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withyouwithoutthem · 1 year

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Eat, Sleep, Wake (Nothing But You) Ellie Williams

Modern College AU. Dealer!Ellie x F!Reader

Summary: When Reader and Ellie find themselves locked in a room together they’re forced to face the misunderstanding that occurred between them three years prior. Reader isn’t ready to let it go, but Ellie is willing to persuade her otherwise.

WC: 9.5k Buckle up, it’s a long one.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI!!! consumption of alcohol, smoking marijuana, brief description of reader’s outfit, mentions of divorced parents and foster care, ANGST, mutual pining, reader and ellie are both idiots, ellie being a little manipulative, SMUT, fingering and oral sex (r recieving)

A/N: i got super stoned last night and considered not posting this. second half is NOT proof read and feels a bit rushed. it's also very different from anything else i’ve written and i don’t know how i feel about it. initially i didn't intend for it to be this long (like 18 pages in gdocs, might be overkill) but it seems i don’t know how to write anything that’s not shakespearean in length, so sincere apologies. are people even into fics this long? i know i am but thats not the point. first time smut writer soooo that was fun! remember that feedback is always highly appreciated as well as like and reblogs! enjoy!!

You had dragged yourself to the party tonight in hopes of easing the heaviness that had settled in your stomach following the news delivered by your father that morning. It was hardly an appropriate conversation to have over the phone, yet your father could not give you the luxury of speaking about it in person. His words had been pinging around in your head all day, so when your roommate and best friend, Dina, brought up the idea of going to a party— you jumped at it with no questions asked.

Getting ready had been a small distraction for the time being, the notion of getting all “prettied up” for the night seeming good enough. Pregaming with a couple shots of tequila each had you feeling a new kind of sexy as you did your makeup; black eyeshadow skillfully smudged around your eyes in a tasteful wing, a light layer of glitter swiped across your lids. You’d dressed yourself in your favourite pair of jeans—the ones that hugged your ass in the best way— and a black open back top.

You and Dina were both a giggling mess on the bus ride over to the frat, earning a fair share of odd glances from a few of the other patrons. Had you not been buzzed already, you would have felt embarrassed and maybe even apologized to those around you, but alcohol was buzzing in your veins on the track to having a fun night out.

The music could be heard from outside the frat house, but as soon as the two set foot through the doorway, it pumped right through their chests, leaving them with a buzz different from the alcohol. Sweaty bodies packed together tightly throughout the main floor, spilling out into the backyard where the party continued. In the kitchen they found the counter littered with bottles of booze and plenty of snacks— which you had learned not to touch the hard way, when you caught a god-awful stomach bug during first year.

Dina’s eyes scanned the labels, fingers dancing overtop the bottles as she searched for one in particular, “Aha!” She exclaimed, “This’ll do.”

“Dina, there’s like seven different bottles of whiskey. It’s all the same.”

“Nuh-uh,” Dina shook her head, pouring a shots worth into the two plastic cups you set out. “This is the good stuff, no wonder they had it at the back.”

You didn’t have a chance to see the label, and couldn’t find yourself caring about the brand as you clinked your cup against Dina’s, sending your friend a wink before throwing the shot back. Dina had been right, this was the good stuff; smooth but smokey, warming your chest on the way down yet still sent shivers up your spine.

The pair were quick to down a second one, and it wasn’t long before the girls found themselves being joined by their friends Jesse and Kate. They celebrated their arrival with a third before mixing their fourth with some semi-flat ginger ale they’d found. Dina had managed to convince you, who wasn’t much of a dancer, to join her where the mass of sweaty bodies moved in tandem with the music pulsing through them.

You stood behind Dina, a hand on her hip as she slightly swayed side to side. The girl in front of you seemed to let the music consume her, dancing back onto her friend unaware of the attention she attracted from those around them. A sheen layer of sweat began to perspire on your back, hair sticking to the exposed skin. The heat of the room and the alcohol bubbling in your veins had you loosening up, but as Dina encouraged her to dance more freely— you knew you’d need another drink to do so.

“I’ll be back! Gonna get another drink.” you spoke into Dina’s ear, who smiled and turned to dance with Jesse and Kate.

Back in the kitchen, you grabbed a new cup and searched for the bottle of whiskey Dina had stashed away again. You were bumped from behind as you poured the shot, more of it ended up spilled on the counter than in the cup. You cursed and grabbed a rag from the sink to wipe it up. As you moved to bring the cup up to your mouth, you found yourself stopping once it touched your lips, catching sight of who stood just outside the sliding doors.

Ellie Williams.

Dressed in black jeans and a white tank top with an unbuttoned red and brown flannel overtop, Ellie Williams stood with a small group on the back deck, occasionally smoking off a joint as it made its rounds. Even though Ellie no longer attended school, she was still the resident weed dealer on campus, and had quite the reputation for not only how good her stuff was, but also how quickly she made her way through the school's population of queer women.

The two of you had been friends once, meeting through your mutual friend, Dina. You had developed a certain fondness for Ellie during the times you found yourselves together. Ellie’s quick witted responses and terrible jokes made you laugh even when nobody else found them funny. It was Ellie’s little touches here and there that had your skin buzzing with a fire that couldn’t be put out; grabbing your elbow to pull you back from crossing the street when you weren’t paying attention, interlocked fingers in crowded spaces, and a soothing hand on your back that time you emptied your stomach onto some poor ladies flower garden during homecoming week.

Ellie’s voice often had your stomach doing somersaults—low and raspy during morning classes, knowing the auburn haired girl had probably only rolled out of bed fifteen minutes prior. Silky smooth in the late hours of the night, where on occasion you found yourself sitting alone with Ellie in Dina’s living room long after she retired to bed. You would be buzzing with a high courtesy of Ellie’s weed paired with whatever alcohol you’d drank that night. Ellie would be speaking at no more than a murmur, flirty remarks falling past her lips that had you scooting to sit closer. Heart pounding in your chest at the feeling of Ellie’s body pressed against your side. Though, when it came to Ellie, it was hard to know whether or not the words coming out of her mouth held any merit. She was a serial flirt afterall.

You two grew close, no longer needing Dina with them as an excuse to hangout. By then, your fondness for Ellie had grown into a full-blown crush. Ellie’s touchy side had become more apparent the more you hung out, always touching you in some way; whether it be a hand on your knee under the table while surrounded by friends, a hand in your back pocket while walking, lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispered. It had even gone so far as a heated makeout on your couch. Ellie had insisted on walking you home after leaving Dina’s apartment, it was late and upon arriving at your place the two of you realized they didn’t want the night to end.

It was under the orange glow of streetlights that you admired each other for what felt like an eternity. You took notice that the scar in Ellie’s right eyebrow that she’d always hide with her bangs was out in the open for the world to see. The freckles that littered her cheeks and nose were more noticeable in your close proximity, and you could just make out a small fleck of brown in Ellie’s green eyes. Just as you opened your mouth to invite Ellie inside, hand reaching out to trace a finger along the scar in her eyebrow did the auburn-haired girl quickly surge forward, moulding your lips together in a gentle yet somewhat sloppy kiss.

You were buzzing, alight with so many feelings that all you could do was grab at Ellie with greedy hands and fumble backwards into your apartment. Close was not close enough as Ellie led you blindly to your couch, shoes haphazardly strewn in the entryway, accompanied by long forgotten jackets as hands pulled one another tighter.

This was it, you thought. Solid evidence that the feelings you had for Ellie weren’t one sided, every touch, every locked gaze from across a crowded room, and every sweet endearment shared between you meant something.

Ellie’s hands were in your hair, tangled in the strands keeping your lips married to each other as you found your place seated in her lap. There was a fire ignited between you two as your hips canted downwards into Ellie for some much needed friction. Ellie gasps into the kiss and you take that as a moment to catch your breath. It’s all droopy eyes and kiss-swollen lips as your eyes meet, giggles falling from both of you at the other's appearance. You’re both filled with such giddiness from heavy makeout.

You’re playing with the hair at the back of her neck when you smile. “I really like you Ellie.”

It stings to watch her face fall, head slowly reeling back as if to get a better look at you somehow. Too soon is Ellie lifting you off her lap to stand from the couch, placing a fleeting kiss on your cheek and calling out a quick goodnight over her shoulder as she turned and made her way home.

“Ellie? What’s wrong?”

She’s at the door in the blink of an eye, tugging on her sneakers and grabbing her jacket, “I uh. . . Just remembered that I needed to help Joel out with this super important, uh, thing. Like really early in the morning. Yeah. And it’s pretty late so I should probably head out.”

Your shoulders deflate with the disappointment twisting between your ribs. “Oh, okay. . .”

Ellie’s wringing her jacket in both her hands, struggling to maintain eye contact with you before she’s turning around and making her exit out your front door. “See ya soon! Goodnight!” She calls out over her shoulder.

That was the last time you spoke to Ellie Williams.

The next time you saw Ellie—over a week later— she was wrapped up in the tattoo covered arms of a girl with short black hair. Later, Dina informed you that the girl with Ellie was her new girlfriend, Cat.

You were left confused and hurt for a long time after seeing Ellie with Cat, not knowing where along the way things between you two may have gone wrong. Ellie had avoided you and if she wasn’t going to talk, you would do just the same, never seeking out more of an explanation. The hurt and confusion you initially felt had turned to some form of hatred along the way, every time you saw Ellie and Cat it seemed to take over another part of you. At least that’s what you tried convincing yourself, and for some time disguising the feelings of adoration as disgust and hatred did work.

But avoiding each other altogether would be difficult.

Even after Ellie didn’t return to school for second year, and sharing a mutual friend in Dina, you could not seem to shake yourself free of Ellie. It felt like wherever you turned Ellie happened to be close by; whether that be walking on campus, or attending a party like tonight. For Dina’s sake, when you found yourself within unavoidable close proximity to Ellie, you kept things civil despite the slow boil rising in your blood and the pain that festered in your chest.

Ellie and Cat broke up after almost a year of dating, and her other flings never seemed to work for more than a few weeks, at most a couple months which had only happened one other time. You doubted that Ellie had any idea of the humiliation and grief her rejection had caused you.

It was as if Ellie could feel your gaze boring a hole into the side of her head, because in an instant she was turning to look inside where she found you standing at the kitchen counter. Ellie sent a slight smirk your way, continuing conversation with the people standing around her, never once letting her eyes move away from you. The smell of the whiskey suddenly had your stomach twisting unpleasantly when Ellie shot a wink your way, a wave of nausea rolling through you saw the cup discarded in search for the nearest bathroom.

You skipped trying to find one in the crowded space of the main floor, quickly making your way up the stairs and to the second floor where you found yourself knocking on closed doors in search of an empty room. You had no luck on the second floor either, and dreaded the idea of having to climb another flight of stairs to the third. The only empty room happened to be at the end of the hall, and while it wasn’t a bathroom, the air in the bedroom helped in quelling the nausea, no longer heavy with the scent of sweat and alcohol. Breathing deeply through your nose and out your mouth, you sat on the edge of the bed to steady yourself.

You blamed your intoxicated state for the reaction that seemed to spur as a result of the interaction with Ellie from across the kitchen. You thought you’d metabolized the idea that Ellie’s flirting with you had meant nothing and moved on. Having had a fair share of face to face interactions since, but either Dina or Jesse had been there with you.

God, you felt like such an idiot. All you’d done was make eye contact with Ellie and it had you hurtling towards a downward spiral you tried your hardest to stay afloat in. You hadn’t realized the chokehold Ellie seemed to have over you for the three years you’d known each other, and in your drunken state it had not fared well. You’d figured the feeling that grew in your stomach any time you saw Ellie with a new girl had just been disgust. Disgust in not knowing how Ellie could feel good about herself when she rotated through women like they were a picture book. But now, you had some idea that the feeling washing over you had not been disgust on its own, but paired alongside something akin to hurt.

Ellie was the bandaid you hesitated to rip off.

There was no scale to measure how frustrated she was with herself. No scale to measure her disdain for the Williams girl. Deep down, you knew that she still harboured some feelings for Ellie that couldn't be disguised as hatred.

You must have sat there for a good five minutes, willing yourself to get up and rejoin the party, enjoy yourself and not let Ellie get to you. But you found that something was stopping you from leaving, wanting to stay in the solitude of the bedroom just a little longer. Sending a text to Dina, letting her know you were alright, you laid back on the bed and closed your eyes.

You were startled awake no longer than fifteen minutes later by the door opening, the sounds of the party filtering into the room for a moment before drowning out again as the door shut. The person's back was to you as they took a deep breath, but you recognized the flannel they wore immediately. Your groan had Ellie turning around to face you fully, lips tipping up into a slight smirk.

“Hey.” Ellie greeted slyly. Hearing your name fall from Ellie’s lips had a flame flickering in your stomach. “Finally found ya.”

Your eyes narrow in Ellie’s direction, annoyance hanging onto your furrowed brows. Standing from the bed, weight shifting from one foot to the other as you think on your next move. You had left downstairs over twenty minutes ago, meaning Ellie had to have run through whether following you was a good idea or not. “So, what? You were lurking, followed me up here.”

“I didn’t follow you. Ran into an ex and needed a breather.” Ellie clarifies, lazily gesturing around the room, “And here we are. . .”

“Yeah, well, I came up here to be alone. You being here is the opposite of that.” came your snarky reply. Ellie would not be spared your hostilities.

Ellie laughed, brushing her side swept bangs out of her eyes, “I saw the look on your face down there, almost barfed on the poor freshman beside you.” she shrugs her shoulders, “Didn’t see you come back downstairs so I took my chances with all the doors, this was the only one unlocked. Thought you could use someone to hold your hair back.”

“You wanted to help me?” You were baffled. That hot, stuffy feeling begins to creep its way back up your neck the longer Ellie’s presence lingers by the door. The air of confidence that clings to Ellie is suffocating as she stands there, biceps bulging in her flannel as her arms cross over her chest, bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Ellie’s green eyes are intense as they hold your gaze; half lidded and filled with something you can’t decipher.

“Well,” you clear your throat. “I’m feeling much better now, so if you’ll excuse me.” Making way to the door that Ellie is standing in front of. You hope of being able to make it out of the room before choking on your words—not wanting to say something you’ll inevitably regret.

Ellie moves in front of the door handle, blocking your seeking grip. You reel back, perplexed that Ellie blocked you. Trying again, you reach around the left of Ellie, but the auburn-haired girl moves with you. Move to the right. So does Ellie.

Stepping back in frustration, your stare is burning, “Move.” You grit.

Ellie lifts her gaze to the ceiling, eyes darting around playfully as she whistles a low tune, rocking back and forth on her feet. She’s messing with you and you know it. Always the jokester, Ellie is never one to take things too seriously.

“Ellie.” You refrain from stomping your foot. Ellie would only tease you relentlessly for acting like such a brat, “Ellie, let me leave.”

A low hum comes from Ellie’s throat, “What’s the magic word?”

No longer wanting to deal with her infuriating presence, you surge forward and push Ellie to the side enough that she’s out of the way. Wrapping your hands around the cool metal of the doorknob is your first lick at freedom, awaiting the moment you step through that door and go home to curl up in bed. You’ll likely wallow in self deprecation, unable to think of anything other than your first interaction alone with Ellie in a while.

Your hope is squashed when the door doesn’t budge. No, this cannot be happening. Twisting the handle again, you give it a good tug, hand slipping off the doorknob as you stumble back a few steps.

“Did you lock it?” You ask Ellie without looking at her.

“No.” Ellie replies, coming to stand closer to you. “Must be jammed.”

You groan, a string of expletives rushing past grit teeth while you jostle the doorknob with all the force as you can muster. You twist and tugs and rattle but the door stays solidly in place, sealing you and Ellie together in the room.

Kicking the door has a laugh slipping past Ellie’s lips. She can’t help but think of how cute you look when frustrated—the pout of lips she just wants to sink her teeth into. The glare from over your shoulder has Ellie coughing to cover her laugh, scratching at her neck and cheeks blazing red like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

You bang your fist against the door in hopes that someone may be able to hear her pleas for help. The chances of that happening in the secluded corner of the third floor is unlikely, but you’d rather take your chances than be stuck in a room with Ellie. “Oh, just fuck me right?” you mumbles to yourself.

Behind you, Ellie fights the urge to respond.

“Are you gonna help?” you sigh heavily, gesturing towards the door in an exhausted manner.

Ellie’s nodding, eyes dancing around the room for something she can use to try picking the lock. She doesn’t see a screwdriver or a pair of scissors on the desk, and she doubts that the frat boy this room belongs to owns any bobby pins. Ellie moves towards the door in the far corner of the room, opening it to reveal the small ensuite she’d hoped it would be.

Rummaging through the medicine cabinet is a dead end, as is the first drawer of the vanity. In the second drawer her mission is made successful—finding a small pair of scissors that she waves in the air triumphantly as she passes you.

“There was a bathroom here the whole time. . .” you mutter to yourself in disbelief.

Ellie drops down to her knees in front of the door, eye level with the small keyhole as she tries jimmying the scissors around. Her tongue is poking out the side of her mouth, one eye squeezed shut in concentration as she tries to unlatch the lock's inner mechanism. Had the circumstance been different, you may have let yourself linger on the thought of how good Ellie looked down on her knees before you.

Ellie thinks she might have gotten it, but mistakenly looks up at you hovering close by— brows furrowed expectantly, and lips pouted slightly— that she’s fumbling and dropping the scissors while thinking about how much she likes the sight of you above her. She grabs them hastily, returning to her previous task while reminding herself not to look back at your expectant gaze.

“Have you picked a lock before?” you accuse.

“Uh. . . yeah.”

“Well you’re kinda shit at it.”

“Never said I was any good.” Ellie twists the doorknob just when she thinks she hears the lock click, but it still doesn’t give.

Standing to her full height, Ellie forgoes trying to pick the lock with the scissors and puts all of her weight into pulling the door open. She grunts as her muscles strain, jostling the handle in the same way you had. Both girls are left wide eyed and stunned when Ellie suddenly staggers back, catching herself before she can fall. A loud and heavy thud draws your eyes to the floor; where the doorknob rolls around at your feet.

A deafening silence settles over the room as both of you watch it stop rolling. Ellie is the one to bend down and grab it, staring at the broken metal doorknob in disbelief, while your hands shoot to grip your hair.

When both of you realize the gravity of the situation you've found yourselves in together, you’re quick to panic. The headache that blossoms was unrelated to the copious amount of alcohol you’d consumed up until that point, and more so due to being stuck in a room with a busted door alongside the one person you tried your hardest to avoid. You eyed the broken off doorknob in Ellie’s hand, tugging at fistfuls of your hair. Ellie groans, head tossed back and eyes shut in annoyance before sitting on the bed.

“Fuck,” Ellie let out a breathy laugh, beginning to toss the doorknob in the air like a baseball. “These old houses are something, huh? Practically falling apart.”

Holding Ellie’s gaze for a moment as you pull out your phone has a spark of hope flickering, but the screen remains black. Great, stuck in a room with Ellie Williams and your only chance is dead. Tossing your phone on the bed you turn to Ellie. “Dead. What about yours?”

Ellie nods and reaches for where she kept her phone in her back pocket, only to be met with emptiness. She let out a nervous laugh under your intense stare, patting at all her pockets in search of her phone, “I don’t have it on me.”

You scoff, “Fucking great. Do you think this guy has a charger?” Moving to check the bundle of cords at the single bedside table has you throwing it back onto the floor in frustration when you come up empty handed. “Android.”

“What is it that they say about guys who have Androids. . .” Ellie made an attempt at a joke, but was only met with a glare, watching as you made quick strides towards the window, unlatching the lock and yanking it open.

You looked around outside to see that it was a straight drop down to the ground from the third floor window, no lattice to climb down or shrubs to cushion a fall, “No roof access and it's too far up to jump,” you stated. “Maybe if we just—” you stuck your upper body out the window, flailing your arms, “Hey! Up here! We’re locked in can someone help—”

Ellie was quick to pull you back inside. “Hey, would you stop that? You could have fallen! Everyone outside is too drunk to hear you.”

“Well someone has to be at least partly sober.” Now it was your turn to sit on the bed, head in your hands in a clear display of frustration. Ellie was hesitant to move from where she stood by the window, the feeling of your presence was somewhat suffocating, and she didn’t know what might set you off.

“Ya know,” Ellie started. “We’re probably gonna be stuck in here for a while, so we could always try to enjoy our time rather than pout our way through it.”

You turned to look at Ellie over your shoulder, weary of what the auburn-haired girl might try suggesting. “And what is it that you have in mind?”

Reaching into her jacket pocket, Ellie produced a bag of pre-rolled joints, shrugging her shoulders in a playful manner. You could only roll your eyes, annoyed over the fact that Ellie managed to keep hold of her weed stash but not her phone. Smoking with Ellie would mean breaking down part of the barrier you had put up between the two of you, something you weren't so sure you were ready to explore quite yet. But, neither of you knew how long you’d be cooped up in that frat boy’s bedroom together, and you found yourself caving.

