pulling away to laugh at your expense. You mock her laugh in a high-pitched voice which only serves to set her off further. You roll your eyes at the sight, but can’t help the warm feelings it brings. Maybe there was such a thing as 

Christmas magic, but then again it was still the 24th.

Oh shit. You think. You smack Nat gently on the arm. She rubs at it exaggeratedly as she gives you an offended look.

“Lottie.” You remind her.

“Oh shit,” Nat exclaims, pulling away so she can put her seatbelt back on. “Here’s hoping Quigley has the answer.” She mutters, not sounding excited in the slightest.

…

December 24th, 1996. 

You stand with Nat outside of Misty’s door as both of you trade imploring looks back and forth trying to get the other to knock. You’d usually bring out old reliable by now, rock paper scissors, but neither of you was willing to let go of the other’s hand to do it. Nat finally seems to give in, rolling her eyes as she raises her free hand to knock, but the door swings open before her fist can meet the wood to reveal Misty’s wild smile.

“Hi, guys!” Misty greets happily, gasping in excitement as her eyes land on your interlocked hands. She claps her hands together excitedly as she invites you in. “I’m so glad that you’ve gotten back together!” 

You and Nat exchange slightly panicked looks as it wasn’t exactly common knowledge. You look wide-eyed at Misty and she seems to catch on to this. “Oh,” Misty says with a touch of awkwardness, pushing her glasses further up her nose. “You notice a lot of things as the equipment manager.” She nods as if that’s a super obvious and normal thing to say as she leads you further into her house. You nod unsurely in agreement, utterly unconvinced but not wanting to further push the issue when you need her help. You like Misty well enough, but she has a troubling habit of knowing things about you that you don’t necessarily want her to. Still, you figure that there’s no one better to go to in a crisis.

“Thanks for inviting us in, Misty. We just wanted to know if you know anything-” You start, but are quickly interrupted by Nat.

“Holy shit!” Nat exclaims, pointing at the couch. You stare dumbfounded at a bound Lottie sitting on the couch. Her hands are tied in front of her with a tie as she sips at a mug of hot chocolate. Lottie raises one of her hands slightly in greeting as she shoots Misty a supremely annoyed look. “What the fuck?” Nat asks.

You let go of Nat’s hands as you try to free Lottie but find yourself unable to untie the knot. You look back at Misty who grins over at you. “Oh.” Misty murmurs, walking over and untying Lottie in one quick movement. You watch the tie slide loosely down Lottie’s arms, still not entirely sure how Misty untied it in the first place. Nat walks over to stand behind you, shooing Misty away. Misty makes an offended noise as she starts protesting but you’ve decided to ignore it as you look down at Lottie.

“Were you in on it?” You ask in concern. Lottie shakes her head, shooting an annoyed glare at a still protesting Misty.

“Do you seriously need to ask that?” Lottie asks, rolling her eyes. “She showed up at my house and the next thing I know I’m tied up in her house.” You eye Misty wearily as Nat still fights off her attempts to talk to either of you.

“Let’s just go home,” Lottie says, slightly pleading as she rubs at her wrists. She doesn’t seem all that worse for wear, more annoyed than anything at the ordeal.

“Shouldn’t we like… Call the cops or something?” You ask unsurely. Lottie raises an eyebrow in question as she looks at you.

“And tell them what? She fed me three meals a day and hasn’t left a mark on me. As far as the cops are concerned we could have been having a sleepover.” Lottie remarks, glancing back over at Misty.

Nat’s looking back and forth between Lottie and Misty with a look of disbelief on her face. “Are we seriously jus-” She starts.

“Yes,” Lottie says, setting her mug on the table and standing up. Misty sitting down on the couch opposite you after she gave up on trying to get past Nat. She looks frustrated as she looks between the three of you as if she doesn’t understand why you could possibly be upset with her.

“I was helping you!” Misty defends. “I brought you back together!” Misty pouts slightly as she looks at you.

You open your mouth to speak, unsure of what you could even say at this moment but Nat beats you to it.

“Thanks, Misty,” Nat says sarcastically, giving her a little wave. The two of you follow Lottie out the door, relieved to finally get out of there.

“Are you like… good?” Nat asks Lottie in concern. “I could still go back in there.”

Lottie sighs as she slumps back against your car. “It was fine, I guess. As far as kidnappings go.” She pauses as if deep in thought. “She just kept playing movie musicals.” She shivers in horror, glancing up at Misty’s house in remembered terror. Nat pats her shoulder sympathetically, also shivering in horror at the thought. You watch the scene in silent disbelief, shaking your head as you unlock the doors to your car. 

“What took you guys so long, anyway?” Lottie asks curiously as she buckles her seatbelt. You meet Nat’s eyes in the rearview mirror, both of you looking guilty and slightly panicked. Lottie takes one look at the two of you and gasps in offense.

“You stopped to make out while I was missing?” She scoffs but looks slightly amused anyway as she shakes her head. 

The drive to Lottie’s house is mostly spent in silence as she stares contemplatively out the window. You and Nat keep exchanging teasing glances in the rearview mirror and you're almost positive she’s coming home with you later. You pull into Lottie’s driveway to let her out but suddenly remember that you’ve busted her door. “Uh, Lottie.” You start, pointing at the door. “We kind of br-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lottie mutters, pinching at the bridge of her nose. She turns to look at you looking uncharacteristically small in your passenger seat. “Would you spend the night?” She asks quietly. Your face falls slightly at the question but you immediately acquiesce. You and Nat could always hang out another time, you suppose. 

Lottie grins as she opens the car door. “It’s a big house, don’t let me get in your way. Just wait till I’m asleep, yeah? The least you could do for busting my door.” Nat scoffs and immediately starts arguing the necessity of it as you walk up the steps to her front door. 

You’ve missed this. 

…

December 25th, 1996. 

“It’s finally snowing.” You murmur as you turn your head to stare out the window.

“Yeah?” Nat asks quietly against your neck, the feeling of her hot breath making you shiver. She shifts against you to prop herself up on her elbow as she peers out the window over your body. “About time.” She says.

She looks you up and down with a smug grin making you roll your eyes. “Again?” You ask fondly.

She shrugs, incorrigible as always. “It’s been a while.” Nat teases. “Won’t you warm me up?”

“You’d be warmer if you put your clothes back on.” You point out playfully but lean in to kiss her anyway.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Do-Over-December 11th. Billy Loomis X Stu Macher X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Candy Cane. Poly!Ghostface. "Candied Glass."

Hello, hello, hello! We are back on track and tryna stick to it! Poly!Ghostface Christmas fuckery! I hope you all enjoy this and missed this as much as I have! Onwards with re-doing Kinky December! Not much else to say but let's goooo-

---

Rating. Explict. Length. 2.7K (Old Length. 2.4K.) Warnings. Light Holiday Fluff. Masturbation. Sex Toys. Dirty Talk. Exhibitionism. Light Tempature Play. Impatiant Boys. Cunnilingus. Dirty Pictures.

---

It’s mid-December and the holiday break is about to be upon the college campus you attended. It was your first winter break with your boyfriends Billy and Stu, you had gotten together with them last spring and things had honestly been going pretty good.

Okay, okay, better than pretty good, it’s been amazing. Billy and Stu had already been together prior to you coming into the picture. You all started off as friends, and you’d developed a serious crush on them, but you didn’t do anything about it, scared to make any kind of move because they were already with each other.

It had all the hallmarks of an all consuming crush, musing and daydreaming about what could be, desperate to spend any time you could with them. Said extreme longing was not helped by the fact that they returned those lingering looks and fleeting touches that had you questioning if they were into you too, but you pushed those feelings down. 

You seriously tried not to look too deeply into it when they were nice, like when Stu offered to buy your textbook for a class you needed. You had protested, but Stu gave you a shrug and a wink as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, saying, “Don’t worry about it.”

Or when Billy remembered your coffee order and brought you one to your shared class one morning when he knew you had a rough late night the day before trying to finish an essay. It went on like that for a couple of months but one night after a party, the three of you were hanging out in their apartment, all still kinda drunk and sitting around, a quiet moment broken when Stu spoke up, “You know we are into polyamory right?”

And just like that, the rest was history. You started dating them, and it had been pretty fucking great thus far. With the break about to kick off it meant some time apart, you’d met them at school and were from a different town than them, you all have plans to return to your respective families for the holidays. 

You wished you three could have spent it together, but it wasn’t possible with how far away your hometown was away from theirs. So instead, the three of you were having a small celebration, to do your gift exchange before the real holidays hit.

You three had all night to spend together, and so far you had watched a couple of movies, had some dinner and were currently deep in opening gifts. You were college students and set a budget but Stu, with all of his parent's money at his disposal, he totally went over the limit to spoil Billy and you. Mostly you because Billy had already had the talk numerous times throughout their friendship/relationship to quote- “Fucking knock it off, man.”

So Stu still did spoil him, but not as much as he used to. 

Spoiling you was new and exciting and fun. He loved how flustered you got, unused to such attention. He had gotten you a new coat you had been looking at but deemed too expensive previously you were going to stick it out, but Stu said fuck that, it’s winter, you deserve a good coat. Stu also got you the newest book in a series you enjoyed, and some new headphones and a few other things. Billy had gotten you one of those giant three wick candles in one of your favourite scents and a sweater that he admitted Stu helped pick out, but he bought. 

You loved all of it. 

You had pulled the sweater on and were just thinking about getting the dessert you had made for the three of you to share when Stu pulled out another gift, and you rolled your eyes as you chided him, tone flat, “Stu. Another?”

“Last one! I promise!” He said, holding one hand up as the other held onto the gift. Billy looked over and smirked, pointing at the package as he asked, “Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?”

Stu’s smile widened, and he wiggled his eyebrows in that way that made you snicker as he replied to Billy, “You know it!”

He handed you the package, and you placed it in your lap as you inquired, “Billy in on this one?”

“To be fair, I was in on all of them.” Of course, they conspired against you, but to be fair, you did the exact same thing, telling Billy what you got for Stu and vice versa. You just wanted to make sure you didn’t get the same thing and make sure your gifts were good enough. 

“Why am I not surprised?” You finally set to open the present, tearing at the paper apart, letting the shreds fall onto the hardwood floor with the rest, the torn wrapping was about ankle deep around the couch where the three of you were sitting. 

You opened the box and couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you serious?”

See, you had wanted something like this. You had never owned any sex toys previously and had expressed interest in getting some now that you were out of your parent's house and away at college you wouldn’t have to worry about them finding them, and you had the privacy and space to use them comfortably. It was a very thoughtful gift, but you weren’t expecting this to be what he went with. 

You reached into the box and lifted out the toy and held it up. It is a glass dildo, smooth and weighty and in the shape of a candy cane, and striped like one to boot. Billy was laughing a little behind his hand, and Stu managed to hold back his laughter, but only barely. Stu hit Billy on the leg, and he nodded once before clearing his throat and putting on a more serious look as he asked, tone surprisingly even, “What, you don’t like it, baby?”

They shared a look, and you smirked and turned it over in your hands, and Stu said, “Yeah. It’s appropriate, don’t you think?”

You nodded with your lips pursed and looked Stu in the eyes as you said in your own serious tone, “I’ll give you this much, Stu.” You pointed at him with the end of the dildo as you finished your thought, “-It’s very festive.”

That did it, and the three of you broke down laughing. You laughed too much and too long, but when you all stopped you were in the middle of your boys, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders and hugging them, “Thank you for the gifts, boys. I love them.”

The rest of the night continued on, the boys loved their gifts just as much, dessert was shared, and you all talked about what your plans over the holidays were. You were going to miss them so much, and they were going to miss you too, but you were still planning on spending the night tonight, then going off back home tomorrow. 

You ended up in bed with them, of course. Two weeks apart would be bad enough as it was, you needed to try and get your fill of them tonight. You were sitting on Billy’s lap, his back was to the headboard of the bed, and you were currently in deep and lost making out with him, his hands roaming on your clothed form. You felt the mattress dip behind you, feeling Stu get onto the bed, one of his hands on your hip and his other hand coming up to cup your cheek, “Got started without me?”

And with a hum you pulled back breaking the kiss with Billy and reached back, fingers finding Stu’s short hair and looking up at him,“You were taking so long, it’s not my fault Billy has no patience.” 

Billy rolled his eyes, the action is playful, head tilting back as he says, “C’mon, you see her man, how am I supposed to have her in bed and not do something.”

Stu’s hand under your chin and tilting your head up at a more aggressive angle, “Very true, impossible to resist.” 

Then he was pulling you into a kiss of his own, you kissed him back easily and Billy had leaned forward now, his mouth on your neck and fuck this was the best. Three of you taking turns and hands all over each other, it always heated up so quickly. Sometimes it was hard to keep track of whose hands or mouth were where, but you weren’t about to complain about getting so much attention when it felt this good. 

Fingers started to explore further and breathing was picking up. It felt way too hot for your sweater soon and Billy was helping you take it off and threw it aside, and you started to help him with his shirt, Stu was still pressed to you, and he whispered in your ear, “We got a little something in mind for you baby.”

Stu’s hands were pulling your shirt up, and you let him help you take it off, his hands were on your breasts, groping at you through your bra and you hummed questioningly,

“Mmmhmm?” You hummed questioningly, and he said, “Yeah, somethin’ we want to see you do.”

You were already so turned on that you were down for basically anything, “What is it?”

A look shared between the two of them, and they knew by how you responded that you were in the right mood to be open with them. Stu wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up a few inches, you let him and assisted, standing up on your knees as Billy took to removing your skirt. Then you were just in your panties and Stu had removed your bra as Billy moved out of the way, and you were put in his place, leaning against the pillows and headboard. Stu had his hands behind his back and after a moment he showed you what he was holding and-

It was that same present as before, you snickered and asked as your gaze ran over the glass candy cane in his hand, and you deadpanned,“Seriously?”

Billy ran his fingers through his hair before moving closer and leaning over you, one of Stu’s hands lands on your thigh, spreading your legs and Billy, much closer to you now, was looking into your eyes as he said, “Seriously. We think it’d be hot to watch you use it on yourself for us.”

Just like that, you were in. You would do just about anything for either of them solo, but having both of them wanting something from you? No way could you say no. 

You nodded once and the toy was placed in your hand and the boys backed off a bit, getting comfortable on the end of the bed, and you settled in. You weren’t sure how to start, you hadn’t used toys before at all, let alone one made of glass. It seemed sturdy, good quality, you turn it over in your hand as you looked at them and bit your bottom lip, they were watching you. As the thought and the situation fully washed over you, this was hot, you were much more into this idea than you thought. You’d done a lot with them, but certainly had not done a dedicated time masturbating in front of them. This was something special, it could be another gift of sorts, a new experience, new memories foraged with them.

Why not put on a show?

You started simply, pressing the toy to your damp panties and sliding it up and down, a slow tease for them and you. Sliding up and down, more pressure, focusing on your clit a bit more with each pass, and it was starting to feel pretty good, hips tilting up more into the cool sensation of the toy. 

All too soon you wanted more, and your fingers hooked in the crotch of your panties, you pulled them aside, bringing the toy down and touching it to your soaked flesh. You weren’t expecting it to be so cold, you shivered a little. 

“That good?” Stu inquired, brows raised and Billy was smirking, arm thrown around Stu’s shoulders, and he asked teasingly, “Yeah? You’re shaking already.”

“ ‘M fine, it’s just cold.” It’s a half lie as you slide the toy up and down a few more times before finally dipping inside yourself and oh-

Oh, fuck.

You didn’t expect that at all.

How good the difference in temperature felt. You were burning hot and the toy being so cold gave such a unique sensation, you slide the toy in as far as it would go, holding onto the hooked end with one hand. It slid in so easily. Another thing you didn’t plan on was how little lube it needed, the glass was so smooth, no ridges, it glides in and out with very minimal effort. 

It was unrelenting as you clenched on it, no give to it at all, that was something you weren’t used to either. Okay you got it, from just a minute of pushing it in and pulling it back out, thrusting back and forth experimentally you understood the appeal. You wouldn’t need to play this up much at all, it felt good, damn good. 

You vocalized it, soft moans crossing your lips, head falling back onto the pillows as you played, thighs spreading wider, you tilted the toy and brushed that spot inside just right and gasped. 

“Ah! Oh, fuc- that’s good.”

You needed your underwear gone, toy leaving you for only a moment, holding it in one hand you arched your hips and the other hand slid down and set to removing your panties, you pulled them off and with a coy smile you tossed them to the boys. Stu caught them, both looked very amused and seemed to be enjoying the show immensely. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it yourself, ass touching back down on the sheets you slipped the toy back in and resumed a steady pace, eyes rolling back as you did, my God this was fun. Having them watch you, doing this so close to them, finding pleasure in yourself and them enjoying every second of seeing you get off. 

A hand met your ankle, and you looked down to see Billy getting between your legs, “Apparently cold is good.”

Apparently he was still impatient.

You nodded once, a harder thrust, and you moaned again, Billy’s hand slid up your leg and over your thigh and his hand nudged yours. You got the hint, moving your hand away, he leaned in close, his tongue ran over your clit and that your back arched. The cold glass, his hot breath and even hotter mouth around your straining clit, it was so much to handle. He had been paying good attention, he angled the toy just right to hit that sweet spot, and you were unable to stop the loud moan that left your mouth. 

Stu had moved up to be closer to you again, and he was kissing you and one of his hands was on your breasts and teasing one of your nipples and oh my God. You might have been laughing when you first opened up that present and laid your eyes on that toy, but you sure as shit weren’t laughing now. 

The rest of the night was amazing and needed. The three of you, all entangled together, soaking up every second you could because you knew that you wouldn’t have the chance for a while. 

You packed the toy and brought it home, you might have had a round or two on your own and sent the boys a few pictures. 

The one of you in your Christmas sweater and a skirt flipped up, wet pussy on display, face down ass up for the camera while you had one hand sliding the toy in and the fingers of your other on your clit was Billy’s personal favourite. The one you snapped with you in your family living room, late at night after everyone else had gone to bed, in just a robe, fully opened, exposing your naked body, lights from the tree as you laid on the floor in front of it dancing over your body as you used that same toy was Stu’s favourite. 

Only one problem was that now you can’t look at candy canes without getting a bit wet and wanting to squirm while missing your boys. 

Christmas can’t come all the time but thanks to that lovely little gift you certainly were.

[eddiexmunsonlover-archive]

One Step Away From You (Chapter 9)

BSF!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Fem!Reader

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Chapter Summary: Deadlines for college applications are approaching, sending you into a mental spiral of anxiety and Eddie notices. Plus, Christmas with the Munsons <3 WC: 5.2k Warnings: MDNI. Explicit language. Mentions of anxiety. Alot of comfort, fluff, and bonding with Eddie and Uncle Wayne in this one. Taglist: @eddie-is-a-god @siriusmaraudeers @amandahobblepot @littlexdeaths

Wednesday, December 18th, 1985

The usual chatter of the cafeteria is heightened on the last school day before Christmas break, students excitedly sharing travel plans and who will host the biggest party over break. You’re immersed in a similar conversation at the Hellfire table. Asking Gareth and Jeff what their Christmas plans are as you wait for the other members to file in. Jeff is in the middle of sharing plans to visit family in Indianapolis when a loud bang next to you makes you flinch. Eddie snuck his way into the Cafeteria out of your view, coming up behind you and excitedly slamming his hand down on the table, pulling a light squeal from your mouth. 

You give him an annoyed expression, swatting his arm as he giggles.

“You asshole!” He only continues to smile brightly down at you before he wiggles his brows, gesturing his eyes to the spot on the table his hand just was.

You look down to see a paper, familiar words etched at the top.

Hawkins High Report Card

You quickly snatch the paper up as Eddie takes his usual seat next to you at the head of the table, leg bouncing in giddy excitement as he waits for your reaction. Your eyes trail down the column titled ‘Quarter 2’. His D’s from the previous quarter jumped to C’s, one C to a B, and a single A in your shared Art class. You mimic his own bright smile as you look up at him.

“Fuckin’ A, you did it!” you exclaim in excitement, raising a hand that Eddie’s quickly meets in a high-five.

“Not without you. That’s allll you right there. Never thought I’d get a C in Ms. O'Donnell's class, that’s for sure.” He sighs, leaning back in his seat.

“Hey. You did it, give yourself some credit. All I did was force you to actually do your homework every once in a while.” you smirk, sliding the report card back to him. 

He takes it, looking over the grades again as if they changed from the previous 20 times he’s looked so far today. He lets his smile transform into a self-satisfied one, the feeling of pride filling his chest. 

“Thanks,” he gives you a soft wink before slipping the paper into his jacket pocket. “Still, a lot of it has to do with you. And I’ll make sure my gratitude is fully reflected in your Christmas present.” 

You giggle, feeling your cheeks warm.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” you assert, quickly nipping a single pretzel from his bag.

Before he can protest, the 3 younger members finally join and plop down in their seats. Mike and Lucas seem indifferent. Dustin on the other hand, appears lost in thought with a small frown. 

“What’s wrong, Dusty?”

“Report cards came out today” he mutters with a deep sigh, resting his head on his hand.

“Didn’t get the grades you thought you would?”

“I’m doing well in almost every class! It’s just that goddamn Spanish class, I got a D” his head hangs, toying with his food in disinterest.

“Well Y/N here is a miracle worker, apparently. Managed to get all my grades up.” Eddie turns to you, “Maybe you could help the kid out?”

You give him an incredulous look before scoffing.

“Yeah, I think my academic talents end with Spanish. Never did good in that class either. I mean, I could help quiz you with flash cards but that’s all I got, bud.” You give him a sympathetic look as he does his best to muster a smile that quickly vanishes as soon as it appears.

“Thanks, I guess that might help.”

You share a look with Eddie, shrugging your shoulders at your best attempt to help, digging into your lunches as conversation at the table switches topics.

“So, what about Hellfire? Are we not going to have any campaign meetings over break?” Gareth wonders, looking to the Dungeon Master for answers. Eddie shrugs as he crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat as he chews the pretzel in his mouth.

“I guess not, we won’t be able to just use our usual spot. The school will be locked up.”

“We could do it at my house!” Mike quickly interjects, drawing the eyes of the whole table toward him. “Yeah, my basement. It’s where we always played DnD before we came here. My parents won’t care.”

Eddie glances toward you almost for verification, you nod recounting the many times spent in the Wheeler’s basement eating junk food while playing campaigns for hours. 

“Well, it’s settled then. We’ll have Hellfire this Friday at Mike’s, usual time. Just make sure your basement doesn’t smell like stale gym socks, yeah?” You shake your head with a laugh as Mike pulls an offended face, Eddie never missing a beat to make a snarky remark at the younger members. 

‘I’ve got to exalt my authority somehow!’ He’d told you before.

He shares a coy smile with you when you give him a look, a look that says ‘You’ve got no room to talk’.

Friday, December 20th, 1985

The music of Fleetwood Mac fills your room as you sit at your desk. Vision unfocused and blurry as you repeatedly tap the eraser on your pencil at one of the numerous papers that have been sitting on your desk untouched for over a week. 

College applications. 

You sought out a variety of schools with strong programs in your interest, ranging in a multitude of distances from Hawkins, Indiana. 

The last couple of months are the best your life has been in years, surrounded by your closest friends. Your people. 

The idea of it all possibly coming to an end, 

No more Hawkins High,

No more lunches at Hellfire table with your friends,

No more movie nights at Wayne’s trailer or at Steve’s,

this chapter of your life closing with a big unknown looming in the distance has left you procrastinating. Avoiding, putting it off, not wanting to deal with it.

But the deadline is quickly approaching for your ticket to having some kind of future for yourself, a career you won’t hate. The push from family members to have you be the first generation to go to college, to make something of yourself, isn’t helping either.

You force your vision to come back into focus as you look over the papers.

Virginia Tech. University of Illinois. Indiana University. Penn State. Ohio State.

You rub your hands over your face, willing the motivation to fill you to finally get it done and out of the way.

TAP TAP TAP

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound, quickly spinning around in your chair looking for the source. Your eyes land on your window, immediately recognizing the outline of the person outside through the sheer curtains.

“Jesus Christ” you exhale, walking over to open the window. “You know, you’re making a bad habit out of sneaking up on me.”

He bites his bottom lip in a feeble attempt to cover his shit-eating grin and snickering.

“I’m sorry, but it’s just so fun!”

“What do you want?” Despite your attempt to hold it back, a soft smile pulls at your lips. It’s impossible for you to be mad at him for long and the little shit knows it.

“Um, have you lost track of time, princess?? Get that ass in gear, let’s go!” he quickly retorts, nearly offended that you weren’t already waiting in anticipation for tonight’s campaign.

“Alright, alright. Give me a sec!” you mumble before closing the window. Opening your closet doors to look for a jacket before venturing outside in the cold December air. Your eyes search for your jean jacket, missing from its usual spot. You wrack your brain trying to remember the last time you wore it.

“Time is ticking, Lady Moonflower!” you hear muffled through the window, laughing as you grab your black winter coat. Quickly throwing it on before you leave the house to meet your very impatient best friend waiting in your driveway.

“God, are you always this needy?” you complain in light heartedness as you fall in step next to him, crossing the street to his already running van.

“Maybe…” he replies, giving you a cheeky grin before you part to climb into the van. 

The ride to Mike’s is quiet besides the Dio tape in his stereo turned up high. 

As much as you love your conversations and banter with Eddie, you love the ‘quiet’ moments like this where you don’t have to say a word. Just happy to be in each other’s presence. 

You give a side-eye glance to him as he sings along to every word of The Last in Line. Fingers tapping against the steering wheel, passing street lights reflecting off the metal rings adorning them, dark curls framing his face. 

You close your eyes and sigh softly, turning your gaze back to the road ahead. 

The downside of those quiet moments are that they leave an opening for the anxious thoughts to weasel their way in.

The image of the papers sitting on your desk popping back into the forefront of your mind.

You don’t want this to end. 

Another exciting and immersive campaign from Eddie helps to distract you for the most part. But in the lulls, you’re overwhelmingly aware of being in the space of Mike’s basement again, playing DnD with the boys.  When you look around at their faces, strikingly aware of how quickly they’re growing, those papers and your future retain their place in your thoughts. 

There’s no guarantee moments like these will be gone forever after graduation, you know that. But life as you know it will change. Moments like these will become far less frequent, even more so depending on how far away you go for college. Who’s to say your friends won’t move away themselves while you’re gone, starting their own lives outside of Hawkins?

The thought alone makes you want to hold on to these times for dear life, with a death grip until your fingers grow weak. Pleading against the ticking of time as it passes unforgivingly. It’s a fruitless battle with an inevitable outcome you know you have to accept. 

With your senior year already halfway over, you decide you’re going to make the most of the time that’s left with the people you love and make all the memories you can.

A few short hours later, the ride back to the trailer park is much the same with you lost in your thoughts about the future as Eddie’s Dio tape continues to play. He spares a glance away from the road to you, noticing your quietness throughout the night. You’re staring ahead at the road, looking but not really seeing, face emotionless. 

He knows you. Knows you’re in your head about something. Racking it over until you exhaust yourself from stress and anxiety. Whatever it is, he hopes the movie he has planned is enough to brighten your spirit. He’ll pull whatever it is in your head out of you eventually. 

He can’t stand seeing you this way, nibbling at his bottom lip as he picks up speed trying to get back to the trailer sooner. The overwhelming urge to solve all your problems, release the weight of your burdens from your mind takes over him. He knows he can’t do it all. He doesn’t have a way with words or a deeper understanding of the human psyche like you, but that doesn’t stop him from trying his damn hardest to. At the very least, he knows he can always pull a smile from your lips.

He shifts the van into park and takes the key out of the ignition before throwing a smile your way.

“Come on, sweetheart. I think you’ll like the movie I picked for tonight.”

You follow him in and quickly fall into your Friday night movie routine. Filling the coffee table with sodas, popcorn, and sweets. Taking your usual spot on the loveseat as Eddie pops the tape in, quickly joining you. You give him a genuine smile when you recognize the opening scene of Gremlins. 

“How’d you know I love this movie?” you ask in surprise. 

“Simple. It’s a Christmas and horror movie, two things you love. If I didn’t know what you liked by now, I’d be a pretty shitty best friend.” He states simply, brown orbs staring into yours. It overwhelms you, averting your gaze back to the screen with a small smirk.

“Nah, you could never be that.”

Silence fills the space between you again. Eddie finds himself taking small peeks at you as the movie goes on, worry sitting in his chest as he reads your expression. Still quiet, reactions muted. 

His knee gently nudges yours.

“Hey, what’s up?” his voice comes out soft, just like his features when you turn your eyes to meet his.