“Oh fuck it, sure.”

Ellie smiled and walked over to sit beside you, grabbing a single pre-roll and stashing the rest away. She placed the joint between her lips as she fished through the tight front pocket of her black jeans for her lighter. Flicking the lighter a few times to get it going, Ellie inhaled deeply as the end of it began to burn a bright red. She pulled the joint away from her lips as she breathed out the ghosted smoke, holding it out to you.

Truth be told, you hadn’t smoked in a while—not since dropping your plug for getting too handsy on more than one occasion—and had been too proud to swing by Ellie to make a deal. You knew first hand and from the inner mumblings throughout the student body of just how good Ellie’s stuff was, so whatever was smoked tonight would have you ripped.

Inhaling shortly on the joint, and letting the smoke settle in your lungs before taking another, longer drag. On your second exhale, you sputtered, coughing on the smoke and releasing it in a dense cloud. You continued to cough into the crook of your elbow while passing it back to Ellie whose lips were pulled up into a slight smile.

“Too much?” Ellie teased, taking an easy five second drag.

Shaking your head, you rub at your chest to soothe the mild burning in your lungs, a light laugh falls from you, “Just been a while.”

Ellie gives a nod of her head, leaning back on her right hand to get a better look at you, watching the way hair falls in front of your face as you look down at your lap, or the way you would lightly snap the hair tie around your wrist.

“Sooo. . .” Ellie brushes her long bangs out of her eyes. “What had you drinking whiskey like it was water?”

You shrugged, seeming to not know what to do with fidgeting hands as you contemplated telling Ellie the truth. Had you been having this conversation in a sober setting, you would have quickly shut down Ellie’s question. But in a hazy state of mind, you find herself letting the words slip easily, “Got a call from my dad today telling me mom filed for divorce after she found out he was fucking the book keeper at work.” you nod at Ellie’s shocked expression, “Yeah. Tried playing the victim card before mom had a chance to tell me herself. She’s better off without him anyway. He was a dick.”

Letting out a loud groan, you’re rubbing at your eyes in frustration as the phone call from that morning replays on a loop. Ellie didn’t grow up in a two-parent household, rather making her way through the foster care system ever since she could remember. Her behavioural issues saw her never being in one place for very long. Instability was something she grew used to at an early age, but she’d often imagine what it would be like to have two functioning parents who loved and adored her. Though she has never experienced family in the way you did— at least, not until Joel had come around— she knew no matter the age, a drastic shift in family dynamic like that wasn’t easy.

“It’s just me and my dad,” Ellie finds herself offering in an attempt at comfort. “Well, he’s not actually my dad. Joel he’s my. . . Joel. Took me in a while back when I found myself in a boatload of trouble, and it’s been the two of us ever since. Oh, and his brother Tommy.”

“And does your. . . your Joel, know that you, ya know, deal drugs to college students?”

“Not just college students, I’ve got some middle aged customers— a lawyer too if you can believe it.” Ellie laughs, and you follow by hiding a smile behind your hand. “But yeah, he knows. Wasn’t too keen on it at first, but the money has helped us through some tough times.”

A stale silence falls over the room, and it has a bitter taste flooding your mouth, saliva gathering under your tongue unpleasantly. Ellie seems so at ease that you wonder if she ever thinks about how things ended. You sure do; though it's lessened over the years, you still hold Ellie on some tightrope of contempt, a terrible balancing act teetering between holding on and letting it all go once and for all.

“I hope you know this changes nothing.” you admit quietly, rolling the joints filter between your thumb and forefinger. “Still don’t like you.”

Ellie looks up at you for a moment and she can feel her heart clench as she takes in your rigid shoulders and determined eyes. Her hand motions for the joint as she nods solemnly, eyes downcast while she takes a long drag. “Yeah I. . . I kinda figured it didn’t.”

As the joint continued to be passed back and forth, you could feel the haziness cloud your mind, eyes glazing over and the only thing you could do was stare at Ellie’s hands. Watching as her nimble fingers grabbed the joint from you, thumb rolling over the filter after she toked off it. How when she wasn’t the one holding the joint, Ellie had to keep her hands busy; whether that be running them over the top of her thighs, playing with the bedding, or watching the tip of her pinky finger turn purple as she wrapped a stray piece of thread around it tightly.

You had been so zoned out watching Ellie you’d almost forgotten about holding the short joint, or that no smoke filled your lungs when trying to take a pull off of it. It wasn’t until Ellie’s hand reached out into focus to grab the joint from you did you snap to it.

“You let it go out. Here,” with the joint now in Ellie’s hands, you watched as she held it between her thumb and middle finger, running the flame of her lighter over the tip of the joint before bringing it up to take a haul, keeping it lit. “There you go, babe.”

The word must have fallen out of Ellie’s mouth so naturally that she didn’t notice it, but you sure as hell did— brain just about short circuiting. With one last pull off the finished joint, you stand up and make your way to the attached bathroom, turning on the tap and running the smouldering end under water to extinguish it before tossing it in the trash. You bend down to the height of the sink, hands cupped to greedily drink down the cold water to soothe your dry throat. When you stand up to be greeted with your reflection in the mirror— eyes red and glazed over, lids slightly droopy when you’re not pretending that Ellie’s stuff didn’t hit you as hard as it did, cheeks flush from the drinks earlier in the night, you know you’re fucked.

Ellie is standing by the desk on the far wall when you lean on the bathroom doorway, head craned as she scans over the trophies and picture frames decorating the shelves above it. With Ellie facing away, you now have the chance to stare at her unabashedly. Eyes trailing over Ellie’s shoulders, broad yet slim, and muscular arms that flex under her flannel with even the smallest of movements. Down to her taught hips hidden behind her relaxed jeans. Her auburn hair sits in a half up half down bun, and you want nothing more than to run your fingers through the strands; braid it, twirl it, pull it. . .

Your cheeks are burning hot again, but this time the alcohol can’t be blamed for your flushed appearance. With hands still cold from the running water, pressing them against your cheeks in an attempt to cool off works as well as you’d expect it.

When you catch Ellie’s gaze, you’re tearing your eyes away impossibly fast, busying yourself with making it look like the football poster on the wall is the coolest thing ever, “Ya know, for a frat boys room this is surprisingly well organized.” you comment.

“Yeah, this is Ryan’s room.” Ellie fixes a crooked trophy. “Pretty chill dude.”

Humming, you make herself comfortable on the bed, laying down on the soft pillows. As you adjust yourself, a crackling noise comes from underneath the pillow that has you shifting to reach under to grab it. The last thing you expected to pull out was a mens porn magazine, decked out with a raunchy cover of an oiled up man in a tiny speedo. You let out a yelp as you’re tossing it to the other side of the room, wiping your hand off on your pants.

The yelp catches the attention of Ellie, who whips around concerned, “What?”

“That!” you exclaim, pointing towards the end of the bed where the magazine sits on the floor. Ellie bends down to pick it up, but you’re calling out in protest, “No, don’t touch it!”

“Oh wow,” Ellie lets out a loud laugh as she scans over the front cover, moving to flop down on the bed beside you.

“Ellie, gross put it down!”

Ellie leans away from you who tries swatting it out of her grasp. “Hold your horses! I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

You groan, watching as Ellie flips through the pages. You don't think it can get any worse, but page after page proves to be more unpleasant when the next portrait of a man posing with nothing but a scrap of cloth to cover his junk comes up. Your lips are downturned in disgust, but your ears are in tune to the chuckles Ellie lets out at the pictures, and her dramatic reading of the explicitly detailed little captions.

The next page is folded in on itself a couple times, falling open when Ellie holds the magazine above your heads, “Oh man! How the hell does he even walk around with that thing?” She exclaims.

You turn your head away, fake gagging. “Dicks are so gross.”

Ellie snorts, “Don’t gotta tell me.” Eyeing your side profile from where your head is ducked into your hands, eyes shut. It’s then that Ellie decides to play a trick on you. “Uh. . .” she begins trailing off, ruffling the pages as if she were flipping through them, “Why are these pages all stuck together?”

Your head whips up to look at Ellie, “Gross!”

The laugh that Ellie lets out is straight from her belly, deep and contagious as she tosses the magazine away. “I’m just messing with you.”

When your eyes meet, Ellie’s hold their usual mischievous glint, slightly narrowed and crinkled at the corners where her smile pushes at them, and yours show nowhere near as much annoyance and malice that’s usually directed towards her. Ellie flips onto her back, hands going behind her head while you stay on your stomach. You’re still laughing quietly at the joke Ellie pulled on you, which has the smile on Ellie’s face pulling even higher as she looks at you, oblivious.

With you laying on your stomach, Ellie was given a full view of your exposed back. It made the collar of her flannel suddenly feel itchy where it was rubbing against her neck. Ellie could feel the red hot flush that blossomed over her as she pictured teasing her fingers along your back. She could practically feel the shudder you’d let out, hear your complaints of being ticklish.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Ellie is snapped out of her daze when your voice cuts through.

You’ve got your chin resting on your hand, leaning to the side to look up at Ellie who’s sitting taller. Your legs are bent at the knee, legs swaying in the air. The look in your eyes is smouldering; lids droopy as they buzz with something Ellie can only connect with so much need that it's beginning to overwhelm her.

“Like— like that! You’re giving me bedroom eyes.”

“Well,” Ellie sits up a little straighter on her elbows. “We are in a bedroom.”

Your forehead falls to lay on Ellie’s arm as you let out a howling laugh. Ellie’s skin burns through her flannel at the feeling of you on her. Ellie finds herself feeling reminiscent of a time three years ago when she might have found herself in such close proximity to you and it has her chest clenching with a raw ache, knowing she’d gone and fucked it all up.

“Hey,” Ellie begins with a laugh. “Remember that time your mom surprised you and caught you, me, and Dina all smoking—”

You remember in that instant why you’d been so determined to get out of being locked in a room with her. Although inebriated, it seemed that for a little while tonight you and Ellie had managed to slip back into something similar to that of your old friendship. As if you had almost looked past the last three years. Falling back into joking with each other like it was the most natural thing.

“No.” You’re firm, tone dripping with finality. “You don’t get to do this.”

“Please—”

“Ellie. No.”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s so quiet you almost don’t hear her. Ellie herself almost misses the words slipping past her lips, but she feels you go stiff, the sound of your sharp inhale rings in her ears. She can't help herself when her hand moves up to your head, brushing some of the strands behind your ear and twirling the ends.

Three years of waiting. Three years of wanting and avoiding, and the need to hear those words fall from her mouth, and all it took was getting locked in a room together and sharing a joint. You’d imagined the apology a few times. Ellie showing up on your doorstep, soaked to the bone in the rain, on her knees grovelling her apologies. Sending flowers. Some huge declaration of love.

But not in a frat boys bedroom, stoned with Ellie Williams.

“Do you remember how we first met?” Ellie continues when you don’t speak, still twirling your hair around her finger. “Homecoming freshman year. Dina said she had someone from her compsci class to introduce me to and I was ready to clam up because I’m terrible with new people. But then there you were—”

“Ellie—” you try cutting her off.

“—Vodka in your nalgene, and being around you just felt so easy. You were the prettiest girl I’d ever met. Even later that night when I held your hair as you puked all over that poor lady’s flower bush. She came out yelling and all you did was say something about fertilising her plants.” Ellie laughs as she recounts the day you two met.

Your headache from earlier is back as you pull away, your hair falling from Ellies fingers. Shutting your eyes in hopes to quell the splitting pain resting just between them, Ellie’s voice fades slightly to the background of your focus. God, you hoped to get out of there soon. It had already been long enough, and it had led to your guard being brought down.

Ellie’s still talking when your ears focus again,“—for the last three years I’ve been trying to work out how to apologize to you and make things right, but fuck, none of them are good enough. And I’m so incredibly sorry about how everything turned out.”

“Ellie.” you interject, sounding exhausted. “Please just stop.”

She shakes her head, sitting up and moving closer to you, “No, please. If this is the only chance I get at this I need you to listen to me—”

“It won’t change anything, you know that. You still did what you did.” You rub at your eyes and shift away from her.

“And it was by far the worst thing I’ve ever done, and believe me there's been a lot of fuck ups on my part. If I could take it back and make it right I would. . . I will.”

Ellie’s practically on her hands and knees begging you to hear her out for just a moment, but the hurt of her leaving you stings just as fresh as it had in the beginning. All you can do is shake your head and try putting some distance between the two of you, “Ellie, you’re being mean.”

It seems that in your attempts at putting some much needed distance between you and Ellie, you failed to notice how close you were to the edge of the bed. You’re about to fall off when Ellie reaches out, her arm wrapping around you to keep you on the bed. The two of you are closer than ever before, her forehead is pressed against yours as she scoots back, bringing you further onto the bed with her arm still secure around you. Your breath stutters in your chest as Ellie’s eyes fall shut.

“Baby just. . .” Ellie breathes out shakily, eyes opening again to meet yours. “I clammed up and lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You swallow down the lump that’s formed in your throat, voice just above a whisper as you speak, “Ellie why are you doing this?”

She shakes her head against yours, bringing the hand that she had around your back, up to cup your face, “I hope you’re willing to forgive me. . . or at least try to.”

To hear Ellie make this attempt after wanting nothing more for three years had your mind short circuiting in an electrifying blaze. You know that you shouldn’t give in to her, that this apology is probably no more than a half-assed attempt at easing whatever guilt she may hold. Why wait three years? Three years you had spent wondering what you had done wrong for her to throw away whatever it was you two shared.

Ellie watches your eyes glaze over slightly, and in what might be a lapse of judgement is quick to make her move while you’re still stunned, moving forward and kissing you. You grow stiff under the weight of Ellie’s lips on yours, eyes open and looking at Ellie’s shut eyes. With your face now sandwiched between both of Ellie’s hands, do your eyes fall shut and mind catches up to the fact that Ellie William’s is kissing you.

You’re kissing Ellie Williams.

The kiss is all consuming, tasting of the tequila and whiskey on your tongue. It’s messy with the clashing of teeth, nipping of lips and hands tangled in hair. All rational thought is thrown out the window once you feel her body pressed against yours. Breathing is the last thing on either of your minds as one of Ellie’s hands splays out across your back to pull your body into hers solidly. The searing heat of Ellie’s hand on the exposed skin of your back has you shuddering, arching into her to try moving away from the touch.

Your lips stay moulded together as Ellie rolls onto her back, taking you with her, hands holding onto your hips. Ellie can’t get enough of you, her breathing is heavy as she pushes her lips a little harder against yours, a groan escaping the girl's throat as you fist at her flannel. You break apart for a moment so Ellie can shrug out of her flannel, admiring the swirls of ink marking her right forearm before your lips are on her.

Your teeth are lightly nipping at the slim expanse of Ellie’s neck, hands wandering down the firm muscles of her arms. You’re sitting up together now, you seated in Ellie’s lap, legs on either side of her thighs. Your teeth are still working at Ellie’s neck, which you follow up with sloppy kisses to soothe the sting of making your mark. Ellie’s eyes fall shut at the feeling, but she has to stop before it gets too far.

Tonight is all about you.

Grabbing a fistful of hair and gently pulling your head out of her neck, Ellie leans into you, but doesn’t let her lips touch your skin, just letting her hot breath fan over you. Her nose is nudging the column of your throat up to the hook of your jaw. You’re whining, filled to the brim with impatience has you shifting in Ellie’s lap in the attempt to get closer, grinding your hips where the two of you meet.

Ellie groans, dropping her head fully into your neck, lips pressing firmly to your collarbone. Here, your perfume wafts up her nose, a sickly sweet and seductive twinge that has her mouthing at your neck in the same fashion done to her own. Lips dragging lazily up from collarbone to the pulsepoint where your heartbeat thumps erratically beneath the skin.

With your head thrown back and hips starting a slow and steady drag, you’re all heavy pants and loose whines that never fully slip past your lips. The friction caused by your hips grinding down onto Ellie feels euphoric all the same as not being enough. One of her hands is still stationed on your hip, the other taking place at the small of your back to aid your movements against her.

The breath in both yours and Ellie’s throats is choked out when the fabric of your jeans catches against your bundle of nerves in just the right way. It must feel just as good for Ellie as she’s grinding her hips up into you at the feeling, panting against your neck.

“Ellie.” Her name slipping past your lips in a garbled mess of need, “Ellie, please. . .”

She only hums in response, finally kissing you again. It doesn't last as long as you’d have hoped as Ellie pulls away slightly to speak against you, “Mmh, what is it baby? C’mon.”

Your hips cant down into her again out of pure desperation as you pant out, “More.”

Suddenly, you’re being guided by Ellie’s capable hands to lay down on the bed. But in your still muddled mind it feels as if you’ve just gone down the slope of a rollercoaster, stomach dropping and heart in your throat. Ellie is situated above you, looking everything like a dream with her short hair falling around her face, eyes catching the light of the desk lamp and sparkling. She smiles down at you as you both take a moment, and your stomach somersaults, legs locked around her taught hips to pull her down closer to you.

Dropping to her elbows, Ellie’s body is flush against you as she brings a hand up to grab your face, “What is it you need? Hmm, baby’s gone all needy on me.” The teasing lilt to her tone has you pushing your hips up against hers, lips searching for hers again. Ellie pulls back slightly, getting a better look at your flushed appearance, apples of your cheeks bursting a bright pink. “Tell me what you want.”

“Need you to touch me.” You pant out.

A smirk pulls at her lips as she dips down to kiss your neck. “I am touching you baby.”

You groan, frustrated and needing for her to do something. “Want your mouth, your fingers. Anything. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

Ellie’s kisses trail down your neck to your still clothed chest, where she graces the swell of your breasts, followed by grazing her teeth over your nipples poking through the fabric. She continues her way down until she reaches the waistband of your jeans, eyes flickering up to yours for confirmation. When Ellie hears you breath out a wispy yes, she’s working at undoing your pants. You’re kicking off your shoes and aiding her in taking off your pants by lifting your hips, her fingers brush over the skin of your thighs in a hot trail.

Your pants and underwear are tossed to the ground with a dull thud, now laying before Ellie bare from the waist down. Her eyes are hungry, looking like a woman starved of everything she’s ever needed. The intensity of her eyes taking you in has you closing your legs self consciously, but Ellie tuts and spreads them open again, laying on her stomach between your legs.

“Look at you, so wet for me.” Ellie purrs, dragging her middle finger through your folds to collect some of your slick. You gasp at the touch, gaze locked on Ellie whose eyes roll back into her skull as she sucks your slick clean from her finger. “So fucking sweet baby, I knew it.”

“Ellie please. . .” you mewl, growing impatient.

Without another second wasted, Ellie’s head is level with your cunt as she licks a bold stripe from your hole up to your clit. Her mouth is hot against you, and even though you’ve just started the feeling is so overwhelming that your legs move to clamp around Ellie’s head. Her strong arms curl around your thighs, prying them away from her head, pinning them down against the bed as she moves your feet to rest over her shoulders.

Something delightful burns in your stomach as Ellie’s tongue moves through your folds again, warm and wet. A pleasurable sigh leaves you, head thrown back and eyes shut. Your hands are trying to find hold of anything, one gripping at the bedspread and the other wrapped around Ellie’s forearm, feeling the ridges of muscle and tattoo beneath your fingers.

Ellie’s tongue passes through you a couple more times before she’s wrapping her lips around your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves into her mouth. “Mmm, tastes like heaven baby.”

You’re a needy, gasping mess beneath her. Your moans are music to her ears, and Ellie thinks they are the hottest thing she’s ever heard, encouraging her to keep going. Ellie releases your clit from her mouth with a pop, flicking her tongue over it has your hips bucking up into her face for more, “Fuck. . . right there Ellie.”

Her groan vibrates through you, rustling the tightening coil that sits heavy in your belly. Ellie keeps giving you exactly what you wanted, working at your cunt like it’s her last meal. You pry your eyes open and the sight of Ellie between your legs pulls a loud moan from the back of your throat. Her pale veiny hands tighten their grip on your thighs, fingers pressing into your flesh deliciously.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt anything as good as this, with Ellie’s nose nudging at your clit as her mouth moves lower on your cunt, running her tongue along your entrance once, twice, before dipping in. She’s groaning into you, spurring you on. You release your grip on Ellie’s forearm to palm at your breasts, gaze locking with hers from over your mound. Ellie’s hand moves from your thigh to encase your hand with hers where you palm at yourself.

Ellie takes this moment to catch a breath, leaning her head against your leg. The bottom half of her face is slick, glistening with your arousal that her tongue licks from her lips. She’s panting in a similar fashion to you. “Doing so good f’me baby.” The kiss she places to your inner thigh has you jostling into her touch.