“What do you mean?” your eyebrows scrunch in confusion as you take a bite of popcorn.

“You’ve been unusually quiet tonight. You’re in your head about something, I can tell.” Your eyes briefly leave his as you mentally go over everything that’s filled your mind today, wondering if it’s really been that obvious. “What’s on your mind, hun?”

Your finger grazes over the loose thread from the hem of the blanket thrown across your lap, sighing softly before you meet his eyes again.

“What are you gonna do after graduation?” 

He’s a bit taken aback by the question. You watch as the gears turn in his head before he sighs too.

“Well, if I graduate” you quickly nudge his knee back with yours.

“When you graduate.”

“Ah, right, sorry. When I graduate… I guess I haven’t really thought much about it. I could probably get some work in a shop for a bit while I figure things out. Sure as hell don’t wanna stay in this place for long.” You nod, pursing your lips as you think his response over. You’ve known for a long time how much Eddie’s wanted to get out of Hawkins the first chance he gets, the town that’s held nothing but judgment for him.

Where will life after graduation leave your friendship?

“Why do you ask?”

“It’s just been on my mind today. I’ve got a stack of college applications that’ve been sitting on my desk for a week that I just… can’t bring myself to do.”

“How come?” 

You think it over for a moment.

“Because if I do, then it’s real. It’s confirmation that all of this is gonna end in a couple of months. And I just… don’t like endings, change, the unknown of the future. It’s scary.”

His eyes look over you again in empathy, knowing exactly how you feel. 

It’s the way he felt those 3 years ago, down to this exact month, when you stood on his porch and told him you were leaving. He’d put on a strong front for you, but inside his mind was running wild with worry. 

He can’t deny that thoughts about what life would look like after finally graduating haven’t crossed his mind, but anxiety hadn’t been carried with them yet. Only anticipation at finally graduating and being released from the cold grip Hawkins has had on him his entire life. He hadn’t yet considered the possibility you wouldn’t be a part of that future, the reality of your prospects for college finally setting in for him. He pushes away the worry that begins to creep in, worry that history will repeat itself with you going away.

He doesn’t know where it comes from, but he pulls out the most hopeful thing he can think of to say to help lighten some of that worry for you, and maybe for him too.

“Well… with every ending there’s a new beginning, right?” He says carefully, unsure of himself.

From his view of the side of your face, he can see the muscles in your cheek try to fight against the smirk that’s threatening to appear. You give in, turning to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Did you steal that from The Young and the Restless?” you ask accusingly, an amused expression on your face. 

He groans and rolls his eyes before throwing a couch pillow at you. The beautiful sound of your airy laugh makes it irresistible to not smile himself.

“Again, I was not watching it. It was just on the tv.”

“Right, right. I’m sure the boys will believe that, too.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t dare.” He shakes his head at you, daring you himself to do it. 

“Hmm, I might be convinced otherwise.” you shrug nonchalantly, giving him a teasing smile.

Wednesday, December 25th, 1985

Christmas Day

Excitement and anticipation fills your body with each mile your mom’s car creeps closer back to the trailer park. You’d spent the first half of Christmas day at your Aunt Patty’s, celebrating with your family and cousins. You got a few nice presents from your family, and watched in enjoyment when they opened and loved the gifts you got them. Your stomach now painfully full from all the delicious homemade food. 

But the part of the day you’d really been looking forward to is finally approaching as the sign for Forest Hills Trailer Park comes into view. 

You take a moment to admire the Christmas lights strung along your trailer as you pull into the driveway. Decorating has always been a beloved tradition for you and your mother, and one of your favorite parts of the holidays. 

Your gaze quickly shifts to the trailer across the street as you get out of her car, noticing both Eddie’s van and Uncle Wayne’s truck in the driveway, soft yellow lighting through the curtains of the living room. 

You quickly scurry up the steps to unlock the front door to retrieve the gifts sitting on your dresser right where you left them. When you return to the living room, your mother hands over a casserole dish covered with tinfoil.

“40 minutes at 350 degrees.” You nod, quickly taking it from her hands before you’re heading back out the door. “And slow down before you fall and bust your ass… and my casserole dish!”

You chuckle, shutting the door behind you before you begin the short trek across the street. The wet crunch of the few inches of snow that fell yesterday under your boots.

You balance the dish and bag of gifts in one hand before quickly knocking on the door with the other. Shortly opening to Eddie greeting you with a grin. 

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” he remarks, moving aside to let you in as his eyes take in the items filling your hands.

“Merry Christmas, Eddie-Bo-Beddie” you tease before walking into the kitchen, practically feeling his eyes rolling from behind you. You spot Uncle Wayne leaned against the counter sipping out of a coffee mug. You smile brightly at him as you sit the dish and presents on the counter.

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Wayne” you greet him with a tight hug that he quickly reciprocates.

“Merry Christmas, hun” his warm, gravely voice responds to yours. 

“Well. I see who you really came over here for.” Eddie quips in fake hurt, crossing his arms.

“Obviously. I’m already stuck seeing you everyday.” you give him a playful wink, pulling a smile from him that shows off the dimples you love so much. 

“And a Merry Christmas from my mother, with food” you hand the clear dish over to Uncle Wayne who quickly looks it over.

“Baked Mac n Cheese?” you nod in response. “What a kind woman, make sure to give her my thanks.”

He opens the oven that already has a small turkey breast baking, sliding the dish onto the free rack. 

You giddily grab your presents for the duo, delicately placing them under the tree next to a couple of others. You take a step back and look over the thin tree with a fond smirk, admiring the lights and ornaments you’d helped Eddie decorate it with a few days prior. The boy was doing it all wrong and you couldn’t just sit by and watch.

Feeling a nudge at your side, you turn to see Eddie holding a mug of hot cocoa topped with marshmallows out to you, holding another one for himself in his other hand.

“Why thank you, kind Sir.” you graciously take the mug from him, relishing in the warmth that immediately radiates to your hands. Moaning softly as the rich taste greets your tongue.

The three of you settle into the living room while the food cooks, sipping on your respective cups of coffee and cocoa as light conversation flows. Christmas specials playing on the tv in the background as Uncle Wayne asks how you and the family are doing. 

“You know, Eddie told me about his grades this semester. I wanna thank you for helping the poor kid out.” 

“Oh, it was all him. I just helped guide him, that’s all.” you chuckle softly, eyeing Eddie next to you whose cheeks begin to blush.

“You don’t gotta lie to me now, girl.”

Eddie scoffs, holding his hands out in teasing offense.

“Hey, I’ll have you know I earned those grades fair and square.”

“Mhmm” he mumbles, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Oh what, you think she did my homework for me too?” Eddie retorts, humor and disbelief lacing his words.

The ringing from the kitchen timer catches everyone’s attention. When Wayne pulls the mug from his lips, a big grin is left on his face as he rises from his seat.

“I’m only teasing you, son. I knew you had it in you.” He softly pats Eddie’s shoulder as he passes on his way into the kitchen.

You rise from your spot to follow Wayne to check on the food, insisting on making yourself useful. 

“You’re hard headed, you know that? Just like that one over there.” Wayne drawls in amusement, watching you take over in cutting the turkey breast. Giggling when you hear an offended “Hey!” from Eddie in the living room. Wayne removes the tinfoil from the casserole dish, humming in approval at the perfectly baked cheese on top. 

He’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, gaze flickering between you and Eddie, whose attention is now caught by one of the specials playing on the tv.

He leans over to you in an effort for his words to not be carried over.

“You know, I mean it when I say thank you. Ever since you moved back… it’s the best I’ve seen him in a long time.” 

His words hang heavy in your chest, threatening to mist your eyes as you look up at him.

“It’s the best I’ve been in a long time too.” Your voice comes out quiet, sharing soft smiles with him before he squeezes your shoulder fondly. Yelling out for Eddie to come eat as you finish cutting the last slice. 

“Come on, girly. Make yourself a plate.” Wayne orders, old school manners insisting you and Eddie make your plates before him. 

With your stomach still full from your Aunt’s, you weren’t intending on eating anything. But knowing Wayne wouldn’t let you walk away without something on your plate and the alluring smell of the baked mac n cheese holding your attention, you settle on cutting a small slice of it for yourself.

“You sure you don’t want more?” Eddie questions softly from your side, placing slices of turkey on his plate.

“Yeah, I’m still full from my aunt’s house. Promise.” you offer him a smile that quickly diminishes the concern that’d begun to paint his features.

A comfortable quiet falls amongst you as you all dig in, watching The Year Without A Santa Claus while the two make quiet remarks on how good the food is. 

Once plates are empty, you quickly volunteer to clean the dishes and help put the food away before Uncle Wayne can protest. Only insisting Eddie put the food away instead. 

When all is said and done, Wayne and Eddie settled back into their seats in the living room, you quickly dart to the presents under the tree. Not being able to hold back the anticipation of seeing their reactions any longer.

It's one of the qualities you'd inherited from your mother, gift giving being one of your favorite ways to show love. Getting more enjoyment out of seeing the happiness of your loved ones from your gifts than receiving them yourself.

You hand a gift bag to Uncle Wayne, and an envelope and small box to Eddie before excitedly climbing back into your seat on the couch to watch.

Wayne starts first, pulling out the tissue paper before his gift. Another mug to add to his collection, “Best Uncle Award” sketched on the side, pulling a soft laugh from him.

“Thank you, hun.” 

“Anytime, Uncle Wayne.”

“You’ve got a box with your name on it under that tree from me.”

He gestures to a present on the edge of the tree. You grab the small box, resuming your seat before unwrapping it to reveal an assortment of replacement guitar strings. 

“Thank you, this will definitely hold me over for a while.”

He nods in response, giving you a soft smile.

You turn to Eddie who looks a bit unsure as he holds both of his gifts from you in his hands.

“I um. You got me two things and I only got you one.” He mutters, shame threatening to seep through his voice. You quickly shake your head dismissively.

“That’s okay. I don’t care about that, Ed.” 

“How about this. I open one,” he gets up from his spot on the loveseat to grab a wrapped rectangular box from under the tree and sets it in your lap. “Then you open yours, and I’ll open the second one.”

“Okay, open the box first.”

You watch in anticipation, thumbnail finding its way between your teeth as he slowly rips open the wrapping paper. Reading his face as he takes the lid off the small palm-sized box. Your own smile widens when you see one pull at his lips as he lifts the necklace out of the box by the chain, red and black marbled guitar pick hanging from it.

“I searched every music store in Indianapolis to try to find a matching one.” You recall as your finger grazes over the pick hanging around your neck, a matching one now resting in his hands. He quickly clasps it around his neck, looking down at it fondly.

“Matching best friend necklaces, cute.” He remarks before meeting your eyes. “Thank you, sweetheart. Now it’s your turn.”

You take a deep breath looking down at the box in your lap. You begin unwrapping it, smirking at Eddie’s best attempt to properly tape and wrap a gift. You’re left with a white cardboard box, one that’s typically used for clothing. Your eyebrows furrow as you attempt to wrack your brain for what it could be, hands reaching to lift the top off the box.

You’re left in silence, mouth hanging open as you look it over.

Denim. 

A cut out of a Black Sabbath ‘Paranoid’ t-shirt stitched into the back. You slowly lift it out of the box, turning it around to see the front. Littered with patches and pins.

Metallica. Motorhead. Slayer. Ozzy. Iron Maiden. Judas Priest. 

“I uh, hope you don’t mind. Kinda stole it from your closet last week when you weren’t looking.”

Your denim jacket.

“I remember how you said you wanted to patch it up like mine.”

A lump lodges itself in your throat, gulping to force it away as you look over every stitch made. 

The care, effort, and thoughtfulness put into it.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted a full blown vest so I kept the sleeves on, but if you want to make it a vest I can help.” He stammers anxiously, the jacket blocking his view of your face. Unable to gauge your reaction.

You close your eyes, holding your new and improved jacket against your chest. Willing away the tears that threaten to brim your eyes. A few seconds later when you’re confident they won’t, you open your eyes to meet his. Anxiously reading your reaction with a shy smile.

“Eds… this is so thoughtful. It’s the perfect gift. Thank you.” your voice wavers before a wide smile stretches across your face. You quickly lean up on your knees. Already anticipating your motion, he meets you halfway with a tight embrace. 

“Don’t mention it, hun” he murmurs into your hair, feeling the shaky up and down movement of your chest against his with every breath you take. He smiles to himself.

He did good.

When you pull back, you quickly slip your arms into the sleeves and slide it on. Looking down in admiration at each patch and pin before your focus resumes on him.

“Alright. Your turn again, mister.” The excitement fills you again as he holds the envelope containing your second gift in his hands. The gift you’re really excited to see his reaction to.

You watch as his finger breaks the seal. His eyes widen, mouth agape as he opens the envelope, pulling out two tickets.

Indianapolis Market Square Arena Presents

W.A.S.P. & KISS

January 16th, 1986

“Holyyy shit” he mumbles in bewilderment, reading the words over and over again.

“I saw the sign for it when I was going to all those music shops in Indy. I knew I had to get tickets for you.” You bite your bottom lip as you watch him.

His wide eyes finally look up to you before he quickly wraps his arms around you to pull you in for another tight hug.

“You’re the fuckin’ best. Thank you, Y/N.” 

You giggle into his shoulder, relishing in the warm, tight embrace he has you in. 

Satisfied you’ve made him happy. Continuing your effort over the years in making a holiday that used to leave him feeling alone and empty, now feel warm and full. Make him feel special and loved. That’s all you could ask for.

You gush over your presents for a while before cleaning up the discarded wrapping paper on the floor. Watching as Uncle Wayne fits his new mug on the wall.

Once the Christmas special playing on the living room tv ends, you look over to Eddie next to you.

“Think it’s time for our last Christmas tradition?” 

“For sure. Come on, we’ll let Wayne take over the living room.” He answers with a smile, rising from his spot on the loveseat with you in tow to wander down the short hallway to his bedroom.

You take a seat on his bed as he closes the door behind you, backing yourself up to rest against the wall as he pops the tape into his tv. 

You watch his movements as he turns the lights off before climbing into the bed next to you. The love you hold for him, the subtle intimacy of it all causing your heart to beat quicker in your chest.

You sit shoulder to shoulder as Black Christmas begins to play. A lit joint slowly passes between the two of you. 

Before the movie is over, you’re snuggled up in blankets. 

It’s another night falling asleep at Wayne’s with your head on Eddie’s shoulder, his head resting on top of yours. Soft snores escaping your mouths.

Another memorable Christmas shared with your best friend in the books.

(We're getting so close to the culmination of all this mutual pining and yearning, can you feel it?)

[soscarlett1twas]

Midnight Church Bells

↳ Andrew and his brother sneak out. ↳ 2k words / also available on ao3! ↳ This fic is literally a year old lmao?? I was sorting through docs and found this finished draft, so I polished it a bit and here we are. Please forgive past me if the prose is... how we say 'shit'.

The holidays always snuck up on Andrew the same - sudden and unwelcome, but inevitable. This year, he’d been too invested in his studies, and, surprisingly, his own love life to notice much of withering leaves or decorations, but when he turned on the radio and heard those familiar jingles, he groaned in recognition. 

Really, it was none of those things (despite how much he did tire of those songs) that bittered Christmas for him. It was the fact that once the break started, his family would come calling. And despite all protests, his parents would never let him stay at college during the advent. 

“It’s time for the Lord.” His mother’s voice lifted through the phone he propped up on his dashboard. “And family,” she added after a moment. He resisted the urge to slam his head against the steering wheel, instead opting for biting his tongue. The one time his parents didn’t want him studying. 

Her saying that added to the sting of the season. And family. It seemed that this was the only time of year where that was on her mind. 

Which all led him to the same spot he was every December 24th: Sitting on his childhood bed, with whatever book he was currently reading in his hands, and classical music playing from his phone. 

Reclining into his pillow, Andrew lifted his glasses off and put them on the bedside table, a thumb folding the wings as the other worked as a bookmark. 

Yet he didn’t close his eyes. For one of those brief moments in life, he wasn’t thinking, or sleeping, or doing really anything at all. He was just there, in a limbo between sleep and consciousness, hoping that if he purposely derived himself the next day wouldn’t come as quickly.

And he stayed like that for 5 minutes. Or maybe it was 10, or maybe no time passed at all. But eventually he gave in to rest. No matter what, the morning would come and he’d rather not fall asleep during the already tedious sermons in church. So he set an alarm, put his book on the nightstand, and laid down.

He closed his eyes, and it was like he could hear the ringing already. 

Maybe he did.

A soft patter-ing rang just outside his door, the familiar sound of footsteps on carpet blotting the silence. And just as he was about to roll over, Andrew heard his door creak open, and the silhouette of a man leaned into the room. 

“Want to go on a walk?” He whispered, twinged with a sense of boredom. 

Andrew didn’t even need to turn to know who was asking. “Give me a moment,” he sighed, and motioned to push himself off the bed. 

—

“How did you know I was awake?” Andrew asked, still pulling his overcoat over his arms. 

“Your light was on, I saw it through your door.” His brother responded, turning off their driveway onto the sidewalk. He was slightly ahead of Andrew, but slowed a bit so that they were walking together. 

A cloud of mist formed from his breath as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, pulling the coat closer to himself to save some of his last remaining body heat. A near-midnight flit wasn’t what he had planned, but he’d prefer it than trying to sleep. Besides, this may be the only quality time he could spend with his twin during the break. God knows the time they’ve spent at college has already distanced them enough. 

“So,” he huffed, searching for a topic of conversation. “How have you been?” 

“Fine. Uni’s been beating my ass though - we spent practically the entire week leading up to the holidays in the lab, just sweating over our assignments. Jesus, I’m not even a Biochem major but Chemistry is just not letting up.”

It had been years since he was in a lab, but with the track he was on, he got the stress with ‘crunch time’. “I understand. I’ve recently had to rush a project for my Literary Theory course.” 

“What do you even do in that class?” He questioned, half serious, half mocking. 

“Analyze texts, find out how the culture of the author influenced their works.” He could go on: Literary Theory was one of his favorite classes, no matter how rigorous the course was, but he knew his brother wouldn’t care to hear the details. 

Winding down their street, the two carried on talking about academia with a partial interest, not fully understanding either’s field of study but trying to be supportive anyways. Soughing wind bent branches to a static beat as they approached the neighborhood's egress. By and by they were talking about the more social aspects of their schooling: Andrew’s literature club, the parties either rarely attended, his brother’s friends.

“How has your roommate been?” Andrew asked, kicking a rock under his shoe and watching it roll along the concrete. 

“Good.” He sighed out a laugh. “He’s great, actually.”

Andrew glanced over to his brother, and if the slight warmth in his voice wasn’t enough, the red on his cheeks told him everything he needed to know. He chuckled too, and gave a soft nudge on his shoulder, making them both smile. 

In a weird way, they never needed to tell eachother about any of this stuff. Equal parts the awkwardness that surrounded telling your sibling, your twin of all people, who you were interested in and an unspoken alliance against their parents had kept them from ever openly speaking it. But Andrew knew his brother was into guys ever since they were teens, he just didn’t know if his brother had caught on to his own preferences yet.

The stone made a sharp sound as it drifted over to his brother, who promptly kicked it back to Andrew with the inside of his shoe. 

“Helios, right?” 

His brother hummed in response. 

His mind trailed to the man at his college, the one who he had desperately wanted to introduce to him, and found himself grinning at the mere thought. God, he hoped Isaac would like his brother. 

He opened his mouth, then shut it quickly. What would he even say? He trusted his brother, but to come out was something entirely different, and with Christmas just around the corner? No, he’d wait. Right after, though, he’d tell him. Andrew silently swore it to himself. 

“Honestly, I prefer the dorms to the house.” 

That snapped Andrew out of his thinking. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” He stopped abruptly, and threw his arms out in exasperation. “Isn’t it suffocating to you too?” 

Everytime he was in his room, Andrew could only remember the sleepless nights he spent hunched over and studying. The dining table was a barrage of moments he spent silent as his parents and brother fought. The living room was a danger zone, as he never wanted to catch his parents when they were disappointed in his brother, or worse, him. The whole house could burn down and the only memories that would go with it were the most futile. Worse was, even without flames, Andrew felt like he wadded through smoke every time he was in those walls.

He silently nodded his head. His brother just stared at him, as if he wanted voice confirmation. But how can one speak up against the pyre when its fumes had already scorched his vocal cords? 

After a moment, his brother kept walking, and Andrew followed. “I contemplated not coming back this winter.” He muttered.

“As did I.” Andrew responded, suddenly getting his voice back. 

“What could you possibly be avoiding?” 

A million and one answers filled his head, but none escaped him - no matter what he said, not a single one would measure up to his brother's reasons. So why even bother trying to compare? 

His twin huffed as he turned away, suddenly gaining some distance on Andrew, and he let him keep it. 

For a while, the only sound they made was their shoes against concrete sidewalks and the crunch as they occasionally had to step into snow. Andrew brought his hands up to his face, cupping them to breathe and warm himself up. Normally he kept gloves in his pockets, just in case. But, of course, he just had to forget them tonight. His fingers combed through his hair, forcing him to look straight ahead at his brother's back. Again, he bit his tongue. But wasn’t that what had gotten him into this situation, unintentionally pushing his brother away by not talking? He didn’t understand it, but only continuing the cycle wasn’t going to help anything. 

So he opened his mouth, just in time to slam right into his brother. 

He stumbled, but his brother didn’t flinch. Or even look at Andrew. His eyes remained trained to the tree line, frozen in place. 

Regaining his footing, Andrew tried again. “Dar-“

“Stop.” He whispered.

“No, D-“  

“Shut up, Andrew, just listen.” 

So he did. 

For a few seconds, he didn’t hear anything. His eyes fell where his brother’s were focused, though without his glasses, the details were fuzzy. 

Then, a distant chime hit his ear. 

More followed. 

A symphony of church bells rang, each peal like a glimmer in the air. 

Andrew knew they rang the bells at midnight every Christmas Eve, though he couldn’t remember the last time he had heard them. During mass, he could imagine it would be unbearable. But from here? The sound was quite pleasant. 

As the bells continued, the twins stood there, listening to it all. Andrew was the first to tear his eyes away from the church he couldn’t see, glancing over at his brother through the corner of his eye. It was the first good look he had gotten at him in a long time. 

Andrew hadn’t realized how short a decade was. Though in context of anything else, the last ten years of his life had dawdled. But with his brother? It was like the blink of an eye. One moment they were running and laughing, a mirror image of one another - even the Christmas’ were tolerable. Fun, even. The next, blooming into adulthood - mimics of who they used to be.

In fact, the longer he looked at him, Andrew realized just how much his brother had changed. His hair had definitely grown, locked into a short ponytail that hung low with swooping bangs, and he made the full switch to contacts some time ago. He even got taller, and next to Andrew, he was a lofty inch or two higher. Though that could also be accredited to the boots he wore. (Ashamed to say, Andrew didn’t remember when or how he got them. They certainly weren’t a gift from their parents, but did his brother even have a job to afford them?) He was more muscular, which wasn’t saying much compared to Andrew, but he was certainly leaner. The man never made a mention of continuing his secondary school athletics, but maybe he did as an extracurricular? Again, Andrew was straining to remember specifics. Though, he supposed any reason to play was now null, as originally it was a brilliant excuse to come home late without his parents accusing him of deviancy. 

But he wasn’t too alien to him. There was something still familiar to him, like flecks of gold shining through, no matter how small. After all, they began to sneak out when they were fourteen and are still doing it now. There must be something that still connected them. 

Right?

Just as he had that thought, he missed his brother's pass, and the pebble went flying into a curb. 

They walked in silence for a while longer, bells fading to the wind. Eventually they found themselves back on their driveway, and their silence became deafening as they lightened their footsteps. God knows what their parents would do if they found out they had been out so late.

They followed one another up the stairs, crossed the same hallway, and went to rooms adjoining. There was a time they shared one, but that was before they had moved. 

Andrew slipped open his door, the knob turning slowly as to mute itself. As he slipped in, he turned half-way to see his brother doing the same.

His brother looked up, catching his gaze. 

Andrew saw himself in the reflection of his eyes. They were bitter, burning with… not rage. But a violent form of disappointment. 

Andrew was the center of it. And he could smell the smoke wafting. 

[andreafmn]

12 Days of Ficmas ❅ Day 1

Word Count: 4.8K Paring:  Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader Prompt @alloftheprompts: Character A and Character B broke up but now they meet at a Christmas party.

Summary: In unpredictable Beacon Hills, Stiles and (Y/N) being together was one of the only things that made sense. But sometimes the smallest of changes can create the biggest of chaos. And a simple college admission letter can do just that. Maybe all it takes is the right Christmas gift to make things better.

A/N: yup, that's right, I'm doing 12 Days of Ficmas again (even if I haven't finished Kinktober 🫣🫣 but I am nothing if not a masochist (and a slight procrastinator) But enjoy!! This story actually made me tear up, honestly. But it wouldn't be one of my stories if there wasn't an insane amount of angst 😅 Also, disclaimer, I have not seen the last two seasons of Teen Wolf or the movie so, sorry for any inconsistencies.

Next ->

“Let’s just get this over with,” (Y/N) sighed as she fixed the Santa hat on top of her head. “They don’t have to know yet.”

“Yeah,” Stiles grimaced. “It’s better to wait until after the holidays, I guess.”

It was the first time Stiles and (Y/N) had ever been terrified to enter Scott’s house and face all of their friends. Even worse, they had to pretend everything was fine between them. 

Since they were little, the pair had been inseparable. Being next-door neighbors allowed them to grow close at a rapid pace. It was in her that he found solace on the nights his mother’s illness would take the best of her mind. He would run over to her house and climb the lattice that ran all the way up to her room. 

And she wouldn’t ask questions. (Y/N) would simply let him in through her window and distract him until he eventually drifted off to sleep. She did not need any explanations or reasons to comfort Stiles. She simply knew he needed her, and so she was there for him. Because if there was anything she knew of, it was the pain of slowly losing a parent.

They shared a bond that no one could break. Even as Scott entered their duo and they became the perfect trio, Stiles and (Y/N) shared a connection like no other. So, it came as no surprise to anyone when they got together. Even after Stiles had continuously professed his love for Lydia. Even after (Y/N) and Boyd had a quick fling. Everyone knew that it would be the two of them at the end of the day. 

What no one expected was that one day, they wouldn’t be Stiles and (Y/N) anymore. Hell, not even they had seen it coming. 

Their downfall had begun the second week of December. For some reason, the couple had not spoken about what happened after high school. In their senior year, they were focusing on the present, leaving the future where it was. Because what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. 

(Y/N) had applied under early action to various colleges, thinking nothing of it. But there was one college that had been her dream since her father had passed, and that was her only early decision application. She had worked every day since to make sure she was at least close to being accepted. But it was never a sure thing. 

She had promised herself to put it in the back of her mind. Stressing over that envelope would only drive her into madness. As much as she wanted it to be true, she knew the reality of the situation. The chances she could ever get in, much less with a full ride, were slim to none. And hoping only made things worse.

Still, that hadn’t stopped her from applying; it hadn’t stopped her from wishing. 

“Honey,” her mother had said one afternoon after she got home from school. “Look what came in the mail.” 

In her hands, there was a white manila envelope with blue lettering that clearly read: University of Oxford. 

(Y/N) could have sworn she could feel her heart in her throat, beating at an unnatural pace and threatening to leap out of her body. She crossed the distance between her front door to the kitchen faster than she had ever done before, needing to feel the paper in her hands. Only seeing it was not proof enough that it was real. 

“I don’t think I can open it,” the girl worried. “What if it’s bad, mom?”

“You won’t know unless you see, my darling,” she smiled softly. “But no matter what, you will still be the most impressive young lady I have known. And any college would be lucky to have you.”

With trembling hands, she broke open the envelope and pulled out a beautiful and crisp piece of white paper. “Dear (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” she read before taking a steadying breath. “It is with greatest pleasure that we inform you that the Admissions Comittee has decided to offer you admission to Oxford University through our binding Early Decision (ED) option on a full scholarship.”

As (Y/N) read those words, tears spilled from her eyes, and the papers fell from her hands. Her mother wrapped her arms tightly around her, showering her with words of love and encouragement. It had been everything she had worked for. Something not even the supernaturals of the world could take from her. 

“You’re going to Oxford, baby girl,” her mother cooed. “I knew you could. Your dad would have been just as proud as I am.” 

That moment should have been the happiest in her life so far. But there was a dark cloud that lingered over her as she celebrated. She had not told anyone she was applying to a college so far away, much less the reason she would be doing so. Mostly because she was terrified she wouldn’t get in. But part of her knew it was because she was leaving all her friends behind, leaving Stiles behind. And that was the hardest part. 

For the rest of the week, as she celebrated internally, she hid the biggest news of her life from all of her friends and the boy she had deemed the love of her life. Anyone would have thought she was the one harboring a secret supernatural life with the way she was guarding her secret. And, maybe it shouldn’t have been something she kept to herself. Maybe they would have all been excited for her and understood the reason for the distance. But something deep in her stopped her every single time. 

If her friends had noticed there was anything different from her demeanor, they didn’t say a thing. In the midst of final exams and the Christmas holidays soon approaching, everyone seemed to be stuck in their own heads. So, if they were in their heads, they couldn’t know there was something happening in hers.  

But that Friday night, at the same hour Stiles would always sneak in, (Y/N) knew there was no way she could continue to hide her secret any longer. 

“Come on,” he chuckled as he jumped onto her bed, holding his arms open. “Tell me what’s going on with you.” 

“What do you mean?” she said, forcing a smile. “Why do you say that?”

“You know you can’t lie to me. I may not have super hearing, but I can tell, (Y/N).” 

“Yeah,” she chuckled softly. “You know me too well.” 

“Of course I do,” he smiled as he crossed the distance between them and caressed the softness of her cheek. “Now, please, tell me what’s wrong?” 

That was it. That was the moment that had changed them, the moment that had broken them. 

(Y/N) took a steadying breath and took his hands in hers, focusing on the veins on his hands rather than his worried eyes. “I got a letter last week,” she started with a sigh. “I told you about all the colleges I had applied to as early action.” 

“Of course, you bright mind, you,” he said. “Did you already start getting the acceptance letters?” 

“Uh, there’s another college I actually applied to. Early decision.”

“Like binding early decision?”

“Yeah, exactly,” she said, her voice trembling as she spoke. “I, uh, I applied to the University of Oxford. And I got in.”

Instead of embracing her, Stiles dropped her hands, taking a step away from her. “In England?” he asked as though he was offended. “Why would you wanna go that far?”

“It’s not about the distance,” she grimaced, finally meeting his hurt eyes. “It’s about what that school means. That’s where my dad went to school. That’s the place my parents met. That was the school that started my entire life, Stiles.” 

“So, why didn’t you tell me about it? If it was so damn important, why did you never mention it?” Stiles seethed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “You wanna start a new life, is that it? Follow in your parents’ footsteps and meet the love of your life there? Great, (Y/N). And you made sure you did it in a way you couldn’t back out.”

“Stiles, that’s not…”

“So, what? Were you gonna wait until graduation to tell me that you were moving halfway across the world to get away from us? From me?” the boy cried. “Or were you simply going to disappear and start a new life without telling anyone? But I guess that’s your thing now, huh? Keeping big shit like this until you can’t anymore.”

“That’s not fair, Stiles,” she frowned, hugging her arms tightly across her torso. “I didn’t want to get my hopes up, so I didn’t say anything. That doesn’t mean that I would have never told you about it. I’m not looking to escape. I’m looking to start my future.” 

“And it looks like you were starting it without me then,” he croaked. “What does that mean for us, (Y/N)? We ride it out until graduation, and then you leave for the rest of your life?” 

“I don’t… you wanna b-break up?” 

“It’s inevitable now, isn’t it?” Stiles said in a tone that broke her more than the words he was speaking. “You’re gonna be in England, and I’m gonna be god knows where. It’s better just to do it now.” 

That night was nothing like she had imagined it would be. She had hoped Stiles would have been excited for her and promised her everything would be alright. That somehow he would have the answers to how they could withstand so much distance because they had to make it. Out of everyone in their friend group, those two had to make it. 

Instead, it had taken a turn for the worse. One second, Stiles was standing before her with a smile on his face, and the next, he was leaving through her window with tears streaming down his face. What she had most been dreading was that scenario to play out, and a week before their friend’s holiday party, it had. They had gone through life-threatening and mind-boggling situations, but it was a college acceptance letter that broke them apart. 

The coming days (Y/N) spent buried in bed. Although she should have been celebrating one of her biggest achievements –other than saving lives and defeating many, many creatures– she had wasted more tears during that time than she had done the past years of her life. She was distraught and defeated, and she had no idea how she would make it through the last semester of high school, much less how she would have made it through a Christmas party. 

Somehow, they had arrived at Scott’s house at the same time, even after she had made sure she left twenty minutes after Stiles. The universe liked to play its mean tricks, but that one was almost unforgivable. 

“Let’s just try to stay out of each other’s way,” he grimaced. “The less we are near each other, the harder it’ll be for them to find out.” 

“Harder to find out what?” Scott asked as he swung the front door open, his signature goofy grin stretched across his mouth. Instinctively, Stiles draped his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders and smiled brightly. “Ooh, did you bring your brownies, (Y/N)?” 

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Still warm from the oven.” 

“Wouldn’t be a party without them,” Stiles commented. “Now, let us in. It’s kinda cold out tonight.” 

The second they were inside, Stiles broke for the living room while (Y/N) moved to the kitchen with Scott. She set the tray on the overfilled kitchen island, noticing to the side that the dinner table was perfectly set up. “Oh, the table looks nice,” she commented. “But I thought we’d be doing something more low-key.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Lydia thought it’d be fun to do a more grown-up dinner party.” 

“Yeah. Place settings and everything.” 

“We were waiting for you guys to start eating,” he said. “We’re doing gifts after.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Slowly, the rest of the group trickled into the kitchen, greeting and hugging (Y/N) as they looked over all the food and served themselves their plates. And, of course, her seat was right next to Stiles’. Even if she had wanted to sit anywhere else, the rest had already taken their assigned seats, and the only open spot was the one that had her name. 

She gave her ex-boyfriend a small smile, looking anywhere but into the brown of his eyes. Her heart beat against her chest, threatening to jump out of her body. It made her fidgety as everyone ate, thinking any of the wereanimals around her would be able to tell how she was feeling. 

But Scott was laughing with Stiles, Malia was talking to Lydia, and Hayden, Liam, and Mason had their own conversation running. (Y/N) was all by herself. She was surrounded by all the people she loved, but it was the loneliest she had felt in a long time. Without the usual comforting words from Stiles, she couldn’t help but feel so out of place. It was the happiest time of the year, but the girl was miserable, and it hurt that it didn’t seem like the boy she loved was sad as well. 

“Alright,” Lydia spoke up as everyone ignored their mostly empty plates. “Now that our bellies are full, I think it’s time for Secret Santa! And I truly hope you all kept it a secret this time.” 

“Not that it’d matter anyway,” Liam chuckled. “We all know we ask for help every time.” 

“Anyways,” she said, ignoring the soft laughter that erupted from the group. “Let’s go to the living room, and (Y/N) you’ll go first.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” she smiled as she followed the group into the living room. She crouched under the decorated Christmas tree, pulling out the gift that had been there for almost two weeks. “I got Lydia.” 

“How wonderful!” the redhead mused, quick to hug her friend and rip away the wrapping paper. Inside the gift box was a mosaic picture of Lydia, Allison, and (Y/N), the first time they had finally considered each other friends. “Oh, it’s beautiful! I wish I could take it with me everywhere.” 

“It was hard to get it just right, but I loved how it turned out.” 

“It’s perfect, (Y/N),” she beamed. “Thank you.” 

“Of course. I love you, Lids.” 

“Love you too,” the girl said as she wrapped her friend in a tighter hug. “My turn!”

Lydia had gifted Liam nine books out of his TBR list —nine because of his lacrosse number. Then, Liam gifted Scott a new leather jacket so he could “actually look cool when riding his motorcycle,” Liam snickered. Scott then gifted Malia a light blue hoodie to add to her ever-growing collection, while Malia gifted Hayden a journal and pen set, saying it was for when her mind felt too busy. After a warm smile and a hug, she announced her gift was for Mason, laughing as he pulled out an ugly cat sweater. Once the loud laughter subsided, Mason gifted Stiles a massage mat for his Jeep. 

“For when you’re taking really long drives,” the boy smiled, clearly proud of himself. “There’s quite some distance between here and D.C. It’ll come in handy.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled as he hugged Mason. “Thanks, man. It’s great.” 

“Don’t mention it.”

As Mason sat back down, Stiles cleared his throat as he pulled the last gift. Everyone knew by then who it was for. There was no one else left. “Well, I guess you all know who this is for,” he said. “I hope you like it, (Y/N).” 

The girl received the bag with a soft smile, trying her best to swallow the tears that were threatening to spill. She had forgotten for a second how cruel the universe could be. She pulled out the white tissue paper first before finding a beautiful brown bear dressed in a blue knit sweater. Around its neck, there was a necklace with something she could only assume was a soundwave. With curiosity washing over her, she looked to Stiles for an explanation. 

“Uh, so, it’ll make a lot more sense if you press the bear’s hand,” he stammered. Once she died as told, the sound broke her. From deep in the belly of the teddy bear, her father’s voice rang out, singing the words of “You Are My Sunshine.” There was not a single night when she was little that her father didn’t sing that to her, and even as she grew old for the lullaby, he would call her sunshine. “I got a recording from your mom of your dad singing the song when you were a baby,” Stiles spoke over the music. “And the necklace is the image of the soundwave of your dad calling you sunshine.” 

Tears had long since fallen down her cheeks, clutching the bear in her arms as though it was her own father. With her eyes closed, it was almost as though he was right there, singing to her. But it was what came after the song that shattered her. “You’re gonna do great things, (Y/N),” her father said through the bear. “I love you forever, my little sunshine.” 

At that moment, all she wanted to do was hug Stiles and kiss him like she had done a million times before. That was the boy she had fallen in love with. The one that cared and listened. The one that had made her heart race and her stomach turn into butterflies. She wanted to tell him she loved him and never let him go, but she couldn’t. Just like she could never do with her father. 

“I, uh,” she said as she stood from the couch, feeling as though she would faint in the crowded room. “I need some air.” 

(Y/N) stammered her way out of the living room and through the front door, only allowing herself to break down when she was at the end of the driveway. She fell to her knees and hugged the bear to her chest as she cried, letting the hurt that had accumulated over the years spill onto the pavement. In less than six months, she was going to walk into a new life halfway across the globe without the support of her father and now, without the support of Stiles. All alone. 

She should have been celebrating. She knew that. She should have been crying tears of joy and jumping into her love’s arms. Instead, it was the bear’s arms that she could feel. The softness of its fur, the sound of her father’s voice. 

Without even realizing it, she had begun singing along to the lullaby, sniffling between words as the tears didn’t relent. “You’re gonna do great things, (Y/N),” her father said once more through the bear. “I love you forever, my little sunshine.” 

“I love you too, dad,” she cried. 

“Hey,” his voice startled her. Through teary eyes, she looked up to find Stiles draping a jacket over her shoulders. He slid to the ground next to her, facing the house before them as she was now. “I’m sorry. I bought the gift weeks ago, and I wasn’t sure if I was still allowed to give it to you.” 

“No, it was… i-it was perfect,” she stammered, running her hand over the bear’s fur. “It’s just everything rushed over me. Like the breakup, the fact that I won’t be here next year, the fact that my dad won’t even see me gradua…”

Another string of sobs ransacked (Y/N)’s body, but that time it wasn’t the bear she was hugging. Stiles had wrapped his arms around her, pressing her into his chest. She could smell his cologne and feel his warmth, a feeling she had missed for the past seven days. All she wanted was to melt into his touch and profess to him all that she felt. But she couldn’t. Not anymore. Because he didn’t want it. 

“I didn’t want things to be this way,” she cried into his chest. “I didn’t want everything to fall apart.” 

Stiles remained quiet as she cried, a hard feat for someone like him. But he let her cry and cry until only quiet sniffles filled the air. Because he hadn’t wanted things to be that way either. 

He knew he had overreacted. When he had told (Y/N) his plans of enrolling in George Washington University all the way across the county, she had told him they could make it work. Especially if she got into any of the ivy leagues she had applied to on the East Coast. It had been fine. Hell, it had been perfect. 

But when she told him that she wouldn’t just be a couple of states away but that she would be on another continent, he couldn’t help but let his abandonment issues take control. 

He knew she was brilliant. He knew she deserved to do and be all that she had dreamed. But he feared that once she achieved all of her goals, he would just not fit into her life anymore. 

“You’re gonna go on to do great things, (Y/N),” he sighed sadly as her tears stopped. “You’re gonna go to Oxford, just like your parents, and you’re gonna probably graduate at the top of your class on your way. And I’ll be here —well, in Washington, technically—cheering you on.”

“But why couldn’t we be great together, Stiles? We couldn’t we both go on to do great things, together?”

“Come on, (Y/N). Once you’re there, you’re gonna meet so many people, and you’ll have guys falling on their knees for you,” he chuckled dryly. “I won’t fit into your new world. I mean, you said it yourself: that’s where your parents met and your life began. And now, maybe you’ll have a new beginning. And years from today, we’ll run into each other, and you’ll tell me about your job and your husband and your kids, and I’ll be so happy for you. Because you serve all the love and happiness in the world, even if it’s without me.”

“Have you even asked yourself if that’s what I want?” (Y/N) asked as she left his warm embrace, her red eyes boring into his. “I’m not leaving because I’m searching for a new life. I want to go to Oxford because it’s one of the last things I can share with my dad. I can walk down the same halls he did, I can take classes in the same classrooms, and eat at the same places he did. But I was always going to come back, Stiles. Because my friends are here, my mom is here, because you are here. I don’t want to run into you and talk about another man or the kids I would have with him. I don’t want to run into you at all. I want to walk beside you, Stiles. If I ever have kids, it’s only if they’re a part of you too,” she cried, fresh tears falling down her already-stained cheeks. “If you don’t love me anymore, then fine. I can understand that, and I can walk away. But don’t you dare say that you wouldn’t fit into my life because you’ve been there longer than anyone I know, and I need you to be there until the end. Because I already lost someone important to me and I can’t lose you too. Not you.” 

“(Y/N), I don’t want to lose you either,” he sobbed. “But how can we fight with the distance? How could we ever withstand the fact that we’ll be an ocean away?”

“We have gone through worse battles than a plane ride, Stiles. We have been on the brink of death more times this past year than any person would in their lifetime. Do you really think being in a different time zone is the limit to our relationship? I know the future isn’t promised but you were the one person I always knew would be there.”

“I’m scared, okay?! I’m scared that you’ll meet someone better than me, (Y/N). I’m terrified that you’ll realize that maybe I’m not the guy that can give you your happy ever after,” he finally confessed. His voice croaked, and his chest heaved as the words fell out of his mouth faster than he could ever stop them. “This week has been torture without you. But it’s made me realize that Beacon Hills has always been too small for you. After May, you’re gonna go out there and find your place. And this town will be nothing but a memory you’ll come back to.”

“There is no one better for me than you, Stiles, and Beacon Hills will always be my home,” she replied softly. Her cold hand found his cheek, and she wiped away his tears with her thumb. “I don’t want to know a life where you’re not there. You can’t give up on us without even trying, Stiles. You just can’t.” 

Without thinking twice, (Y/N) crashed her lips onto his, sinking into the warmth of his mouth. After a week, kissing him felt like the very first time. It was desperate and filled with need —the need for closeness and passion, the need for love. Instinctively, Stiles’ hands found her waist and pulled her closer to him, wondering how he ever thought he could live without her touch. 

“I love you, Stiles, and I don’t even want to think about ever having to love someone else,” she whispered as she parted from him. “My heart belongs to you. And if this is the end, it’ll still remain in your hands.” 

“I couldn’t love anyone else like I love you, (Y/N),” he replied with a soft smile. “But I just can’t help the thoughts that flood my brain sometimes.” 

“Then don’t listen to them and listen to me when I say that since the moment I met you, I’ve known you were it for me. There is no other man waiting for me in Oxford. It’s you, and it will always be you,” (Y/N) said before kissing him softly once more. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me, Stiles Stilinski, and you’re the only thing that I want to keep happening to me.”

“I can’t believe I ever broke up with you. Especially during Christmas,” Stiles chuckled as he rested his forehead against hers, flicking the tip of her nose with his own. “It was honestly the worst week of my life.” 

“Including being possessed?” Scott’s voice startled them as he came into view. “Although, I get it because this was completely avoidable.”

(Y/N) chuckled as she took Scott’s extended hand and got on her feet, wiping away any tears that still remained. “Did you hear that whole thing?”

“More or less,” he chuckled. “It’s a bit hard not to when I was coming to see if you guys were okay.” 

“We’re good now, Scotty,” Stiles grinned. “Just had some unresolved feelings to work, though.” 

“Can you not mention the whole thing about the breakup? I don’t wanna make it a whole thing.”

“That’s a bit hard, (Y/N),” Malia called from the open front door. “We all kind of already know.”

“Oh, cool, great,” she said as she hid in Stile’s embrace. “That’s not embarrassing at all.”

“Eh, at least our parents are back together,” Liam commented. “Best Christmas present.” 

“It really is, huh?” Stiles whispered as he kissed the top of her head. 

“Yes. Very cute and adorable,” Lydia added in a desperate tone. “Now, can we go back inside before Hayden and Mason finish all the brownies?”

As the group walked back into the house, Stiles and (Y/N) shared one more moment together on the front porch. “Hey, look up,” Stiles said with a smile. “Mistletoe.”

“Funny that they’d hang that at a werewolf's home,” she chuckled. “Although, I’m pretty sure that one’s plastic.”

“And I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to kiss me.”

“Maybe I’m waiting for another guy to kiss under the plant.” Stiles frowned at her words, and all she could do was laugh. “Too soon?”

“Much,” he said. “Now, come here.”

He snaked his hands on either side of her face and kissed her passionately. He kissed her for every day they had spent apart. He kissed her for every hurtful word he had spewed. He kissed her as a promise of his love for her. Stiles kissed her like she was his future. 

Next ->

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[malulls]

'tis the damn season

Manorian modern au

Inspired by 'tis the damn season, by Taylor swift

Nsfw

December 23rd

Manon slammed the trunk harder than she should have. The car shuddered beneath her, as did Elide, but her friend said nothing. She just pulled Manon's second suitcase until she was next to her, and she was grateful for that.

The click of the car being closed was the only sound besides the wheels on the sidewalk to accompany them for a few minutes. Glennis' house was only a few meters away, but it was enough to annoy her. The nearest parking spaces were occupied, and Bronwen was an asshole who insisted on filling the garage when she had her own house to do it in. She could go fuck herself too.

Elide slowed down. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, but Manon knew she wanted to talk, to point out the everyday things that they hadn't discussed for a long time, ever since the distance — her fault, as well as many other things — between them began. Her friend was looking for something normal between them, and to be honest, so was Manon. But rebuilding the walls that had once come close to falling around herself, making them double in size, had taken a lot of effort. And tearing them down would take even more.

It wasn't a price she was willing to pay for just one week. Less than that if she was lucky.

Across the street, a woman Manon had never seen in the city slammed the car door. She had brown hair that hit the middle of her and was talking very fast on her cell phone. She wore a medical jacket.

Elide looked at the woman, at Manon, and looked away. Weird.

— Who’s that?

— Did you know that Yrene now runs the hospital?

Manon looked at her, surprised. The last time she was in town, Yrene Towers was finishing medical college.

— What does that have to do with her?

Elide cleared her throat. Manon almost stopped walking. Yrene was close to a subject she didn't want to hear about. Too close.

— Her name is Sorscha. She works there. She came from Fenharrow at the beginning of the year.

— Fenharrow? — Manon frowned. What was that woman doing in the tiny town where she had grown up? There were thousands of cities all over the country much closer to the frontiers, and somehow people ended up at that end of the world. — How the hell did she end up here?

Elide shrugged.

— I haven't talked to her very much. Yrene might know.

Luckily, the woman wasn't interesting enough for Manon to ask. She wasn't going to talk to Yrene. The doctor could break her face if she wanted, she didn't care. But there was more to the story. She knew Elide well enough to know when there was something on the tip of her tongue, even if the small, black—haired girl was the best liar Manon knew.

Apart from herself.

— Spit it out.

— She's been hanging out with Dorian.

Manon stopped. At least the four steps to Glennis' door were a good excuse for the reaction she shouldn't have had. With more force than necessary, she snatched her suitcase off the floor by the handle and began to climb.

— If I wanted to know who he's hanging with, I would have asked him.

Elide pulled up the second suitcase, with a little more difficulty due to her height, and examined her face. It turned out that a lifetime of being raised by her grandmother and the time in Los Angeles had honed her ability to appear indifferent over the last 23 years.

Before her friend could reply, the front door opened abruptly.

— Don't be rude to Elide. — Glennis said.

Then she pulled Manon into a tight hug that made her feel guilty for disappearing for four years. But not enough to make her regret it.

The comfort of the embrace made a lump appear in her throat. This was the grandmother who made Manon feel like she had something close to a family. The one who had taken years to find her. Who had arrived too late. It had taken her a while to put an end to the what ifs. What if her father had taken her mother with him when they moved to Rifthold? What if her grandmother had been away when her parents' accident happened. What if Asterin's mother had a better financial condition and had gotten custody of her. What if she hadn't had to grow up with that woman. Enough.

She made the questions go away and left her alone. As soon as Glennis let her go and Manon caught a glimpse of Bronwen in the doorway, she flashed her middle finger.

Her cousin just shrugged.

— Hi to you too, asshole.

Their grandmother slapped them both.

— If you start with that bullshit so soon, you can set up a ring in the street. In my house, behave yourselves. Bronwen, be nice to your cousin, you haven't seen each other for four years. — she emphasized the time. As if Manon didn't know how much the distance had hurt her. — Manon, you've been here for a too short time to have such a low level of patience.

— That's the full—time level. — she muttered.

Glennis greeted Elide and sent Bronwen to help Manon with her suitcases. She had been in the city for less than an hour and already wanted to disappear again.

Her room was just as she had left it. Incomplete, confused and a little lost. With half the things that had been hers packed, because despite the relief of no longer having to live under the same roof as her grandmother, it wasn't enough to make another place any less strange. Bronwen put down her suitcase without much care, but before she left, she stopped at the door.

— Look, we've never got on very well, but don't think I appreciate you being away for so long. Firstly because it upset Glennis, and secondly because I don't hate you. And even though I'm annoyed, I'm glad you're here.

Without giving her time to reply, her cousin left and slammed the door. She pulled off her boots and coat and sank onto the bed. She checked her cell phone before plugging it into the charger and closed the curtains to block out the afternoon sun, that was bringing a little warmth despite the winter. It reminded her too much of California for her liking.

Manon closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. She needed to sign the inheritance papers her parents had left for her. She should have done this when she was twenty—one, but her career was starting to take off, and since then she had been stuck in a mess of documents with the person she hated most in the world.

But she had already put that off for an absurd amount of time. Besides, if she wanted to stay in L.A., she needed the money. She hadn't looked into her grandmother's rigid face for years. That was long enough to need to do it one last time in her life.

But if it had only been that, a single person to avoid, she wouldn't be swimming in stress. The problem was that she was running away from the whole city. From Glennis and Bronwen, even though they were in the same house, she would have run away from Elide if her friend hadn't seen it coming and been quicker.

And there was him.

More than anything else, she was running away from Dorian Havilliard, which included his circle of friends and, consequently, half of the city. And now the lovely girl he was seeing. Manon didn't need to know anything about this. It made no difference. Nor was it the reason she wanted to break a window. She had a list full of them, and that one wasn't on it.

She thought about picking up her cell phone again, but to hell with it. The next day was Christmas Eve. Ironically, she was happy to get away from Los Angeles for a few hours. From her agent, from the madness, from the insufferable celebrities, from the few real friends she had made, and from her obligations.

Manon opened her eyes. She had an infinity of unresolved issues in that place. But Los Angeles wasn't her home. And perhaps she was the one making that city a hell.

Apart from the question of documents, having no commitments, no responsibilities the next day was... freeing. It lifted a suffocating weight from her back. It was the first time in a long time that she had had time to breathe.

—

December 25th

The advantage of living in a small town? Gossip spreads faster than fire on dry grass. Dorian wouldn't say he was a gossiper. He just liked to keep informed about other people's lives.

The bad side? When the gossip was about him. Or something he didn't want to know about. Elide had told her boyfriend Lorcan. Who had told Rowan. Which basically meant that the whole town knew. Dorian had to give him some credit, at least he was discreet. Rifthold was too small for a journalist, which was why Aelin had agreed to move with him to the capital, after he had stayed in the country for her. But in a small city? Rowan got really excited. The conclusion was that apart from his beauty, that was the reason he was adored by half of the old ladies there.

The point was that Dorian had spent the whole of Christmas trying not to think about it. About her. Just a few streets away. When they were finishing high school, they were practically on opposite sides of town, but Dorian hadn't set foot in his father's house for a long time. Not even when he went to the city for some reason. His mother and Hollin had stopped by his house, and had even sent him a present. It was something, even if it was more because she felt obliged to than because she wanted.

Now he was sitting on the couch, alone. Thinking. Having repeated doses of existential crises, which were interrupted by Aelin knocking on the door.

— Merry Christmas. — she said, her voice muffled as the two of them hugged.

He hugged Rowan and invited them in, but Aelin refused.

— My mom's waiting. We're just here to pick up my present.

Dorian chuckled.

— You're ridiculous. — But he went to get her package in the living room. When he came back to the door, she also had a package. Both shaped like books.

— What a surprise. — Aelin mocked. — Thanks.

— Are you having your party tomorrow? — Dorian asked.

— Of course, and on New Year's Day will be at Elide's house. We're staying until the 1st this time, it's been a while since we've been able to get everyone together. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about this. Do you think she'll go? Elide must want to take her.

She didn't have to say who.

— I have no idea. We haven't spoken since the day she left.

Aelin nodded.

— I just wanted to let you know that she might be there. Good night.

He said goodbye to them. Dorian wasn't sure how the thought of meeting her made him feel. Perhaps he was still angry. After a while, he had stopped thinking about her. Not completely. Some what ifs were hard to let go.

Especially when they had come so close to being what he wanted, only for everything suddenly end like it had never existed. It had been a long time, so many things had changed and happened. And the more time passed, the more Dorian was sure he could let it go once and for all.

But it would have been good, if she had been the one.

—

December 26th

Aelin Galathynius knew how to give a party.

Dorian had to give his friend the credits. Even if, after drinking, dancing, laughing and chatting, he was standing on the balcony alone while the rest of his group of friends split up into couples. Except for Fenrys, of course. He was with some random woman in one of the mansion's many rooms. If he wasn't with more than one.

He could be as a couple if he started to make an effort, but besides the fact that Sorscha hadn't finished her shift at the hospital, the thought of meeting her was bothering him. Probably because he didn't want to be an asshole or admit that he was thinking about someone who had become a ghost years ago. Dorian shook his head before he followed that line of thought and turned to get another glass of champagne. And froze.

He had seen Elide earlier, but alone. Now... Dorian didn't know why he was so surprised. It wasn't like he hadn't known she was in town, Aelin had made sure of warning him personally that she might be there. But apparently, he hadn't prepared himself as well as he thought. She was beautiful. She always was, but somehow she'd managed to look better. Her hair was longer, past the middle of her back and in a more refined cut than the one she wore in high school. He had avoided the pictures when magazine covers and social media ads started appearing with her face, but the urge to see her sometimes was stronger.

Underneath the heavy coat she had hung up, she wore heeled boots, pants that hugged her legs so tightly it should have been a crime, and a sleeveless blouse with a neckline that could have been an attempt on his sanity. All in black. Except for the lipstick.

Guess who just got fucked?

Dorian hadn't noticed that he was holding his breath until he saw her turn her back and go to another part of the house. Then he felt a bitter taste in his throat. That was why he had given up on what he was starting with Sorscha. Because, apparently, just knowing that she was in town was enough to take ten steps back.

Giving up on something good, something that might have a future, something that could turn into a real relationship, just for seeing Manon. Four years. After four years without a word between them, after she had left, Dorian was still there. Right where she left him.

—

Manon had been at the party for exactly 48 minutes and already regretted it. Elide had spent the whole afternoon annoying her, until Glennis decided she couldn't take it anymore and helped her friend to push her out. Terrible idea.

After spending much more time washing her hands than was necessary, she decided it was enough. This was ridiculous. It was past time to get out of that place instead of hiding in a bathroom like a scared teenager. At least she had somehow managed not to bump into Dorian. Manon had only glimpsed him once and ended up on the other side of the room.

The thought of meeting him brought up so many different feelings, none of which she wanted to feel. Remorse. Shame. Longing. So much that sometimes it still hurts. Ok, that's enough.