“Ellie. . . more, I need more.”

She smirks and moves the hand that was on yours back to your cunt, dragging her fingers through your folds and circling them around your clit lazily. It’s too soon that she’s abandoning her ministrations on your clit and moving down to your entrance, teasing her fingers along your opening before she’s pushing them into you.

They move in and out of you slowly at first, Ellie working them up to a steady pace, going as deep as she can, “Oh god. . .”

“Nope, just Ellie, baby.” She sends you a wink that has you letting out a small chuckle, one that’s cut off by your own moan as her fingers curl against that sweet spot inside you. “My good girl. Lovin’ this, huh?”

You nod weakly, clenching around Ellie’s fingers. She knows you’re probably close, knows that soon, the coil that’s been building in your belly will snap. This has her leaning back down to kiss at your clit. Your hands leave your body and where it grips at the bed to thread through Ellie’s hair, moving the strands that have fallen in front of her face out of the way so you can see her fully. Ellie leaves a series of pecks on your clit before sucking it into her mouth, tongue flicking at it.

The combined pleasure of having Ellie’s fingers buried deep inside your cunt and her mouth working your clit has the muscles in your legs clenching as you fight the urge to close your legs around her head once again. It’s all too much, your hips are rutting up into her mouth as she continues to lap at you, and you can feel your release hurdling towards you.

“Ellie,” you whimper, head thrown back against the bed. Your chest is heaving erratically, but Ellie doesn’t let up. The feeling that’s been sitting so heavily in your belly finally lets up as your release hits you, thighs trembling. You twitch and moan as you fall apart against Ellie’s tongue and fingers. The room feels so unbearably warm as your fingers tighten in Ellie’s hair, eyes screwed shut as your mouth drops open in a loud moan. “Fuck! Oh god. . . fuck fuck fuck, Ellie!”

Ellie works you through it, lapping greedily at the arousal that gushes from you, fingers still working steadily as you clench tightly around them. The feeling of her flicking at your clit and fingers curling inside you becomes so overwhelming that you almost push Ellie away from you, but she’s pulling away on her own.

Both of you are panting, your hands fall from her hair to brush back your own which you’re sure is an ugly tangled mess. You hiss at the loss of Ellie’s fingers as she pulls them out of you, breath stuttering and catching in your chest as she maintains eye contact with you as she brings them up to her mouth like earlier. Ellie groans at the taste of you on her fingers, acting like a woman starved as if she wasn’t buried between your thighs just a moment ago.

You hide behind your hands, slightly embarrassed as you let out a laugh. You feel the bed move and soon enough Ellie is above you again, moving your hands away from your face so she can see you properly. She’s smiling down at you, letting out a soft chuckle, “That what you wanted, pretty girl?”

The flush in your cheeks only deepens and you can’t find it in you to form any coherent words, only nodding in response. Ellie’s smile widens —as does yours— as her eyes dance around your face before she’s leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips. This kiss is unlike the others you’ve shared tonight, this one is slow, lethargic and full of something you can’t name.

It’s over quicker than it lasts, a loud banging on the door has you and Ellie pulling away from each other. “Hey, is there someone in ‘ere?” calls out a slurring voice.

In an instant, any and all euphoria mulling about in your body is swept away as you come to your senses. The sounds from the party that still rages on outside filter through the open window, no longer muffled by your cross-faded state.

Quickly, you’re rolling out from under Ellie, standing up so fast you almost give yourself a head rush. You’re pulling your underwear and pants back on as fast as you can, shoving your shoes on as you ignore Ellie who calls out to you to hang on a second, and the sounds of the door jostling against the frame.

You need to get out of here as soon as possible. The weight you’re feeling in your chest right now is worse than when the door knob broke and you realized you’d be stuck in here with Ellie for god knows how long. Now, you don’t know how long it's been, but certainly long enough to have landed you in such a sticky situation you don’t know how you’ll recover from this lapse in your judgement.

Ellie is still trying to get you to calm down when the door swings open on its hinges and in stumbles the drunkest frat boy you’ve ever seen.

“Ellie, what’re you doin’ in ‘ere?” He slurs, using the door to hold himself upright. Suddenly, his eyes light up, “You got any weed?”

She hesitates for a moment, before nodding, “Uh. . . yeah I’ve got some.” Ellie’s shrugging on her flannel and wiping at her mouth with the sleeve, looking between you and who you assume is Ryan. She looks like she wants to say something, brows furrowed deeply, but you don’t give her the chance as you’re squeezing past Ryan.

“Gotta go.” you call out over your shoulder. You hold onto the railing as you hurriedly make your way down the stairs, chest aching with an Ellie sized hole as you wonder what the fuck just happened.

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little-diable · 1 year

Text

Our secret - Carlisle Cullen (smut)

This is very unhinged, but what did we expect, it's me writing this after all. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: When Carlisle comes home after a long shift at the hospital, he's desperate for some kind of relief. Who would have thought that he'd stumble upon a streaming website, watching the stream of a very familiar face, (y/n) – Jasper's girlfriend.

Warnings: 18+, smut, masturbation (f&m), oral (f), piv, cheating, power play, choking, spanking, degrading, dom!Carlisle

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x fem!reader, brief Jasper Hale x fem!reader (2.2 k words)

A heavy sigh left Carlisle as he found his way to his office, thankful for the darkness that lingered in the mansion, allowing himself to finally relax. While the others were out hunting, he had been working another late shift at the hospital, making it home by 3 am. Those were the nights where he longed for his human past, wanting to feel the wave of tiredness he had once known all too well, centuries ago that had faded like the seasons passing by.

He opened his laptop, eyes flickering to the dark forest, wondering how much longer he’d get to cherish the quietness of their home. Quick typing brought him to the website he was looking for, leaning back in his chair with a small grin tugging on his lips.

For the past weeks he had visited a streaming website he had found one night, desperate for the kind of relief not even blood could give him, needing to give into his most primitive urges. He felt his cock harden in his trousers, barely anticipating the videos he’d get to watch, the moans he’d get to listen to. Fuck, this was one of those few moments where he actually felt human again, feeling like a young boy without any experience, driven by his needs.

It took him a few moments to find a stream to settle on, animated by the dark room, the fairy lights hung in the back, and the soft music echoing through the woman’s room. So far he couldn’t make out her body, wondering what she was doing out of the frame, if she was waiting for more people to join. His hand freed his cock, slowly pumping to adjust to the sensation, excited to see a new face today.

Movement could be heard on her end of the stream, and without another warning a female frame entered the screen, sitting down on her bed, right in front of the camera. A heavy gasp left Carlisle as his eyes took in the all too familiar features. His hand had stopped moving, unable to keep on going as he studied the girl he had crossed paths with numerous times before, (y/n) – Jasper’s girlfriend.

Fuck, he should close the website, should forget that he had ever seen her with barely any clothes on – and yet he didn’t dare move. Carlisle had always found himself drawn to her, wanting to keep her to himself, wondering why she had ended up with Jasper after all, but he’d never dare to interfere, not set on destroying Jasper’s relationship.

“I missed you all!” Her soft voice coaxed a groan out of Carlisle, and all he could do was watch how she slowly undressed, speaking to the people commenting on her videos and leaving tips. His hand had started moving after a few moments, getting over the first initial shock with a smirk widening on his lips.

And as (y/n)’s moans guided him towards the edge, making Carlisle think of her, she was located on the other side of Forks, trembling for the people watching her stream, with her mind set on a certain blonde doctor, rather than her boyfriend.

……

Ever since Carlisle had stumbled upon (y/n)’s stream, he had found himself returning to her website at any given chance, hidden from curious eyes and ears, very well knowing that he was walking a thin line. He had grown bolder over time, no longer hiding amongst those that simply watched but didn’t interact, but leaving comments here and there, changing his username to something she might recognise, if she paid enough attention.

He didn’t know what it was, and yet Carlisle didn’t want to break from the spell she had cast upon him. By now he knew every inch of her naked body, longing to touch the soft skin, praying to the God he had once loved that she wouldn’t ever return to his home, unsure how he’d react to seeing her again, with Jasper around.

Carlisle knew that he had to be careful, well aware of Edward’s powers, able to read his every thought. And yet Carlisle had mastered building up a mental stone wall over the past centuries, able to hide his every need from those that looked up to him, clinging to the father figure that had a pure heart and soul, at least that’s what he forced them to believe.

"Carlisle?" Jasper’s voice ripped him out of his thoughts, eyes flickering up from his book to meet the golden eyes of Jasper. With a smile tugging on his lips, Carlisle closed his book, freezing as another frame appeared next to Jasper. (Y/n) had her lips pulled into a wide smile, eyes meeting Carlisle’s. Jasper didn’t seem to notice the way Carlisle’s demeanor had changed, ushering (y/n) into the office. “(Y/n) burned herself this morning, and it won’t stop hurting. Would you mind looking at it while we go out to hunt?”

“No, of course not. She’s in good hands, don’t worry.” Carlisle averted his gaze as Jasper turned towards (y/n) with a smile, kissing his girlfriend goodbye. The doctor reached for his bag, pulling out a few things he’d need to take care of her wound. A thick silence hung in the air, so thick one could wrap it around their body in the cold winter morning, protected from the icy wind.

“Come, take a seat.” Carefully he guided her closer, waiting for her to settle on the chair. The blonde haired doctor towered over her, touching her arm to take in the wound. Neither of them dared to speak up, but while Carlisle tried to focus on her wound, (y/n) couldn’t help but admire the doctor, tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“You know,” she whispered the words, watching the man halt in his movements. “It took me a while to pick up on it. At first I didn’t think it was you, but then.” The rest of the sentence was left unsaid, stuck in her throat as his eyes met hers, forcing all air from her lungs. Carlisle leaned back, finding rest with his hips leaned against his table, studying the woman for a few moments. Shallow breaths left her, teeth leaving nervous bite marks on her lower lip, unable to see through the man’s almost emotionless facade.

“Did you tell him?” She quickly shook her head, hand darting out to reach for Carlisle’s hand, making them both freeze. The cold he emitted clashed against the heat pumping through her body. For the past weeks (y/n) had wondered how to address the topic, unable to bite down the need she felt to be touched by the man, wanting to feel his body pressed against hers.

“If I’m being honest, every time I’ve been streaming I thought of you, and I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop myself.” With her breath hitched in her chest she watched Carlisle break out in a deep, raspy laugh, hand finding her cheek, cupping her warm skin. Her body followed his every command, pulled to her feet, into his chest. For a few seconds they froze, listening to the alarm going off inside their heads, reminding them how wrong this was – whatever they were about to do. But their bodies forced them to continue, lips meeting in a rough kiss.

Jasper had never kissed her like this, had always tried to be careful with her, hoping that his alter ego wouldn’t take over his system, scared of leaving marks that wouldn’t fade. It seemed as if Carlisle wasn’t held back by any fear, any daunting thoughts, allowing himself to claim an already claimed woman.

“I need to taste you, need to hear those pretty moans you always make.” What sounded like a confession turned into a command, switching them around to force (y/n) down on his table. Her moan seemed to give him the green light he had been waiting for, jeans pulled down her legs with her damp panties following. Carlisle didn’t waste any time, pushing his tongue through her slit, tasting her arousal for the first time.

(Y/n)’s moans echoed through the room, hand tugging on his roots in a desperate need to ground herself. Her heart was racing, urged on by the fear of being interrupted, of being caught in an act so wrong that felt all too right. Her body had always called out to Carlisle, and yet something had held her back, doubting that the doctor would ever be interested in her.

“Oh god, Carlisle, you’re so-” she was interrupted by a heavy moan, he had pushed two fingers into her cunt, expectedly curling them against her sweet spot. She was trembling on the table, legs quivering already, within only a few moments of being touched. While her body struggled to hold back, her mind couldn’t help but wonder what being fucked by him must feel like, hoping that he’d soon give in.

“What is it? Talk to me, sweetheart.” A teasing smile was shot her way, mouth finding its way to her pulsing bundle of nerves, very well knowing what she wanted from him.

“Please.” Her whimpers were met by a throaty chuckle, he had his eyebrows raised, wordlessly commanding her to speak her thoughts. “I need you inside of me, fuck me, please Carlisle.”

“See, that wasn’t hard, was it?” He let go of her, only to pull her to her feet, front pushed down on the table with one quick move. Before she could even take a new deep breath, his hand came down on her behind, spanking the moaning woman. She was a goner, already floating in another dimension, and he hadn’t even fucked her yet. “Are you ready for me?”

His hand met her skin again, and again, till (y/n) finally managed to press out a soft “Yes, please”. She heard him spit onto his palm, pumping his cock a few times before he pushed into her from behind. Her air was knocked from her lungs, eyes squeezed shut to try and adjust to his size. Carlisle was ruthless, urged on by all those times he had been watching her on his screen, spreading her thighs for men just as desperate as he was.

“You’re already whimpering, and I’ve only just started fucking you. Does your boyfriend not satisfy you? You’re dripping for my cock like a slut begged to be manhandled.” His words had a sharp undertone to them, forcing a deep moan from her parted lips. Carlisle fucked her rough, hips meeting her aching behind with every thrust, pushing (y/n) further into the dark abyss she had been lured into. She was seeing stars, stars so daunting, (y/n) could feel her end coming upon her.

With one hand finding her throat, Carlisle pulled her up against his chest, pace not faltering once. Her walls fluttered around his cock, senses heightened by the possessive grasp he had on her throat, not cutting off her airstream, but making her blood sing in her ears. She was trembling, had a hard time focusing on anything but his touch, the way he fucked her, pushing her closer to the edge.

“Such a tight cunt, so perfect for me.” Carlisle’s words coaxed a whimper from her lips, gone the moment his cold fingers found her clit. He tightened his grasp on her throat, forcing her eyes open to focus on the dark forest surrounding the mansion, wondering who or what was lurking outside there. Would their secret be spilled? Would they be able to hide it from the others nearby?

“Need to cum, I’m so close.” Her voice trembled, nothing more than a whisper he clearly picked up on. Carlisle’s raspy chuckles left her shuddering, mind torn between the sensation of the way he fucked her from behind and the way he expertly rubbed her clit. A rough “Cum” left the doctor, hand leaving her throat to tightly grab her waist, fearing that she may lose her balance.

Her orgasm clashed through her, leaving her moaning and whimpering, not hearing the sound of slow steps carrying somebody closer. She didn’t notice the smirk tugging on Carlisle’s lips, didn’t notice how he turned his head, eyes meeting another pair of dark ones. He pulled out of her to release himself on her behind, letting go of (y/n) to give her a moment to calm down.

“Fuck, I’m exhausted.” Her soft chuckles were interrupted by a deep laugh, head snapping towards the door, catching Jasper leaning against the doorframe. The vampire was smirking at his wide eyed girlfriend, stepping into the office with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Oh, darlin’, this was only just the beginning.”

#Carlisle Cullen smut #Carlisle Cullen imagine #twilight

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eikaroulily · 2 months

Text

Pure Devotion

Alastor x Reader

(FLUFF with a sprinkle of angst)

` ~ ° • ▪︎ ☆ ` ~ ° • ▪︎ ☆ ` ~ ° • ▪︎ ☆ ` ~ ° • ▪︎ ☆ ` ~ ° • ▪︎ ☆ ` ~ °

There's always always this nagging feeling in your gut when you have a tiny crush on someone, a feeling where you'd think that maybe one day you'll both have kids together regardless of the situation your both in. That maybe one day you'll both end up in a cozy room, in front of the fireplace holding hot coco while cuddling close together in a cold winter night.

"Y/n!!! Alastor was just looking for you! Come come" before y/n could even answer, charlie pushed y/n into the small library where alastor would hang out in, sipping his tea while he reads a book he likes or the newspaper to keep him entertained, sitting by the comfy warmth of the fireplace.

There would always be a feeling when we see the person we liked, this sort of feeling where you'd smile and feel excited to see them. But, there would always be a different feeling when you see someone you didn't know you've fallen for harder than you expected.

"Ahh! There you are dear, come and sit here besides my chair, I would like to discuss something with you." Alastor said, looking at y/n's eyes, still having his signiture smile. Y/n's eyes widened, and her heart suddenly pumped fast. She felt a slight ache in her heart, and she quickly looked away aand nods, she walks closer and sat in the chair next to his.

The feeling of looking at someone you unexpectedly love and adored more than you hoped for, the feeling in your heart as if cupid had shot his arrow on your chest, the world slowing down as you stared at the person you loved, your heart beating fast as if it was running into a race. The feeling you simply can not explain, because that person to you looked so beautiful.

"W-what would you like to talk about?" Y/n asked alastor with her shakey voice, alastor chuckles at y/n as he shakes his head a little and puts down the newspaper. "I have heard that you have a little admiration on me, dear." Y/n widens her eyes, her heart suddenly beating fast as alastor confronts her feelings for her.

The feeling where a rush would come in our heart, mind and vain, excitement whenever we would finally talk to the person we love, in our delusion, they were ours to keep, yet in reality, our heart breaks.

"I am sorry my dear, but I cannot return the affection you hold for me." Alastor said in a low tone, but friendly manner, he truly thought that the girl was a beautiful companion, a smart, lovely, well dressed, beautiful lady- wait, what? "Oh, I understand, but I hope to be friends still" y/n said with her half hearted smile, it was obvious she was holding back her tears. "Hmmhmm" alastor nods and resumes reading his newspaper. 'Hmmhmm? That's all I'll say?' He thought.

Rejection, even when our mind says it's enough, the hesrt continues to yearn and hope for the future, the future where two souls would reunite and love each other once again, and for eternity. The battle of the mind and heart was always a tricky one, mind always winning and the heart always losing.

But we'll say;

"I don't love him anymore! It's enough!" Y/n exclaimed, "love him?" Angel dust asked, to which, y/n widened her eyes, she stopped and think.

We'll say we don't, but in the end, we'll slowly realize, all those tears that befallen our cheeks, all those sad thoughts, all those rants to our friends we'll sloely realized those feelings we felt was different. The feeling of cupid shooting an arrow on our chest, the day we laid eyes on them, was something no one can ever feel, a rare feeling, but a beautiful scene.

"I love you." alastor widened his eyes as y/n said those sacred words to him. "Look, I know you rejected me, but I just can't shake this shitty feeling on my chest! It feels too much, and I didn't have the chance to say it the first time and just said that I'd stop, but then I realized that I loved you more than I realized.." y/n quickly explained.

And when we showed devotion to the person, even when rejection already hit us;

"I didn't quite get the meaning of "love", but ever since I've met you and gave me this weird feeling, it's quite.. nice." Alastor said, giving y/n a genuine smile. Y/n widened her eyes with happiness flowing through her heart. "I love you too, dear."

But even so, a soul can take the risk even when they face rejection before. The ending of the story can be beautiful or a beautiful tragedy. Regardless, at least we took the chance.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #radio demon #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #alastor radio demon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #x reader

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rorichuu · 9 months

Note

Any chance of support team with a reader who's a vampire and needs to feed?? Thanks 👍🦇

love bites ; support team x vamp!reader

pairing: medic/sniper/spy x gn!reader

authors note: hello! i love this ask a lot omg, thanks for sending this in! written romantically. also i apologize if this is like. too formally written. 😭

disclaimer: obvious mentions of blood/the loss of it, description of being bitten, and suggestive parts with each merc… especially Spy’s and Sniper’s! (i also apologize if my vampiric facts are incorrect! enjoy reading!)

MEDIC:

The grumble of your stomach was hard to ignore, teeth salivating and aching for the mere taste of skin; of blood. The pierce, the reward of breaking through the skin... a flavor and its bitter taste was a craving you left untouched... yet, you couldn't let it be. Not as it stood mockingly, a need you couldn't turn down.

You groaned under your breath as you clutched your jaw, a starved look shared with the doctor as he stood knowingly. "Do you hunger, liebling?" He finally spoke, breaking through that wall of desperate silence. Medic was looking down at his clipboard, his hands slipping through pages as he leaned against his table. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress any impulsive decision that crept into your mind. He looked up at you expectantly. "If you wish, I have spare pouches in the fridge... I know you prefer boar, but I also have cow, if you so wish." He knew you forbade human blood upon your own devising... but Medic knew how frustrating it can be; not getting your full, left only partially satisfied.

You had kept your voice silent for passing moments, and Medic noticed this quick enough. The man lifted his head completely now, sharing eye-to-eye, a new hunger. He read you closely. The motion of your tongue across your pearled fang, the growl of your stomach, the ache in the jaw... Medic knew what you wanted.

Slowly, he let the clipboard slide atop his desk, released from his hand as he approached you. Your jaw clenched, stepping back slowly before hitting the sink. You didn't want to, you didn't want to hurt him... your tongue hiding your fangs desperately as he leaned closely to you. Medic arched his neck, his eyes focused on the mirror behind you. You gulped. "Go ahead."