She was going to sign the documents with her grandmother the next day. Then she might never set foot on the street again until she was on her way to an airport. Maybe she'd go back to Los Angeles sooner. Or end up in any other city, it didn't matter. Just one more day, she decided, closing the bathroom door. She'd survive one more fucking day…

Dorian did the same. The shock quickly turned to an emotion she couldn't identify and didn't like.

Manon stopped. Just as she had at the door of Glennis's house. She froze in place when she raised her head. When she recognized his features in the low, spaced lights of the hallway. His eyes were as wide as she felt her own for half of a second before she forced her face back into its usual expression.

— It's been a while, witchling.

The nickname didn't seem satisfied with just entering her ears. His voice made sure to send a series of shivers through her entire body, which made her regret wearing only her bodysuit. The heavy barrier of the jacket would cook her inside the house, but it would be very welcome now.

— I think so.

She gave up trying to get past him. She still had a whole hallway to cross to the stairs. Fucking hell.

— How's life in L. A.? I imagine it's pretty good, since you haven't set a foot here for four years.

It irritated her deeply. At any moment he, Elide and Glennis would get together to put up an outdoor in a square counting how many seconds she had spent away.

— I've never been the biggest fan of this place.

— You can see it. Has Yrene talked to you? I'm sure she wants to see you.

— I haven't talked to anyone.

From the way Dorian smiled, he was enjoying the conversation and her rudeness wasn't going to send him off any time soon. Good.

— Oh, it's an usual activity then. I thought not talking to anyone was only for special occasions, like when you go to the other side of the country.

— Glennis and Bronwen knew. And they were the only ones who needed it.

He snorted.

— You really got some nerve to say that.

Manon held back from expressing any physical reaction, like slapping him in the face.

— Incredibly, I have better things to do than debate this with you. If you had something to say to me, you could have sent a message. It's a bit late now.

— No, Manon, you could have sent a message, breaking up with me, saying you were going. You could have sent a damn goodbye emoji, anything would have been better than nothing at all.

Manon felt the heat of anger and shame spreading across her face. Thankfully the hallway was dark.

— And what do you want me to say? — she asked, gritting her teeth. She was aware that they were one step away from start shouting, but she didn't care.

— The reason? Or I don't deserve an explanation either?

— What difference does it make? Why do you even care?

Dorian opened his mouth to reply, but someone came from the stairs to the corridor where they were. He went to one of the doors, opened it and entered a room, but didn't close it, waiting for her to come in. What a pitty. Now she was free to get out of there and lock herself in her room, as she should have done all night.

That's what Manon thought, until she recognized the long brown hair in one of the dim lights in the corridor. The same one she'd seen coming out of a car in the first few minutes in Rifthold. Sorscha. She must have arrived recently, Manon hadn't seen her anywhere in the house. And if she'd been at the party earlier, Dorian probably wouldn't have been there fighting with her.

So, giving in to her ridiculous jealousy, Manon entered the room with him and closed the door behind her.

The room was almost brighter than the corridor, with moonlight coming in through the window. Dorian turned on a small lamp next to a pile of books. The bedroom reminded her of his old one when they were both teenagers, and it could have been cozy, if his expression wasn't freezing the room. She regretted going in there, continuing a fight that would bring back everything she had been struggling to forget over the last few years. His gaze emitted a cold she had never seen in Dorian. One that was too similar to her own. And one that Manon knew she was only staring at because she had caused the pain that had put it there.

Sorscha's footsteps sounded outside in the hallway, and she was afraid Dorian would say something, but they remained silent until she was down the stairs again. A slight feeling of guilt troubled her, but it passed quickly. It wasn't the worst thing she had done in her life.

— Where did we stop? — He asked.

— You were about to start a monologue.

His smile was all sarcasm and the coldness she was already starting to hate.

— That was too insensitive. Even for you. — He spat out the last word with such anger that it almost made her want to run away. Hell of jealousy that didin't let her walk away and pretend nothing had happened. — You're not going to convince me that you didn't care, so why, Manon? That's all I want to know. What I've been trying to understand for four fucking years.

She bit her lip. Hearing him say her name broke up the familiarity that the fight had brought and reminded her that they had just met. The strangeness of that reality after all the scenarios and possibilities Manon had built up in her head of what it would be like to meet him again made her dizzy.

She had lost count of how many times she had replayed again and again the scene in her mind when she couldn't sleep. When having to face him was less complicated than whatever she was going through in California.

— You knew that the only thing I'd wanted my entire life was to get out of this city.

— But I didn't know that you had no reason to stay.

A laugh without a glint of humor came out of her mouth, leaving behind a bitter taste that burned her throat. It sounded just exactly her grandmother's.

— Are you sure? Why would I stay? To spend another night with you? You decided you wanted more than a casual thing on your own, when we both knew from the start that it wouldn't be anything more than that.

A sound of pure shock and indignation came out of him.

— Is that what you invented to sleep better? We were long past that when you left.

— We had fought. — She tried to defend herself, knowing she couldn't.

— Weeks before. We'd already made up.

— And what did you want me to say? — she exploded, taking a step towards him. — Would you be happy when I told you I was moving away just when things were like you wanted?

The shouting had totally started now.

— Of course not, but at least I'd know! — he replied, taking another step closer to her. — I had to find out from your cousin that you were on the other side of the fucking country because you weren't anywhere and wouldn't answer your cell phone, without any explanation. Do you have any idea how desperate I was, thinking your grandmother had done something to you?

That was like a punch in the gut. Manon had never thought of it in that way, and the worst part was that the possibility of her grandmother hurting her was real. A million unspoken things bubbled up in her throat as silence killed the argument, but when she felt an apology appearing, she decided it was time to change the subject.

— Do you really want to fight at a crowded party? — she pointed out, casually.

Dorian remained silent for a few seconds, while he calmed his breathing.

— Do you want to try again somewhere quieter? The middle of the forest is pretty empty at this hour.

— The forest? What if I decide to sacrifice you?

He pressed his lips together to contain a smile or a grimace, she didn't know. With the direction of the conversation going in something so similar to what they used to have, it could have been either of them.

— Knowing that you have another ten witches on your back? I don't think so.

When the silence returned, she took two steps towards the door. It seemed wrong to leave like that, to be anywhere in Rifthold where he wasn't with so many unresolved things hanging between them. Manon knew that meeting him again would be bad, but she hadn't imagined that the list of possible after—effects was so long.

— When are you leaving? — he asked, as soon as she reached the exit of the room.

Manon turned to him, leaning against the door.

— As soon as I get what I need from my grandmother.

— What? — He frowned. — Are you going to see her?

— It's about inheritance. — She answered quietly. That subject was bad in every way she could imagine. — My lawyer said there was no way to avoid it.

And she had tried hard.

— But then you should have done this two years ago.

Manon shrugged.

— It wasn't time enough away.

Before she could open the door, he took a few steps towards her.

— Well, remember that before you leave, we have a fight to finish.

She huffed.

— You should give up and run while you still have the chance.

— I never ran from you, witchling.

— It would’ve been easier if you had.

The sentence hung in the air, waiting for the direction of the conversation to be decided. Dorian silently agreed to put the seriousness and the bad part of the past aside for a moment, as he opened a half-smile.

— True, but then it wouldn't be fun. And imagine how sad your life would be if you'd never slept with me?

A siren started to play in her head. Manon frowned.

— Do you really want to get into this topic?

— I'm not getting into anything. — She rolled her eyes. — I was just saying.

The problem was that when it came to them, nothing was just anything. She looked at him. The slightly longer curls, the hint of a beard that hadn't existed when he was a teenager. The memories of why she had slept with him more than once, something she never did, came flooding back. And now he was no longer on the other side of the room, let alone in the country.

— Really?

He shrugged.

— It's not like this could get any worse.

Indeed. Manon tilted her head back, eyes on his face again. Her heart immediately raced. After all, what did she intend entering in a dark room with Dorian?

If she was already in hell, hugging the devil would be nothing.

— If it's ok with you, it's ok with me, princeling.

Saying it out loud was worse. It made the terrible idea slap reality in her face. Dorian approached slowly, put his hand on her side and locked the door. He looked down at Manon, analyzing her face as she had done to him seconds ago. Her heart seemed about to burst out of her mouth. She gave him a look of "just do it". Dorian got the message.

When they kissed, her body tensed like a rope about to snap. The touch was featherlight, a taste of what she had wanted back for so long. He deepened the kiss and her breathing faltered. The sensation of kissing someone she already knew, the familiarity and yet the difference that had arisen in the years apart, turned her mind upside down. His kisses always managed to make her forget that the rest of the world existed, and it was no different this time.

They gained back the ability to move at the same time. Dorian pressed Manon's body between his and the door, and her hand went to the back of his head to pull him close. In the seconds it took them to catch their breath, they stared at each other with the same haunted expression. At least he was as stunned as she was.

This time, when they kissed agaian, he wrapped his arms around her waist, taking the opportunity to touch every inch of bare skin. Dorian ran his hands down the fabric covering her torso, looking for a zipper or button, and mumbled into her mouth when he didn't find one. Manon only murmured "body" and tilted her head back, exposing her neck. Dorian caressed her nipples over the fabric, leaving a mark in the space between her shoulder and neck. Why the hell hadn't she chosen something easier to take off?

She bit her lower lip to hold back a moan as he caressed her, her breasts heavy with lust. When his lips were on hers again, Manon rested her thigh on his hip and Dorian supported her legs so that she could pass them around his waist. Before she could think better of it, he was already carrying her to the bed. He laid Manon down and took off his jacket and shirt.

— Are we really doing this? — she asked, although she was devouring him with her eyes. She didn't mind shamelessly analyzing each muscle he had gained with time.

Dorian lay on top of her.

— When did we ever make a good decision?

Touché

— Just confirming it.

The more they kissed, the less it seemed to be enough. The sexual tension that had always existed between them was on the verge of making her lose her mind. Manon started to open the buttons and zipper of his pants while he pulled down hers. Dorian stood at the edge of the bed while he took off her boots and socks, and finally reached the opening of her bodysuit.

— Did you have to choose the most complicated clothes in the world?

She crossed her arms even though she was mentally cursing herself for the same reason thirty seconds ago.

— I'm sorry to make your life difficult, but I didn't dress with that in mind.

She raised her arms for him to pull off the last piece of clothing, taking her panties with it. But, to her surprise, he turned her around. It was better that way, actually, if they didn't have to look at each other's faces. Dorian ran his fingers up the inside of her thigh, while pushing her hair away from her neck. Manon let her head fall back onto the pillow, clutching the sheet when she remembered that there was still a party going on outside. Still, it was hard to remain silent when he slipped two fingers inside her, still leaving kisses on the back of her neck. Any rational thought left in her head vanished as he moved his fingers slowly.

It was more of a tease than anything, because he pulled away. Manon almost cursed Dorian when the waves of pleasure pushing her close to relief stopped, but he opened the drawer in the bedside table next to him and took out a packet of condoms. She frowned.

— Does Aelin have a stock of these in every room in the house?

— This room is mine.

If Dorian had a room in Aelin's house, he probably had an altar in Chaol's.

She raised her arm to support her head and turned to him.

— So you, very unpretentiously, brought me to argue in your room?

— In my defense, you could've left.

He made her grimace disappear with more kisses and this time, beyond just desire, she felt her heart ache for all the things they could have been and she had ruined. He lay on top of her and, before she could continue thinking, Dorian spread her legs and entered her in a single movement. Manon let her face fall back on the pillow below, as he brought her wrists together and held them above her head. She would have completely forgotten that they couldn't make a sound if it hadn't been for the loud music. Mainly after he wrapped his hand around one of her thighs and pulled it up, opening her wider, the change in angle made him hit the right spot.

His hard strokes became faster, and with all the filthy things he was whispering in her ear, it didn't take long for Manon to bury her face in the pillow to muffle a scream. He bit her shoulder and came seconds later, still thrusting, prolonging the feeling for them both. Slowly, Dorian pulled out of her and lay down on the other side of the bed. Even after she lifted her face, facing him, neither of them said anything, small shivers still running through their bodies.

Manon could have slept there if she'd stayed like that for a few more minutes. So she got up. She sat on the edge of the bed, trying to find her clothes. But before she could get up, he wrapped an arm around her waist.

— Leaving already, witchling?

She opened her mouth to reply, but ended up holding back a moan when he licked her neck, caressing the curve of her breast with his thumb. Not reaching where she needed, just making her want more. It was working.

She turned her face to him and he raised his head. They could have stared at each other for hours, a silent conversation that made it clear that this would happen again. But not tonight

— I want to sleep.

He chuckled quietly, and didn't insist when Manon got up. She started to get dressed, more than aware that he was on the bed without a single item of clothing, staring at her.

She stopped at the door, still with the feeling she'd had earlier that she shouldn't leave the strange bubble that the room had become, sheltered from reality and anyone besides them.

— Good night, princeling.

Manon closed the door without giving him a chance to reply and, this time, ran for the exit, without giving herself a single second to think about the last hours. She had stayed much longer than she should have at that party.

—

December 27th

Dorian was looking for the leftover of the sweets that Nesryn's father had sent in the kitchen cupboards, when someone knocked the door. He went to the living room to open the door, and the last thing he expected in the world was to see Manon on the other side. Especially after the night before.

He had spent the rest of the night and the whole day thinking about it, replaying the conversation, the fight, and everything that happened afterward on a loop in his mind. And from the way Manon was struggling to keep her face blank, she was thinking exactly the same thing.

— I'm very surprised.

— Asterin called me and asked me to pick up a box with you. Something from the truck that she needs.

When Asterin Blackbeak had sent him a message, Dorian hadn't thought that this was what she had intended. He was going to send her some stickers cursing and saying thank you later.

— I know what it is. It's in the garage.

He led the way and Manon entered, looking around to analyze the house. Dorian wondered if she liked it. She used to say that the mansion he'd grown up in was so exaggerated that it lost its beauty. He agreed, but he never knew if she really thought that, or if her dislike of the place was because of what Dorian had been through with his father.

When they arrived at the garage, he showed her the box on one of the shelves, and of course Manon tried to pick it up herself. She was far from being short, but it was enough for him to love the things that the height difference between them provided.

He leaned behind Manon to pick up the box, touching every inch of her back in the process and remembering the sensation of being inside her in that same position a few hours ago. She turned around with her arms crossed, between him and the shelf.

— You're still that shameless?

He left the box on the bench next to him and immediately forgot it existed.

— You could've let me get it.

— I didn't ask your help.

— It was as clear as the sun that you weren't going to reach that shelf.

He saw the exact moment when Manon ran out of arguments by the way her mouth tightened.

— You could've let me get out of the way then.

— Nice try, but you didn't even try to move.

— So what? You let me in.

— You came in because you wanted to. You could've waited at the door.

— You —

He ended the argument with a kiss.

She'd gone there with an objective, just as Dorian had when he'd taken her to his room at the party. Was he an idiot for still wanting Manon so badly after everything she'd done? What a pity. She wouldn't be in town for long, so it would be over as quickly as it had started.

Somehow they ended up upstairs, their clothes disappearing on the way. He pushed her against the door as soon as it was closed and knelt down, pulling her pants down with him, doing what he hadn't had time to do the night of the party.

Dorian put one of Manon's legs on his shoulder and brought his mouth to her center, closing his eyes when he tasted her after so long. The sound that came from her mouth made his cock ache, and pulled his gaze upwards. She had one hand in his hair, her head leaning back against the door, her breath panting and a blush on her cheeks. Still the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

He moved his tongue all over her again, tasting every inch of her slowly, until her body started to tremble and Manon pulled his hair to make him stand. He had a condom in his hands in seconds while she caught her breath, watching him. Dorian had felt rather than seen her gazes in the darkness of the hallway and the bedroom. Now at least he could identify what she was thinking.

He pushed her back against the wall and Manon wrapped her legs around his waist. Since they couldn't do it the day before, they kissed the moment he buried himself in her. She let her head fall on the door, looking at him with her mouth half open and her golden eyes lighten up with desire.

— I love our ability to pretend nothing happened. — he said.

Manon let out a half-smile and thrust her hips, making him move. Dorian was shared between her mouth, neck and breasts, knowing that she would curse him for the hickeys afterwards, but at the moment neither of them cared. He'd be lucky if the door didn't break after being slammed in the lock.

When they finished, they threw themselves on the bed. This time, whether it was because the position required more effort, because of the two orgasms or because she was giving up her stubbornness, Manon didn't leave immediately. She even let him play with the ends of her hair. After a long time, she turned to him. Dorian had already thought of what to say in the meantime. Suddenly, they were both in their second year of high school, in the first few months when he still had to convince her not to leave before she decided she had stayed too long.

— Are you in a hurry, witchling?

—

Manon parked outside Glennis's house, Asterin's box in the trunk. She looked at the dashboard. She had left for Dorian's house in the afternoon. It was past ten pm. She tried not to be silent when she entered the house, like a teenager sneaking back after bedtime.

The last thing she needed was Glennis or Bronwen asking where she was. Manon just wanted to get in the shower and sleep until noon, and she was happy to do that, especially after the afternoon she'd had. Somehow it was even better than at the party. This wouldn't do any good for either of them, but, stupid as it was, as long as Dorian wanted it too, she had no intention of stopping.

Maybe a few days in Rifthold wouldn't be such a nightmare after all.

—

December 28th

Manon regretted the thought less than twenty—four hours later. She hadn't been thinking when she'd driven to Dorian's house, she'd just ended up there. He opened the door and looked at her, the half—smile disappearing from his face and being replaced by concern as soon as he saw her face.

— What had she done?

At least she hadn't had to explain.

— Are you busy?

— No. — He made room for her to enter and closed the door. They stared at each other, Dorian waiting for her to say something until Manon sighed and gave in.

— She took the opportunity to throw in my face everything she hadn't been able to over the last few years. — She laughed without humor, letting her body fall against the wall. — You guess how many things she had to say to me.

— I'm sorry.

She took the courage to look at Dorian. He seemed to want to hug her, but there was no space left between them for this.

— I shouldn't have come here. — She shook her head and headed for the door, but he held her arm.

— You don't have to go if you don't want to.

Being honest with herself, Manon was afraid of what that would turn into if she didn't leave.

— Are you going to distract me, princeling?

He tugged her arm slightly, a step closer.

— Only if you don't run off after.

She lifted a shoulder. Dorian had said at the party that it couldn't get any worse. Apparently they both took it as a challenge.

Later, Manon would be lying if she said she regretted it. It was a little easier to forget problems eating pastries from Nesryn Faliq's family bakery in his huge, soft bed. Her hair was still damp from the shower Dorian had convinced her to take with him in the middle of the night. It was something they had rarely been able to do before, even though his parents didn't give a damn what he did or where he was.

— She's with Sartaq.

Manon swallowed the rest of the lemon tart.

— Really?

— Yes, but they think no one knows.

She crossed her legs, looking for a brigadeiro in the box.

— Are you going to update the gossip I missed?

He laughed.

— Yes, but I thought Elide did that.

Manon frowned as she remembered what her friend had told her.

— Elide only told me things I'm not interested in knowing.

Dorian raised his eyebrows, but she didn't elaborate. He picked up his cell phone.

— I'll open the talk with Aelin and Rowan.

She came a little closer, but he made room so that she was practically on his lap. She ignored the urge to lean her head on his shoulder, but knew that if she had been distracted, she would have done so. It was like they had continued exactly where they had stopped. Which meant things were about to go bad.

—

December 29th

Manon was wearing Dorian's shirt. He held her while they slept. Everything was so similar to how they used to be that she could have gone back in time. The peace and tranquility of a good relationship, which she had never imagined she would feel one day, was the same. Dorian woke up before her, which never happened, and he wasn't in bed. He was making breakfast when she appeared, her hair messy and wearing his clothes. That was always when she looked most beautiful.

— Good afternoon.

— I have to enjoy it while I can. — She defended herself, sitting down on one of the high stools at the kitchen island. — I can't waste half my day sleeping in Los Angeles.

He pushed a plate towards her.

— What's it like? In L.A.?

Manon stopped her toast halfway to her mouth.

— You really want to know?

He shrugged and sat down on the stool next to her. It was weird telling anyone about all of that, especially Dorian, but the conversation eventually became easy. He told her about the bookshop he'd opened with Aelin, about the new house he'd built himself, while Manon spewed venom about the celebrities she'd had the displeasure of meeting.

— But do you hate them all? Like, zero famous friends?

She nodded.

— Just my agent, Morrigan. And Lidia Cervos.

Dorian's eyes widened.

— Lidia Cervos?

— Yes. — She spoke again before he asked for a photo with Lidia or something. — It's funny, because we only met because I was going out with her current boyfriend.

His grimace was priceless.

— The one from the rock band?

She nodded.

— Yes, why?

She held back her smile when he looked away to find an excuse for his sudden mood.

— He doesn't seem to be your type.

— And what would that be?

— Black hair...

— His hair is black.

— Not shaved. Not long. No piercings, no tattoos...

— You look like a conservative lady.

He threw a grape at her.

— Blue eyes...

— His eyes are —

— Blue, Manon. Not violet or whatever that weird color is, blue. Like this. — he said, pointing to his own face.

— As convenient as your self—description is...

He interrupted her with another kiss. After stopping long enough to put the plates in the sink, Dorian put his hands on her thighs under his sweatshirt and placed Manon on the bench, his tongue caressing hers and his fingers between her legs. She smiled as he sucked another mark on her neck, making a mental note to make him jealous more often.

—

It was dark again, and Manon hadn't left his house since the day before. They were lying on the couch, Dorian on the end and she between him and the backrest, his fingers finally stroking her hair, in the way she liked it so much. The familiar touches and affection were good. Really good. But they hurted too. She lifted her eyelids and found him staring at her, a hint of sadness mixed with the blue of his eyes. When he leaned in to kiss her, she didn't pull away.

The beginning of the kiss was enough for her to see that this one was going to be different. Her heart immediately raced. It felt like it was going to explode in her chest when he ran his tongue over her lower lip, before sliding it in her mouth. No rush, no trying to hide anything, just longing and everything they hadn't said to each other.

When it was over, neither of them moved. They continued with their foreheads touching, still not wanting to know what would happen when the moment passed. But the fear soon hit her, as if someone had opened the windows and let icy wind in. It pulled Manon out and made her sit on the couch, her back to Dorian. He took a deep breath, exhaling tiredness without having to say a word.

— You can't help running away, can you?

— And you need to complicate everything. — she replied, but not even her own voice sounded convinced.

— Oh right, because everything was so simple until now.

She turned to him.

— It could be, if you could ignore this for one damn weekend.

— You trying so hard to pretend you don't feel anything isn't going to make it true.

Manon got up from the couch.

— And why should I do anything different if it's going to end in days?

He got up too.

— You tell me! Things don't have to stay like this.

— And what's going to change when I go back to L.A.? — She felt an alarm screaming in her head, but ignored it. — Give me a single reason not to leave things as they are. I don't see any.

She regretted it the moment the words left her mouth. She had already said the same thing, the same lies, years ago.

It had already been clear that there were feelings between them, but it was the first time they had talked and admitted it. Of course, she had tried to push him away, but Dorian didn't let her. That fight they managed to resolve, was one of the few times in her life that Manon had gone back on her word. At some point, she regretted it. If they had been fighting when she went to Los Angeles, a small part of things would have been easier. Now... he just shook his head.

— I'm not doing this again.

Dorian walked past her to get his sweatshirt from the kitchen. To leave, Manon realized. Immediately, despair set in. He would walk out of that door and he could go anywhere. If he didn't want to see her ever again and disappear until she was gone, he could. She remained static, watching the fragile shield they had managed to maintain crumble. Until he passed her and her body moved of its own accord.

She grabbed his arm and Dorian stopped, looking at her with pure anger and hurt on his face. Her hands were shaking. Was this how he had felt when he watched her leave, not being able to do anything?

Thorns pierced her throat. It would be hard to pull them out, but Manon wasn't going to lose him out for being a coward again.

— I couldn't say goodbye because if I had to, I wouldn't have left. — she said. And once she'd started, she couldn't stop, the words came out in a torrent. — When Asterin called to say that she had made a friend who had agreed to be my agent, I didn't give myself time to think. I just went, because if I thought about it, if I told you, I wouldn't leave, and I had to. I couldn't stay here, Dorian. But Glennis had found me, I'd met Elide, and I had you. I had accepted that I had you. How could I go so far away, leaving everything that was important behind?

Manon took a deep breath. Her chest was hurting so much it was suffocating, but she had to keep going.

— But I'd never have a chance of something like that happening again. I practically informed Glennis that I was leaving because I lived in her house. And that's the only reason I was able to go. It doesn't mean I don't regret it every fucking day.

Dorian blinked quickly and swallowed. She wasn't crying, but she knew there was pain in every line of her face.

— But what about after that? — he asked. — When you were already there, or when things started to work out? You had weeks, months, years to say something. Anything, Manon.

She shook her head, still not sure if she was breathing.

— Weeks, months, years later, I was still dying inside. I still am. The first year was... — she had to stop again as the memories came. — Impossible. I wanted to run back, but I couldn't, not with my grandmother here. I couldn't give up, I didn't want to run back and have her telling me I was the fragile little girl who deserved every slap. If I'd talked to you, if I'd had the slightest impression that you didn't hate me and would rather never see me again, I would have come back.

The words died between them and were replaced by silence. Dorian wasn't looking at her, but he hadn't moved either. Manon kept her hand firmly around his arm.

— That's my reason. — she said, hating her voice for failing.

Dorian nodded.

— Was it worth it? — he asked.

She didn't know how to answer. She asked herself that question every day. Was it worth being away from her grandmother? Yes. But to be away from everyone she loved? Never. Everything she had built up in her career? Yes. But in exchange for the hell that life in L.A. had been? Having to live every day with people who reminded her of her grandmother, always around just to find out if Manon could make it?

— I don't know. — she admitted.

Things weren't absolute, they didn't have only good and bad sides. But she would be lying if she said she didn't look back at the road not taken

Dorian finally looked at her. Manon felt her own eyes burning. The fear was visible on her face, as was the request for him not to leave. He no longer looked angry, but deeply sad, like the seventeen—year—old boy who barely looked in his father's direction. Manon hated knowing that this time, it was she who had left him like this. Wasn't that why she had resisted so much before agreeing to be with him? Apart from her selfishness, cowardice and fear when she saw that she really liked him, but because she knew she would hurt him.

— I'm sorry. — Manon finally said. He said nothing.

Dorian dropped his arm when she let it go. She was thinking that she would have to go upstairs and get her things, but he put his arms around her waist and hugged her. Manon went still. A knot tightened in her throat, and without realizing it she had hugged him back, as firmly as she could.

— I'm sorry. — she murmured.— I'm so sorry.

— I know. — His voice was low enough that she almost didn't hear it. — We'll be all right.

Two tears escaped before she could stop them, but Dorian didn't notice. They could have spent an eternity there, as long as he didn't let her go, Manon wouldn't either. Finally, when the two of them parted, they didn't say anything more, he just held out his hand. She took it.

—

December 30th

— Will you ever be less stubborn? — Dorian complained, even though he was laughing against her neck.

— The day you become less annoying.

Manon turned to him, smiling, his arm still around her waist. She had only left his house early in the morning to pick up some clothes. Glennis and Bronwen were awake and tried to tease her, but she just left the house as quickly as she came in. Manon would be back, though. She owed them a real talk, too.

They hadn't slept much after spending the whole night talking, truthfully, that time. She had told him everything, from her first months in L.A. to what had happened with her grandmother that week. Dorian rested his arm next to her head, his nose almost touching hers.

— I'm sorry, but it's my favorite activity.

— I don't think so.

She pulled Dorian into a kiss. Manon spread her legs and he laid between them. She was tired, but apparently not enough, because wetness pooled between her legs.

Her phone rang, ruining her mood immediately, and he kissed the tip of her nose before moving away to let her answer. When she saw the name on the screen, Manon froze, all the comfort of seconds ago disappearing.

— It's my agent.

She went out into the corridor.

— Mor?

— Did you do what you needed to do, sweetheart?

She sighed and leaned against the wall. Here we go.

— Yes.

— That's good. So, when are you coming back?

— When do I need to come back?

A second of silence on the other end of the line, then she let out a little scream.

— So you're your hot ex—boyfriend...

— Morrigan.

— All right, love, I get it. I can get you to stay until the 2nd, but you'll need to post something. Something about the small town, family, all that shit we know you love. Something like: "hey Instagram, I haven't forgotten about you! I just missed my family, and that's what the holidays are for, isn't it?" I think that's enough.

— Right. — Manon interrupted, before she started babbling. — Is that all you wanted to know?

— Of course, sweetie. We'll update your schedule when you get here. — She paused, and her voice lost its playful tone. — I've been with you for three years, Manon, and you've never taken a single break. You can stay there for a few more days, I'll make sure it won't do too much damage.

— Thank you. — she said sincerely.

— I love you too. Bye!

Before Manon could protest, Mor turned off. Dorian was sitting up in bed.

— Do you have to go?

— Not now. We still have a few days.

— And when you need to? How are we going to do that?

She sat on his lap and buried her face in his neck. She would miss his smell. His smiles. Perhaps even more than when she had gone for the first time.

— I don't know. My schedule is always a nightmare. I can't get back here that soon.

He wrapped his arms around her.

— How about once a year?

Manon pulled away to see his face. She had been waiting apprehensively for that moment even before they were ok.

— Is that enough?

Dorian brushed strands of hair away from her face.

— I can go to L.A. before that. If you want me there.

— I won't complain.

He leaned back against the pillows and Manon sat against him. She looked around the room, at the snow—covered forest through the window, and sank into the warmth of his embrace. She could already feel her heart breaking to leave that bed, the most comforting place she had ever known. Dorian entwined his fingers in hers.

— What if I asked you to stay?

Her heart raced. Manon hadn't considered the possibility. But could she? Would she throw it all away, would she have to throw it all away to stay there? She saw the other road again, the one that looked so much better every time she looked at it. She wasn't sure if life in L.A. was worth it. But her grandmother was still in that city.

She needed time. She needed to think. Manon turned to him.

— Then I would ask you to wait.

Dorian nodded, a serious expression on his face. But he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

— Then I'll put a plane ticket on your account, witchling.

—

New Year's Day

The Anielle Lake was crowded at that time of year. With not many other entertainment options in Rifthold, the whole town went there to watch the fireworks on New Year's Eve. Everyone was at Elide's house, which was near the lake, occupying the huge veranda while they waited for the show. They were armed with bottles of champagne and Fenrys to generate entertainment.

Aelin came out of nowhere and slung an arm around Manon's shoulders.

— I'm glad you're not too famous to talk to us. Humility is the thing I value most.

— Is it to make up for the amount you lack? — she replied.

Aelin showed her two middle fingers and turned away. She was certainly already drunk. Lysandra looked at the clock on her cell phone.

— Shut up, the countdown is going to start.

As they could hear people counting from the lake, they followed the crowd. Dorian raised his eyebrows at her when they reached "five". Manon rolled her eyes.

— How old are you?

But at midnight, she kissed him anyway.

Yrene climbed onto a chair, cell phone in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other.

— Nobody moves. We haven't had a picture together for an eternity.

Manon thought about complaining, but remembered that she needed the happy small—town picture for Instagram. Lorcan took the selfie to the protest of anyone apart from Elide, Yrene and Chaol — who only didn't protest because they were polite — because his two meters of height had to be good for something. In the end, she didn't regret taking the picture. And Mor was going to love it.

Manon wanted to drag Dorian back home and spend the last day with him, but after the panic of meeting that group passed, she realized how much she had missed them. Although she obviously wasn't ever going to admit it.

Elide suddenly hugged her.

— I'm so glad you're here.

She hugged her back.

— I'm sorry for everything. And thank you for not giving up on me.

She smiled at Manon and put her arm around hers.

— That's what friends are for. But I'll let you make it up to me when I need a favor.

She didn't have a chance to reply because, at that very moment, Fenrys, Lysandra and Aelin joined hands and jumped off the balcony ledge into the nearest mount of snow.

—

January 1st

Manon slammed the trunk hard, just for old time sake. That was enough change for a single week. She had Dorian again. She was talking properly to Elide. She'd seen Yrene (who hadn't broken her face) and all the others, and had a true conversation with Glennis and Bronwen for the first time in years. And more than anything, she was free of a weight. She would never have to see her grandmother again. And she wouldn't.

— I don't think there's anything missing.

Dorian raised his hand.

— There's me.

She rolled her eyes. He pulled her over to the car and kissed Manon. She laughed, because she suddenly felt like she was in high school again, kissing Dorian in a parking lot.

— We're too old for that, princeling.

He smiled and ran his eyes over her face. The smile diminished.

— I think you need to go, then.

Without thinking, Manon leaned in again, pressing her lips to his lightly, before pulling away. She wasn't the kind of person who could say goodbye, not decently. So she wouldn't say anything. But she didn't need to, because Dorian understood. He tightened his grip on her hand and walked away, heading for the front door. Glennis and Bronwen had said goodbye to her earlier with Elide, so the three of them let her go to his house so he could say goodbye last.

Manon got into the car, this time with the promise of something other than an empty city when she arrived at the airport. She started the car, even though she could already feel part of her heart leaving. Four years ago she hadn't looked back. This time, Manon did.

And she literally saw that road, the one she didn't take. Now she was sure of what she would find if she followed it. It leaded to Dorian, in her hometown.

————————————

Did you guys get all the folklore and evermore references?

I wish I had posted this sooner, but I had never written anything so big and 10k words is a lot to review and translate 🥲

Anyway, I hope you like it, Im 100% obsessed with this song 🤌🏻

[star-going-supernova]

I’m not really sure how to word this? Here’s a prompt for you I guess? Gregory would 100% take a photo in front of his missing poster smiling with a peace sign. Also I think he’s just the type of gremlin to take one of them for himself much to everyone’s exasperation.

Tumblr generated prompt number 4, here we go! Gregory and Cassie are both in their late teens here, in their first year of college. This is pretty slice-of-life-y with no clear connection to any AU other than a generally happy one.

title is a play on the saying “not all who wander are lost”

Not All Who Have Missing Posters are Lost

Gregory pulled out his phone and opened the camera app. Leaning against the telephone pole, he threw up a peace sign and grinned. Satisfied with the picture, he sent it to the group chat. 

Gregory

image_attachment.87265032 lol good times :) 

He stowed his phone in his pocket, mentally counting down until it started blowing up with messages. Then he carefully tore the missing poster bearing his face—albeit his much younger face—off the pole and tucked it into his laptop bag. 

He walked the rest of the way to the bus stop, letting his phone vibrate every few seconds, and only once he’d sat down did he pull it back out, snickering as he read through the small backlog. 

Cassie

XD you’re still finding those?? 

Vanessa 

oh my gosh pull it down pull it down we do NOT need a repeat of two years ago

Roxy 

who was even looking for you, lol

Freddy

Roxy! Do not be rude! 

Cassie

you look so young. so innocent.

Roxy

yeah but we know better ah dang it, i can feel fazbear’s disapproval from across the plex 

Bonnie

You were such a cute kid! Look at those cheeks!

Vanessa

seriously, though, what part of town is that? if there’s one, there might be more

Chica

Oooh! Congrats on adding another to your collection :)

Monty 

lol nice

Freddy

Are you on your way home, superstar? 

Roxy 

wee woo, dad alert! you know the rules, no sappiness in the group chat, fazbear

Freddy

What was sappy about that?

Cassie

if nicknames count, Roxy, you’ll have to start calling me by my name now 

Roxy 

… fiiiine, i take it back 

Gregory 

XD yes, Ness, I tore it down, and it was on Reed St, but it looked like some other posters had been taken off recently, exposing this one, so i don’t think it’s a widespread issue yes, Dad, I’m on my way back. just got on the bus, should be there in 10 mins 

He stayed on his phone for the rest of the ride, confirming their plans for dinner later. Cassie had finished her final exams the day before, so she’d already been by the pizzaplex to say hi to everyone. 

The bus dropped him off just down the street from the pizzaplex, and though early December was chilly, he enjoyed the bite in the air. There’d be snow soon, he was sure, and he was looking forward to some lazy days with a mug of hot chocolate and a warm blanket. 

Gregory’s first semester of college had been awesome, but he was happy to be home, and even happier to find Freddy waiting inside the side entrance that Gregory favored. He stepped forward into his adoptive dad’s arms, marveling yet again that he was taller than Freddy’s shoulders these days. 

“Welcome home, Gregory,” Freddy said softly. 

“I missed you,” Gregory told him, holding on tight. He sighed contentedly, the remaining stress from exams draining away. 

“Your winter break lasts a month and a half, correct?” 

“Mhm. And I plan on staying here for all of it.” 

“Good. The others have been looking forward to your return.” 

Gregory pulled back and unzipped his coat. “Just the others?” he teased. 

Freddy cleared his throat, which was as good a sign as any of his sheepishness (he’d probably been beside himself with excitement), and followed after Gregory as they descended into the basement, where Gregory had commandeered several rooms for his own use years ago. Vanessa had offered him a room in her house, but he’d politely declined, though he’d slept over there many times over the years. He was just too attached to the pizzaplex and its inhabitants, and also his independence. 

After popping into his bedroom to drop off his bags and coat, he quickly went into his workroom. It held his desk and bookshelves and the different personal projects he’d tinkered with over the years, and it also held his wall of missing posters. 

Freddy chuckled from the doorway as Gregory used sticky-tack to affix it into an empty space. It was almost like wallpaper, over two dozen posters with slight variations plastered edge to edge. Some were black and white, some were in color, and there was a variety of childhood pictures used among them. His favorite was one that misspelled his name as Gegory. That one was carefully framed. His second favorite, also framed, was a homemade wanted poster that Cassie given him for his fourteenth birthday. 

Gregory stepped back and surveyed his wall with his hands on his hips. “Perfect,” he said, pleased. 

“If you are satisfied,” Freddy said, “then we should go meet the others. Bonnie and Chica are relentlessly spamming me with frowny faces because I am ‘hogging you.’” 

“Tell them it’s your dad rights,” Gregory said, even as he bounded from the room, eager to reunite with the rest of his family. “Is Vanessa around? Is she still the junior location manager, or did they promote her again?” 

“She has been fending off a promotion for two weeks now. They reached a stalemate yesterday when she threatened to quit.” 

“They always fall for that,” Gregory snickered. “As if this is the time she’s gonna pack her bags, psh.” 

“They have been getting faster about calling her bluff,” Freddy mused wryly. 

They got in an elevator, and as they went up, they listened to the awful elevator music that hadn’t changed since Gregory was ten years old and running around the pizzaplex for the first time. 

“I am glad you are back,” Freddy said after a few moments. “I know you need to go and experience the world, and I would never want to hold you back from that. But I hope you know you will always have a home here, with us.” 

Gregory shuffled sideways to be tucked into Freddy’s side. “Aw, Dad. No matter how far I go or how long I’m gone, I promise—I’ll always come back. No one’s gonna need missing posters for me again.”

[topguncortez]

The Professor | Epilogue

previous part | masterlist

synopsis: Jake surprises you with a trip back home for Christmas, and you just hope this family holiday goes better than the last time Jake took you home.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: age gap, power imbalance, mentions of smut, mentions of parental death, mentions of past break-ups.

It really didn’t feel like Christmas. You hadn’t ever felt really Christmas-y in years past, but this year, you really didn’t feel like it.  Maybe it was because instead of seeing snow covered streets, you were looking up at palm trees. Or maybe it was because you weren’t at home, surrounded by the people you loved. For once, you were sad that you weren’t coming home from class to see Santa’s Village thrown up in your living room. 

For the past two years, you had flown back to Boston to spend Christmas with Lucy and Zeke. She had graduated from Boston College with her degree in English and was teaching at a local high school. Her and Zeke had tied the knot in a small wedding ceremony with just a handful of people present. It was very Lucy-esq and you were happy to be there every step of the way for them. After the wedding, You and Mrs. McAndrew placed bets on how long it would be before Lucy got pregnant. You said it would be less than a year, and you weren’t surprised when she had called out back in March telling you that she was due sometime in January.  

Pushing the door to your apartment open, you were met with Tybalt and Benvolio sitting on the kitchen counter like they always do when you come home. You felt like Tybalt was awfully lonely during the day, so you adopted the little orange tabby cat to keep him company. 

“Hello my loves,” You said, setting your backpack down and picking up Benvolio, which caused Tybalt to meow at you, “Do you bite your thumb at me?” Tybalt simply jumped off the counter and stalked his way towards the living room. You kissed Benvolio’s head, before setting him down on the floor. You went over to the stack of mail that was sitting on the counter, and thumbed through the various bills and Christmas cards you had gotten. You noticed one from both Kathlene and Nancy. Amelia had sent hers out the first week of December, which was just a printed picture of her and her husband Link in the middle of Africa. 

“Oh! You’re not supposed to be here,” You looked up from the Christmas cards and noticed Jake walking into the kitchen. 

“Well, I live here. . .” You said but Jake shook his head, walking to you. 

“Yes, I know,” He greeted you with a kiss, “But, I have a surprise for you, and I didn’t want you to see.” 

“I kind of have PTSD from your surprises.” 

“It’s not bad, I promise,” Jake said, “And I am sorry I didn’t have time to wrap it but. . .” He placed two tickets in front of you on the counter. Your eyes widened as you grabbed the tickets and looked at him. 

“You bought plane tickets?”

“I did,” Jake nodded, “You were upset about Lucy and Zeke not being able to come here and worried that you wouldn’t be able to afford going back home. So I talked to my parents and said that I wouldn’t be coming home this year. I’m going back to Boston. . . with you.” 

You smiled, and wrapped your arms around Jake’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss, “I gotta go pack,” You patted his chest before running off to your shared room. 

Things with Jake had gone surprisingly well in the past two years. After he practically showed up on your doorstep, the two of you had talked about your relationship. It was as easy as breathing when he was around, and you had never felt more at home with someone (besides Zeke and Lucy) in your life. It felt like he was the missing piece to your puzzle, and he felt the same. He had put in his notice at Boston, and was in the process of selling his house to move out to California with you. Rooster and Bob thought maybe Jake had a stroke, cause he was never a man to just quit his job and move like that, but Jake Thomas Seresin was in love. 

Jake originally was renting a small little apartment on the other side of town, but that only lasted about two weeks. He was spending most, if not all his time with you, so you just had him move in. It was easy for Jake to find a job with his accomplishments and recommendations. He was an undergrad english professor at Berkeley. You were still working hard and studying under Doctor Hoffman, who was a lot like Jake with her teaching methods. She wasn’t an easy professor, and didn’t let you just get by in her class with Bs and Cs, she expected As, and you were working hard to maintain such grades. 

Jake’s mother never seemed to beg the two of you to come home for the holidays. The past two thanksgivings you and Jake had driven down to LA to spend with his sister Amelia (she, just like you, didn’t want to go home to Texas either) and then last Christmas was spent in California with Lucy and Zeke. Of course, Olivia Seresin wanted her son and his girlfriend to come home, but she understood it. She knew that both of them were scared to come home after everything that happened the last time. 

— — — 

It was like nothing had changed in Chestnut Hills. The streets were covered in white snow, it was ridiculously cold outside. You were happy to be home for the holidays, but man do you miss the warm California sun. Jake had told you he rented an AirBnB for Christmas, so the two of you could have some privacy and not infiltrate Zeke and Lucy, or Bob and Miranda’s houses. The house was actually not too far from where Jake’s old house was, and he made sure to drive by it. He chuckled seeing the snowmen in the front yard. 

“Guess some kids live there now,” Jake said. 

“Lots of room for them,” You smiled, and grabbed his hand. 

“I know,” Jake kissed the back of your hand, and continued on driving to the house, “We gotta get a bigger place. No room in the apartment for kids.” 

You were taken aback a bit. Jake hardly ever talked about kids with you, “I-I guess, yeah. A one bedroom apartment isn’t very suitable for children.” 

“No,” Jake pulled the rental SUV into the driveway, “They need a yard, somewhere to run. You ever think about relocating when you’re done with the program?” 

“It’s crossed my mind,” You nodded, getting out of the car. Jake waited for you in front of the car, and grabbed your hand, walking up the steps towards the door, “Where did all this baby talk come from?” 

“Don’t know,” Jake shrugged, and opened the front door. You didn’t say anything else as he helped you take your coat off and then hung it up. He kissed your cheek before going towards the kitchen, probably going to open a bottle of wine that the owners left. 

Jake, however, did know why he was asking you, and it had to do with the small black box that was tucked in between some socks in his suitcase. He had been holding on to his mothers ring for nearly two years now, and knew it was time to pop the question. He just wasn’t 100% sure on how to do it. But, luckily for him, he knew exactly who to ask. 

— — — 

“You’re asking my best friend for her hand in marriage and you didn’t think to tell me before now!?” Lucy exclaimed as she stood in the doorway of her house. She still lived in the same house that you once shared with her. Slowly, her and Zeke were fixing up the college party house into a nice cute little cottage. Jake gulped and looked down at her very swollen belly, “Oh, do not use my pregnancy as an excuse, Mr. Seresin.” She moved out of the way from the door, and let Jake walk into the house. 

“I meant to tell you, it’s just that there’s not a lot of space in the apartment to get away from her,” Jake said, taking off his coat and sitting on the couch, “How are you?” 

“Huge,” Lucy said, sitting down on the other end of the couch, “When are you going to do it?” 

“Tonight, Christmas Eve. Everyone is coming to the house. You, Zeke, Bob, his wife, Rooster and his new girl.”  

“Oh! You should do it while we open our one gift!” Lucy clapped her hands, and went into detail on how Jake should ask for her friend’s hand in marriage. 

Back at the house, you were busy cooking away with Zeke. You were thankful that Jake let you kick him out of the house while you and Zeke cooked. Over the years of living with Jake you came to the realization that he, in fact, could not cook. He could follow a recipe pretty well, but it wasn’t the same. Zeke had his mother’s touch type of cooking, that got along well with yours. The two of you were like a well oiled machine as you worked around the kitchen. 

“What do you think they are talking about?” You asked, mixing the gravy. 

“Beats me,” Zeke sighed, “They can’t have that much in common. Hell, I can’t believe you and Professor Seresin-” 

“Jake.” 

“Shit, sorry,” Zeke shook his head and you laughed, “Been two years and I still call him ‘Professor Seresin’.” 

“It’s hard to get used to.” 

You could basically hear the shit eating smirk on Zeke’s face as he asked: “Do you call him that in-” 

“I am not having this conversation with you,” You laughed, and took a sip of your wine, “I’m gonna check on the dough for the rolls.” 

Jake had given Lucy the ring box before leaving her house so she could wrap it. The sun was down, and it was only a matter of time before guests started showing up at the house. Everything smelled great as Jake walked through the front door. The house felt warm, and cozy, the fire cracking in the fireplace, and Christmas music playing throughout. He walked upstairs to find you sitting on the bathroom counter in front of the mirror, in nothing but your bra and underwear, doing your makeup. He smiled as he leaned against the door. 

“What are you doing?” Jake asked, and you jumped, looking up at him in the mirror. 

“My makeup, duh,” You said, finishing putting mascara on your eyelashes, “The lighting in here is amazing. I need lights like this at home.” You climbed down from the counter and walked over to him. You kissed his cheek before going to find your dress for the night. 

“Well maybe we should build a house with a mirror like that in it,” Jake answered. 

“Maybe we should,” You stepped into the green colored dress, “Can you zip?” Jake nodded and came behind you to zip it up. His fingers brush ever so lightly up the bareskin of your spin, sending a shiver down your body. He placed a kiss on your neck and gave your ass a squeeze. 

“All good,” He said, a smirk on his face as he stepped away from you. 

“Thank you, baby,” You said and turned around to face him. His hands rested on your hips, holding you close to him. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the doorbell, “Oh! Get dressed, I’ll go greet the guests.” 

Jake fixed his tie as he walked down the stairs to be greeted by the laughter of guests. Rooster was the first to notice him, and said something to the girl next to him, before getting up and walking over to where Jake was. 

“Bagman!” Rooster said and hugged his friend. 

“Rooster,” Jake said back, “Where’s-” 

“In the kitchen,” Rooster answered, “Her friend says you’re gonna pop the question? Who would’ve thought that you would be marrying your student.” 

“Not my student anymore,” Jake corrected, “Who’s the girl?” 

“Lys,” Rooster nodded over to her. She stood up from the couch and walked over to where Jake and Rooster were standing, “This is Jake, that professor friend of mine,” Jake shook the girl’s hand. 

“So you’re the woman who is strong enough to deal with Rooster and his awful Hawaiian shirts,” Jake pointed to the Christmas Hawaiian shirt that Rooster was wearing. 

Lys giggled, “I guess I am. Your girlfriend is the sweetest by the way.” 

“Speaking of which, I’m gonna go find her,” Jake smiled, “Nice meeting you.” 

Jake could easily hear your laughter as it floated out of the kitchen. You were standing next to Miranda, who was holding a small child on her hip and Lucy, who was sitting down in a chair. Jake walked over to you, and put his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. You smiled, and leaned against his warm chest. Lucy couldn’t help but smile at the two of you. She had watched you for years run and try to escape the holidays, but now, you embraced all that came with it. 

It felt great to see a table full of food and your best friends sitting around it. Jake sat at the head of the table, you on his left as Zeke sat on the other end. Everything felt right, except for the way Jake was acting. He had been very touchy and affectionate towards you, until Lucy had called him away to help with something. When he came back, he was acting weird. It made you think back to the very first holiday you had spent with him. The heartbreak in which that holiday ended for both of you. 

The conversation flowed smoothly, as you sipped your wine and listened to Rooster tell the story of his very first Christmas with Bob and Rooster. Like you, Rooster didn’t have much for family and he wasn’t talking to her godfather back then, and Jake had invited the two of them to come home with him. Rooster was so overwhelmed that he didn’t tell Olivia that he was allergic to pecans, and he felt bad if he just threw them away. 

“So he ate the whole thing,” Bob said, laughing so hard his glasses were falling off his nose. 

“And. . . went back for seconds,” Jake added in. 

“Oh my god,” Lys laughed, “What happened?” 

“The good thing about all this is that I don’t swell up like a balloon when I have pecans. . . No, I just shit my brains out for days.” 

“No!” Lucy scrunched her eyebrows. 

“It was so bad, he passed out on the toilet from dehydration,” Jake said, “Amelia went in to check on him and screamed so loud we thought there was another snake in the house.” 

“There was a snake. . . but it was attached to Rooster,” Bob said and everyone laughed even harder at that as Rooster tossed a piece of croissant roll at him. 

“So, long story short. . .First Holidays at the Seresins is no longer a thing,” Jake said and took a sip of his drink. You also sipped your drink to try and hide the awkward glance from Lucy. You were sure that Jake had told his friends about the disaster of the first holiday you had at the Seresin house, although it wasn’t as comical as Bradley’s pecan mishap. 

“Why don’t we go do our one gift,” Lucy said, trying to ease the awkward tension, “Lys, I’m not sure if Bradley told you but the ol’ tradition around here is that you open one gift on Christmas eve. Y/N’s parents started it and it kind of has become a thing among the whole family now.” 

“Oh I love that,” Lys said, “And yes he told me, and hopefully, I can out-do his gift giving.” 

“He tell you one year he gave me a box of condoms. . . but the box was already half empty,” Bob said, pointing at Bradley. 

“Is this just tattle on Bradshaw day?” Bradley rolled his eyes. 

You chuckled, “Everyone go ahead in, I’ll start picking this up.” You stood up from your seat and collected your plate and Lucy’s. 

“I’ll help,” Jake said, and you looked at him somewhat surprised. It was the first time he had said anything to you since sitting down at the table. You nodded and picked up Zeke’s plate before heading to the kitchen. Everyone slowly helped bring in the plates and extra food from the dining room before making their way to the living room. 

You and Jake worked in silence as you put the extra food in containers and loaded up the dishwasher. You were a bit scared of saying anything, not knowing what Jake was feeling. That was one thing that hadn’t changed over the years, was Jake’s ability to talk to you about his feelings. He had somewhat opened up to you, but it was like trying to thaw snow on a negative degree day. It was going to take a long time, and patience, which you were willing to give him. 

There were only a couple of dishes left to dry and put away, “I can get the last of these. Go be with your friends. I heard Miranda say that Lucas brought you-” 

“Walk with me,” Jake said, taking the rag out of your hands. You looked up at him, his green eyes were unreadable but his voice was soft, “I told Bob I’d help Lucas build the train set that we bought him tomorrow. Walk with me? Please.” 

You nodded and Jake took your hand, leading you out the backdoor of the house. Lucy heard the door shut and she smiled, looking at the gift box in her hand. 

“What’s that look on your face?” Zeke asked his wife. 

“Nothing,” Lucy sighed with a smile, “Let’s open gifts!” 

“Aren’t we waiting for Y/N and Jake?” Rooster asked. 

“No, they’re a bit busy right now,” Lucy said and gave Rooster a knowing look. He was a bit confused at first but Lys nudged him and then pointed to her ring finger. Rooster’s mouth fell open in an O shape and then he smiled. 

You wished you would’ve grabbed your coat before going on a walk with Jake. It was cold, but the feeling of his hand in yours was keeping you somewhat warm. The snow was falling, making a warm glow from the street light illuminate the night sky. Nights like these reminded you of your mother and how much she loved the snow. You knew Berkeley was part of her dream, but you sometimes wished you never left Boston for this very reason. Jake was humming some song under his breath as he led you down the dark street. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, as Jake stopped walking outside of his old house. 

“Here, and before you ask, I already talked to the owners,” Jake answered and you giggled, “Do you remember the first time you came over?” 

“When you kissed me and kicked me out? Yeah, I remember,” You said and Jake winced. 

“I am still so sorry I did that. I’m sorry for everything that I did to you. I was such an ass and you didn’t deserve any of it,” Jake said and you took a step forward, caressed his cheek with your hand. 

“I forgive you,” You said and Jake grabbed your hands in his. 

“The reason I kicked you out that night was because I was scared. That kiss. . . it was different than anything I had before, which I know sounds like one of those tacky romance novels you read in the bath.” 

“Hey, Boys of the Mason-Dixon is a good book.” 

“Sure, baby,” Jake winked, “But that kiss, that night actually, I realized I wasn’t going to live my life without you, and it scared the ever living fuck out of me,” He let a tear escape from his eyes as you already had tears falling down your cheeks, “When I left you at Thanksgiving it was because my mom gave me this,” 

Jake let go of your hands to pull out a ring from his pocket. You gasped and covered your mouth with your hands, “She knew then what I was trying too hard to fight. . . that I am so deeply, madly in love with you. And it might’ve taken watching you walk away from me and move across the country to realize, but Y/N L/N,” You choked back a sob as Jake got down on one knee. 

“I never want to know a day where you aren’t mine. Will you please, marry me?” 

You dropped to your knees in front of Jake, and grabbed his face in your hands. With your thumb you wiped the tears away from his cheeks, and then leaned in to kiss his pink lips.

taglist: @zetasaturno99 @tallrock35 @bioodforbiood @mak-32 @cherrycola27 @drunkangels @fuckyeahhangman @the-winter-marvel33 @oldnatgwenaccount @cm27078 @xoxabs88xox @paige-alexandra-may @ereardon @marantha @callsign-phoenix @bradleybeachbabe @manunitedgotbruno @mulletmcghee @moonvr @nagygreta @cherryobx @callsign-joyride @blue-aconite @books-for-summer @violyn20 @lilylilyyyyyy @p1nkbarbi3 @princessofglitterland @hallway5 @thedroneranger @chaoticweirdogeek @abaker74 @auroraboreallisfine @materialgirl01 @fandom-princess-forevermore @averyhotchner @thedaredevilsgirl @shelbycillian @currentlybradshaw @mavesiceroo @emptyloverofmine @lovingjakeseresin @thegoddessc @techni-coloured @shawnsblue @captainmarvels-blog

note: okay, this might be the official goodbye to Professor Seresin. . .MIGHT. . .

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

"get me a damned matcha" | Chapter 20: January II

{{ Chapter 19: December II | Chapter 21: February II }} Chapter Directory

if you wanna get tagged for updates, fill out this form here!

✧ pairing ➼ levi ackerman x fem!reader, college x coffee shop x roommates!au ✧ summary ➼ After you find yourself plagued with misfortune due to struggles in your personal and family life, you find yourself needing to move last minute. As a junior in undergrad with little money and little social support, you considered yourself lucky when you found a sublease that was close to campus and was relatively cheap. Unfortunately, it seemed that your roommate did not seem to be so excited regarding your presence. ✧ content/warnings ➼ fluff, fem!reader, afab!reader, smut (minors go away), oral (fem receiving), blowjob, public sex (kinda), alcohol, college-typical parties, levi being possessive ✧ word count ➼ ~5.7k

“You’re so busy with your roommate-turned-boyfriend that you forgot all about us, didn’t you?”

You rolled your eyes so far back into the back of your head that it physically hurt.

“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to literally punch you, Oluo,” you scolded as you scowled at him. “It’s been a busy winter break, okay?”