"I can't. You know that," you began, tempted. "I can't hurt you, let alone threaten your loss of blood... what if I don't stop?" Your voice spoke with worry, heart racing; blood pumping, and mind fogging.

"I am a doctor," he replied, his hand sliding down from his button-down collar to his neck; exposing himself fully now. "I have my ways. Iss auf, meine Liebe."

Your eyes were now focused on his neck, the vein pumping with fresh blood... pure and untouched. Desperate enough, your breath shivered, and slowly, you brought your teeth in contact with his skin... warm. The pulse against your lip, his steady breaths, his permission. It was enough.

Finally, your teeth sunk into his neck, your hands now pressed against his shoulders as you began to drink. Your mind was revitalized with sensation, enough that you hadn't heard Medic's hushed native tongue. His hands were planted on either side of the sink, your body clasped to his; Medic's body a pillar, reliable for your balance.

But you had felt your stomach finally conclude from its incessant groans, fangs contracting from the pulsing wound. "Scheiße..." Medic cursed, his teeth had sunk into his lip. Blood pearled at the two pricks, and you frowned. "Don't pout, dove. I will be alright." He kissed your forehead, short and sweet, before leading himself away from you. He was now sitting at his desk to regain his balance.

Your hand had hovered over your mouth, the taste of his blood sinking into the cuts of your lips.

“Feel better?” The man hummed, his hand holding a piece of gauze to his neck, his figure relaxed and observing… but he knew the answer. You were standing with such vitality. From when you would feed on animal blood you were constantly tired… slumped and with a lack of energy... but with that short feed, you were anew.

“Yes, much.” you spoke shyly. You had then approached him, a hand resting at his forehead… but it did not stall long. Medic had gently taken your hand and let it fall to his cheek; he kissed the inside of your palm.

“Bitte… don’t worry about me,” and with that he swiftly grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him to fall into his hold. “You’re glowing.”

SNIPER:

When you had first told Sniper about your origin, it took him a moment to fully comprehend it. Of course, he loves you the way you are, don’t get the man wrong… but a vampire? The man was stunned… but nonetheless, intrigued.

It was just past midnight, the click of your watch alerting you subconsciously… and the longer you waited for your lover, the more your stomach churned and twisted with a burning hunger. Your fangs ached, salivating at the mere idea of feasting… and you needed help.

As you sat in your lover’s van, you heard a small click and a whoosh of a door opening. You suspected it was him, with a lift of your head and a raise of your brow, you rose from your seat. “Hey,” you spoke first. Sniper took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re back late.”

“Miss Pauling had a make-up meetin' with us,” he informed you. You huffed. “Nothin’ to worry about, jus’ somethin’ she missed. How are you doing?” Quick to change the topic of conversation, subject to his past boredom… he slumped on the couch where you last sat. You look down at him with a pained look. He studied you silently, raising a brow.

“I’m hungry and I need to… I need to eat.” You announced, voice hushed due to the matter being new in his mind... you simply wished not to scare him away.

Sniper was new to the feeding thing… knowing it wouldn’t make any difference if you ate legitimate food. You’d still crave the taste of blood. The Australian hummed in response, his cheeks flushing at the mere idea of…

“What would happen if I was your meal?” He asked. His blunt question leaves you blinking. His inquiry left unnoticed as he motioned for you to go on with a lift of his chin.

“Well… if you were to get bitten, you might suffer from lethargy. But you wouldn’t turn,” you were quick to inform. “I need to drain you completely in order to do so.” As you educated the man on the basics, he found no reason to disagree. Shit, he might get some well-deserved sleep afterward. "It's a lot to ask for. Please don't feel obligated to... animal blood suffices just fine."

"But it's not quite filling, now is it?" With his interjection, you gulped. The corner of his mouth rose in a knowing smile. But it fell soon after. "Sit down," Sniper instructed... and certainly not asking you to.

You followed and let yourself fall beside him. Sniper was sitting on his side, sleeves rolled up, arms bare and muscle evident from holding his weapon every day. (If not, all day.) The Australian also wore a watch... his fist folded in as he leaned against his knuckles, the leather of the accessory worn for years now. Perhaps something his father had owned, or a pass-me-down.

"It's going to hurt just... just for a second," you spoke. He raised an eyebrow. "You might feel dizzy afterward, so don't stand up too fast. I won't take a drop more than I need, I promise."

The Australian couldn't stand it anymore. He lifted his arms, fist leaving his resting face as one of his hands grasped your exposed thigh, lifting you to take a seat on his lap. A sound of surprise left your throat as his hands began to rest just above your hips... his eyes spoke nothing of deceit. Eyes pure with approval. "Eat."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat unleaving as you brought your eyes to his exposed neck. Your hands began to move without thought, and slowly, lowering the collar of his shirt to display him completely. Your lips parted, leaning down towards the side of his jaw... the heat of your breath against his pulse drove you crazy. And crazy enough, to finally pierce through his veil of skin. The man hissed. You didn't need to look at him to know his face contorted to the prick of pain. Sniper's hold on your hips began to tighten, trying his best to remain still as you served on his blood.

The taste was desirable; and incredibly addicting. You found no control over yourself, having not eaten like this in decades... but the more you drank, the more Sniper fell weaker... you noticed this when his hands slowly loosened his grip from your sides. Your fangs retracted and a pitiful sigh left your throat when his taste left you. Sniper was the first to speak. "'I won't take a drop more than I need,' they say..." You were quick to launch a playful hit to his arm, the man letting out a huff of laughter. Sniper's hand lifted to rest on his shoulder, the other resting just above your thigh. "Are you full, love?" He asked, awaiting your response as your hand raised to swipe the smear of blood on your chin.

"Yes... how are you feeling, right now?" You asked, head tilting with curiosity as let his head fall back. Your lip quirked up humorously.

"M'tired," he was left mumbling. "Mind if I rest?" You chuckled, falling beside him, but your legs remained rested just above his lap.

"Go on," you permitted... though it wouldn't have taken much, you knew the man would pass out any second regardless. "I told you you'd fall to lethargy, Snipe." And with your remark, it was left hanging in the air in silence until the sound of Sniper's snoring broke through it.

SPY:

The fire cracked and roared a low hum, warmth embracing the room with its bright flame. Spy sat in his master chair, one hand holding a book, while the other held a cigarette... his lips pulling from the smoke every now and then. You were scrolling through his library, hands grazing the spines, the pages... the scent of aged books spoke of history. But with every novel and piece of literature that left its respective shelf, the discomfort of your famished stomach kept your mind preoccupied.

Frustrated, you slid the book back with the others.

Your once idle figure had sauntered off towards Spy, your crossed arms laid on the back of his chair. He noticed this. "Yes, chérie?" His eyes still wandered his page, but you suspected his mind wasn't in touch with its words once you enlightened his company. Spy wasn't complaining. You pouted.

"I'm hungry," you announced. "Just a quick bite?" You asked sweetly, the only way you knew you could convince him. Spy always surrenders to you somehow... even if it takes some adamant persuading. The Frenchman sighed, his index finding the corner of his page, indicating his mind was occupied with the fact he was almost finished. "Spy?"

"You can wait one more chapter, oui?" Spy knew of your vampiric origin quite fast... faster than any other merc, aside from Medic, of course. It never scared him, he knew better. You were the same person as you were before and knew you never masked innocence. (As far as innocence goes, in this line of work.)

Your eyebrows knitted together, impatience taking control of your response. "C'mon, it'll be quick... it always is!" You twisted your body to lean in next to him, eyes desperately trying to catch Spy's eye... but he remained stubborn. By any god above, he always was.

"I'd rather you not rush your dinner." Spy spoke simply, his gloved hand finally turning the page. But with this attempt, your hand grasped his.

"If you make me wait, I'll have no choice but to rush my dinner,” and with your logical response, Spy felt the need to take your words into consideration. The man hummed, his mind falling loose of his stories inevitable ending. “Please?” He felt as though the book could wait.

Spy shifted in his seat, you stepping back a bit with a new rise in relief… the man tried to sit as formally as he could, as always. “Continue…” Taking this as your permission to continue, one hand grasped his shoulder while the other held the arm of his chair… your head dipped, your eyes met with cloth. You frown. Your hands then lift from their previous positions, a finger clipping under his mask, attempting to slip it over his head. Spy hesitates, his head turning away instinctively… and suddenly he’s facing you, met with your own eyes. Spy slowly gives in to you.

With the hook of your index finger, you continued to pull the mask off, revealing the man completely. His hair peppered with white streaks; grey hairs complimenting his intensity perfectly… he was vulnerable. Vulnerable to you.

Tearing from your shared eye-contact, you flared your teeth before pricking his vein perfectly. You felt Spy’s jaw clench, a small smile tugging at your lips at his reaction as you continue to feed.

His taste was rich; rich and thick… potent as though made from wine and smoke, a taste irreplaceable even from the wealthiest of kings. And with every nip and drink, you fell right back into his trickiest of holds.

The man began to fall in his seat, seemingly to get more comfortable. He laid back, head leaning against the head of his seat; hair ruffling up from its velvet. Spy’s vest had begun to ride up, a small French curse leaving his lips… but before he could fall completely to your vampiric desires, you retracted your fangs… knowing you couldn’t take more.

“Done already?” He spoke the best he could, voice feigning strength and formality. Spy’s hand raised to meet his neck, it ached.

“Any more and you’d be passed out, my love.” You reply knowingly, wiping the run-away blood droplets from your lips. Spy swallowed hard before clearing his throat, he sat up in his seat the best he could.

“Right… well, we should get some sleep, oui?” You raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that look, ma batte. I’m fine.” And though he reassured you the best he could, you knew he was lying through his teeth… and he did too.

“Last time when you left your ego untamed you nearly fainted.” Spy flushed an embarrassing red at this, fully aware his wasn’t there to hide it. Why did he agree to this. You sighed, approaching him before grabbing his mask, handing it to him. “If it makes you feel better, it happens with everyone.” You smiled warmly, he took the mask and let out an annoyed tsk… exaggerated, of course.

“Looking at other necks? I’m offended.” He spoke plainly, examining his mask… feeling an odd wave of leaving it be. Noticing this, you took his book and hopped up on the arm of the chair… your legs planted beside his thighs on the seat to balance yourself. “Whatcha reading anyway?” Spy’s eyebrows twitched in response to you. “Franz… Kafka, really?! With the salesman monster guy!”

“Ah, yes. The Metamorphosis…” And though he spoke low, voice grumbling in what seemed irritation… it wasn’t this way. He simply felt. Seen. More than he was used to. He didn’t quite know how to feel about it.

Being a man masked all his life; his swift, backstabbing career forcing him to reveal very little… it was difficult to open up, especially for someone so refusing to do so. Spy felt himself slowly open up to you. Although, begrudgingly, I do say… it isn’t an easy process.

But lo, the night eased into its end, the soft crackle of the fire accompanying the Frenchman’s voice as he read to you… and within his shared company, you felt as though he was warming up.

In thought, who would let someone as sharp as you be so open to the idea of giving your body and soul to the other? A certain mercenary of course… but truly intoxicating in its vampiric concept.

But to be put in simpler words…

He just liked you.

rorichuu!

#AHHHHHHHH #ITS FINISHED #AND I LOVE IT #hope you all do too!#happy reading my loves!!!#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 spy #tf2 sniper #tf2 medic #tf2 mercs #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #tf2 spy x reader #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 medic x reader #team fortress #rorichuu!

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writefightandflightclub · 3 months

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Nine (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list).

Author’s note: Shorter chapter this week (be warned, next week's will be the heftiest yet), but I hope you like this next instalment! It's really gearing us up for the FINAL TWO! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. If you've read this far, THANK YOU! ILY :-*

Word count: 3.8k for this part.

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

Today is a new day. It’s a new day and you’re done crying. You’re done holding on to anger and resentments.

Besides, you feel as though you gave Santiago everything you had last night, and - at least for now - there is nothing else left to give.

So, instead of wallowing, you plod downstairs to where Frankie is stationed in the kitchen, offering up your favourite pastries, coffee, and even pulpy, freshly squeezed orange juice. You pull up to the breakfast bar, hopping up on a stool to survey your extravagant pity platter.

It’s true then. “He’s gone.”

Frankie nods solemnly, leaning into the other side of the island like he’s a sympathetic bartender in some old Western flick. He claps his palm to your shoulder in a supportive gesture. “I’m sorry, chiquita.”

You shrug.

His face twists. That’s not all there is. “Don’t shoot the messenger, but…”

“What, Frankie?”

“He had to bounce but he didn’t want to wake you. Said you looked far too peaceful sleeping for him to come along and fuck that up.”

Your brow notches, absorbing all of that with a contrived neutrality. “How did he… seem?”

Frankie’s eyebrows raise lightly as he ponders, thinking back over prior events. “Calm, actually. Happy, even.”

“Hmm.” You smile softly to yourself. Makes a change from lately to hear that. You get it though. After last night, you can’t feel anything else either. Even if he technically didn’t say goodbye in words, you get it. You aren’t mad. Chances are one or both of you would have fucked it up this morning. This way at least, it leaves the night you spent together untarnished. Makes it feel like holding on to a good dream, before the realities of the day can set in and make things fraught.

Frankie’s face crumples with concern as you gaze wistfully into the middle-distance. “You gonna be alright?”

You pump your eyebrows. Search yourself for feelings. “You know what? Yeah. I am. I’m okay.”

Frankie’s eyes glint playfully then. “Oh. So you won’t need alllll o’ these yummy pastries?”

You laugh as he eyes the pain au chocolat pointedly. “Get stuck in, Morales,” you invite fondly, and he obliges, scraping up a stool and wiggling on his ass until he’s comfy.

“Hey. So,” he says through mouthfuls. “Did you two figure anything out?”

You groan at the sheer complexity of Frankie’s simple question. Did you? Or are you still going around in circles? “We know we love each other. The rest? Uh. I still don’t know.”

“He’ll get there.”

You puff air out from between your teeth.

“You don’t think so?” Frankie interprets.

You wrap your arms around your middle. “It’s not that. It’s… I don’t think it was all on him.” You don’t have any blame or accusations left. No grudges to hold on to - your hands are open. You’ve both made mistakes. Manufactured this distance, in your own ways - sometimes literally, sometimes not. You were both just trying to figure all this out as best as you could.

Frankie’s brows notch and rise with a silent question. How so? What do you mean?

The thoughts form as you speak them. Clumsy yet intrepid. “I guess... It just feels like we were… Both waiting for the other person to get somewhere, you know? But this whole time, we should’ve been heading there together. Otherwise, how the fuck were we supposed to know where to end up?” You slide a palm over your face. “Christ. Does that make any fucking sense?”

Frankie ponders. “I think so. Like trying to meet on the highway without a time or a place or directions?”

You reach out and clasp his hand. “You get me, buddy.”

Frankie blinks, tangling himself up further in your metaphor, but valiantly trying to muddle through. “And so… do you…?” He scratches his chaotic mop of hair. “Do you have a map now? A meeting point? I mean… What happens next? On the highway?” Your mouth lilts into a gentle smile at Frankie’s earnest question. He notes and feeds your amusement, going off the deep-end with this metaphor now. “Are you driving in shifts, chiquita? Grabbing cheez-its for the road?”

You laugh, the musical sound mingling with Frankie’s throaty chuckle. “What happens next?” You repeat the question out loud, carefully, posing it to yourself. Hasn’t that always been the question? However, the very sentiment which used to scare you now feels a lot more like potential. Like possibility.

Still, you feel -for the moment- like leaving that question hanging. You leave a pregnant pause. You let it breathe.

For now; you let it go. You let him go.

“Where are the other guys at, anyway?”

Frankie rides your tangent with ease. “Packing shit up.”

“We should help them.”

“Yeah, we should,” Frankie grins mischievously, and yet neither of you make any effort whatsoever to mobilise.

Instead, Frankie pours you a cup of coffee from the pot.

“You wanna call off the hike today?” he asks hopefully, Frankie increasingly a creature of comfort.

“No. Hell no. I need to move.” You lock your fingers and stretch your arms above your head, a satisfying stretch extending down your spine.

Frankie’s eyes sparkle across at you. “Just not in aid of helping the Millers pack their trunk, huh?”

“Exactly! What did I tell you, bud. You get me.”

You do though. You need to move. You need to move forward. No more standing in place. No more moving in circles, always repeating.

Still, when you think about it. When you think to what is ahead, to what is next, your stomach drops. You feel overcome by a sudden anxiety which you can’t place at first. Like having misplaced something dear to you. Like having done something wrong but not being able to recall exactly what. Then, all of a sudden, you understand it entirely.

“Listen. Tell me about this job, Frankie.”

He immediately tenses up. “What job?”

You take a bite of your pastry. “The one with Lorea’s cash house.”

Frankie simply groans. He always knows more than he lets on, this one. About everything. Everyone.

“Is it true? That you and the boys are in?”

You can plainly see his reticence to respond. But you know for a fact that he’s about to cave.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

“They need a pilot,” Frankie states, looking up at you with guilty, puppy dog eyes.

“Fuck me. He dragged you back in too, huh? You know… Sometimes I wonder if any of us are good for each other.” Your tone grows mildly irate, your heart quickening, but you recognise it for what it is. It’s simply anger veiling worry. You love these boys.

“Come on, don’t say that,” Frankie bargains. “We’ve dragged each other out of hell.”

“And back again.”

Frankie takes a deep breath. His tongue pokes around the meat of his cheek. “He says it’s simple recon. In and out. No mess.”

You jut your chin up. Stare at him levelly, unblinking. You know that Frankie will give it to you straight. Know that he can’t help himself. “And you buy that?”

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

“Not for a fucking second.”

You scoff, shaking your head. Not when it comes from Santiago, no. After all, you’ve fallen for Santiago’s bullshit plenty of times yourself. It’s the fact that Frankie would wander in with his eyes wide open to it that really gets you. It’s something else.

Still, before you can chastise him for being so stupid, Frankie glumly offers up some explanation. “Look. I need the job. I… I got my license revoked.”

Your heart drops - and your face with it. Your hands clamp over your mouth. “Frankie,” you say softly, with empathy. “Fuck.”

He hunches in on himself despondently, his hands disappearing up his sleeves, his fists clenching and his gaze cast downward. “I fucked up, man. Cassie has a baby on the way and I fucked up.” His eyes swim with a deep shame.

“Coke?” you venture, tentatively.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Slowly, he nods.

“Frankie.” Your hand swipes over your face, and your eyes fill with concern for him. His palm waves in the air, however, quickly dismissing any sympathies you may care to bestow.

“I’m back on track. Getting there. I am.” His eyes are nothing but determined. Sincere. “But I need this gig. No matter how fucking hare-brained a scheme that pendejo is cooking.”

“Think of the baby, dude.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Frankie says forcefully, in a harsh tone he rarely uses, and you know in no uncertain terms that the conversation is done. That he’s made his mind up, and that he won’t hear you out any further on the matter.

You swallow. Regroup. You chew on some platitudes, but none of them feel quite right.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Frankie says after a stretched, tense moment. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay,” you jostle his shoulder, and it shakes a little of the tension from him and the room. “I get it. And shit. I’m sorry for putting all of my bullshit on you this weekend. I wish you’d said something, Cat.”

He shrugs. Speaks with finality. “There’s not much to say. It’s done. I just need to make it right. And I will.”

“I believe it. But you do know that I’m… If you need… Anything, Frankie.”

He looks up at you then, the warmth back in his eyes as your voice cracks, searching for the words. But, he already knows everything you could ever say. You’ve said it before, a hundred times. He knows you love him. Knows you’re proud of him. Knows you’d do anything for him. Knows you want the best for him. He knows it already.

In turn, you are sure that he already knows everything you could possibly call him out on. That he’s already thought about it. Weighed it up. Thought about the risks. About the possibility that he’s acting out of desperation. The possibility that he’d probably be better off staying the hell away from Pope’s schemes.

He scrapes his stool back and comes to you, bundling you into a tight, warm, big brother hug. You tug in a deep breath, and you let it go. You’re done trying to control everything around you. It never really got you anywhere.

Still, there’s an undeniably uncomfortable knot in your chest as you think about them all gearing up. Strapping on their tac vests. Shoving clotting pads into their med packs. It makes you feel physically ill. And so, you can’t help yourself. “Do me a favour, Frankie? Don’t take Tom?” You muffle the words into his shirt, half hoping they will get lost there. That maybe he didn’t even hear you. But, you know when he braces his hands on your shoulders to get a good look at you, that your game is up.

“Why not?”

You see it then, in his eyes. That Tom is not a risk Frankie has considered. His presence not something he has weighed up.

You deliver your words as plainly and transparently as possible. “He’s too hungry, Cat.”

Frankie simply locks eyes with you, as though trying to weed out your motives. Shrewdly trying to assess your conclusions. Is this just your petty vendetta talking? Is this intelligence? Is this coming from your gut?

“Please. Just trust me.”

“I do,” he nods eventually, but you should know better than to feel any relief. And next, there it is. “I do but it’s not my call.”

Well. You’ve said your piece. You guess that’s all you’ve got. Absent-mindedly, you tug on Frankie’s lapels. “You’d better come back to me, Cat,” you plead plaintively. “And by God, you’d better bring those other fuckers back with you to boot.”

With a wistful affection, Frankie tugs you to him again and you stand there in silence for a few more moments, the sounds of the other guys evident in the background. In time, you and Frankie release each other and gravitate towards them, tucking yourselves under the porch to survey their efforts packing up the trucks.

“We should probably help,” you repeat again, and, to your side, your hear Frankie’s murmur of agreement. However, when you glance to him you see his long, lean frame stretched out up against the wooden porch post. He looks like a man with nowhere else to be in a hurry.

“Fuck,” he curses at nothing in particular, surveying the animated bodies of his buddies before him with both awe and trepidation. “How did we get here? Years of service and none of us have anything to show for it.”

That’s a Santiago sales pitch, through and through, you reckon. You recognise his propaganda. Funny, since he used to swallow the flag for breakfast. Is that how he got to him then? Convinced Frankie he could finally make bank? Take what he deserved? Ah. Or give his family what they deserved? Frankie is all about family.

A sad smile twitches your mouth. “Well. That’s not entirely true, is it? Not nothing.” You think of what you’ve gained from all of this. “I got a gaggle of weird ass brothers. A suitcase full of trauma. A fucked back. And! An array of unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

Despite the darkness of your statement, Frankie’s eyes crinkle. What else is left to do but laugh, anyway? “Maybe Will should put that in his speech.”

You belly chuckle at that, moving to lean up against the opposite post. “Yeah. Scare those poor recruits off before they can end up like us, huh?”

Frankie looks wistful again. “It hasn’t been all bad.”

No. It hasn’t. He’s not wrong about that.

You ponder on it. If you could go back and change your path - would you? But, despite everything, your squad would be far too much to lose. “Sure. The weird thing is, as shitty as it’s been at times? I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

There is a beat, and Frankie reaches out across the space between you and wordlessly clasps your hand.

“Listen. You gonna be okay, Frankie?” He looks down at his worn sneakers, contemplatively, as though he really doesn’t know the answer yet. You give his hand a squeeze, trying to let him know that’s okay. “We’ll talk more, okay?”

He nods - a subtle, concessionary thing, like maybe he could really do with that.

“I get why you didn’t tell me. But I’m sorry. That I didn’t do a better job of asking.”

“It’s not on you,” he says generously. A little too generously, in your estimation. You’ve been rather wrapped up in your own shit. A little too self-involved. “I know I can talk to you. I just… I, uh. Didn’t want to ruin the weekend.” The irony of that statement causes a throaty chuckle to bounce in Frankie’s neck, and your palm slides over your face in regret even as you laugh in reciprocity.

“Christ. I did a great job of that all by myself.”

“Well,” Frankie says good-naturedly, shifting to bump your hip with his. Wrapping his crooked arm over your shoulder. “You had some help.”

It is your turn now to look wistful, as you contemplate the storm that is Santiago, and all the rubble he left behind. “He’s really gone again.” Frankie simply squeezes you a little tighter. “Hey. Anything else I should know, by the way?” you needle. “You’re not holding out on me?”

Frankie sucks air through his teeth. “Tom and Molly. She finally served him papers.”

You fold forward, hinging to collapse your upper half onto the porch rail. “Fuck. Shit. I really need to start being nicer to that shithead.” Still, from behind, Frankie’s familiar chuckle buoys you, even as you inwardly berate yourself for getting wrapped up in your own business. “We’re all messes, huh, Frankie? Do you think we can fix it?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I do.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

You toss him a soft, grateful smile, which extends as Will makes his way over to your position, greeting you “Hey, slackers!”. You and Frankie share a conspiratorial glance.

“All set for the hike, Captain?”

“No thanks to you.”

“I had an alternate mission. Ranks of pastries to deplete.”

Will feigns tiredness, but his baby blues sparkle even as he rolls them.

“Anyway. Didn’t need you. All set to head out as soon as you slackers get your act together. You wantin’ to do the usual route, hon?”

You brace your arms against the porch rail. Dig your fingers into the wood. “No,” you say, the words a little tight in your chest, but they feel good. “Not today. There’s somewhere else. Somewhere I always wanted to go.”

Somewhere new.

“Fine by me,” Frankie offers. “Just let me grab more pastries.”

***

You relish the hike, when it comes. You relish walking a path that is -to you- entirely untrodden. That he can’t touch. You walked the old, familiar trails for too long, and the only place it ever got you was right back where you started.

The bullshit ends here. You’ve decided.

And so, you turn your attention away from your sun, and to the wider constellation of stars around you. To yourself.

You even do your best to make peace with Tom. To put old grudges to bed.

You relish the hike. Enjoy the undulating landscape. You don’t know for sure what’s next, or where you’re going, but the difference is that for once, that feels okay. Full of potential.

You walk until your legs burn, and when you get to the summit you take a moment to drink in the crisp, clifftop air. To look out across the ocean. To see it from a distance and to know that this time, it cannot break you over and over and over.

Still, when you��re at the top, as if by providence, Santiago texts you.

“Hey. Sorry I had to take off early. I wanna say… Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For the best night of my life.”

“Ah. Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself, and you press the button to call him. You immediately call him. He immediately picks up. “Hi.”

”Hi. What’s up? They just announced my gate.”

”That’s okay, I’ll be quick. I, uh. I just needed to tell you too. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For a proper goodbye.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I-”

“-I’m not mad, Santi. I think… I think we said everything we have to say, right? I think it was…”

”…Perfect?”

”Yeah. Yeah, pretty perfect.”

“Listen. It’s selfish, but. With everything coming up. The Lorea job and… I needed it, you know? Needed that image of you sleeping.”

There’s an ache in your chest and it’s bittersweet.

He cares for you in every way he knows how, doesn’t he? In every way he can. He’s not perfect, but hey, neither are you. You’re both a little bit broken, but that doesn’t mean you can’t heal. And most of all, it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love while you’re doing it.

One day, he’ll turn up at your door, and he’ll be welcome. Whenever that is. Whenever it happens. But until then, you can’t just wait for him.

Until then, you’ll love him; from a distance.

No longer can you leave him in anger. No longer can he break you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Maybe one day, that will even be enough.

“Would you promise me something?”

“Sure.”

“Come back and visit soon, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I promise.”

You conclude the call, and you stretch your arms above your head. A pleasant tingle snakes down your back as it cracks. You haven’t felt so relaxed in a long time. You don’t think you’ve ever felt such peace.

The path that you are walking is yours, and you implicitly trust where it’s taking you.

***

You are grateful to slip into the passenger side of Frankie’s car, beginning the drive back to the city and signalling the end of your stay at the beach house. Still, there is something bittersweet there too as you leave behind the site of so many memories from over the years - and now, the site of your most perfect night with Santiago.

It reminds you of all you’ve been through. The ups and the downs and plenty of things which went sideways. You are starting to realise though, that perhaps the landscape of love is undulating. That sometimes the terrain is tough. It shouldn’t have been quite so tough though - so steep and unforgiving; and so, you hope for gentler, easier paths ahead.

It is bittersweet then, as you leave this place behind.

As you look forward, having said goodbye. As you wrestle with your past, future, and present.

Frankie swings the car out and onto the highway, the Millers up ahead and Tom behind, your vehicles forming a convoy through the dark, the glow of headlights illuminating the route ahead.

You sit in silence, eyes and thoughts unfocussed, in abstraction, as you watch vague shapes and colours slipping by the window, your own face occasionally reflected right back at you. You look older than you used to. More tired. But you don’t dislike that.

After a while, Frankie’s robust voice slices through the dark, his eyes on the road and hands threading the wheel. “I don’t know if this will make things better or worse but… Do you want to hear it?”

You swivel your head towards him, fractured, liquid panels of light slipping over the planes of his face as your surroundings pass by in a haze. “Hear what?”

“Pope’s heartbreak playlist?”

Your hands dig into your thighs where they rest. “Do I?”

“Well?” Frankie asks, his finger poised over the button, and evidently not willing to make that decision for you.

“Yeah. Fuck it.”

You brace a little, in all honesty. A tightness takes hold of your chest as you wonder if the first track to befall your ears might be angry. Resentful. Full of blame or sadness that you can’t hope to wrestle with and come out on top. But, as the first notes of the track sound out, you are surprised to find a full, unfettered laugh rises from out of your throat. The tears swell in your eyes next, for it is nothing if not bittersweet.

“That dickhead. I can’t believe…”

You can’t believe it. The fact he has chosen a song which reflects your life together? Which reveals a happy memory?

He loves you, doesn’t he? He has for a long time. And you can’t help but hope that maybe one day, that will even be enough. For tonight though, it will definitely do. You’ll take it. You’ll treasure it.

“Whiskey in the Jar,” Frankie scoffs as he catches on to the song, even if his fingers are drumming against the lip of the wheel involuntarily. “I mean. What the shit’s that all about? He’s a weird kid, I swear.”

“Frankie,” you laugh brightly, turning once again to look wistfully out of the window, as the view of the beach house and the ocean recedes into the distance. You catch another glimpse of yourself in the pane, and this time you look younger, you think. More alive. “Did I ever tell you about that night in Philadelphia?”

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac #ride or die series

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eddies-house · 10 months

Text

The Under-Ground (18+ ONLY)

Chapter Seven - Bake Sale

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - The calm after the storm.

Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader

8.7K Words

Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, mentions of drugs and drinking, drug dealing, allusions to mental illness, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: i think im super proud of this one omg guys also...I put a little note at the end cause i didn't wanna spoil anything by saying what i was gonna say. also i fixated so much on each section of this as i wrote it so its like half proof read and then i was like ok the rest is up to god

Masterlist

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The storm subsided at around 2:00 AM and it would go down as the biggest storm in Hawkins’ history to date. The flooding was unlike anything anyone had seen in years and the poor unequipped town was drenched to its roots. Minor water damage affected homes and businesses, nothing too devastating but an inconvenience nonetheless. A few trees had been struck down, if not by lightning then by the high winds that coursed through the night like they owned it. Streets were blocked off with caution tape and traffic cones as the damages were assessed and Hawkins Square was littered in deep puddles that would soak you up to the knee if you happened to misstep.

It was fitting. The world seemed to look just as you felt. Mutilated. Tarnished. The calm after the storm, indeed. Although things that night looked up between you and Eddie, an invisible peace treaty signed by the ink bleeding on the coffee cup, the scars didn’t just vanish. This wasn’t a movie, this was real life and things didn’t just become beautiful again over night. Pain didn’t just cease because you wanted it to or because someone said the right thing. Someone could say a million of the right things but it doesn’t excuse their wrongdoings and the harm they’re capable of. And it doesn’t erase them as someone who would pull the trigger on you if given the chance.

The sun flowed into the room at just the right angle, the kitchen countertop illuminated with the faintest rainbow in the morning light. Beauty after tragedy. It was cold, god was it cold. The apartment might as well have been a walk-in freezer at this point, a place where you could store cold cuts and popsicles without hesitation. But it was hard to complain about your living conditions when there was a warmth blossoming deep within your very being. Whiskey colored eyes had the same effect as the real thing. Warming you up from the inside out, relaxing every tensed muscle, melting away every stupid problem. It pooled deep within you, a buried desire that was clawing its way out of your chest. You’d been without a glance of those rich and honeyed irises for at least six hours, well into the beginning of the hour of 8:00 AM and yet it felt like you’d drank them in seconds ago with the way your veins heated. The way your blood pumped and your nerves mellowed out. If he was like a smooth shot of whiskey, you were at risk of becoming an alcoholic if you weren’t careful.

Snap out of it.

This was not a fairytale, things could not be fixed overnight. He was still a stranger to you, a shell, you could not settle into comfort so easily, no matter how good it felt. It didn’t matter that the buzz lingering beneath your surface was far more powerful than the first time at sixteen.

It didn’t matter.

All you knew was hurt by the hands of those closest and you weren’t going to let it happen again. Never again. Not even for boyish dimples. Not even for the stupid cup of hot chocolate. And certainly not for the way it felt to be pressed against his back when you begrudgingly accepted a ride home on his death machine of a motorcycle the night of the storm. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have prime real estate in the back of your mind.

–

His hair. Several curls falling from the confines of the low messy bun that should warrant a lecture from you on the food safety guidelines but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Soft brown tendrils framed a concentrated face, tongue poked out in deep thought at the simple task of blending ice and coffee. The grinding of the blades against the ice for longer than necessary should have you in shambles, causing an uproar, at the very least scolding him under your breath. You don’t. Instead it’s as if you’re under some kind of spell, a spell that continuously draws you to the insufferable but absolute Disney prince of a man before you. It had been years since you’d seen him in such a light and it made everything all the more conflicting.

I hate him.

Several curses escaped his delicately pink lips as the blender came to a halt, the consistency of the liquid was long overblended and almost became a thicker milk but all you could focus on as his back came to face you was his broad shoulders, far more adult than you’d ever realized. He was no longer a lanky high schooler, his frame had filled out and it filled out in his favor. Had his arms only recently become a touch manlier or did your subconscious automatically blur it out all those times you encountered him only to end up with even more distaste after each interaction? A distaste which would only blind you to the man he grew into.

No, I hate him.

But the moment you would tear your gaze away it would only gravitate right back to his hands which you guessed were noticeably larger than your own but you were in no position to find out. With his rings more than likely temporarily abandoned atop the table in the back, his fingers seemed bare. It only further made you appreciate them, a flash of a daydream posed in your mind where large hands decorated with chipped black polish rested at your waist.

No, no, no.

He was not yours to daydream about nor would you want him to be.

Although…it was okay to think of him as physically attractive all while still keeping him at a distance wasn’t it? After all, he was still awful. You force yourself to recall the horrible things he’s said to you but you can only counter it with the appalling remarks you’d made in return. Though he committed a horrendous act years ago that would make you bleed for years to come, you knew it didn’t warrant some of the comments you’d snapped at him in passing. Especially those about his social status. It was becoming apparent after the previous night’s conversation that you both struggled verbally and that his crude comments were always met with your degrading criticism. You were both instigators.

But it was proving difficult to keep him in such a villainous light when he was so radiant. So effortlessly alluring even as he tossed his liquified concoction into the sink with his brows knit tightly together and profanities falling from his tongue, thankfully quiet enough as to not alert any customers. In all honesty, all he’s proved was that he was an awful barista. Even then, it didn’t bother you as much as it should, your desire to scream at him would’ve been off the charts 24 hours ago. That desire hadn’t even been simmering beneath your surface, the only desire burning within your depths was something unspoken and something you could never let bubble over ever again. You wouldn’t.

Reality began settling back in, an enraged customer snapping his fingers at you, demanding your attention as your eyes widened at the realization that he’d been waiting on a simple black cup of coffee for the past few minutes. Had the shop been busier you would’ve found a polite way to shut him up but in all fairness there were only three other customers at the moment, two of which were already enjoying their drinks. Regardless, it didn’t seem to warrant the entitled behavior of the frowning middle aged man, a simple where is my order? would have sufficed.

“I’m so sorry, let me check on that for you.”

Customer service served with a smile. And a side of sarcasm.

“Oh, you’ll check on that? It’s a cup of coffee. How hard is it to make—“

“There was a mix up with the orders, here’s your coffee. My fault.” Eddie slid the cup across the to go counter to its awaiting consumer, eyes slightly narrowed.

There was no mix up. You really did forget all about the bland coffee up until you were rudely reminded. And it definitely wasn’t Eddie’s fault.

—

1 Week Later

There was no escaping how absolutely enchanting a mundane task such as scrubbing the sink was. It didn’t make sense and yet you lingered, pretending to rinse out the blender one time too many with the hope of catching Eddie’s forearms flex in his movements as he maneuvered the sponge around the sink.

Pathetic.

Which is why you tried so hard to snap yourself out of it. Though you told yourself a week ago that you could admire from afar, even that was starting to not feel like enough which is why it needed to stop. Eddie Munson had finally apologized to you but that didn’t mean throw caution to the wind. You don’t just suddenly trust someone that for years only gave you reasons to steer far from them. The key phrase was that he finally apologized. Meaning he took far too long. Fucked up too long ago and prolonged inexcusable behavior so far into the future that it was beyond repairing. He didn’t deserve your sympathy or your persisting gaze. Sorry meant nothing in the face of years of destruction.

Keep telling yourself that.

Because all you did was remain fixated on those stupid bats decorating his forearm for as long as rinsing out the blender would allow. You had no idea how big of a breath you were holding in as you stood there next to him until you pulled away, snagging a rag from beneath the coffee bar to dry the container. Lungs suddenly exhausted, you attempted to regain a semblance of your composure.

Every conversation since that one night had gone the same. A few words exchanged pertaining to work only, some on his behalf coming off as silly banter only for you to keep your focus on any task you could grasp nearby, acting as if he bored you. It killed him but he respected it. That didn’t mean he’d stop trying to make nice. If the only positive response he received from you all week was an accidental crack in your smile he would take it. It’d be gone quicker than it came but he cherished it all the same. In the last few weeks he came to terms with the fact that he could be on his best behavior but that didn’t mean you had to accept it which in turn meant that he would have to accept that.

So your muffled answers of ‘mhm’ and ‘yeah’ to everything he said felt like the end of the world to him but if it meant peace for you then he’d endure it. The way you’d avoid his eyes made him miss you. You were an arms length away but he missed you. And no, it didn’t mean he necessarily missed prodding at you because you both had this sick game of who could throw the worst insult for years, it meant that he missed your attention, whether it be in spiteful phrases or aggressive stares. He’d take what he could get and now, he was getting nothing. He was starved, absolutely deficient of your gaze even if it did hold such a hateful fire for him. Eddie supposes avoidance feels even worse than face to face conflict that was never even meant to be. And it’s only because the way you shut down made him feel non-existent in your world. At least before he had a place.

—

1 Week Later

Before every night shift at The Under-Ground was a grueling eight hours at the auto shop. Hours that Eddie would spend mentally ripping himself to shreds even more so than before your more recent communication with him. Although he hated himself for even thinking about it, he’d sometimes wager the idea of picking a small fight with you just to earn a fraction of your recognition, even if in a negative light. Then he’d quickly acknowledge that doing so would only provide further evidence that he was never worthy of a moment of your time in the first place. And he still fully believed that. But he was eager to someday become the guy that was.

So when Steve Harrington strolled into the shop, twirling his keys around his finger, Eddie’s grip on his wrench tightened as he pushed himself further under the Chevy he’d been working on. He’d never forgive Steve for all that happened, he’d take responsibility for his side of things but Steve inflicted a kind of pain on you that he could read in your eyes every time he saw you. Though you hadn’t said much about Steve to him directly, the way you fixated on him and Eddie being ‘together’ dulled a certain light within you. How could Steve let it happen if he knew the outcome? The same could be asked of himself but he was concentrating on Steve right now. The best friend. The last person in the world you’d think to hurt you.

“Hey, Munson.”

At his feet stood the man in question. The one that he’d swear to never associate with again. Ignoring him wasn’t going to accomplish anything however he tried regardless.

“Munson.”

Figures.

“Get outta here, Harrington.” Eddie remained monotone, uninterested in any persistence Steve was forcing upon him.

“Please, I need-“

“Need what? Need me to get you off again? Get out.” It was said between clenched teeth, patience no longer a virtue. There was rage bubbling under the surface and if he wasn’t careful, it would boil over and create an even bigger mess. His conscience silenced his true inner monologue though that didn’t completely shut down his capabilities of biting back. It was just much more stifled.

“No—what? No, of course not.” Steve’s nerves were fried and Eddie could tell just by the shake in his voice. Fluorescent lights did him no favors, his usually radiant glow now dull in the stuffy garage.

“Then what, what are you doing in my bay?” A seething Eddie slides out from underneath the sedan, sitting up to glare at the king himself. “‘Cause I don’t have time for—whatever this is.” He gestures between himself and Steve, fingers covered in grease.

“Just—I—have you, have you talked to her?” Distraught. Steve has the audacity to come off as distraught. Eddie’s deep breath only furrows Steve’s brows, the vein in his neck straining as he focuses on the nearly irate mechanic before him.

“Listen.” Eddie’s coveralls are further tarnished with the oily substance from his hands as he wipes them on the rough navy material, frustration evident in the way his eyes squeeze shut for a mere second. “You two seem to think communicating through me is going to fix this whole thing but it’s not.” If he could run a hand down his face out of habit he would. Instead he offers another sigh, a disappointed one. “You need to talk to each other. You keep using the enemy as a pawn and it's just gonna blow up in your face.”