You looked up as the club members began gathering. You had been so preoccupied with your personal life, from the car accident to figuring out whatever was going on with Levi, that the club was one of the last things on your mind. Plus, with the transition of your executive board that were all graduating in a few months to the new board that was made up mostly of the newer club members, you having a more hands-off approach was likely more helpful than it was harmful.

“Plus, it wouldn’t hurt for you to help out every once in a while,” you added, throwing a snide remark towards your commonly confused VP.

“I help out!” he protested.

“Uh-huh,” you mumbled, giving him a skeptical look.

You looked up as you saw the freshmen, now sophomores, gather amongst each other. It’s been a few months since you’ve last seen most of them, but the dynamics you observed seemed exactly the same as day one. Your goal of forming a community was moving in the right direction and your only hope was that the club could hold itself together in your absence.

“Okay, everyone take a seat!” you announced, slightly smacking away Sasha’s hand, which was already heading towards the pastries. “We’ll go through our overview for today before digging into the pastries.”

You threw a side glance at Sasha, who now had a slight pout on her face from being denied her opportunity to snack. If you allowed her to have a head start on picking out the snacks, then there wouldn’t be enough for everyone else by the time that your announcement was over. 

The main goal of today’s session was deciding on a new executive board after you, Oluo, and Petra graduate. Your priority was just to pick out a president and vice president and then leave the rest of the executive board members to be picked by the new presidents. You wanted a smooth transition, but you also wanted the future direction of the Honors Society to be determined by its future members, not by people that would be leaving in less than six months.

After around ten to fifteen minutes of discussion, the group reached a consensus on having Armin take up your role as president and being the primary go-to person when it came to club activities and future directions. He had the best grades to represent the club when it came to renewal proposals to the university and was the most likely to be able to balance school with club responsibilities. 

After some additional discussion, it was declared that Jean would be the vice president, having shown the most interest in taking up the other leadership position. You let the two take over in leading the rest of the meeting, with the goal of mapping out the rest of the semester or, if they were feeling ambitious, the next academic year. They ended up focusing on planning another social activity at the end of year using your current funds.

You smiled to yourself as you sat back and let Armin and Jean take over. Undergrad was overall a shitshow for you, but your goal to form a community was at least met in some capacity, even if it was less for yourself and more for the new cohort of individualized students that came in at the beginning of last year.

Even if your grades and relationships—both professional and personal—weren’t the best, at least you were able to leave an impact in some form.

Although your undergraduate experience was filled with misfortunes and you couldn’t reasonably say that you enjoyed it, at least the very end was filled with good memories to cherish, and that was enough for you.

~~~~~

“So you’re giving up your club to the brats?” 

You frowned at Levi’s comment, discontent with the way that he worded his comment, although it was technically true. 

“No,” you grumbled, giving him a side-eye. “I’m trying to make it a smooth transition for the e-board so they don’t have to deal with the same shitshow we did.”

“Sounds like giving it up to me.”

You threw a balled up napkin at him, which he immediately caught while giving you a scowl. He was currently mid-shift at the cafe, and having to be the target of paper projectiles that were getting launched over the counter hardly seemed appropriate. He didn’t particularly give a shit about the opinions of the customers or management, but it would make his day more annoying. 

“They’ll be juniors next year,” you said with a sigh, “which is how old I was when I started it, so it’s not like they don’t know what they’re doing.”

Levi grunted before getting back to managing his orders. They were all annoyingly bland and standard—even moreso than the Matcha he had roasted you about the first time you met—so he was able to mindlessly do it. He watched as you began to type on your laptop, finally able to catch that elusive focus that had been evading you for weeks. You took a sip of the Matcha that Levi had made you, hoping it would provide you with the motivation to meet your writing goal for the day. 

After a few minutes, Levi reached over to take your empty Matcha mug from you, and he raised an eyebrow at seeing the intense look in your eyes as you were typing. You seemed to notice that he was watching you and looked up at him.

“What?” you asked, unsure if something was wrong.

“Never asked, but what is it that you’re actually writing?” 

You blinked at him a few times, surprised that he asked about your writing. He had known about your writing project throughout the entirety of the time that you had lived with him, but he never mentioned it until now. 

Unsure how to respond, you scratched at your head with a bashful look appearing on your face.

“Just a light novel,” you said hesitantly. You were always nervous to share that you were doing creative writing for a living, likely as a result of your aunt being as skeptical as she was. 

“I’m doing a set-up and if it goes well, I might try to expand it into a series after graduation.”

Once Levi made it apparent that he was actually listening to what you were working on, your eyes immediately lit up, beginning to narrate that you had created a dystopian universe that involved humanity getting taken over by man-eating monsters, which you had fleshed out significantly throughout the course of the last year and a half, but part of you was still doubtful if your concept would be acceptable as your capstone project. If the university was wanting a more traditional literary archetype, you would have to completely scrap your current novel and start over.

“Speaking of, what are you planning to do after you graduate?”

That was a question you can’t recall ever thinking about. Given everything that had happened throughout your undergraduate experience, you found yourself just coasting along, prioritizing your book so that you could graduate. The only thing related to graduation that crossed your mind was whether you’d be able to finish your light novel in time or not. Any plans post-graduation were lost on you. It just wasn’t a priority. 

“I’m really not sure,” you muttered quietly, and it was unclear if you were talking to Levi or yourself. You looked back up at him with a slight grin. “Maybe I’ll choose to torture myself and go after a PhD like you and complain about all the reading and research I have to do.”

Levi did not return your grin.

“Kidding,” you said with an exasperated tone upon seeing his unwavering expression. “I really don’t know, I-”

You paused mid-sentence, running all of the scenarios that had occurred throughout the past 3-4 years through your head. 

“...I wasn’t sure if I was going to even make it this far if I’m being completely honest,” you admitted, almost ashamed to say it out loud. Although things had been looking up recently, college still wasn’t a pleasant experience for you.

The frown on Levi’s face persisted, although it wasn’t necessarily in response to your comment about having little confidence in your own ability to graduate. 

He was having the selfish thought of wondering what he would have to do if you moved out. If you were going to another school for graduate school or to get a job like Miche did, it would mean that you would move out, likely to a different town, while Levi was still stuck near Paradis University to finish his graduate program.

You had only been together for a few months, but he already found himself overly concerned over the inevitable decision you’d have to make regarding your housing once May rolled around.

~~~~~

Once Levi’s shift was over, the two of you made it back to your apartment. However, relaxing was the last thing that you were able to do. 

It was nowhere near spring, but Levi decided that it was time to do his annual “spring cleaning” of the entire apartment. You vaguely remembered him spending 4-5 days straight last year just cleaning and getting rid of old junk that he hadn’t really touched throughout the year. At the time, you thought he was just going through one of his cleaning sprees, when suddenly anything that had even a speck of dust on it would completely ruin his mood on sight. It wasn’t until today that you realized this was an annual habit of his.

“It keeps shit from piling up,” he muttered from the kitchen as he piled up old unused tupperware that you completely forgot about.

“Mhm,” you mumbled from the dining room as you sorted through the mail. Your leasing company had decided to inconveniently switch up the software they used for managing utilities over the new year, so December’s bills came through the mail, leaving your normally empty mailbox filled with bills that you’d have to manually pay. It was a pain in the ass. 

As you piled up the bills while setting aside any junk mail to toss (or shred) later, your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion when you pulled up a flyer. It wasn’t inside an envelope and was printed on a black sheet of paper with obnoxious text colors. It seemed the local bar was hosting a happy hour, likely to gather the attention of the students that were coming back into town for the beginning of the semester. 

You walked over towards the kitchen and held the flyer up.

“You wanna go?” you asked as you pointed the flyer in Levi’s direction.

Levi looked over at the flyer and took it from you, a frown appearing on his face as he read the contents of it. He set it down and gave you an unamused look.

“Only if you don’t end up sitting around while every other dude comes around to hit on you again,” he grumbled.

Being reminded of the events last February brought a small blush onto your cheeks, which only increased in intensity as you felt Levi walk up to you and place his hands on the counter behind you, enclosing you in. 

“It’d be even harder to watch now compared to last year,” he mumbled as he moved his hands onto your waist.

You looked into his soft, gray eyes that seemed to read you like an open book every time you looked into them. You’d find yourself wondering if he always looked at you like that. If so, you certainly didn’t notice until now. 

Levi pulled you in and gently planted his lips on yours, almost as if he was trying to send you some unspoken message regarding why the last thing he wanted to do was to watch you get hit on by random people while drunk at a party.

You pulled away with a mischievous look in your eyes.

“Oh? Why’s that?” you teased with a cheeky grin.

Levi immediately pulled away with an eye roll, turning around to walk into his room, shutting the door.

You bit on your lip to stifle your laughter at his reaction.

“...So you coming or not?” you called out, indicating that you were likely going to go whether he went with you or not. It wasn’t like the two of you could spend an actual night in with the chaos that was Levi’s incessant cleaning spree spread out around the apartment. You knew he’d have it pristine within the next day or two, but your usual movie while cuddling date nights had to be shelved for now.

Levi cracked his door open and poked his head out.

“It’s either that or I drive in the middle of the night to pick your dumb ass up, so I guess so,” he grumbled before disappearing into his room again.

~~~~~

This bar party was certainly better than the other parties he had been dragged along to throughout the past year or so. Although the music was still obnoxiously loud on the dance floor, the dining area was far away enough that it was bearable. It was the only place that Levi could find himself in while still being able to hear his own thoughts over the music.

You were a few drinks in at this point, having run up to the bar as soon as you arrived, immediately taking 2-3 shots before trying to drag Levi onto the dance floor. He was adamantly against it, grumbling that it was too loud and that there were too many people—and he refused to dance. You gave him a pout before you finally gave up and waltzed onto the dance floor with the few people that you recognized from the university.

Levi watched you from the bar, sipping on a beer. You did look like you were legitimately having fun, which at least meant that it wasn’t a complete waste of time to come out here. People continued to trickle onto the dance floor, which meant that it was getting more and more crowded. Unfortunately, it also meant that the guys who had been eyeing you all night were now dancing just a bit too close to you for Levi’s comfort.

He glanced to the side in an unamused fashion when some random undergrad decided to sit on the bar stool next to him. They were too close and they reeked of alcohol. Levi was tempted to get up and grab you to leave.

“Too crowded for you?” they asked.

“...You could say that,” Levi eventually responded before taking another sip of his beer, turning to watch you on the dance floor again. Although he was now facing away from that undergrad, he could tell that they were watching you too. You were front and center, having the time of your life.

“She yours?” they asked.

Levi gave them a skeptical look without answering, as if he was offended that they even asked that question. 

He wasn’t the type to get jealous, but the amount of eyes (and the occasional hand) on you was driving him up the walls. As he set his eyes on you again, he felt a growing discomfort coming from his chest that made him feel restless and on edge.

You eventually made eye contact with him and saw that he was looking over at you, prompting you to come back to the bar, motioning for the bartender to get you another drink. 

Once you nodded to the bartender and you were able to look back down at Levi again, you noticed that your boyfriend was semi-glaring at you, which was unexpected. Frowns, and even scowls, were expected and normal. This somewhat hostile glare was not.

“What got you all grumpy?”

He averted his eye contact and sipped on his beer again. If the music wasn’t so loud and if you weren’t slightly buzzed, then you might have heard whatever it was that he was grumbling to himself underneath his breath.

You looked up and saw the undergrad sitting behind him waving at you, and you quickly returned the gesture with a smile, being too intoxicated to pick up any flirtatious looks that were being thrown your way.

Before you got a chance to introduce yourself or verbally greet them, you felt Levi snake his arm around your waist and pull you flush up against him. Your face heated up at the sudden gesture, and even moreso when you saw the undergrad’s eyes widening before they awkwardly backed away.

You wrapped your arm around his shoulder, looking down at him with a frown.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled as he finished the rest of his beer while keeping his grip on your waist tight.

You watched him as a hint of concern entered your eyes. There was something going on. Given the fact that the bar was getting a bit too rowdy for even your tastes, you decided it would be best if the two of you called it a night.

“You wanna head out?” you asked, getting his attention by slightly shaking his shoulders. “It’s getting stuffy in here and it’s giving me a headache.”

Without turning his head, he looked towards you with a suspicious expression. He knew what you were doing. You could tell that he was upset and bothered by something, which prompted your desire to leave, although you were telling the truth about the bar beginning to get stuffy from the sheer amount of people present. However, instead of protesting, Levi simply paid off his tab and got up, following you as you led the way to the front door.

You grimaced upon feeling the cold winter air hit your skin. It had been warmer when you had first arrived, so all you wore was a thin long-sleeve, but that barely protected you from the now freezing temperature outside. Even the alcohol barely offset how cold you felt. 

You immediately felt something get wrapped around your shoulders and you looked up, seeing that Levi had taken off his coat and put it around you, which prompted another blush to appear on your cheeks.

Instead of walking to the car, he led you to an alleyway at the side of the bar. There were quite the amount of people in the parking lot, so you figured that it was due to Levi wanting to wait it out so that you wouldn’t have to maneuver your way through the crowd to his car.

His frown hadn’t disappeared the entire time. It had appeared at some point while you were dancing and was just plastered onto his face the entire night. Levi rarely found himself jealous, but that was all he felt now. He wasn’t sure if it was because the two of you had entered an official relationship, but it felt so much worse than it did back in March when you were set to go on a date with Floche—if he was even willing to admit that what was going on underneath the surface at the time was jealousy.

You were looking at the crowd and frowned. It wasn’t going to dissipate any time soon. You might just have to bite the bullet and bear through the crowd if you wanted to leave any time soon. 

Prepared to communicate this to Levi, you began to turn to face him.

He gave you a dark look upon making eye contact with you before stepping forward and placing his hand at the back of your neck, crashing his lips against yours in a much deeper kiss than you would have expected from him, given the fact that you were in public.

You let out a muffled and surprised yelp, not expecting him to be this forward, although you certainly didn’t mind, returning the gesture by gripping onto the collar of his shirt and further pressing your lips against his.

He was much more into it than he was even when the two of you were horny and rushing to clumsily get your clothes off as soon as you could. You felt him biting against your lips and his other hand tightly gripped at your waist. 

You were out of breath by the time you were able to break the kiss.

“L-Levi-!” you gasped. “What’s gotten into you?!”

He blinked slowly as he gazed into your eyes, his expression unwavering.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he mumbled before pulling you in again.

You were slowly starting to put the pieces together. He had gotten overly grumpy once that one random undergrad began waving at you and you vaguely remembered the scowl on his face whenever someone on the dance floor got a bit too close to you with their suggestive dancing. You smiled into the kiss as you felt his tongue prodding at your lips.

You pulled away, denying him access as you mused with an amused tone in your voice.

“Were you…jealous?” you teased.

He only responded by scowling at you, which provided you with an answer itself.

“I take it that’s a yes?”

“Don’t push it,” he growled before pulling you in again, except this time, he was much more relentless with shoving his tongue into your mouth, drawing a quiet, muffled moan out of you. He held you tightly as his tongue swirled around you, feeling the overwhelming need to assert his dominance over you and do what he could to claim you as his, and his alone.

He’d mark you if he had any less pride and a slightly lower sense of dignity.

You soon found yourself pressed up with your back against the wall as he caged you in, still relentless in his assault on your mouth with his tongue. The two of you were getting so heated that your hot breaths were visible in the cold air. His hand that was on the back of your neck roamed down your body, pausing for a split second to squeeze at your breast on the way down before settling on your waist.

When he finally broke the kiss again, he leaned in and whispered into your ear, his voice breathy and deep.

“You’re mine.”

The combination of the words themselves and the way he said it made you shiver as you felt your entire body heat up. Your hands slowly roamed from his arms down to his chest and lower abdomen and it took every ounce of willpower you had to keep yourself from begging him to fuck you right then and there. 

You heard the door to the bar open and froze, expecting Levi to pull away, just like you had during the Halloween party. However, he did the exact opposite and pulled you into another heated kiss.

Levi absolutely hated PDA. Even holding hands in public made him uncomfortable. Those affectionate acts were reserved for you and him and were special because it was yours, and not something that the rest of the world had the privilege of seeing. However, for the entirety of the night, he had the overwhelming urge to basically announce to the world that you were his. 

The entire town could stand by to witness it and he wouldn’t give a single shit, as long as it sent the message that you were taken and off-limits to anyone who might have even been considering approaching you with dubious intent.

Levi Ackerman couldn’t stand PDA, but he was more than willing to resort to it in cases like these in which he felt the need to make a very clear point to the world: that you were his.

~~~~~

Once he felt your hands tugging at his belt buckles, he knew it was time to go. You had been surprised when he had roughly planted his lips against yours in the alleyway, but quickly adjusted. Before long, you were pulling his hip towards yours, moving his hands from your waist to your ass, and raising your leg to loosely wrap around him. He had to pull the cord if he wanted to avoid fucking you on the spot. Although he was willing to show you off and make out with you, he had enough dignity left in him to not fuck you in public. 

The original plan was to wait until the two of you got home, but you were both worked up and imagining sitting still on the drive home and having to walk your way from the car up into the apartment seemed like hell, so you were more than relieved when you saw Levi pull the car into a dark, empty parking lot.

Levi was forced to get out of the car and get into the backseat properly, but you were small enough that you were able to squeeze through the front seats, crawling over the divider to meet him in the back just in time for him to shut the car door and pull you into him, reconnecting your lips. 

“Well, this is kind of scandalous, isn’t it-”

Levi cut you off by tangling up your hair within his fingers and pulling you back into him, his tongue easily shoving past your lips. He was towering over you, aggressively asserting dominance with his tongue over yours as he slowly pushed you backwards until he was on top of you. Your back was to the seat cushion, with your head propped up against the car door. With how horny you were, the slightly uncomfortable angle that you were laying at was the least of your concerns.

Your breathing destabilized as you felt his lips roughly connect with your neck, the warm feeling sending shivers throughout your body from shock due to how cold your skin was after standing outside for a prolonged period of time. Your hands quickly moved down to begin unbuttoning your jeans, the feeling of your wetness pooling onto your panties beginning to feel more unbearable by the second. 

Levi’s hands quickly joined yours to help you as he began to trail sloppy kisses down your neck to your collarbone. He tugged at the sides of your jeans, pulling your panties down along with it as he moved down your body. Due to how impatient you were and the limited amount of room in the backseat of his car, you only undressed one leg while your jeans and panties hung off the other.

Your face flared up as you watched Levi push your thighs apart, leaving you completely exposed to his hungry eyes while you were technically still in public. He only made eye contact with you for a brief second before he descended down onto you, throwing your calves over his shoulders, his quick movements matching the lustful desire shown in his eyes.

You immediately covered your mouth with your hand, your body immediately jerking upon feeling his tongue make its way inside your folds. The sound of him slurping up your juices while trying to catch his breath in between sounded absolutely obscene and erotic at the same time, making your clit throb in response. Your free hand began to move down towards your heat, your body responding to your instinctual desire to touch yourself as he tongued your hole.

Levi immediately noticed and smacked your hand away. Knowing what it was that you were trying to do, he was quick to begin rubbing at your clit himself, almost as if his pride would have been bruised if you had succeeded in “assisting” him in getting you to cum. 

In typical Levi fashion, he performed a mix of licking, tonguing, sucking, and kissing at your cunt that quickly brought you to the brink of an orgasm.

You bit down on your hand to stifle your moan as you felt your legs tense around him, your orgasm hitting you like a sudden wave, and you felt your lower abdominal area twitching in response to him sucking at your clit mid-orgasm.

When you were finally able to catch your breath and focus your vision again, you looked down at him and saw him peering back at you with dilated pupils. He sat up, letting your legs fall from his shoulders and you quickly maneuvered yourself so that you were on your knees, pushing him gently so that he was seated with his back against the door.

You roughly planted your lips on him, subtly grinning as you tasted yourself on him, and biting at his bottom lip with desire, with your hands moving down to clumsily unbuckle his pants. You could already feel how hard he was, and wondered how painful it must have been to have to hold it in under his somewhat tight pants, and how relieving it must have been when his cock finally sprung out.

You heard his breath hitch at the feeling of his cock coming into contact with the cold air. You kissed him one last time before wrapping your fingers around his length, gently pumping it back and forth, spreading the already gathering precum over his tip. You watched as his cheeks flushed up as you teased him by only rubbing your thumb over the tip of his cock.

He was more than frustrated by the time you finally scooched down to begin planting kisses on his cock, dragging your tongue from the base of his shaft all the way up to the tip. Your tongue swirled around his tip and you placed both of your palms on his thighs before finally wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock. You looked at him with mischief in your eyes as you simply continued tonguing at his tip without taking him in further.

He returned your gaze with a dark look in his eyes and you immediately felt his fingers running through your hair again.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he growled quietly right before he bunched up your hair and shoved your head all the way down to his hips. 

Your fingers dug into his thighs as you gagged from feeling the tip of his cock touching the back of your throat.

Although Levi held you there firmly, he never took his eyes off you, carefully watching your reaction, ready to let go at the first sign of struggle. 

After a few seconds, he finally let go and you popped up, gasping for air as you wiped the spit that was gathering at the edge of your lips.

“Too much?” he asked quietly, still watching you carefully.

“Only if it is for you,” you muttered after finally catching your breath before diving down again, taking him in deeper this time. 

Levi grit his teeth upon feeling your tongue exploring his tip before traveling around his shaft. His hand quickly found its way into your hair again, promptly pressing your head all the way down again, paired with him thrusting his cock up into your mouth. His breath shuddered as he felt his cock twitch at the sound of you gagging again as you struggled to breathe.

Tears were stinging your eyes by the time he let you go again to catch your breath. 

Taking the hint over how impatient he must have been feeling, you began to suck him off harder, using your hand to pump him at his base while your lips traveled up and down his shaft.

Levi leaned his head back against the door with his eyes closed, trying his best to contain himself to avoid cumming on the spot.

You heard a faint whimper escape his lips as his cock twitched in your mouth. He was close, and you knew it. You took the hint and began to move both your hand and your lips faster along his length, paying particular attention to his tip with your tongue. 

The sudden change in pace resulted in Levi losing his composure and a quiet, but audible moan came from his throat as he shot his load down your throat. His breathing destabilized once he felt you continue to move your mouth up and down his cock, with his body jerking as you flicked your tongue against his tip. Having just cummed and being more than overstimulated from the feeling of you on him, Levi was forced to dig his fingers through your hair again to pull you off with how sensitive he currently was.

You shot him a small grin as you wiped the remaining cum off your lips that you weren’t able to swallow.

“Revenge is a bitch, isn’t it?” you teased, referring to all the times he fucked you through your orgasms, leaving you a panting, twitching mess under him. 

It took a few seconds for him to respond as he breathed heavily and reoriented himself back to reality.

“That a sign for me to stop?” he finally asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Fuck no,” you responded, a bit faster than you would have liked to admit.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he grumbled, although there was a playful look in his eyes when he came into eye contact with you. 

You shoved at him, rolling your eyes as you began pulling your pants back on, with him following suit. The windows had gotten fogged up and you silently prayed that there wasn’t anyone roaming around to put the pieces together as to what was happening in the backseat of this car that was parked in the middle of nowhere.

A small and barely noticeable smirk appeared on your face as you recalled that today’s escapade resulted from Levi getting jealous and possessive over some random person that had waved at you at the bar.

Not that you’d purposefully torture him by making him jealous or anything along the lines of that, but if this was the result every time he was feeling possessive in any sort of way, then you certainly wouldn’t mind.

jealous and possessive levi just awakens something within me ksdjfksd #: @levisbrat25 @gothgril69 @sckerman @berrijam @notgoodforlife @meowjaa @averysmolbear @roseofdarknessblog @bejewelledd @hhighkey @ayame236 @sad-darksoul @velouria17 @kamyru @l1zk4 @layenacreates @lamees004 @whoami-72 @highgoon69 @chaotic-on-main @levishotgf @nube55 @chosos-mascara @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @v4mp-wife @moonchild-angel @astri-ackerman @auriuswolve @noctemys @you-always-made-me-blush @raginginferno267 @sillygooseklaudia @jennamelinda12

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Mini Series

ENHYPEN as Taylor Swift Songs

pairings: enhypen member x reader

synopsis: enhypen one shots based on taylor swift songs.

warnings: may content angst, cursing etc.

note📎: happy new year everyone & happy 2 years anniversary for me in tumblr! i hope you guys liked it! it really means a lot to me whenever you let me know what you think about them, re-blogs and comments are well appreciated. btw, i love you guys and thank you for supporting me up until now. have a nice day/night! 🤍

© 2023 eeunoia — all rights reserved.

yang jungwon › here 

midnight rain

— your heart broke when you saw him pushed himself off from the wall he was leaning on. like usual, jungwon flashes you his brightest smile. pursing your lips and balling your fist, you tried shoving away the pain that is slowly suffocating your chest.

— “love! how was it?” he sounded hopeful, waiting expectantly for the news you will tell him. jungwon was so ready to congratulate you for good news and to comfort you for the opposite.

— you lift your eyes and his smiles slowly faded once he saw them filled with tears. he panicked and walked closer to cup your face, but you moved away from him. he looked confused and hurt at the same time.

— you glanced away, couldn’t take to look at him in that state. “h-hey, what’s wrong? what happened, bun? let’s talk...” he said. you bit your lower lip, feeling your chest tightening in a very hurtful way. it was the worst feeling.

— you let out a heavy sigh before finally facing him. with cold, but tearstained eyes, you tried to keep your stare at his confused sad eyes. “i don’t think i can do this anymore, jungwon. i’m sorry, but let’s break up.”

lee heeseung › here

back to december

— “waah, lee heeseung really did make it.” your head shifts to your side and saw how the staffs around you watch him over the monitor with adoration through their eyes. a small smile made it to your face before you looked back to watch him once again.

— “i’m so proud of you.” you mumbled to yourself and felt the corner of your eyes slowly burning just by getting reminded of how perfect lee heeseung was for you.

— “i’m happy you make time to meet me! how’s the first day of concert?” your smile was wide while you hold the gift you prepared for him. he walked closer, but not too close. he looked at you silently, roaming his eyes around your face.

— “it was fine.” he answered shortly. you pursed your lips, wanted not to spoil the mood. “congratulations to your tour!” tone a bit stretched out now. he nodded his head and his eyes trailed down to the gift you are holding.

— “what are you really doing here, y/n?” he finally asked. you gulped and your hold to the paper bag tightens as you looked at him. “i m-missed you.”

park jay › here

cruel summer

— “we're planning to go out of town this summer break, y/n! how about you?” your head snapped over to your group of friends the moment you heard one of them talked to you. as you look at them, all eyes were at you, waiting for your response.

— you flash them an apologetic smile, “sorry guys! my brother is coming home this summer break from his college university so i’ll spend it with him.”

— you leaned closer the mirror and checked your reflection, making sure to look keenly at every details. you looked okay, but you wanted to make yourself more presentable. “y/n! your brother’s here!” your mom shouted. your eyes grew and your heart raced rapidly just by hearing her say those words.

— “oppa!” you greeted happily and ran towards your brother. he chuckles and return your hug. you are excited to see him, but what excites you more is the person he came along with.

—“hey, angel.” you twist your head to see him towering over you, him who looked even more handsome than the last time you met. your brother’s best friend, park jongseong. the person you’ve been looking forward to every summer.

jake sim › here

style

— “i’m here.” you heard his raspy voice from the other line as you walked over your window. you moved the blinds and heart skipped a beat just by seeing his car parked right outside of your house, headlights off.

— “hey.” he greeted the moment you went inside his car. his eyes were hooded and obviously tired, but that didn’t even lessen his godly visual. for you, jake sim always looked ethereal.

— you smiled, blushing. “hi.” you shortly replied. his eyes racked from your face down to your body. “you dressed for me. cute.” he commented, hand reached over to pull you close.

— you hitched your breath as you let him take over and finally give you his warm soft kisses. your heart almost burst outside your chest because of the million emotions only him can make you feel. “i missed you so bad.” he whispered. “i’ve been thinking of you all time.”

— you know its not right anymore. you two had been here before, but you always find yourself with the same ending. a lot of people always says that you two are meant for each other, but something’s always not right. you knew that and jake too. you just don’t understand why even being aware of it, you always find yourself running your way back over to his arms.

park sunghoon › here

the way i loved you

— this toxic relationship with sunghoon is tiring you. “stop the car.” you said. he furrowed his brows and looked at you, checking if you’re being serious. you two just had another fight, and honestly you’re getting enough of it.

— he did stop the car and even before you open it, he said something. “the moment you leave, we’re done.” he said coldly. you halted from stepping outside and felt your heart crack. but you knew you needed it and so you did. you left him.