“Munson, you’re not the enemy–”

Steve attempts to make nice, tries to let Eddie know that he’s not what he claimed him to be all those times. Truth be told, Steve was always jealous.

“Don’t try pitying me, dude.”

It’s silent aside from the clanging of some tools a few bays down, the two staring at each other, one displaying an expression of warning while the other creases his forehead in some form of a plea. An unsaid call for help.

“I’m not, I’m not! I think we’ve both fucked up. Bad.” Way to go, Steve. That’ll really help your case. “Only difference is you fucked up in high school, we were all still kids.” His words are lost on Eddie, he can tell by the way he reaches back to release his unruly curls from the confines of a bun, his head shaking around like a shaggy dog. “I fucked up now so there’s no–no excuse of ‘we were so young! I was dumb!’”

His excuse was that he’s selfish. That was really all there was to it, no bigger picture, no hidden meaning that might bring justice to his name. Steve was a horny guy and he in all honesty hadn’t considered the consequences of his actions. Not even after Robin just about tore him a new one after she found out about the first time. It’s like he’d forgotten all about the absolute heartbreak you went through, the fact that Eddie harbored a sore spot in your barely beating heart was miles away from his thought process. King Steve must not have been buried that deep beneath his surface after all, not long forgotten back in junior year like he’d thought. He was right here all along with the knife in his hand, unintentionally but still brutally stabbing you in the back. And in the aftermath he was forced to bathe in the product of his egocentric ways. No amount of self help books could remedy what seemed to be another broken heart, but even worse, platonically.

This wasn’t like when he and Nancy called it quits back in senior year. This was in a way, more gut wrenching and possibly pulled more tears from him than Nancy’s cutting but truthful words ever could. And that’s saying something. He shed a lot of tears that dreadful night but he’d go as far to say that he shed more the night you caught him hopping out of Eddie’s van. Repercussions slammed his very existence and all he could do was blame himself because you had done nothing wrong and yet he went and severed the very friendship of someone who stuck by him through every questionable thing he had done.

And it was all over someone he never had any feelings for in the first place. And over someone you did. At least at some point.

“Steve, I don’t have an excuse and you know it.” Eddie was aware that he sounded borderline pathetic but what else did he have to hide? His gaze lowered to his filthy boot, eyes as tired as his brain was before exhaling in defeat. “I still keep fucking up whether I mean it or not.” His pupils seemed to dilate in mourning, of what exactly, Steve couldn’t pinpoint. Then Eddie shook his head, resentment etched into his features as he ran his tongue behind his teeth before clicking it in displeasure. “Why are you even searching for an excuse? What we both did was shitty. But for you it might be even worse because while I was the ‘bad guy’ the whole time, you were still her best friend.”

Steve was well aware. He craved the bliss that came with being ignorant but that was no longer something he could allow himself to do.

“Yeah.” He breathes out, earnest eyes dropping to the scuffed floor below him.

“Yeah? That’s it? You need to like, go beg for mercy or some shit.”

Receiving advice from Eddie Munson was the last thing Steve ever thought he’d be doing and yet here he was. Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson was schooling him and suddenly everything felt so backwards. But maybe that’s how it needed to be in order for things to go back to how they were. For you to at least talk to him, if not to beg for your mercy then to apologize profusely before leaving his fate in your hands.

“I know, man.” A pitiful sigh escaped his lungs, too pitiful for Eddie’s liking.

The smell of fumes throughout the shop lingered in Steve’s nostrils which left him with a tinge of discomfort but nothing could prepare him for the way Eddie almost instantly stood to tower over him despite being around the same height. It was his demeanor that made him feel inferior. Dark eyes, deepening even more so from aggravation, lips contorted into a condemning scowl, fists clenched at his side, knuckles white.

“I don’t think you do, ‘cause why are you coming to me?” Flared nostrils declared a new vendetta against Steve.

“I-I…”

“Man up, Steve. Say whatever you’re trying to say to me, to her. I’m not the one who needs an apology.” It was fair enough. Steve wasn’t sure why he walked into that garage just minutes ago. Maybe it was because despite what everyone says, Eddie was fairly level headed. Maybe it’s because Steve needed someone stubborn to mentally beat some sense into him and Eddie was the only one he could think of to do it with no remorse.

With a noticeable gulp, Steve felt his eyes sting but didn’t dare let any tears surface. He was not throwing a pity party. “I don’t know how. She won’t even talk to me–I–every time I try–”

“That’s not my problem is it? ‘M just your boy toy, remember?”

Ouch.

Among the turmoil Steve had created, he failed to understand that Eddie could be just as affected. And what Eddie wouldn’t willingly reveal was that he was genuinely hurt. Because you were hurt. And because Steve seemed like the most oblivious idiot on the planet. Sure he had his words with you and he wasn’t proud of most of them but that was another beast. He had always been the opposing force, Steve was your right hand man the entire time. In all honesty, Eddie couldn’t care less about Steve using him for pleasure, he cared that he did it at your expense whether he bothered to know that or not the few times they met up. He knew he was just some guy so what was there to lose but Steve? Steve had a lot to lose.

“Eddie, you wanted it too.” Steve’s head shook in contemplation, longing for the right words but always finding the wrong ones.

“Yeah, well not anymore.”

Eddie’s harsh front faltered, exhausted as his shoulders slumped. Steve ran a nervous hand through his stupid big hair and for some reason it put Eddie on edge.

“Obviously.” Steve exhales, nodding before his eyes give away that he was lost in thought.

“So why are you here?”

A valid question. A question that Steve was finding he didn’t want to answer. But he had to.

“Because–because I feel like I, I owe you an apology.” He babbled at first, humiliating himself further before finding his footing and grasping the words that he knew would ground him. Even if he didn’t like it, he knew this was the start of putting the pieces back together.

“Again, you’re talking to the wrong person–” Eddie appeared worn out, head tilted back and gaze fixed to the ceiling as he let out a self soothing breath before being interrupted.

“I’m sorry for trash talking you for as long as we’ve known each other and then using you.” He never thought he’d hear such words from Steve Harrington. Which made it all that much more awkward to respond to.

“Thanks?”

Eddie expects that to be the end of it, waits for Steve to press his lips into a straight line in the silence and then stride out the large bay door without another word but he doesn’t. And he kind of wants to kick his ass as more words begin to pour from his mouth.

“I know…I know she should be the first person I apologize to, and, and I’ve tried to but she’s not my biggest fan right now.” Boo hoo. That’s the only response Eddie can conjure up so he keeps his mouth shut. “And I guess, I feel like I can’t until I fix this first because Eddie…” Steve sucks in such a large breath that Eddie feels like he may have been on the verge of passing out. But he also senses it’s because all of this is very difficult for Steve to say aloud. Within the same breath, Steve releases the rest of the words he was clutching so tightly to in his chest. “She was so head over heels for you back then and I fucking spit on your name no matter how much she talked you up. And I know you ruined things on your own but I went and fucked things up on my own and I don’t know how I could’ve done it so easily knowing, knowing how much she liked you and then how much she was hurt by you. And then I went and did what I did, it just–it doesn’t make sense, I know.”

It’s quiet again. Neither man speaking, only looking at each other in anticipation. And after several moments of distant metal clanging against metal a few bays over, Eddie finally clears his throat.

“Harrington,” He starts, eyes flashing with the most intimidating fire you’d ever see. “You’re throwing the biggest pity party I’ve ever seen and if this is how you plan to apologize to her you should just give up now.”

The sentiment was cruel but beneath it was a plea of ‘get your shit together, please’. And god, he hopes Steve picks up on it.

“Yeah…yeah.” Steve’s eyes were glazed over, the thinnest sheen of tears coating them before he blinked them back, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

Eddie guesses Wayne is rubbing off on him because his next words come off more wise than cruel. An unexpected empathy resonated within him though he doesn’t fully believe it’s well deserved.

“What you need to do is just admit you messed up. No excuses. If she really matters to you, you don’t need to sit here and apologize to me and get all up in your feelings. You need to talk to her and if she doesn’t wanna listen…” He sighs, a sort of calm overtaking him. “Well, respect it.”

Steve seemed to ponder, the advice overwhelming him but still penetrating through his thick skull.

–

Steve👸: Hey

Steve👸: Can we talk?

Sox🧦 : No

Steve👸 : Five minutes. And then you’ll never have to hear from me again. Promise.

“Who are you texting?” Will leaned over to view your phone screen, ever the nosy boy. Quickly clicking the off button, you refrain from sharing any messy details of what happened between you and Steve. Sure he’d seen the initial smack down in the parking lot which you regret but he didn’t need to know anything more. Hell, he didn’t even know that Robin was out of your circle.

“No one, I was just checking something for one of my assignments.”

“Liar.” What you always forgot was how much of a bloodhound he was. Could sniff out anything that smells slightly off. It always caught you off guard although it only made you look like a fool since he did it time and time again. Throwing a surprise party for his sixteenth birthday was impossible with the way he was such a detective.

“Nuh uh!” You defended, placing your phone face down on the flour coated counter of the Byers kitchen, an egg taking its place in your hand as you cracked it against the off-white ceramic bowl.

“Yuh huh! Give me that–”

“Knock it off!” Waving Will off, you threaten in a simple gesture to let the slimy egg white and yolk ruin his newest Hellfire shirt, a special edition design created just by him. It was quite impressive actually, dragons symmetric on the front, breathing fire onto the logo overlaid with a skull and crossbones.

With a scoff, Will surrenders with his hands thrown up and eyes wide, amusement prominent across his face. “It’s Steve, I already saw it. So what are you trying to hide from me this time?”

“What–I’m not trying to hide anything.” You were just further certifying yourself as a liar, but you felt this one time it was for good reason.

“Then why can’t I see it?”

An intense stare burned into the side of your face as you attempted to resume your unfinished baking, barely even started but the kitchen showcased several dirty bowls, some housed in the sink piled high in soapy water while others were scattered across the laminate. Brownie batter, cookie dough, cake mix, the works. It would appear as if you were preparing for a bake sale if anyone were to walk in. But was just a Friday night turned into a full fledged baking frenzy on a whim. Which was much needed after a particularly stressful shift at The Under-Ground, it had been busier than most days, mostly because fall activities began to ensue. Hawkins’ famous hayride had started up for the season and dropped off several families in the square who only trickled into the shop for hot drinks and buttery yet sweet pastries. Screaming children were not something you were anticipating hearing all night but it made you appreciate the calm of closing up after, only the sounds of you dropping change into the register mixed with Eddie humming under his breath as he swept up graced your tired ears.

“Just leave it alone. Please?” An eggshell is tossed into the makeshift scraps bowl you’d set aside nearby, a bit too aggressively for comfort. A telltale sign that Will should not leave it alone.

“I’m not a baby. You don’t need to protect me from all the ugly shit that happens.” He was seventeen, still a baby to you. But the irritation was apparent in the way that he grabbed the bowl of brownie batter from the counter, glaring at it like it owed him money, however you knew the glare was meant for you. “I wanna be there for you like you’re there for me.”

Fuck. That just about ripped your heart in two. He was such a sweet kid, always wanting to do right by those he cared about. You bounced the idea back and forth, should you enlighten him or continue shielding him? Your decision was made for you when the words tumbled from your lips, your subconscious declaring that Will could forever be the baby of the group but he was growing up regardless and you couldn’t hold him to that standard for eternity. He would eventually have to face uncomfortable situations and hiding them from him completely might do more harm than good, he deserved to be in the know and to feel like an equal rather than some naive child.

“Okay. Um–yeah, it’s uh, it’s Steve…”

“And…?”

“He just wants to talk.”

Your wooden spoon scraped against the bowl, combining the dry and wet ingredients together, your concentration never leaving the forming batter. Red velvet. Will set down the brownie batter he had been inspecting, reaching for a glass dish and proceeding to butter it up generously, the oven already preheated behind him.

“You haven’t talked to him since…” He cocks a curious brow at you, momentarily looking up at you from his current task.

“No. No, I don’t even wanna see him.” Your admission is quiet, almost ashamed. “But, um, let’s just, let’s just finish this up.” The attempt to change the subject fails, the boy dropping his head down to catch your averted eyes.

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“No.” You tread carefully, ever so cautious of the fact that Will had the ability to catch the slightest hesitation in your tone.

“Really? Cause I smell bullshit.” Such a damn bloodhound.

“Why would I want to talk to him? Didn’t you see what happened?” Though it was a fair point, you knew you were being avoidant and that it wouldn’t necessarily help anything, only prolong the pain and the awkwardness that would come with finally speaking to him. It had been weeks which would already create a nasty film between the two of you, something grimy and difficult to just scrub away.

Will offers a sympathetic sigh, and unspoken ‘I know you’re hurting but isolating yourself is only going to hurt more’ and you’re fully aware that he knows that feeling all too well. “I did see and it was really bad. But you’re not even gonna hear what he has to say about it?” His gentle approach was appreciated though it was just the way you talked to each other about these things. No judgment, only the right questions.

“Will, you have no idea of some of the other things that happened years ago that make this so much worse than it already is.” You’d regret how whiny you sounded except he’d seen you at your most vulnerable before so it was nothing he hadn’t experienced before.

“Okay, then what do I not know?” The gooey chocolate batter is poured into the glass dish he had prepared, resembling how your feelings were about to ooze right out of your very being.

“I’m not getting into all that now.”

“No, you don’t get to do that!” He doesn’t sound unkind but not the friendliest either, slamming the now empty bowl on the counter. You had it coming, you suppose. “You’re visibly stressed out, even worse lately, I’m one of the only ones that notices and I’m not even allowed to know the full story?”

“Will.”

There’s no saying no to his expression, blue eyes blinking at you and brows raised in anticipation. There’s no trace of judgment, just curiosity and worry. And just as you’re about to dive in head first and reveal all that you tried to withhold, the ring of the doorbell shuts you up just as fast.

The digital numbers on the stove read 10:46 PM, an ungodly hour for anyone to be ringing someone’s doorbell which is why you and Will share the same puzzled look, eyes shifting from each other toward the front door just off the kitchen. Will doesn’t necessarily live in the most populated area so there’s reason to be concerned over a visitor at such late hours.

“You get it.” Will rushes out. “Nose goes!” A speedy finger touches the tip of his nose, your cheeks flushing in irritation as the doorbell chimes once more. “Go!” He whisper yells, gently pushing you toward the door. A scowl remains on your face as you take your time. Will would do anything for you. Except sacrifice himself to the serial killer knocking at his own front door apparently. You’d never cursed a door so harshly for not having a peephole.

Deep down, you knew it’d more than likely be someone like Jonathan. It was the logical explanation, he’d lost his key and since he didn’t live here anymore, now residing in an apartment closer to downtown with Nancy, he didn’t have the urgency to replace it. But Jonathan would usually be pounding on the door, announcing that it was him. Could it be Joyce? Doubtful. She always knew where everything was and keys were the most important out of everything you’d come to learn after she scolded Jonathan for not replacing his old key to the house just in case of an emergency. Maybe it was Lucas? He never screamed or announced his presence when showing up. Couldn’t be Dustin or Mike, they were too rowdy and would never wait this long before jiggling the handle and yelling that they knew Will was home and to ‘answer the damn door’. It could be El? But never Max. Max had a distinct knock, firm and heavy, no bullshit, never rang the doorbell. The build up was only making you more anxious by the second as you’d reached for the doorknob. You’d probably be the first one dead in a horror movie, you had no idea why you let Will force you to answer his door. Regardless, you ever so slightly twisted the knob and the door creaked open, only a sliver of the outside visible as you tried your best to peek around the crack. And before you could even begin to make out any figure awaiting entry on the porch, a large hand splayed across the wood and pushed it effortlessly, sending you stumbling back as the wind knocked out of you.

“Okay, Byers. Where’s my dice? And my game controller?”

Eddie.

He’d side stepped through the door, forcing his way in obviously only expecting Will but still not realizing you stood before him as he glanced around the house.

“C’mon you knew I’d be stopping by after work, little Byers. I’ve been looking for that controller for fucking weeks–”

You could pinpoint the moment realization hit him that he was mouthing off to you and not Will. His eyes seemed to almost soften. Pupils dilating so suddenly. And then he was speechless, mouth opening and closing but words never spilling out. Then it hit you that you probably looked ridiculous in the Mickey Mouse apron you had been strutting around in, various types of batter smeared on your cheeks and chin, maybe some on your nose too but you couldn’t remember. And god, you were wearing your fuzzy pajama pants littered with pumpkins and bats finished off with some fuzzy socks that were striped like candy corn.

Eddie had never wanted to fall to his knees for someone so badly in his life.

He’d never seen you like this before.

Tacky.

In the most adorable way.

“I–um, I was looking for–”

“Will?” You finish for him, desperately trying to pull our eyes away from him but finding it impossible. And then you realized what he was wearing which only spurred on your need to drink him in. A black Metallica shirt cropped just above his happy trail, sleeves cut off to display his tattooed arms and black sweats that hung just right on his hips complete with a pair of black converse on his feet. For a second you wondered how he wasn’t shivering. You could only hope that he wouldn’t notice your drooling, praying that the dim lighting would cast enough shadows over your face that any fondness you were displaying would be hidden.

“Y-yeah.” He swallows, fingers tangling in a few of his curls before resting back at his side, keys dangling in his other hand.

“Kitchen.” You mumble, pointing.

He nods, the silence taunting you both as you trail behind him into the kitchen. Will is already staring wide eyed as you enter, looking between you with something amusing behind his expression. And in that moment the awkwardness melts off of Eddie, his usual cocky self returning.

“Dice? Controller? Man, I told you I was gonna come by–”

“I forgot but I have both–”

“Oh, you forgot?” A mischievous grin overtakes Eddie’s face, Will playing along with it as they both brace their palms flat against the kitchen island, staring at each other instantly but with playful intention.

“Ed, don’t do this.” Will warns, unable to maintain a serious face, corners of his lips pulling despite his best efforts.

“Oh, I have to.”

Eddie fakes him out, body about to move to the right but instead quickly changing to the left to which Will screeches in mock fear, rushing to the other end of the kitchen. Any time Will goes to make a move, Eddie is seconds quicker than him. When Will tries to make his big escape he’s instantly caught in a chokehold, the metalhead’s arm secured around him as he ruffles his hair with a fist, the classic noogie. Will’s laughter is contagious, a few ‘stops’ littered throughout and you can’t help but join and giggle as you watch the scene play out before you.

“Dice?” Eddie halts his movements to ask, side eyeing the boy.

“On the desk–in–in my room.” He answers out of breath, clutching onto Eddie’s forearm.

Eddie continues his torture on Will, rough housing a little more before stopping once again.

“Controller?”

“Coffee table! Are we done?!”

“Nope.” A full on wrestling match takes place in the small confines of the kitchen, both boys stumbling around and bumping into cabinets.

It was weird. You knew Eddie and Will were pretty close but you’d never seen them like this and maybe it's because you refused to linger in a room long enough if Eddie was there. Now you didn’t really have the urge to leave. All you could do was watch. Eddie’s dramatics flared as he cackled in Will’s face, Will telling him to ‘shut the fuck up’ between gasps for air.

“Tap out.” Eddie demands.

“No!”

“Tap. Out.”

At some point you hadn’t even paid attention to the way Will hesitated in surrendering, you were too caught up in the way Eddie’s already cropped shirt rode up in the position he was in, his waist looking all too enticing, lower back on full display however you refrained from trailing your eyes up his spine.

Stop it.

“Okay, I tap out!” Will smacks his hand against Eddie’s forearm that was secured around him, instantly granted relief after saying the magic words.

“Eddie The Banished reigns supreme.” He pumps his fist in the air in triumph, face scrunched in victory.

You roll your eyes but in all honesty, it’s not out of pure annoyance just this once. It feels more like when a friend does something stupid and all you can feel is warmth flush through your body and your initial reaction comes naturally. Effortlessly.

“Okay, now get your precious things and go.” Will points at the door, sass overtaking every movement, the playful energy still buzzing between them.

A pang in your heart says don’t go. But you remain quiet as a mouse in the corner between the sink and the microwave. You don’t mean that. You try to bargain with yourself. Seeing him in this light does not excuse his past no matter how much of an ache you feel in your chest. The good kind.

“Okay, okay.” Eddie sighs, catching his breath, a grin still stretched across his face. “Hey, what the fuck happened here?” He stops in his tracks, gesturing to the atrocity that has become every surface of the kitchen. Batter and dough of all kinds smeared along the countertops, eggshells discarded along with balled up foil on Will’s side of the mess, and of course the towering bowls just about ready to tumble out of the sink, filled with suds, wooden spoons and whisks. And of course the bag of chocolate chips that had spilled, sprinkled across the surface, some even dismissed on the floor, there was even some kind of dough caked onto the handle of the fridge.