— “jake’s so sweet, y/n! i envy you for having him as your boyfriend!” one of your friends exclaimed right after jake left your table to go order some food. you gave them a small smile. they’re right. jake is really the best boyfriend. he treats you very well.

— “see you tomorrow, baby.” jake said with a soft smile. you nodded and waved before going inside your apartment. a sigh made it out from your lips after you sat down at your couch. you don’t understand why despite being treated right by jake, you still long for sunghoon. and you honestly feel bad.

— it was raining hard so sunghoon’s brows were hardly furrowed while he head over his door after hearing a doorbell. he opens it and quickly, the annoyed expression over his face was replaced with a surprised one. “y/n?” he uttered seeing you standing in front of his unit, all drenched.

kim sunoo › here

enchanted

— “tada! how do i look?” your head twists over the side when you heard your cousin talked. she’s wearing this fitted sexy dress while smilig at you. “you look good! where are you going?”

— she flashed you a confused face, “what do you mean ‘me’? You mean ‘us’, right?” she said and you sighed out tearing your gaze away from her. “no. i prefer to read a book tonight, thank you.” you were quick to decline. of course, she didn’t let it quickly and forced you out of your dorm that night.

— holding this red cup, wearing an awkward smile over your face, you sat down at one of the sofas inside this huge frat house. yes, your friend succeeded on taking you and now, you have no idea where she went.

— you thought you’ll have the worst night, until you set eyes to the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen. even in the flickering party lights, you managed to see how shiney they were. the next thing you knew, he was walking towards you. “new face. glad to see the crowd finally getting interesting.” he said using this soft voice, opposite from his dangerous smirk.

—  you chuckle, blushing. “i know right. i totally stood out since i’m alone.” you said getting along with him. he chuckles and soon offered his hand, “sunoo. my name is kim sunoo.” and the first time, you found yourself enchanted.

nishimura riki › here

don’t blame me

— “please, y/n! don’t break up with me this way.” you sighed and rolled your eyes as you had enough of all of these. “my words are final. now, i have to leave.” and with that, you left your ex-boyfriend with head hanging low.

— you thought relationships are easy to control. that you’ll be always the one who will in the upper-hand and that nobody will ever make you go crazy in love. not until nishimura riki happened.

— you clenched your jaw and fist tightly as you stood in front of ni-ki. “you really went over this time, y/n.” one of your friends said as she stares at you. glancing at her, you gave her with a piercing gaze. “i don’t care! that girl deserves it! she’s a bitch—” you were cut off when ni-ki talked.

— “that’s enough.” he said in a cold tone. he stood straight, towering over you. it didn’t intimidate you, but your heart aches by the thought that he’s still cold towards you. “we’re going home.” he said, directly to your friends before he held your hand and starts pulling you.

— a tear left your eyes, but you let him pull you. “you don’t love me.” you uttered. he sighed. “i do.” he shortly replied. tears started to come out your eyes even more, “then why am i the only one this crazy for you?” you said tone sounding so upset towards him. ni-ki stopped from his track and cupped your face. “i am too. i just express it differently.”

main master-list

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[fullofgutsndopamine]

give your feet a chance (they’ll do all the talking)

childhood friends to lovers to enemies to fake dating

more here

TW/ cursing, mention of dysfunctional family dynamics

“Look-“

you sigh, trying for the second time to pin earrings into your ears unsuccessfully, can see charlie out of the corner of your eye from the mirror.

charlie runs around like a chicken with its head cut off, frantically bobbing around the room, picking things up, abandoning them only to pick them back up-

“charlie,” you huff, “are you wearing a fucking tie?”

he stops. caught in the act, eyes wide, his fingers still rest upon the knot-

“well-yes?” it’s a question, not a statement.

“charlie,” you sigh, “you absolute bastard. they’ll never believe we’re dating if you’re wearing a fucking tie. we need to be taken seriously!”

your voice ends, sounds seriously close to a whine, like you’re four and following him around again, around the sandbox as he lead, you followed as always-

“what part of having a tie makes this unbelievable!” charlie all but yells, throws his hands in the air, “what part of first impressions are everything do you not understand?”

“charlie.”

you get up, follow him to the corner where he stands, face pink, as you grab either side of his face: “listen, we have to pull this off. i-“

you stop, shake your head, because you’d rather die than cry in front of charlie, haven’t done that since you two were kids, the angst of high school heavy on you two, when he’d pull you close and promise things would work out, that he’d be right there-

he’s a fucking liar, in short.

“charlie,” you say, gently, “just this one last favor for me. then i’ll leave you alone, i promise. just-just this one, please”

charlie narrows his eyes, “you promise?”

and he hope his voice doesn’t catch, because he doesn’t want it to be over, doesn’t want you to leave him alone, doesn’t want this to be the end-

“i promise. i’ll pay you-“

he snorts, shakes his head out from your hand, “i’m not taking your fucking money.”

his hands shake as he messes with his tie, trying to play it cool-

“just,” you sigh, a deep breathe, “i need this. please, please don’t fuck it up.”

he snorts, “yeah, i get it. you said it twenty times already.”

a piece of you breaks off, some of the hardness, and you sigh, “i know i did. i’m sorry. look, my mom already loves you. you don’t need a tie, it’ll be weird if you do.”

he huffs, “i don’t know what to wear than.”

you roll your eyes, disappear into your closet, know you still have some of his old clothes hanging in the back of your closet. they’re old, worn with age and time, well loved (not that you’d ever admit to them that if you have a long day you take it out from the bottom of the closet, curl into them-)

“it’s a tacky sweater party, charlie.” you remind him gently, come back into the room one of his cream colored sweaters on a hanger.

he doesn’t say the obvious, the question hangs in the air about you having it, you hanging onto it but neither of you speak about it

a fake gasp from charlie, “my sweater is not tacky.”

you roll your eyes, throw it in his direction and he catches it with ease

“i have just the thing for it. get dressed and meet me in the kitchen.”

he obeys.

his hands are shaking as he switches shirts, tries to do something about his unruly hair, gives up halfway through and trudges down the stairs

you’re in the kitchen, an old christmas sweater he remembers from college that you wore the entire month of november and december, a meowy catmas on top in glitter, a cat covered in tinsel at the bottom

“well.” he sighs

you’re giggling.

he hasn’t heard you giggle in awhile, and it takes everything on him to hold in a smile threatening to pull at the crook of his lips

“c’mere.”

he obeys, drags his feet to you, and you turn around, some horribly sparkly red and yellow ornaments in your hands that you very carefully place in between the cloth, knowing the sweater will never be the same and quietly mourning the loss of your favorite sweater

“sunshine-“ he sighs and for a second, you pause mid air, pray he doesn’t see it, when he uses these old pet names on you. hell insist they mean nothing; how he grew up, was always with you that way, never called you by your first name, was always a pet name-

“i don’t think this will work.” he says and you roll your eyes, huffing at him

“you never trusted me,” you shake your head, turn back around so you don’t see the way his shoulder slump, makes himself smaller, almost apologizes-

you turn around, a small pack of twinkling fairy lights that you instruct him to hold his arms out, wrap them carefully, tuck the battery pack into his pocket.

“perfect.” you smile at him, and butterflies gnaw at his stomach when he sees it, has to look away before he says something dumb like i miss you or i love you or worst of all: i’m sorry i was a dick you deserve better

“here,” your still smiling as you turn around, a bottle of red wine in your hand, “i got this for you to give to my mom. it’s her favorite.”

he feels guilty. knows he should’ve done this. two discarded bouquets of flowers are in the passenger seat of his car-one for you, one for your mother, because he is a gentleman, believe it or not, but he chickened out last second, had to act like he doesn’t remember your favorite flowers or anything

you’re looking at him and smiling and he’s about to ask what is making you smile when you speak

“my parents always liked you the most,” you snort, your eyes are dark and far away, some angst charlie, “i don’t really get it either, charlie, but i just-i need this. i can’t handle another fucking party of being grilled.”

“fine. just for the night.” he says quietly and you’re nodding, some sad smile on your face that he can’t place, as you say it back, promise it.

the car ride is quick, thankfully. you never left this town, the source of fights between the two of you, but you spend the entire time grilling him

“and the sport my brother played?” you ask gently, trying to not act like you don’t see the way he remembers the way to your house still, memorized and ingrained in his mind still, all these years later.

“trick question,” he snorts, “your brother never played a sport in his life. captain of the chess team.”

a small smile plays on your lips as you nervously pick at the label on the wine, “good. so you were paying attention.”

leading up to this was a week of you questioning him, small coffee shop meetings or late phone calls at four am when you convinced yourself this wouldn’t work, that you’d make an ass of yourself but he always picked up now, talked you off the bridge-

“listen,” you say gently as he parks on the street outside the small house of yours, “my parents don’t know about the break up. they’d probably be heartbroken, would think it’s my fault-“

you clear your throat, not looking at him, at the house instead as you blink back tears, “so for tonight. we forgive and forget, everything is great, yeah?”

he hesitates for a second, nods and grabs your hand, a quick squeeze, “i promise you, it’ll be okay.”

you nod, not fully believing him but he squeezes your hand, “i got this. follow me, okay?”

and before you can agree, he shuts the car off, runs around to your side of the car, opens the door for you and offers his hand as you duck out of the car.

your hands shake as he leads to the door, and all you can think of is how wilbur is acting, something right now for you and your family, that he’ll be gone tonight, like every other night-

he brings your hand to his lips and kisses the top of it as he waits for someone to answer his knock, the old way he use to get you to calm down, a gentle: i’m here, you’re okay he use to do all the time

your mom all but throws the door open, her arms thrown around charlie's neck immediately as she pulls him in. she wears a tacky christmas sweater you can’t quite make out, a crooked tree on it, as she leads you two in.

for half the night, you’re waiting for the foot to drop, for someone to question you two and for one of you to get it wrong but charlie is an expert, navigates the talk with your family with ease-your little sister adores him and he’s an expert with her, let’s her lead him around and remembers her obsession with horses, let’s your mom talk about her book club and he remembers “fucking karen” he says with an eye roll, always choosing the dumbest books and forcing her to read them-hell, he even remember your fathers favorite football team, the quarterback, how they’re the underdogs-

by the end of the night, you have to remind yourself this is an act; nothing more and nothing less. it feels real, and you have to remind yourself this is a show, not authentic, that he broke your heart and this is just for tonight. after tonight you two won’t exist to each other-

your mother is drunk, and manages to pull you two under mistletoe.

an old tradition, you two stuck under it, as your mom watches, “fifty years of bad luck!” she giggles, “you don’t want that! charlie, kiss them already!”

he sighs, holds the side of your face as you whisper, “charlie, you don’t have to. i’ll-“

but his lips crash into yours and holy fuck that feels real if you didn’t know any better, didn’t have to remind yourself this is for your mothers sake only

he pulls away, red faced like he always was after kissing you, said it was because he can’t believe he pulled someone so far out of his league-

“sorry,” he says gently, as your mother is preoccupied with something else, “i didn’t know what to do. i panicked.”

finally, a smile out of you, “you panicked and your first instinct was to kiss me?”

he shrugs, “well duh.”

you laugh, hit his shoulder, “still charming, i see.”

by the end of the night, you have to pinch yourself, remind yourself this is fake as you stand around a fire pit outside. the fire does little to keep you warm, but charlie takes his coat off, insist he’s fine as he drapes it cost your shoulders and it smells so much like him it’s almost intoxicating for half a second-

“people are watching.” he says gently.

he’s lying, but hopes you don’t catch it, just misses the familiar ache of your lips crashing into his-

“yeah?” you tease back gently, your voice barely above a whisper, “and what do you suggest we do?”

“hm,” he teases, eyes wander to the sky as if he has to think about it, “oh, i know-“

and before you can stop him, his hand is on the side of your face, lifting it up, angling it, and you’re kissing again

“charlie.” you day when he pulls away and he shakes his head, his hand on the side of your face:

“it doesn’t have to be fake.” he says gently. leaves out the part of him that wants to beg: let it be real. let’s be real-

“charlie,” you huff out, “you're drunk.”

and he’s never been more sober, hasn’t had a sip of alcohol but it’s easier to brush it off that way, to shoot him down.

“let’s try again,” he says gently, “let me try again.”

you roll your eyes, “come on, my moms gonna wonder where you are if you aren’t over her shoulder for hot chocolate.”

“sunshine-“ he tries, as you grab his hand, lead inside.

“charlie,” you say gently, “enough.”

And it kills him. wants to yell from the top of his lungs that it’s real to him, how he almost called you every night for a year to apologize, wrote these letters he was never brave enough to send

the night winds down, and your mother insists on some christmas classics blasting from the television.

“not a christmas without the beach boys.” charlie teases as he stands, offer his hand.

your mother all but squeals, always talked about how much she adores him, never had the heart to tell her what happened-

“charlie,” you sigh as you take his hand, “this isn’t a slow song.”

“hm?” he teases, takes your hand in his, a gentle spin around the room before his hand rests on your hip, “can’t hear you over the beach boys, sunshine.”

you huff but make no effort to leave his embrace as he sways.

you step on his feet but neither of you say anything, he doesn’t make a face, his voice is low as he counts the steps for you to dance with him, before he tilts his head down, makes himself smaller, the way he always did when it was important

“let me try again,” he says, “i’ll get it right.”

and you’re looking up, and he looks like he means it, and even though anger gnaws on your insides, all you can think of is the familiar ache of missing him you’ve felt lately, how you both got to wrong-

“alright,” you all but whisper back, “let’s get it right.”

he stops, and for a second you’re afraid he’s going to admit to your family this is a lie, that he didn’t actually mean it, but he stops, holds your face as he kisses your lips, hard, like he means it, his lips against yours: “i’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

and you’re laughing, because he’s been kissing you all night, but this one is different, feels different, knows it means different too-

“we’ll get it right.”

and he’s holding the side of your face, “i promise.” before his lips crash into yours

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Mamma Masterlist

Two Years Later

December 2022

"Eleanor Mae!" I find myself calling out, her chubby little legs carrying her faster than I expected through the exiting crowd of Rogers Arena. "Ellie!" I call again, my nerves spiking when her dark mop of hair disappears from my vision.

"Mom! Incoming!" Jack Hughes' calls to his mother, the Hughes family having flown in on mutual breaks to support Quinn, getting to watch his team win.

What Ellen hadn't known, was what Jack was referring to until a child crashed into her legs, Jim placing a hand on his wife's back to stable her.

"Oh! Well aren't you adorable," The mother coos, getting down onto her knees to be at the child's height as the little one looks over the boys, her dark hair falling in front of her familiar green eyes. "What's your name sweetie?"

"Eleanor Mae! Ellie!" A woman's voice can be heard, a panic to it that the Hughes parents recognize themselves. A panic you only have over a child.

"Did you run away from your mommy?" Ellen asks, the girl giggling with a nod. "What's your name?" She tries once more, now that the girl seems focused enough to respond.

"Ellie."

"I'll flag down the mother," Luke offers, being the tallest of the family while he waves in the direction of the woman's still panicked voice.

"How old are you Ellie?"

"Almost 2!"

"Eleanor, thank God," I want to cry, seeing her little body thanks to the waving hand, pulling her into my arms, my head ducked into her Hughes jersey.

The head of blonde in front of them is ever familiar, just as the girls eyes were, but no one had any connections until they saw the back of the little girls jersey.

Hughes 43.

Quinn, that's who's eyes they were reminded of.

"Holy shit," A voice, scarily familiar to my ears, mumbles from above me, my arms scooping Ellie up as I move to thank the people who found her.

Only to meet with the faces of my worst nightmare.

"Ruthie?" Luke is the one the question, eyes showing all the hurt that my heart feels.

"Hi Moose," I greet meekly, looking over the family. Jim and Ellen somehow managed to never age a day, while the boys seem like 2 years were really 10. Turning to Jack, I can't help but smile. "I saw you got drafted to the Devils, I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks Rue," He thanks, smiling himself, before his eyes move to Ellie, her babbles catching his attention. "And who is this cutie?" He questions, coming up and taking her hand, giving it a kiss and making her giggle.

"Uh," How do I tell Quinn's family that this is their niece and granddaughter? "This is Eleanor, although I really just call her Ellie."

"Hi Ellie," Luke is the one to greet, coming up to Jack and I with a little wave. "She said she was almost two?"

Of course she did. "I- I'm not exactly sure how to tell you all this," I explain quietly. Not noticing a brunette Canucks player approaching behind me, only thinking he is approaching his family and a fan. "Eleanor is my daughter, but she is also Quinn's. I found out I was pregnant the day he broke up with me," I explain. "I uh, based her name off of yours Ellen."

She sobs. The woman who I grew up having as a rock in my life starts sobbing, her arms being thrown around Ellie and myself. "I knew it as soon as I saw her."

"You knew she was pregnant?" Quinn's voice rings from behind me, making my entire body tense. He rounds me now, standing by his brothers as he gets a look of my daughter. Our daughter. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I had the pink onesie and the sonogram photos in my pocket to tell you when I walked out your door for the last time," is all I can think to answer. "I had a whole plan in my head, how I was going to tell you, how it was going to be a lot to handle, especially with hockey and school. And then you broke up with me."

"I broke up with you to make things less complicated!" His voice raises, making Ellie cover her ears with her hands.

"Quinn," I can't help but whisper. "Nothings more complicated than finishing college with a baby, I-"

"Momma," Ellie interrupts my rambling, "Is daddy?" She asks, pointing at Quinn, the tense of his shoulders releasing as he looks over her.

His hair, his eyes, my face.

"She knows me?"

"I wanted nothing more than you to be in her life. To be in our lives," I answer him, turning to my girl. "Yes baby, this is daddy."

"And I'm Uncle Jack!" Jack exclaims, clearly ignoring the magnitude of this entire conversation, something Jim seems to notice as he reaches for his middle child's shoulder, although Quinn shakes his head, watching with the smallest smile.

"Hey, you can't introduce yourself first, you'll be her favorite just based on that, and I need to be her favorite!" Luke complains, shoving up to where Ellie has hidden her head in the crook of my neck, her cheeks bright pink. "I'm Uncle Luke, and I'll be your favorite."

"I like Daddy," Is her response, still not peaking out, but based on Quinn's smile, he definitely heard her.

"Is that so?" Quinn asks, handing his equipment to father, looking hesitantly to me, silently asking if he can take her from my hip. I nod, him reaching over and her sliding into his arms without a second thought.

"She's always loved her Daddy," I explain, smiling at the interaction I've been waiting to see since I found out we'd be having a little us. "I've told her all about you all since she was little, stories of the lake house, school, Q's draft," I list, Ellen moving around the boys and wrapping me in a side hug.

"I can't wait to learn who she is," She mumbles, just to me.

"You said you knew... how?"

But she just gives me a mother's smile, all knowing. "I just knew. Just like I knew that you two would find your ways back to each other."

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2022: 29-Shimmer

Damian sighed as he looked out onto the Seine. He never wanted to come to Paris. His father and Drake had forced him on a plane to work on some counter-productive scheme at a Wayne Enterprise site in France.

Damian tensed up when he noticed a girl next to him on the bridge.

'When did she get here? I never heard her, let alone sensed her presence. I was trained to noticed the subtlest of movements. How did she get past me?'

Damian looked over the girl. She was wearing bright colors, something he should have noticed right away. Her hair was tied back, making her face visible. It was her eyes that got his attention. They were a dull blue, but that wasn't the biggest thing he noticed. He recognized those eyes. They were emotionless. He had grown up surrounded by those eyes in the League. Damian had also seen those eyes on the streets of Gotham.

He slowly reached out and touched her shoulder. Instantly, tears were brought to her eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you." he spoke, softly.

The girl turned and he noticed bruising on her cheekbone and the makings of a black eye. She looked liked an angel.

"Are you okay?" Damian asked.

The girl shook her head. He slowly moved his hand from her shoulder to hers Damian pried her hands from the bridge rail and guided her to the nearest bench.

"What is going on?" he questioned, ready to call the authorities at a moments notice, "A fresh perspective can help."

"I being bullied by just about eveyone in my class. All of my friends believe this liar that joined a couple months ago." She began, "The one person who knows she's lying, lets bully me because 'No one is getting hurt'."

'The bruising on her suggests otherwise.'

He could see the heaviness in her eyes. The bullying was taking it's toll on her. If her grip was anything to go by, it was close to the breaking point.

"How long has this been going on?" he questioned.

"Since last year." she whispered.

Damian couldn't believe it had been that long with no intervention, "What about the staff?"

She shook her head, "My teacher expects me to an example to the class. The principal isn't any better. He believes anyone with more money."

Damian growled, "What school?"

"Francois Dupont College." she answered.

"It will get better; I promise you, Angel." he stated.

Marinette just looked away.

'She's likely heard those words before.'

"Let me walk you home." Damian suggested.

Tom and Sabine were shocked to see Marinette in tears, with a stranger leading her through the door. The purple on her cheek and eye stood out against her pale skin.

"Marinette!" Sabine shouted, "Is everything okay?"

Marinette just walked passed her parents and through the door leading upstairs. Concerned, they turned to the boy who had brought her home.

"Please, keep a heavy watch on her." he insisted, "I fear had I not been there, she would have jumped into the Seine."

"Why?" Tom questioned.

"When was the last time you her friends were over?" Damian asked.

"We saw them just the other day." Sabine frowned.

"Not in the store." Damian pressed, "In your own home. When was the last time you saw them with your daughter? When was the last time she told you she was going out with her friends with a smile on her face?"

Her parents looked confused.

He sighed, "She is being bullied and I want to help."

"She would have told us." Sabine insisted.

"It's very likely she did, but you brushed it off as a small argument or normal behavior for our age." he explained, "Who is her teacher?"

"Caline Buster." her father answered,.

Damian bowed and left the bakery without another word. Tom and Sabine looked at each other confused, but quickly shut down the bakery for the rest of the day. A stranger had thought their daughter would harm herself and the bruising on her face told them something wasn't right. They rushed upstairs to see Marinette laying motionless in bed. Maybe that stranger had a right to worry.

Marinette sat in the back of the classroom with a hoodie covering her head. Makeup hadn't really covered the purple on her face and she didn't want to be called out for wanting attention on herself, again. Damian strutted into class and rapidly spotted his angel. Everyone looked at the mysterious stranger in the class.

"Um, excuse me." Caline smiled, "How can I help you?"

Damian glared at her and walked up to Marinette. He placed his hand over hers and pulled her to her feet.

"Come along, Angel." Damian spoke, "We have things to do today."

Marinette looked at the stranger from the other day, stunned.

'Why is he here? What does he mean that we have things to do?'

"School?" she questioned, not really knowing what else to say.

"Not today." He answered, "Your parents granted me permission to rescue you."

Marinette gathered her things and followed him without a second thought.

"Her parents will be reaching out, shortly." Damian explained and puleld Mari out of the room.

Marinette couldn't believe the day she was having. Her parents had called her and told her that they wanted her to enjoy herself today. They didn't give an explanation on why she was allowed to miss school or why they trust the guy she had only met the other day. She couldn't complain, though. Damian had introduced himself and taken her out for ice cream cones. As they ate, he explained that the next thing they were doing was going to an art supply store he found the other day.

She had gathered a couple sketchbooks and colored pencils that she needed for her next project. Damian had paid for her purchase which she had refused. He got her hand and led her to the next spot. Marinette looked at the high end fabric store.

"I think we're at the wrong store." Marinette spoke.

"We're not." he smirked, "Your parents stated this was a place you have been wanting to visit."

"Ye-Yes, but it's not within my budget." she stated.

"That's why I'm paying." Damian announced.

Marinette turned to him in shock.

"I expect you to choose at least five different fabrics. Take as long as you need. Use your new sketchbooks and pencils if you have too." He explained, "If you don't walk out with five rolls, I will be buying you the entire store. In case your wondering, I do have that kind of money."

Marinette gulped and walked into the store. At that moment she recalled one of her favorite Disney movies: Beauty and the Beast.

'This must be how Belle felt when the Beast showed her library and told her she could read anything.'

Marinette looked around the bolts of fabric and pulled out a sketchbook. She sat on the floor in front of a wine fabric. Damian watched as she focused on the fabric and let her hand fly on the pages. Suddenly, he realized she was smiling. It shone so bright.

'How much damage was done to you to make you think the world was a better place without it?'

Damian and Marinette entered the bakery with seven bolts of fabric. He unloaded them from his car and happily carried them up to her room.

"Marinette, we have some news for you." Tom began.

Sabine smiled, "We have taken you out of school, permanently. We wanted to know if you would prefer to be homeschooled, instead?"

Marinette quickly hugged her parents. They could all tell she was happy with the news.

Damian smiled at the family infront of him. Unbeknownst to them, he had done background checks into the principal, her teacher, and unearthed the liar known as Lila Rossi. He had sent everything to the school board. They had informed him that the two staff member were terminated during school hours and wouldn't be allowed back on campus. They would also be writing a lengthy detailed report so they were not rehired. As for Lila Rossi, she had been suspended for a week and given detention for the rest of the year.

The next day, he heard from Tom and Sabine that the class tried to talk to Marinette. They had refused to let them even see her. They complained that the Italian exchange student had been berated in front of the class by her own mother. She had filled in the substitute teacher about her daughter's wrongdoings and left her personal number with her.

"Marinette wants nothing to do with you." Sabine chastised them.

"But-" Adrien tried to explain.

"You're lucky we don't know who beat her until she had a black eye or we would be going to your homes and filling your parents in on your own behavior." Tom declared.

"You may enter the bakery and purchase something" Sabine stated, "but, you are no longer welcomed into our home. You hurt our daughter and you were bad friends. It's no wonder she chose to be homeschooled than return to school with you."

The class flinched and dragged themselves out of the bakery.

Marinette jumped up when she saw Damian enter the living room. She rushed over and kissed his cheek.

"Hello, Angel." Damian spoke, kissing her cheek in return.

"You may call me an angel, but you're mine." Marinette smiled.

"I have been told I am a demon." he stated.

"Then, I'll gladly make a deal with you." Mari replied.

Damian smiled.

'Perhaps, Paris isn't so bad after all.'

TAG LIST: @maribat-calendar-events @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus

[sattlersquarry]

& now i'm covered in you (steve harrington x female!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 3, inspired by Taylor Swift's "ivy") Despite having a boyfriend, you find your feelings for your best friend Steve Harrington growing tenfold over Christmas break, 1985.

Word Count: ~6k (I got carried away ahaha)

Warnings: (I'd say this one's 18+, maybe) Language, alcohol use, mentions of sex, angst related to general unhappiness and loneliness, mentions of nightmares, and canon-typical violence. Also lots of mutual pining. Extra TW for abusive, manipulative behaviors from an OC (this is a Tyler Didn'tGiveHimALastNameBecauseHeSucks hate page).

A/N: I felt unhappy so I wanted to write a fic about feeling unhappy and then kissing Steve Harrington. It turned into this. Enjoy!

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 14th, 1985

MY PAIN FITS IN THE PALM OF YOUR FREEZING HAND / TAKING MINE, BUT IT’S BEEN PROMISED TO ANOTHER

It’s a slow Saturday morning at the Family Video, and Steve Harrington wishes he were anywhere else but here. 

His job is essentially dealing with one annoying customer after another, all day, for eight hours. It’s passable when Robin’s scheduled, but since she’s still a high schooler and just works part-time, Steve is left to fend for himself a good chunk of the time.

The bright spot in his miserable existence at the video store is when you come to visit him. 

When he first got hired in October, you used to come twice a week to rent movies and talk with him. You always did a great job sounding impressed with Steve’s (albeit limited) movie knowledge when Keith hovered nearby.

As of late, the space between your visits grew significantly. And if you rented a movie, you’d use the curbside drop-off box to return it instead of coming in to see Steve. He tries not to take that personally. He rationalizes it, knowing you’re probably just busy with your classes at Roane County Community College. That was it. Nothing else.

He tries not to think about how your avoidance could have something to do with the events at Starcourt last summer. About how maybe it was related to waking up next to him in an underground Russian bunker, bloodied and bruised and drugged out of your mind. About how maybe you didn’t want to see him because you blamed him for—

Ding, ding! The bell above the door signals your entrance. Steve looks up from the returns he’s processing, wondering if he’s summoned you with the power of thought.

“Y/N!” he says, his bored expression brightening. “Hey!”

You give him a shy smile and wave.

“Hey, stranger,” you say, the gentle lilt to your voice making Steve’s heart melt. You stamp your boots, shaking snow onto the doormat. “Sorry, I know it’s been forever.” 

“Don’t even worry about that,” Steve says, waving your apology away like a pesky fly. “I know you’re busy with finals.”

You join him by the counter, and the two of you catch up a little more: you talk about your classes, he talks about his job and his misadventures in babysitting. 

At some point, the conversation shifts to relationships. Steve hopes he doesn’t sound too eager when he asks, “Are you…seeing anyone?”

He’s expecting you to say no. He doesn’t know why—you’re pretty, really pretty, and kind. And smart. And you smell nice. Long and short of it, you’re a total catch. 

So he shouldn’t be surprised when you say, “Actually, yes.”

His eyes widen. He plasters on a (fake) smile and says, “Whoa! Awesome! Who’s the lucky guy? Someone I know?”

You shake your head. For some reason, you can’t look Steve in the eye while you explain, and instead pick at your fingernails. 

“He’s from a small town in West Roane County,” you say. “I met him in my psych class. His name’s Tyler.”

“Tyler,” Steve repeats it, trying not to make it sound like a curse. “What’s he like?”

“He plays baseball,” you add. “And he’s in a band.” You start scratching at a stain on the countertop. “He’s pretty nice.”

“Pretty nice?” Steve says, eyebrows pulling together. “Y/N, you deserve better than ‘pretty nice.’” 

“He’s fine!” you say, a little exasperated, as if you’ve had this conversation many times before. You meet Steve’s eyes, something akin to defiance flashing in yours. “He’s great! I really, really like him.” 

“That’s great,” Steve says, lying through his teeth. “Super great. I’m glad you’re happy.”

You falter. Your expression twists to one of regret, for just a moment, before you turn away. 

“I should get going,” you say. “He’s meeting me at Enzo’s for lunch. But I’ll see you around, all right?” 

“Sure,” Steve says. He runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, listen, sorry if I said something to upset—”

“It’s fine, Steve,” you say. A lie. You beeline toward the exit.

You’re halfway out the door when Steve steps out from behind the counter and blurts out, “You still having those nightmares?”

You pause in the doorway. You consider just leaving, pretending you didn’t hear him. But you knew you were being a bit short with him, and you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. 

You turn back into the store and shrug.

“I mean, sometimes,” you say. Another lie. You have them every night. Nightmares where you wake up in that godforsaken elevator again. Nightmares where you watch as the soldiers beat the shit out of Steve, out of Robin, out of you again and again and again, and over and over and over. 

Steve doesn’t say anything. He studies you, honey-brown eyes shining like opal in the mid-morning light. He’s waiting for you to elaborate, so you do. 

“I was seeing a therapist about them,” you admit. “But I was tired of wasting 100 bucks a week sugar-coating the horrible truth to someone who would never know what really happened. So I stopped going.” 

“It’s hard,” Steve says. He cautiously steps closer, as if you’re a jittery animal he doesn’t want to spook. “Listen, if you ever want to talk about what happened, I’m here for you. Okay?”

Your heart twists. For a moment, you want to drop the facade. You want to tell Steve every bad thing you’ve been thinking and feeling lately. But you can’t do that. You can’t give him that burden. 

So you pull him into a hug (so he can’t see your face) and say, “Thank you, Steve.” 

He hugs you back, and you relish in the feeling of his arms around you. You want to stay like this forever. 

But you can’t, because your boyfriend is waiting for you at a booth in Enzo’s. 

Steve watches you go, a splintering feeling exploding in his chest. He tells himself it’s only because he can tell that something’s wrong, that you aren’t being fully honest. That it has absolutely nothing to do with his unrequited feelings for you, the ones he’s had since the two of you became Scoops Ahoy coworkers in May. 

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 27th, 1985

YOUR TOUCH BROUGHT FORTH AN INCANDESCENT GLOW / TARNISHED BUT SO GRAND

Steve doesn’t see you again for almost two weeks. 

Christmas comes and goes, and he finds himself wondering about you and your elusive new boyfriend more often than he should. 

You visit the store two days after Christmas with Tyler in tow.

“Who’s that with Y/N?” Robin asks, peering out the store’s large front windows from the sci-fi section.

Steve looks up from the tapes he’s organizing and almost drops them at the sight. A tall, muscular guy with piercing eyes has his arm around you as the two of you walk through the parking lot. Steve doesn’t miss how you seem to sag under the weight of the guy’s arm. 

“That,” Steve says flatly, “must be Tyler.”

The two of you enter the store. 

“Hey!” you say, pulling out from under your boyfriend's arm to give Robin a quick hug. “Merry Christmas, a little late!”

“Merry Christmas Y/N!” Robin says, hugging you back. 

You turn to Steve and hesitate, before giving him a quick hug as well. You try not to think about how good his new aftershave smells: like cinnamon, like peppermint, like everything cozy and warm. 

“I’m glad you’re both here,” you say. You gesture to Tyler. “This is my boyfriend, Tyler. Tyler, these are my friends Robin and Steve.” 

“Nice to meet you, man,” Steve says, holding out his hand. He hopes the smile on his face doesn’t look too forced.

Tyler gives Steve a once-over before shaking his hand, and then shaking Robin’s. 

“Y/N’s mentioned you two,” Tyler says. He puts his arm around you again. “Says you worked in the mall together, at some ice cream shop?”

“Scoops Ahoy,” Robin says. “God, I do not miss that uniform.” 

You and Steve chuckle in agreement. Tyler squeezes you a bit tighter. You stiffen.

“Sucks that it burned down,” Tyler says. “Y/N says you were there when it happened. That’s fucking crazy.” 

“Yeah,” Steve says, eyes flicking to Robin, and then back to you. He clears his throat. “Crazy’s one word for it.” 

“Did you like, see the flames—”

“Hey,” you interrupt, before Tyler’s morbid curiosity of the mall “fire” can send you into a panic attack. “I’ve got to run to the bathroom. Is there a key, or something?”

“Nope!” Robin says. “It’s just down the hall to the left.”

“Great, thanks. Ty, why don’t you pick out the movie?”

“Sure, babe,” he says, sounding a bit bored. You kiss him on the cheek and disappear down the hall. 

“Need any recommendations?” Robin asks Tyler. “I know all about the foreign films and horror, and Steve’s big on the action-comedies—”

Ding, ding! A new patron enters the store—a pretty girl, around your age, wearing a low-cut sweater and bright red lipstick. Tyler’s focus immediately shifts, eyes hungry as he watches her walk toward the romance movie aisle.  

Robin scrunches her nose up in disgust and shares a look with Steve, who looks pissed.

“Huh?” Tyler says, turning back to the duo when the new object of his attraction is no longer visible behind the shelves. 

“Movie recommendations,” Steve says sharply. “Need them?”

“Nah,” Tyler says. He pats Steve on the back a little harder than necessary. “I’m good, champ.” 

Steve bristles. Tyler breezes to the romance movie aisle.

“Holy shit,” Robin whispers. “He was totally ogling that girl!”  

“He’s more than ogling,” Steve hisses. “Look!”

The two of them eavesdrop as Tyler flirts with the pretty patron, complimenting her lipstick, her sweater, her ass in those jeans. It’s shameless and pathetic, but the girl giggles and twirls her hair around her finger.  

“He’s a total dog,” Robin says, crossing her arms. “We have to tell Y/N.” 

Steve’s seeing red. He wants to do more than just tell you—he wants to knock Tyler down a peg. Or two. Or seven.

Before Robin can stop him, he’s charging toward Tyler and the girl. He grabs a VHS copy of Sixteen Candles off a nearby shelf. 

“Hey, Tyler,” Steve says loudly, sauntering down the aisle. He slaps the tape into Tyler’s chest. “I found the movie your girlfriend was looking for.”

“‘Girlfriend’?!” the pretty patron says with a scowl. She huffs and flounces away, shoulder-checking Tyler on the way past.

If looks could kill, Tyler’s glare would send Steve six feet under. 

“What the hell, man?” he says. “What about bro code?” 

“We’re not bros,” Steve snaps. He steps a little closer. “Have some respect for Y/N, okay, ‘champ’?” 

You emerge from the store bathroom and join the boys in the romance aisle, clueless to the tension.

“Ooh, Sixteen Candles!” you say, noticing the tape in Tyler’s hands. “I love that one!”

“I’m not watching this girly shit!” Tyler barks. He chucks the tape at you. You flinch and fumble, dropping it to the ground. “Let’s go, Y/N.” 

“Wait,” you say with a frown. “Aren’t we going to rent a movie—”

“We’ll just go to the drive-in!” Tyler says. He storms toward the exit. You follow, and don’t hear Steve calling you to, “Hold on, Y/N—” 

“It’s a little cold for the drive-in,” you say with an awkward laugh, “don’t you think?” 

Tyler looks down at you with a sleazy smile, grabbing your belt loops and pulling you flush against him (in the middle of the goddamn Family Video). 

“I mean, I know a couple ways you can warm me up. Like what you did last night…” 

Shame burns through you. You hate how Tyler talks about sex so flippantly and in front of your friends. 

You hate how he looks at you. Not like a person, not like a girlfriend. Like a sexual conquest. 

You hate how he touches you, like a possession. 

You don’t want to spend your night at the drive-in having subpar sex in the backseat of Tyler’s Ford. You want a cozy night in, with candy canes and warm blankets and hot cocoa and marshmallows and a movie you’re actually going to watch. 

You gently push Tyler away from you.

“I’d rather just stay in Ty,” you say quietly. 

Tyler’s expression morphs back to anger. 

“Fucking hell,” he grumbles. “Fine. Get your dumbass movie and let’s fucking go.” 

He leaves to smoke outside. You fidget with the hem of your sweater and watch him for a moment, too embarrassed to face your friends again. 

You feel a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Here,” Steve says softly. He hands you Sixteen Candles. You stare down at it, unable to look him in the eyes. “Is this still the one you want?” 

You nod. Steve squeezes your shoulder and drops his hand. 

“C’mon, I’ll get it checked out for you.”

You follow him to the counter, dragging your feet the whole way. Neither of you say anything as he finalizes the rental. Steve catches Robin’s eye from across the store and gives her a look. Robin nods, interpreting the signal. 

“You know,” she pipes up, joining you two by the counter. “Steve and I only have an hour left of our shift. If you hang with us until then, we can go get food after.” 

“Sounds fun, Rob,” Steve says. “What do you say, Y/N?” 

You want to; you really do. But—

“I shouldn’t,” you say. “Tyler’s pissed, so he won’t want to wait.”

“Tell him to buzz off!” Robin blurts out. She sucks in a breath. “Look, I’ve got to be honest. I don’t love the way he treated you just now.” 

“He’s just got a temper,” you say, waving away her concern. “It’s fine.” 

You reach to grab Sixteen Candles from the counter. Steve stops you, holding both your hands in his.

All the air escapes your lungs. Steve’s touch is tender and warm. He’s looking at you with concern, empathy. He’s a gentleman and would never loudly boast about sex. He’s the perfect antithesis of Tyler.

For a fleeting moment that you aren’t too proud of, you imagine that sex with Steve in his BMW would be leagues more enjoyable than anything you’ve done with your boyfriend.

“Y/N,” Steve says, voice low. “Is Tyler…hurting you?”

“No!” you say, much louder than intended. “No, no. Nothing like that.”

“You’re sure?” Steve asks, brows furrowed. “The way you reacted to him throwing the tape—I mean, anyone throwing anything at anyone makes them flinch, but I just—”

“It’s not like that,” you repeat. “But thank you for looking out for me. Both of you!”

You want to say more. You want to admit that you’ve been thinking about breaking it off with Tyler, because you have the sneaking suspicion he’s cheating on you. You want to break down crying because he’s your first serious boyfriend and it’s not going the way you envisioned at all in your head, and you’re starting to wonder if you’re even capable of being loved at all—

Beep! Beep! Beeeeeeeeep! 

“HURRY UP!” Tyler yells from outside the store. He honks his car horn twice more.

You quickly pull your hands out of Steve’s and mumble out goodbyes, before grabbing the movie and running out of the store.

Steve frowns as you climb into Tyler’s car, the splintering in his chest from a couple weeks ago back with a vengeance. 

“Oh, that guy sucks,” Robin says, watching with disdain as Tyler peels out of the parking lot. “What are you thinking, intervention?” 

“Maybe we put a hit on him,” Steve says darkly. “Or, hell, we handle it ourselves. I’ve got my bat. Do you think Sinclair would let you borrow the wrist rocket?” 

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 31st, 1985

YOUR OPAL EYES ARE ALL I WISH TO SEE / HE WANTS WHAT’S ONLY YOURS

Now that the majority of Steve’s friends are nerds, any parties he throws these days are of the D&D variety. 

It’s New Year’s Eve, and he’s allowing Mike, Dustin, and Lucas to run a special holiday-themed one-off campaign at his house. The other guests include Robin, Erica, Max, and you.

Well, you’re supposed to be there. But now it’s almost an hour after the scheduled start time and the impatient Mike started the campaign already, and you’re nowhere to be seen. 

Worry blooms in Steve’s chest as he checks the clock for the fortieth time.

“Dude!” Dustin says. “It’s not midnight yet!”

“I know!” Steve says. “I’m just worried about Y/N. She should be here.” 

“She’s probably just driving slow,” Lucas says. “The snow’s coming down pretty hard.” 

But another hour passes, and another, and you still aren’t there.

Steve slips away during the one-shot’s final battle to give you a call.

He thinks for a second that you aren’t home, until he hears: “Hello?”

“Y/N, hey,” Steve says lightly. “Happy New Year, almost.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Oh my God, Steve,” you say. “I’m sorry. I know, I suck.”

“You don’t suck.”

“I do. Totally, utterly, completely suck. I’m late.”

“It’s no big,” Steve says. He fidgets with the phone cord. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay. My car’s a piece of shit though and wouldn’t run, and the taxi fares right now are insane because of the holidays, and I called Tyler and asked him to drive me and he said he would, but that was, like, two-and-a-half hours ago and I haven’t heard from him since.” 

The mention of Tyler spikes Steve’s blood pressure.

“Oh. Tyler. You’re…still with him?”

You blanch.

“Oh, um, yeah.”

You can almost hear his unspoken question: But why? 

You aren’t sure why, but you find yourself verbalizing the thought you’ve had for weeks: “I think I’m going to break it off though.”

Steve tries not to sound too excited. 

“Really?” he says. “That’s good! Seriously, you deserve better. He was a total jerk to you the other day.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “He was. He’s like that a lot more than I realized when we first started dating.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Steve says cautiously, “but why exactly did you start dating him?”

Because I like you. Because I’ve liked you since the summer, Steve Harrington, but you never made a move and obviously don’t feel the same and I just wanted to be wanted for once in my stupid life—

“I like baseball players,” you say, twisting your mouth into a smirk. 

Steve’s mind flashes to the nailed baseball bat in his car trunk.

“What about guys who are burnt-out basketball players and swimmers,” Steve teases, “who also happen to be capable with a bat?”

Your chest starts to feel warm. No way he was actually flirting, right? No. He’s just joking around. 

“Hmm,” you say with a chuckle. “I’ll have to circle back about that one.”

In the background, you hear the D&D group cheer.

“Sounds like they just won, or something,” Steve says, pushing the phone closer to his ear to block out the raucous noise. 

“I wish I was there to see it,” you say. Before you lose your nerve, you quietly add, “I wish I was with you, Steve.”

The double meaning is not lost on Steve: with you, as in physically at the party. But also with you, as in I-wish-I-was-dating-you-and-not-that-shithead-Tyler. Steve’s mouth drops open. 

He’s about to ask you for clarification, or to tell you he feels the same, but you curse.

“Shit, Tyler’s here and he brought his stupid friends. I guess he’s not giving me a ride. I’m sorry, Steve. I’ve got to go.”

“Wait, Y/N, I’ll come get you or—”

Click. You’ve disconnected the call, leaving him reeling about your maybe-confession.

He stares at the phone, mind buzzing in tandem with the droning dial tone. 

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 1st, 1986

OH, I CAN’T / STOP YOU PUTTING ROOTS IN MY DREAMLAND

You had wanted to break up with Tyler as soon as he came over, but he brought all his friends, and his friends brought wine coolers, and you had to spend your New Year’s Eve as the designated babysitter, making sure no one got alcohol poisoning. 

With a drunk Tyler passed out on the mattress next to you, you went to bed thinking about how you were going to end things. You drifted off to sleep, worried about what his reaction would be. 

For the first time in almost 6 months, you didn’t have nightmares.

In fact, you had quite the opposite: a rather amorous dream about someone else. The kind of dream that has you feeling flushed, your insides fuzzy and hot. 

When you wake up the next morning, Tyler is already gone, and he isn’t answering his landline. Instead of trying to track him down, you decide to make it up to your friends for missing the D&D party. You invite them to go sledding on the big hill by your apartment complex.

At some point during the festivities, you drag Robin aside and away from the others. You confide in her about your interesting dream to try and get some clarity. 

Instead, she just laughs and laughs.

“It’s not funny!” you say, glaring at her. 

“It is pretty funny, though,” Robin says with a giggle and a snort. “I mean, we’ve seen a lot of wild shit, but you having a sex dream about Steve—”

“It was not a sex dream!” you hiss. 

“Okay, whatever. A ‘romantic’ dream about Steve. Look, I don’t know what that means, but I do know one thing: both dream-Steve and real-life-Steve would treat you a hundred times better than Tyler does.”

“There’s no way Steve feels that way about me, though,” you say. You spare a glance at him further down the hill, where he’s cheering for Erica as she speeds away on her bobsled. 

“You’ll never know unless you tell him how you feel,” Robin says, playfully poking you in the shoulder. “Who knows, maybe you had that sex dream—”

“Again, NOT A SEX DREAM!”

“—because he was thinking about you, too.” 

She winks and wanders to Mike and Lucas. You accidentally catch Steve’s eye. You give him an awkward smile and turn away, praying he didn’t overhear you and Robin…

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 1st, 1986 & THURSDAY, JANUARY 2nd, 1986

SO TELL ME TO RUN / OR DARE TO SIT AND WATCH WHAT WE’LL BECOME / AND DRINK MY HUSBAND’S WINE

Steve never gets the chance to talk with you one-on-one during the day of sledding. It seems like you’re avoiding him. Every time he tries to strike up a conversation, and maybe bring up your statement from New Year’s Eve, you make some excuse to go on a hot cocoa run or grab an extra hat for Dustin and his cold ears. 

Which is why when your roommate Molly joins the fun, Steve doesn’t rebuff her advances when she bats her eyelashes and asks, “Sled with me, Steve?”

“Sure, Molly,” he says with the kind of grin “King Steve” should’ve retired two years ago. “Sounds fun.” 

He doesn’t miss how Robin’s coughing fit sounds suspiciously like: “Dingus! You’re a dingus!” as he and Molly climb onto the sled. He doesn’t miss how Erica loudly whispers to Lucas, “Wait, doesn’t Steve like Y/N?” 

He definitely doesn’t miss how you look sick to your stomach, how you turn to Robin and say, “I’m not feeling well. I’m heading in.” How you make some comment about some party Tyler is throwing, how you want to rest up before you go. 

Steve doesn’t see you for the rest of the day, and although you have plans with freaking Tyler, he politely declines Molly’s offer to go to the diner for a bite. 

Later that night, however, he does see you again, in less-than-stellar circumstances.

It starts when he gets a phone call from Nancy Wheeler at 1 a.m.

“I’m sorry to call so late,” Nancy says as Steve rubs his bleary eyes, “but this is urgent.”

Panic rises.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, imagining Russians and demogorgons and rips in the fabric of space-time. 

“It’s not Upside Down stuff,” Nancy clarifies. “It’s Y/N. She just called me, and I think something’s really wrong.” 

This doesn’t lessen Steve’s panic one bit. Cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear, Steve rushes to get dressed while Nancy explains that you called sobbing, absolutely hysterical.

“I couldn’t really make out what she was saying,” Nancy continues, “but she gave me an address. I would go get her, but my parents are out of town and have the car with them. I’m worried about her, Steve.”

Steve assures Nancy that he’s on it, thanks her for the information, and breaks about a dozen traffic safety laws to get to the address in record time. 

The address takes him to a house on the edge of town. It’s very obviously a house owned by college boys, due to the amount of red SOLO cups littering the front yard, the music pumping through the windows, and the frat-house flag waving on the porch. 

The party is loud and overwhelming. Steve cuts through the crowd, elbowing drunks left and right and loudly asking, “Does anybody know where Y/N Y/L/N is?”

His saving grace comes in the form of a bored-looking designated driver sitting at the kitchen counter.

“Is Y/N wearing a pink sweater?” the DD asks Steve. “With, like, little hearts on it and shit?” 

Steve nods, remembering how cute you looked in it earlier during sledding.

“I saw her go in there,” the DD says, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the pantry.

Steve thanks the guy and slides open the door. His heart cracks into 70 pieces when he sees you sitting on the pantry floor hugging your knees to your chest, sobbing.

In one of your hands, you’re gripping a bottle of wine like it’s a lifeline.

“Y/N,” Steve breathes out, rushing to sit next to you. He puts a hand on your back. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You continue to cry and shake your head no.

“He has a girlfriend!” you say, hiccuping between every word. 

“Who?” Steve asks, although he has a sneaking suspicion.

“Tyler!” you say. You take a swig of wine and start to slur your words. “I came over early and I found him making out with some girl. She’s been his girlfriend for three years. Three fucking years!” You bark out a hollow laugh. “I figured he was cheating, but turns out I was the one he was cheating with!”

“Oh, shit,” Steve says. He wraps an arm around you. You lean into him and lay your head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You drop the wine bottle and roughly wipe your eyes.

“I don’t even know why I’m fucking crying,” you say. “I only came tonight to break up with him anyway. And he treated me like shit. But…ugh, it’s stupid.”

“What?” Steve asks, voice gentle, as he runs a hand up and down your arm—a comforting touch. 

You suck in a breath. If you were sober, you’d keep your mouth shut. But your alcohol-addled brain doesn’t give you the chance to stop yourself.

“It was nice to be wanted for once,” you mumble. “I’m just so tired of feeling this way. Feeling so goddamn lonely. So fucking unhappy.”

You’re glad that you can’t see Steve’s face, because if you could, there’s no way you’d have the confidence to keep going. 

“I don’t know why I feel this way,” you continue. “I have you and our other friends. I have my parents. I have classmates I’m getting to know. I have a part-time job that pays well and I’m taking courses I’m interested in and I’m constantly surrounded by people and my life is good so I should be happy but I’m just not.” 

Before Steve can respond, you start to ramble: “I’m unhappy, and I don’t know what to do or how to change it. I feel stuck. Stagnant. Like I’m in quicksand and I’ll keep getting pulled down until there’s nothing left.”

For a moment, Steve doesn’t respond. Insecurity chips away, making you worry that you overdid it. You clear your throat and start to backpedal:

“Sorry, ignore me, it’s stupid—”

“It’s not,” Steve says firmly. “I promise you, it’s not stupid. Honestly, I get it. Really, I do. My life is not what I wanted it to be and I constantly find myself wondering if it’s fate or if I did something stupid in a past life and now I’m being punished.”

You bite back a badly timed joke about his tenure as King Steve.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it,” Steve adds, “but this is just a small blip in your life. A small, insignificant blip. You feel stuck now, but you won’t be forever. You have such a bright, awesome future ahead. And you’ll find a guy who treats you wayyyy better than fucking Tyler.”

“Oh yeah?” you scoff. “Like who.” 

“Doesn’t matter who.”

You look up at him, faces so close you can see every freckle and beauty mark on Steve’s cheeks. Steve has to remind himself to breathe when your nose almost touches his. 

“Like you?” you whisper, the wine making you bold. 

“Maybe,” he whispers back. His sincerity throws you off guard. 

Your eyes pull to Steve’s lips. The urge to kiss him feels like a necessity, not just a desire. 

You start to close the space between you two, but Steve pulls away. The one thought rattling in his mind is, Not now. Not like this.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” Steve says, helping you to your feet. 

Embarrassment washes over you. Of course he doesn’t want you. You figured as much. 

You’re unable to look any of Tyler’s friends in the eye as you clumsily exit the bustling party behind Steve.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 2nd, 1986

MY HOUSE OF STONE, YOUR IVY GROWS / AND NOW I’M COVERED IN YOU

You spend your Thursday hiding in your room, hungover and embarrassed about…well, pretty much everything. You can’t believe your drunk ass blubbered like a baby and almost kissed Steve. You have no idea if there’s a way to bounce back from that.

Steve calls your apartment a few times during the day, but you have your roommate lie and say you’re at your parent’s house. 

Molly comes into your room around dinnertime and says, “You need to call Steve back. He won’t stop hogging the line. It’s getting desperate.” 

You drag yourself out of bed and decide to do one better: to go see him.

When you enter the Family Video, he’s slouching behind the counter, watching St. Elmo’s Fire on the miniscule store TV. He doesn’t even look up from the movie and, in a bored monotone, says, “Hey, so we close in 15—”

“Don’t worry,” you say, “I’ll be quick.” 

He straightens up and looks to you, instinctively running a hand through his hair. 

“Y/N, hey!” he says. “Sorry, I thought you were a customer. I mean, you are a customer, but I thought you were a stranger—”

“No worries,” you say. You clear your throat. “I have something for you. Two somethings, actually.” 

You reach into your bag and place two items on the counter: the Sixteen Candles tape you rented the other day and a square-shaped Tupperware container.  

You remove the Tupperware lid and reveal a cookie cake with a message in blue icing: “I’m Sorry :( ”

Steve raises an eyebrow, looking down at the cake and then back at you.

“What are you apologizing for, exactly?” he asks, the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“For last night,” you say. “I shouldn’t have gotten so wasted. And I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. I’m really sorry, Steve.”

Something unreadable flashes across Steve’s features. He fidgets with the Sixteen Candles box. 

“No, don’t apologize,” he says. “It’s fine, really.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and you don’t say anything else, and for a moment the only sound to be heard is the movie in the background.

“I can get out of your hair,” you say, “if you need to close up—”

“No!” Steve says, quicker and louder than he means to. “I mean, why don’t you stay? You made this cake, you should at least enjoy some of it. Right?”

That’s how the two of you end up sitting side-by-side on the rough carpet of the Family Video, backs leaning against the counter as you tear the cake apart with your hands. 

Through the wide front windows of the store, you watch the sunset dip below the horizon, painting the bottom third of the sky purplish-pink. Higher up, the sky is a dark indigo. You imagine the view from outside almost looks like a Christmas card, the two of you housed in the cozy glow of the store, its exterior draped in half-melted snow.

Between bites of cake, you two chat about everything and nothing. It’s nice, it’s easy, it’s friendly. It’s familiar. But there’s a buzzing in your ear, a pounding in your heart, and you want nothing more than to grab Steve by the collar of his stupid polo and kiss him until you can’t breathe anymore—

“Can I ask you a hypothetical question?” you blurt out, before your mind takes you to someplace you shouldn't be. 

“Shoot,” Steve says, turning to face you. You meet his eyes.

“Let’s say there’s a girl,” you say, “who likes a guy. And she’s liked him for a while.”

Steve drops the piece of cake he’s holding.

“And for a long time,” you continue, “she was too chicken to make a move, so she didn’t say anything, or do anything. But the feelings just kept growing and growing, and covering her completely, like ivy.”

Steve swallows hard. You can’t tell if the wild look in his eyes is because he’s horrified or because he feels the same. You pray it’s the latter and keep going. 

“Instead of doing the smart thing and telling him how she feels,” you ramble, “she convinced herself he only saw her as a friend, so she did a really stupid thing and dated a really shitty guy, but that shitty guy’s gone, and she needs to finally tell the first guy she likes him but that’s really scary and—”

Steve’s kissing you. You're not sure exactly how it happened, not sure when he moved closer, but now he’s kissing you and it’s perfect. 

He cups your face in his hands and kisses you like he’s fighting for his life. Like there’s a fire in his soul, blazing away, and you’re the only one who can tamp down the flames. Like he’s covered in ivy too, completely enamored with you. 

You kiss him back, grabbing a fistful of his dorky green vest. You kiss him like nothing else matters.

“Wait,” Steve says, pulling away, cheeks flushed. “The guy in the story was me, right?” 

You laugh, and Steve is convinced it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. He wants to record it on a cassette and put it in his Walkman so he can loop it all day long. 

“Yes, Steve,” you say. “You’re the guy, and I’m the girl, and I’ve liked you since June.”

“I’ve got you beat,” Steve says, grinning. “I’ve liked you since Scoops employee orientation. But I thought there’s no way you’d want to be with me. I mean, you’re you.”

“Holy shit,” you say. You think of all the missed opportunities, the wasted time. “We’re idiots. The two of us? We’re actual idiots.” 

You both laugh, and then Steve kisses you again. Outside the window, the sun sinks completely, leaving nothing but a crescent moon shining in the dark winter sky.