“We’re having a bake sale.” You break your prolonged silence from the corner, mouth upturned in almost a smirk but not quite, it’s more like you’re holding in a laugh. At the sound of your voice, Eddie’s head snaps in your direction, molten chocolate eyes landing on you in such a way that has your breath hitching.

“A bake sale?” He questions, doubt written across his handsome features, his tone hinting at the fact that he knows you’re bullshitting him.

“Mhm.”

“Aren’t you like–aren’t you bad at baking?”

How does he know that?

Will’s eyes widen and he sucks in the most subtle breath. That’s how.

“Can’t I be bad at something but also still try?” You argue.

“I dunno, can you?” It’s almost mean, almost. But it doesn’t feel the same as when he’s usually ridiculing you. The dimple peeking out at you provides evidence of an opposite intention. He’s teasing but not to be a dick, unless you were reading him wrong. And there was very little chance that you were since the past few weeks at work, he had almost left you alone all together save for a few questions here and there and maybe a few bad jokes. But other than that he was solely a coworker who you held no personal ties to.

“Well that’s how you learn. You keep trying until you get it. So far nothing has burned and the batter tastes good–try it.” You don’t know what you’re trying to prove but your body had already been on autopilot, it’s sole mission to keep him from leaving. A wooden spoon coated in red velvet cake batter is offered to him, you twirling it to keep it from dripping everywhere. Eddie glances from you to the spoon a few times rather quickly, almost as if he’s waiting for you to psych him out and tell him to go to hell. In a way he wishes you would just so he knows he isn’t dreaming. He makes his way around the island, standing next to you, not too close but just close enough that he can steal the spoon from you, his tongue licking up the back of it. The sight is strangely erotic.

“Not bad.” He hums, continuing until the spoon is halfway clean. You want to mention that he’ll risk getting sick from eating too much, raw eggs aren’t exactly ideal to eat even if disguised as a delicious batter, but that would show that you care. Which you don’t.

“What am I missing?” Will addresses the elephant in the room, containing a smile that might be too big for his face if he were to let it take over.

“What?” You ask, head tilted in a way that has Eddie’s eyes lingering for a moment before turning his head and copying your actions, tongue still committed to the spoon, licking up every ounce of sweetness.

“Are we–did we–end up in a parallel universe? Why aren’t you threatening to kick his ass?” He points an accusatory finger at you. “And why aren’t you making snarky comments?” He points to Eddie who is still too busy licking any remnants of the mixture.

All you can offer is a casual shrug before snatching the utensil right from Eddie’s hand, tossing it into the overflowing sink. “I’ll kick your ass if you were even going to think about double dipping that spoon in my bowl.” You warn, a touch mean. “There, are you happy?” You look to Will for approval, skepticism still painted all over his face, his arms crossed in uncertainty.

“I wasn’t done.” Eddie frowns, ignoring your threat to instead dip a daring finger into the bowl of artificial red.

“Hey!” Both you and Will begin to reprimand him.

“Just one more–” He doesn’t finish his thought as you grab the bowl, holding it behind your back.

“Say I’m good at baking. Both of you.”

Eddie and Will look to each other in perplexity. Will can’t comprehend the sudden playfulness you have for both him and Eddie. Usually this would end up in an argument, one saying something a bit too offensive for the other’s taste and from there it would spiral. Instead neither party is engaged in conflict but rather play and it’s not unwelcome, just…weird.

“Excuse you?” Eddie takes the bait.

“The two of you seem to talk trash about my baking skills behind my back but I didn’t see you complaining two seconds ago while you salivated all over the spoon.”

You only receive a scoff in response, Eddie crossing his arms as if to appear more intimidating. He only looks more like a misunderstood teddy bear.

“Say it.”

“Anyone can make cake out of a box.” He retaliates, Will releasing a small gasp as he hides his smile under his hand.

“Oh, okay. I’d love to see you out of all people bake a cake.” You challenge him.

“This is more like it.” Will mumbles, though he knows this is not at all the usual bickering that happens between you.

“Oh, you want me to out-Betty Crocker you?” Eddie threatens.

“You can try.” You shrug, setting your bowl back onto the counter.

“No, no. I will.”

“Guys it’s literally cake from a box.” Will intervenes.

And so started the greatest bake off the Byers’ kitchen has ever seen.

–

“Okay, wait. I have a grievance with this competition.” Eddie speaks up, abandoning an uncracked egg on the countertop only for it to roll off and crack at his feet. “Damn.”

“What’s the matter now?” Will asks in mock annoyance. Every other minute Eddie had a near microscopic complaint but it only entertained you. Curses at wrong measurements, that his bowl wasn’t as pretty as the others, or that he wanted the whisk Will was using.

“Why don’t I get matching pants?”

You glance down at your Halloween themed pajama pants and then to Will’s. They were a steal at Target and you couldn’t resist, knowing Will would love them as much as you did. That, and every year you bought a matching pair for both fall and christmas. You can’t help but feel a huge smile pull at your lips, the sight of Eddie pouting with his hands on his hips is all too endearing.

“For one, you weren’t even invited to this sleepover.” You sass, pouring your newly mixed chocolate cake batter into its pan. “And two, this is our thing.” You gesture between you and Will standing a few feet next to you, Eddie directly across the island sporting an even bigger frown.

“Yeah, you kinda crashed our party.” Will adds, snickering with you.

“Wow. I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that and instead you pledged your undying loyalty to me.” Always a drama queen. “Whoa–wait, wait! How are you already done I haven’t even–” He quickly realizes you’re already setting your masterpiece in the oven while his bowl still contains both dry and wet ingredients, unmixed.

“Guess we can already tell who’s gonna ‘out-Betty Crocker’ who.” You smirk.

“Oh, hell no.” He mutters under his breath, suddenly focused on mixing.

While Eddie just about buries his head in the bowl, Will graces you with a look. A knowing look. You claim innocence with a lift of your brow but you both know. You’re just too ignorant right now to acknowledge it.

–

Seeing Eddie Munson dancing and screaming to Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift was something you could never even fathom and yet here he was. Unapologetically singing every word and putting on one giant show with Will, singing into random kitchen utensils while the speaker blared the song. He knew every word. You didn’t dare interrupt the choreography they had come up with on the spot, watching from your comfortable perch on the stool at the counter.

Will sounded like a dying animal and it occasionally had you reaching up to cover your ears but your smile never faltered. And Eddie was unstoppable. He didn’t sound that bad though he was shouting along with Will at the top of his lungs so you figure if he actually tried he would sound angelic. Once the song reaches the bridge you can’t help but drown in your own laughter, both of them strutting in between where the living room meets the kitchen as if it were their own personal runway.

Your eyes open, nearly crying only to find Eddie just feet away extending his ‘microphone’ to you with a raised brow and a cocky grin. Your immediate reaction is to shake your head, your nerves instantly on edge at the mere idea of holding any kind of attention.

“C’mon, you’re gonna miss the bridge again!” Eddie waves you over in a rush. You don’t budge, a flash of worry washing over you and it seems that it was written all over your face. “C’mon Roadkill, don’t make us finish off without ya.” He half jokes, Will still screeching like a banshee behind him. “Do it for little Byers.” He cocks his head toward the boy, pleading eyes begging you to change your mind.

Slowly, you emerge from your comfy perch, snatching up your own ‘microphone’ with a bashful gleam in your eyes. Just in time for the bridge again, you strut toward Will who excitedly starts jumping and nodding at your participation.

“I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you!” You yell in each other’s faces, wheezing as you continue dancing–if you could even call it dancing. Your confidence skyrocketed. Turning toward Eddie, you sing to each other the last line of the bridge.

“And I screamed for whatever it’s worth, I love you ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard!”

Chests heaving and mouths hung open, his eyes swallow you whole, dark honey slowly pulling you under. Your first instinct is that you should run but he feels too much like home to ever willingly leave. If it’s so wrong, why does it feel so right to stare into pools of deep amber?

~end~

Author's Note: okay if you're reading this TY SO MUCH. The scene where reader is kinda admiring eddie at work, i had 1 step forward 3 steps back by olivia rodrigo playing along with it for me and rather than something super sad, it's kind of the opposite in this case as theyre coming out of their angsty era so if you just listen to that and imagine her admiring him with a little content smile on his face as he works it makes me want to SCREAM lmk if it does the same for you ok BYE <3

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tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi @batkin028 @obscureenigmatic @micheledawn1975 @dreamerjj @hideoutside @hellfirefiend @emilyslutface @rustboxstarr @3rd-conchord @eddiessteady @lightcommastix @kittydeadbones @shadows-echoes @str4ngerthingsslut @winchester-angel @elegantkoalapaper

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson series #stranger things fic #st fic

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sunshine-for-serotonin · 1 year

Note

Can I get Headcannons of Erik with a voice kink, auralism, or scent kink please, Mlle. Sunshine? Thank youuuuu!!!

Why not all three? This is cannon now in my opinion-

Warnings: yandere Erik, stalking, male masturbation, desperate Erik, clothes stealing, general kinkiness, unestablished relationship shenanigans, Erik’s mommy kink makes a brief appearance, I think that’s it

VOICE KINK

Let’s start off with the voice kink aspect, shall we?

Erik loves your voice no matter what! It’s so uniquely you, he finds it addictive to listen to you talk about anything and everything.

Come up behind him and speak into his ear. Watch Erik squirm, trying not to give away the fact you turned him on and how his pants feel unbearably tight.

He’s embarrassed to admit that even just you saying “yes?” In a certain way is enough to make him needy for you.

Call yourself mommy for any reason and he’s coming undone, the poor man can’t handle how sultry your voice is and you’re just feeding into his fantasies at this point.

You could literally just read a dictionary out loud and Erik’s curled up with you mentally ranting about how much he loves you and your voice while looking up at you like you hung the stars.

We already know Erik likes pet names, but have I ever told you his reaction when you first called him sugar in a teasing tone? No? Ok-

I N S T A N T T U R N O N

Erik had to excuse himself saying he forgot something somewhere and that it may take him a few minutes to find it. His actual reason? He had a raging boner.

Erik locked himself in his chambers and started pumping himself like his life depended on it, the sound of your voice overwhelmingly seductive in Erik’s mind. Biting down on his hand to keep gasps and moans from escaping his mouth, rhythmic wet sounds filled the room as precum was smeared up and down Erik’s cock, only halting as your voice echoed through his door.

“Erik, sugar, are you ok?”

Oh God- Erik knew continuing while you were right outside the door was risky at best, but he couldn’t deny the throbbing heat in his cock as you called for him so sweetly.

“O-Oui, yes, I am w-well!”

Slowly, Erik resumed making twisting strokes around his dick, doing his best to muffle any sounds he made and swiping his thumb across the slit of his tip every so often as his climax started to build once more.

“Are you so sure, sugar? I can help you if you need it.”

Erik knew you weren’t talking about his current ‘situation’, but God- did he wish you were. Your voice sounded so alluring when you called him sugar, and Erik wanted nothing more than to let you in and let you do with him whatever you pleased.

Letting out a shaky reply, Erik listened as your footsteps faded from his door before going absolutely feral, shoving his fingers into his mouth to suck on and once again stroking himself rapidly.

So yeah- Erik really, really, likes your voice, and that’s just one of an uncountable number of times he’s cum to the sound of you. AURALISM

Auralism is next!!! WARNING: Erik watches you having solo sexy time without your knowledge!

Erik honestly discovered this kink by accident. He was really missing you, but when he had asked you to come visit him you politely yet firmly told Erik to wait about an hour.

Erik is nothing if not impatient when it comes to his time with you, he needs to be with you during his every waking moment, even if you’re not aware of it.

Erik watched from the shadows as you stole away to your room, your fingers massaging your neck to try and relieve some of the pain in the stiff muscles, something Erik would be more than happy to do for you if given the chance, he thought to himself.

From his passage way inside your rooms mirror, Erik let out a gasp and his face turned red as you began to strip before him.

While Erik was thankful for the view you were giving him, he was puzzled. You had been wearing clothes that were fine for visiting in and it certainly wouldn’t have taken you an hour to put on new ones, but the realization hit him like the sky fell on him as you laid your nude form onto your bed.

Oh. Oh. Erik was all too aware that his pulse was dangerously high and that his blood was violently thrumming beneath the surface of his skin further down, begging for him too touch himself.

His eyes were glued to your frame as Erik took himself out of his pants doing his best to be quiet and avoid your detection, only for you to get up and blow out most of the candles in your room.

Erik felt like he was on the verge of a meltdown as darkness obscured his vision of you, that was until he realized how much better he could hear you.

Every little breath sent shivers down Erik’s body, and you hadn’t even truly started touching yourself yet. He could hear you lay back on your bed as Erik’s hand instinctively traveled lower, a small whimper leaving his throat as he traced his tip with featherlight touches.

And then it started. Erik listened as your hand traced the curves of your body, the sound of your skin igniting all the erectile tissue in Erik’s body.

He felt his eyes flutter closed as he gripped himself fully and bit his lip, slowly moving his hand up and down with the image of you in his head.

If the sound of you tracing your skin was having such a profound effect on Erik, the sound of you beginning to gasp and moan was nothing other than heavenly. Desperately slapping a hand over his mouth Erik started to time his hand in sync with every vocalization you made, fantasizing that it was him making you feel so good.

Focusing his hearing even more if possible, Erik picked up on the final noise he needed to push him over the edge. Goosebumps rose on his skin and he flushed further as Erik picked up on the wet, lewd, sounds of you fingering yourself.

A chorus of ‘ah!’s And ‘mhmm!’s were muffled behind Erik’s palm as his orgasm rocked his body, tears leaving his eyes at the sheer amount of pleasure.

Embarrassed and ashamed after, but now he’s figured out that your sounds take his pleasure to another level, so this will not be just a one time experience.

Eriks favorite sound is definitely a tie between your moans and any wet noise you make.

SCENT KINK

Oh boy-

Erik is admittedly gross with the extent he enjoys your scent.

To the point where he has to keep a pair of your dirty underwear on him or he gets anxious because he can’t smell you.

Erik steals your perfume, clothes, pillows, even things like your hairbrush, just so he can enjoy himself and assuage his negative emotions when they get too volatile.

He gets off while holding your underwear to his face ninety-five percent of the time, and he will wear your clothes no matter how badly they fit him.

Because of how often he masturbates with things that smell like you, Erik actually begins to develop a bit of a Pavlov response. What I mean by that is now whenever he catches your scent, he gets aroused. On that note, since most of Erik ‘sessions’ have drawn out imagines of him eating you out, he starts to salivate and needs something to put in his mouth to hold him over.

Hold Erik over to what exactly? Hold him over until he’s alone and he can put your underwear in his mouth sucking like his life depends on it and his hips rolling into the air desperately seeking friction.

Is definitely one to sneak into your room when you aren’t around so he can bask in being surrounded by things that smell like you, letting out happy little hums all the while.

Stole your sheets one day and replaced them with his own, leaving a note to make you think that your room was just cleaned by management. Eriks on cloud nine, this does lead to him having frequent wet dreams about you, however. Not that he’s complaining-

———————————————————————————

@sloppyzengarden

Thats all for now darlings! Enjoy!!!

#Yandere Erik Destler #erik destler #erik destler smut #phantom of the opera #poto x reader #yandere poto #fem darling #phantom of the opera smut

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dragonsarecool · 11 days

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June of Doom Day 11 - Collapse

A/N: Seven days' worth of adrenaline finally wears off. A short, alternate ending to Part I.

His jaw fell open. "…You're alive!"

Am I hallucinating?!

Come to think of it, was his heart always pumping this hard?

Blinking to clear his vision, Marty crudely wiped the sweat and tears from his face. He had to force his brain to construct a coherent sentence, for it was practically buzzing with questions. "But…how?! I-I never got the chance to tell you!"

He's really here…? He listened to me?

Marty watched on in fascination as Doc produced a familiar, yellowed letter from the inside of his suit, passing it to him with a smile. Still not trusting his brain, he hurriedly unfolded the paper, his eyes widening even further as he read through a very familiar plea. "…What about all that talk…about the s-space time continuum? S-Screwing…up?…Up…"

His field of vision suddenly shrank, a hot sweat breaking out on his forehead.

A sense of horror came over him as he heard himself audibly slurring, but for some reason his lips wouldn't respond. He tried to massage his jaw, only for his arms to stop cooperating as well. But I haven't had anything to drink! Alcoholic or not!

Part of his brain was screaming at him; that something was horribly wrong and he needed to be concerned.

So why wasn't he scared?

Geez, am I having a stroke?!

Half of his brain was frightened.

But the other half was too tired to give a damn. I just…wanna…sleep…

And having been finally satisfied that Doc was indeed still among the living, he welcomed that feeling with open arms. I need a vacation after all this.

The world was moving in slow motion as he vaguely registered Doc's face morphing into concern, his lips moving soundlessly as he began to stretch his arm out towards him.

One of his knees cracked loudly as it suddenly buckled.

His body felt like lead.

Why is the ground rushing at-

****

Owww….

His head hurt.

It felt like the individual cells in his brain were screaming.

I'm getting tired of waking up like this.

Attempting to pry his eyelids open was like breaking through superglue. He'd barely moved an inch before his body loudly protested, the brief surge of wakefulness rapidly vanishing. Just…wanna…sleep…

This is nice…

"…rty?"

He thought someone was talking to him, but he couldn't hear much over the powerful roar as blood pounded through his ears.

"Marty?"

Shut up, I'm tryin' to sleep here!

He vaguely heard himself groan as he shifted his position. His limbs felt stiffer than concrete, and he found himself struggling to lift a hand to pat the furry creature sitting-

Furry?

What the hell?

He realised his face was not just cold, but also wet. Something was loudly slobbering in his ear, their drool barely touching the top of his skin. Einstein?

Oh my God!

Doc!

Marty's body seemed to snap into autopilot. His eyes flew open as he bolted upright, flinging himself halfway to a standing position before someone forced him back down. It's the terrorists holy shit they've kidnapped us and I'm gonna die and Doc is still dead why I tried-

"Marty!"

Everything front of him was moving too fast for his fatigued eyes to process. A white blob faded in and out of his vision, and he barely heard the frightened squeak from his throat. I'm dying! I must be dying! Or dead already!

"Marty, relax! It's me! It's Doc!"

No, I can't be dead, 'cause Doc's not dead.

Right?

Hands were gripping his shoulders, yet he still couldn't see who was holding him. He felt his body falling sideways again, his head colliding with a pillow of some sort.

"It's me!" The scientist reiterated. "I mean, of course you know it's me, I-I mean I'm the real Doc! The one from 1985!"

The young man fought to gain control his rapid breathing, quickly losing the sudden burst of energy as he flopped back into the couch beneath him. So I'm not dreaming then? He's alive?

"It's alright Marty, we're home. I mean, we're back at my place," Doc explained hurriedly, the shadows under his eyes now a prominent feature. He was still dressed in his radiation suit, and it didn't escape Marty's attention that there were a few more holes in the outfit than he would've expected. "You're safe and I'm safe, Marty."

Marty couldn't catch his breath. The room was beginning to tilt violently, and it wasn't until his head slammed back into the pillow that he realised he'd fallen over. Blood pounded behind his eyes and roared powerfully in his ears, his body trembling uncontrollably. I must be dying.

He didn't remember saying anything, but Doc had rushed to his side while shushing him gently. "It's alright, Marty. Your body is just reacting to the amount of stress you've been under," Doc delicately brushed Marty's sweaty hair away from his line of sight. "I know it's a scary thing to experience and it won't last forever, but you need to do your best to relax."

Relax? Marty knew he couldn't muster the power or breath to speak, but he hoped Doc got the message through his panicked expression. Relax, Doc?! How the hell am I supposed to do that right now? I can't even breathe properly, dammit!

This time he knew he hadn't spoken aloud, but Doc still seemed to know exactly what he'd thought. "I am alive and well, Marty. Einstein is here too, and I think he'll be a good 'cuddle buddy' for you right now."

No no no, Doc! I gotta make sure! T-They could've followed us home or-

Marty was drawn from his hyperventilating state by a familiar canine nuzzling his head into his neck, with Einstein jumping on top of his trembling body. He could feel the loyal dog's heartbeat as Einstein licked his face lovingly. His fingers began entwined within fur, his breathing slowing as he slowly started to regain control of himself.

How the hell can a dog have healing powers like this? All he did was sit on me!

Not that I'm complaining, though…It's so good to see you again, Einy.

When was I this sleepy again?…

He thought he heard Doc chuckle. "Sleep well, future boy."

Future boy…

Yeah, that's me.

More like tired boy right now, though.

#bttf #back to the future #fanfiction #whump #june of doom 2024 #juneofdoom

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balshumetsbaragouin · 4 months

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Chapter Three has been released! I'm looking forward to getting to hang out with you all on this journey through Hybrid. In this chapter, Danny gets a chance to talk to Vlad and the two attempt to come to an accord...

Still not sure if you want to read this story? Have a preview of this chapter below the cut!:

“I believe I’ve been captured. It’s the same reason you’re here, Phantom. ”

“You don’t understand. You can’t be in here.”

“I’d prefer if I wasn’t as well, but if wishes were—”

“No, you asshole, I mean if you’re in here, who’s going to break me out?” Danny floated a little closer, drawn in by a combination of his frustration and the chill of another ghost.

“Should you say something like that where they can hear?” Vlad replied.

“They don’t have audio in here,” Danny pointed up at the ceiling where the camera probably lived, “just video.”

“You’re certain?”

“They haven’t responded to a thing I’ve said in here yet,” Danny said.

“Small blessing. As for escape, I have a plan for that.” Vlad’s smile hadn’t gotten less infuriating in the time he’d been trapped in this hellhole. “All you have to do is work with me, and we’ll be out of here in no time.”

“I’m supposed to believe that? What? We’re escaping with the power of friendship?” He unclenched his jaw, and worked it slowly side to side. The injection had reopened fractures as well.

“It’s far easier to escape together than separately.”

“And you’ll help me out of the goodness of your rancid little heart.”

“You’re testy, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been trapped in The Oven for the last two weeks!”

“You’ve been missing three.”

“That’s not my point! How am I supposed to trust your plan is going to get us both out of here, instead of just covering your own ass so you can use me to escape?” The answering glare on Vlad’s face didn’t make up for the last few weeks of torture, but it did boost his spirits.

“I didn’t suffer the indignities of being transported in a cage and mocked the last few hours just to hear you doubt me, you little brat.” Vlad took a couple deep breaths, rolled the shoulder opposite the one with the injury, and rubbed at his temples. “They are pumping something into the air.”

“Yeah, some kind of suppressant.”

“It’s...clouding my thoughts, and degrading my temper.”

“You don’t seem any worse than usual.”

“Well, I feel worse. Irrational, aggravated, and not just because you’re being obnoxious.”

#Danny Phantom #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #DP #DP Fanfic #Hybrid Affiinity #HA #Balshumet's Baragouin #Chapter Three

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awkwardchick87 · 2 years

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Chifuyu figured Kazutora needed to get laid after jail, Kazutora wasn't about to say no! Good thing you're such a good girlfriend.

NSFW! Minors DNI

Afab reader x Kazutora, established relationship, smut, oral (m receiving) masturbating,

an- I really don't write very often as I feel like I am awful at it, but I had the worst Kazutora brainrot and this needed to come out!

"Oh f-fuck" you stutter, looking towards your boyfriend. His green eyes haven't left your body since you started. The man below you has a tight grip on your hips as he practically slams you down on his cock. "F-fuyu, please" and his eyes snap up to yours,

"Not me baby, I'm not the one you're riding right now. Ask Kazutora" Chifuyu calmly said to you from the chair in the corner of the room. He was busy palming his length through his jogging pants, watching as Kazutora fucked you.

This was Kazutoras gift after getting out of prison. Chifuyu knew he wanted to get laid, and there was no one better, in Chifuyu's mind, then you. When he first picked him up at the gates of of the prison, Kazutora was confused. Chifuyu had mentioned letting his first time be with his girlfriend, but Kazutora thought it was a joke. Yet here you were, in the backseat of Chifuyu's car, one hand draped over the passenger seat, rubbing his chest, trying to ease him into the situation that was about to unfold.

Kazutora had zero experience with women. He only knew what he had seen while watching in porn, or reading dirty magazines. So the chance to have sex with someone, and he had to put in no effort to convince them to sleep with him, no risk of being judged for being a virgin, he was so excited, he could barely sit still.

Once you had arrived at yours and Chifuyu's shared apartment, you could feel Kazutora get nervous. "Tora, if this is to much for you, we can always -"

"No!" Kazutora exclaimed, "No please, I want to do this. I NEED to do this" he wiped his palm down his face, taking a deep breath, as he sat on the couch.

You started to undress, Chifuyu taking a seat across the room, and Kazutora couldn't take his eyes off you. Licking his lips as you walked towards him in only your bra and panties. You gently pushed his chest back, so he was leaning into the back of the couch and got to your knees. Slowly unzipping his jeans with one hand while the other was rubbing his thigh, trying to relax him further. Once you got his jeans undone, you urged him to lift his hips so you could pull them off him. The outline of his cock was intimidating. It looked like he was thick, thicker then Chifuyu, but not as long.

You started pressing open mouth kissing up his clothed shaft, earning a hiss from the man. Sandy eyes not moving, watching your lips. His hands reached behind him and swiftly pulled his shirt over his head. Impatiently, he grabbed your hair, not to rough, but enough to pull you from what you were enjoying. "Please" he whispered, needy for you to just take his cock into your mouth.

You looked up at him through your lashes and tugged his boxers down, his cock sprung out and slapped against his abdomen. Your eyed widened, now that you could see how thick he was, without the barrier. Wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, you slowly pumped, causing him to suck in a breath. "Shit! That's, that's fucking so good" moaning and tightening his grip on your hair.

You smiled up at him and with a glance towards Chifuyu, his lips curved up slightly, took the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip and taking more of him into your mouth. Wasting no time, you hollowed your cheeks and bobbed your head faster, taking him as far as you could, and pushing a little further, gagging on his length. You could hear his breathing become ragged as he tried to control himself. He didn't want to cum to fast, but he felt like you were trying to test his willpower. He let you bob your head a few more times and pulled you off his length with a loud pop. Drool dribbling down your chin, "As much as I want to cum down your throat, I really didn't come here to get my first blowjob" he said with an air of confidence you weren't expecting.

Standing up, you crawled onto his lap, "Tora, you need to prep me at least a little bit" you giggled. You reached for his wrist as you guide his middle finger up your slit, collecting the slick that had gathered. Kazutora let a low growl escape as he started to move his fingers up and down your folds, earning a gasp when he grazed your clit.

He smirked to himself and flicked his thumb across your clit, "Found it, you want me to make you cum pretty girl?"

All you could manage was a nod as your hips started to rock against his fingers, encouraging him to slip them inside. "Don't tease her to much Kazu, or she'll get bratty" Chifuyu chided from his seat.

"Hmm, that almost sounds fun" Kazutora said as he plunged his middle and ring finger into you, down to the knuckle as his other hand wrapped around your waist to keep you in place.

Crying out, your whole body spasmed, eyes squeezing shut, bucking your hips against Kazutoras hand as you came around his fingers. His eyes widened, not expecting this strong of a reaction, but quickly hos lids narrowed as he pumped his fingers letting you ride out your orgasm.

Chifuyu was smiling from across the room. Watching you cum from another man was a lot more sexy then he had ever thought and he was considering asking you to do this again, even if you weren't through the first time.

Coming down from your high, you opened your eyes and looked over at Chifuyu, who waved his hand through the air, pointing towards Kazutoras cock, still hard with precum dripping down the shaft.

"Were not done yet pretty girl" Kazutora moaned as he lowered you down his length. You knew his cock was thick, and the feeling of being stretched was sending shivers down your spine.

"So big" you gasped "fuck it's s'good"

Once he bottomed out, Kazutora gave you a few minutes to adjust, as he resisted the urge to fuck up into you. Your pussy was so much better than his hand. He knew it would be, but he didn't think he could ever go back to fucking his fist after feeling how warm and wet pussy is.

Soon, you experimented with rolling your hips, causing the man under you to groan. "Shit, that feels fucking amazing. Fucking perfect" Kazutora slapped his hands down on your hips and raised you up, pulling you down hard.

"F-fuck" you stutter, "Fuyu, please"

"Not me baby, I'm not the one you're riding. Ask Kazutora" Chifuyu calmly said from across the room.

"Please, Tora, use me" gasping, you clawed at his biceps.

Kazutora growled, feeling his abs tightening as his orgasm was approaching.

"Rub her clit. You'll wanna feel her cum on your cock" Chifuyu advised from the side, now pumping his cock in his hand at the same speed Kazutora was fucking you.

Kazutora immediately reached a hand between your bodies and flicked his thumb across your clit quickly. Your body spasmed and he could feel your pussy clamp down even tighter on his cock. "So close Tora, m'so close, please don't stop" you babbled, repeating his name like a mantra.

"Shit yes, you are so fucking good baby. Fucking take it." Kazutora sped up and thrust harder into your sopping cunt. "Where do you want me to cum baby?"

"Inside! Please, I'm on the pill" crying out as you felt tears dot your lashes.

Kazutora glanced over to Chifuyu, looking for permission, and he got it in the form of a nod."Fuck yes baby, gonna fill you up." Kazutoras thrusts became sloppy and his thumb pressed down hard on your clit.

"O-oh shit, I'm fucking cumming" was the only warning you got as his hips met yours in one final, hard pump. His thighs shook as he emptied his balls into your cunt.

You squealed as you felt his hot seed coat your insides, shuddering as you came undone above him. He felt your walls clamp down even harder, milking his cock, overstimulating him, he quickly pulled you off him. You gasped at the loss of him inside you, now clenching and throbbing around nothing.

"Sorry pretty girl, but you were pushing me pretty far" he smirked.

"So, how was your first time in a pussy?" Chifuyu asked, hand coated in his own seed after watching you two.

Kazutora looked between you and Chifuyu, both smirking, you licking your lips, "Better than I ever imagined"

Chifuyu chuckled, "how about learning to eat it now? If my baby is up for it"

Your eyes lit up, nodding enthusiastically.

Chifuyu stood up from his seat, ridding himself of his clothes as he crossed the room, "Lay back baby, let me show him how to eat that pussy"

#kazutora x y/n smut #tokyo revengers smut #tr smut #kazutora smut #Kazutora Hanemiya smut #kazutora x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokrev smut

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bkdkficrecs · 2 years

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Fic rec is first, in case you don't want any spoilers and want to just dive right in. (Although I will try to keep review spoilers at a minimum.) Just note that it is incredibly angsty in the best way.

The Night We Met - @majjale | (4/4)

Kudos: 5,396 | Bookmarks: 2112 | Word Count: 37,299

Tags: Angst, Immortal Bakugou Katsuki, Reincarnating Midoriya Izuku, Katsuki's POV, Tragedy, i physically ache while writing this i hope you do while reading it

"You a poet?"

"Only for you."

two sincere wishes and the ramifications of them.

Review is under the cut!

________

So, where to begin?

I have to say that I am so impressed by @majjale. The Night We Met is hands down one of the greatest pieces of writing I have had the pleasure of reading. If you're an angst-lover, then look no further. This fic is from 2018 (and completed), so I can't even begin to explain how blessed I was to stumble upon it. Not only does the story revolve around the concept of reincarnation and what it means to live forever, but it is also written from the point of view of our very own Katsuki Bakugou. Talk about angst! Could this story be more enticing?

Yes, it can!

You might think you were just getting into this for the angst, but that's where you'd be wrong. You're lured in by the staunch sincerity of Izuku and aloof defeat of Katsuki only to be pinned by the concentrated joy that underscores the happier moments they share together. The author weaves comedic moments, chance meetings, and internal monologues into a bittersweet blanket. She segues between points in time in a way that makes each sentiment Katsuki and Izuku share that much more poignant.

A striking moment of angst comes while Katsuki is trying to reconcile his desire for peace and his desire for love,

Whatever this life wants in return for Izuku knowing him, even with the trials—father, fiancé, friends — is it something Katsuki is willing to give up? What would Katsuki part with to hold Izuku again?

He blames the steam from the faucet for the condensation around his eyes.

What wouldn’t he give?

And another arrives as a tearful confession,

"I want to be why you’re happy, not why you’re alive.”

In moments like these it becomes clear that The Night We Met is lathered in angst, but not the kind that hits you like a bus in a bad rom-com. This is the kind that envelops you slowly the way ivy snakes its arms around a tree. Then, when you finally reach the end - and especially after reading the one-shot epilogue, take me back - you are left astonished, breathless.

Each chapter's end brings with it a short, sweet author's note.

"take a deep breath. in, out. that's it. it's gonna be okay."

A gentle reminder you made it through. Lungs working, heart pumping, tears falling. You feel relief and joy and sorrow. So empty and yet so full all at once.

Even days on, fleeting moments that hinge upon a simple wish will give you pause. Spotting a shooting star or cracking a wishbone. Blowing that stray eyelash off of the back of your hand. This is the kind of feeling I chase in fiction. The feeling of feeling. And few authors I have encountered have managed it so skillfully as Majjale.

#The Night We Met #majjale #kacchan #deku #izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugo #bakudeku fic rec #my hero academia #bkdkficrecs #bkdk ao3 #bnha bkdk #bkdk #bakudeku #bkdk fanfic #reincarnated au #immortality #this fic is fuckin S-Tier yo please read it I'm obsessed.

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alexsfictionaddiction · 1 year

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The Women’s Prize for Fiction 2023 Winner is Announced!

It’s here -the winner of this year’s Women’s Prize for Fiction was announced last night and to be quite honest, I am delighted with the result! It was a very strong shortlist and I’m not sure how the judges decided between the vast majority of them but it is now over.

The winner is...

Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver!

I read this incredibly enchanting, immersive, special feat of literature in October without really knowing how I’d get along with it. I haven’t read David Copperfield and know very little about that story, so I didn’t know whether I’d really get everything that Kingsolver was trying to tell me in this novel. It’s also a pretty hefty book, so I won’t pretend that I wasn’t slightly intimidated by because of that too. I had multiple reasons to leave it on my TBR but on a cold autumnal night, something told me to just take the plunge and pick it up.

I can honestly say that I will never forget Demon as a character. His story is relentlessly bleak but his relationships with his friends bring a wealth of light into his life and the pages of the book. The setting of Lee County, Virginia and the horrors of the opoid crisis that ripple far beyond the addicts themselves are so vivid and I was completely captivated by Kingsolver’s wonderful prose and expert storytelling ability.

I’m pretty sure I said in each of my Women’s Prize posts this year that it was a clear winner for me and I’m so happy that the judges could see it for the amazing book that it is. It did win the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction this year too and I know there was some talk amongst Women’s Prize followers that its Pulitzer win could dampen its chances of winning the Women’s Prize too. Again, I’m overjoyed that it obviously didn’t come into the decision making!

Demon Copperhead’s win also makes Barbara Kingsolver the first ever woman to win the prize twice, having first won in 2010 with The Lacuna. I am yet to read any of her other books but I will be doing some research into them to try and find any that interest me. I ladored her writing in Demon, so I have no doubt that she’ll have some others that I love just as much.

If you haven’t picked up the very worthy winner of the Women’s Prize 2023, you simply have to because I’m pretty sure you’ll enjoy it. I know its size might look scary and the fact that it’s won more than one literary prize might even amplify its intimidation levels for some but it really is a beautiful, insightful, thought-provoking novel. You should know by now that I am not a big ‘high brow literature’ reader, so the fact that I loved it should tell you that it is very accessible for popular fiction readers who love character-driven, epic life stories.

I have to say that I am really sad that the Women’s Prize season is now over. It’s a time of year that my nerdy, bookish heart looks forward to all year and having pretty much completed the longlist for the first time this year (I’m about to complete the last one -yay!), I’m already getting pumped to do it all again!

Next year, there will be a non-fiction Women’s Prize running alongside the fiction one. Promoting women’s non-fiction is an amazing thing for them to be doing but I think I would have preferred them to run it at a different time of year. Having both of them at the same time could mean that one overshadows the other and that one of them (probably the new non-fiction one because fiction tends to have a wider readership anyway) will get lost. We don’t know the number of books that will be longlisted for the non-fiction prize yet but if it’s 16 like its fiction sister, that’s 32 books to read in around a three month period?! I will be waiting to see the longlist of both prizes before deciding exactly what I’m going to be reading from each or whether I just concentrate on one next year. I’d like to read at least some of the non-fiction list but I may end up being highly selective with it -we’ll see!

What do you think of the Women’s Prize winner this year? Have you read the fantastic Demon Copperhead? What are your thoughts on next year’s new Women’s Prize for Non-Fiction? Are you excited for it? Let me know!

Until next time, happy reading!

-Love, Alex x

#women's prize for fiction 2023 #women's prize for fiction #women's prize #winner announcement #demon copperheard #barbara kingsolver #books #bookworm

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yikesitskennawrites · 2 years

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The Archer- Taylor Swift

Transitions Series Masterlist

Breaking Down Songs

A/n: I am breaking down songs and lyrics that I feel like they fit or reminds me of Transitions. This way, you guy’s would be able to understand the protagonist and the series a little deeper than before.

To kick off the first analysis of a song that reminds me of Transitions is Taylor Swifts: The Archer. This song is in my top ten of favorite Taylor Swift songs. I have too many memories of driving in the winter and blasting this song on repeat while I got my depression drink from Starbucks (caramel frap with twelve pumps of caramel and extra caramel chips and whipped cream) and too many cake pops. The amount of off key singing I did to this song is amazing and quite embarrassing. I am doing better though so that's good.

The dogs are great thanks for asking. If you get that reference I will be so happy.

Anyways, the first lines of this song are:

“Combat, I'm ready for combat I say I don't want that, but what if I do?”

The reader and their anxiety to fight. They don’t want to cause Marc and Steven to push them away through their nosiness. But what if, the only way to get answers is to be nosey and force answers out of Marc, especially after the hell they been through since the boys disappearance.

“'Cause cruelty wins in the movies I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you”

The things the reader is never going to be able to say to their parents or to the moonboys throughout the series is mind-blowing and quite frankly sad. The reader has been alone for an entire year before Marc/Steven saved them, remember how much the reader has to think before speaking so they don’t fuck up their relationship with the boys in the beginning of the Transitions.

“Easy they come, easy they go”

The people in the readers lives leading up to the blip until the snap happened which is just like blinking for the people who were blipped. They didn’t know five years passed, they thought it was still 2019 until they found out it was 2023 through the date on their phone or their loved ones telling them. People left the readers lives because they thought they weren’t coming back. Readers aunt was married to some dude the reader has never heard of. Readers crush in sophomore year was engaged to the smartest girl in biology when the reader came back.

“I jump from the train, I ride off alone I never grew up, it's getting so old Help me hold onto you “

The protagonist rides the bus almost everyday and their alone while doing it, they did everything on their own after coming back from the blip. They had to grow up quickly to survive; but there are moments where the reader acts like kid because they are still a kid. So, when meeting the moonboys, they get that chance to still be a teenager even if they aren’t quite aware of it just yet in the series. Steven reading the Egyptology books to the reader and holding their hand when they need to be comforted. Building forts and watching movies, they get a slice of childhood and semi-normal back.

They don’t want to let go of Marc and Steven, the “normal” after a year of being alone. Finally having someone to be with even if it means being scared of a god, their avatar, and Harrows remaining cult members.

“I've been the archer I've been the prey Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?”

The reader has been the fighter/archer: pressing for information about Marc and Steven and their sketchy-ass past before realizing that its better that they let the boys open up to them on their own.

The reader has been the prey: Marc and Steven cornering them about their own past. The blue folder with all their relatives and life tucked neatly into a paper folder.

They don’t want to be alone, although they have thought about it because of their worry of getting close to someone. They may not recognize it yet, but they’re still grieving for their parents and old life, they are absolutely worried that the boys would leave them first whether that’s by ghosting the reader or straight up dying. So, the reader may consider going through with ghosting them or pushing them away.

The amount of confidence the reader has to pretend to have in order not to let themselves get hurt emotionally and physically is outstanding. The last thing that the reader wants is to get arrested and jailed back in America. This whole trial of the last year is basically “fake it till you make it.”

The reader fakes their age, only keeping their name in respect for their parents and as a fail-safe so they would react if somebody said their name. They pretended to be eighteen so nobody would blink twice at them.

The reader has been nearly keeping the Marc and Steven at arms length, really only letting them in when the moonboys find those cracks in the metaphorical door or forcing their way in through interrogation.

“Dark side, I search for your dark side But what if I'm alright, right, right, right here?”

Searching for ones dark side means searching for the parts of a person, a group, an activity, etc. that are unpleasant, evil, or harmful.

The reader not ghosting Steven and Marc despite their alter pressing a dagger into their throat and threating them to. They had a few days to leave leading up to Marc breaking into the readers apartment, they could have made up some lie to their work about their sick family member back in America and their need to move back there on such short notice; but in reality, straight up move to Brighton or some other place.

Of course, they stayed trying to figure out a different solution to their problem. Because, after days of thinking and finally coming to the question: what if they’re going to be safer with the moonboys rather than moving over several cities? They would be with a ex-mercenary and previous avatars of a Egyptian god. Although, they would be dealing with a alter who is still the gods avatar. Would they still be safe with them rather than moving to Brighton or Wales and being back on their own?

“And I cut off my nose just to spite my face Then I hate my reflection for years and years”

I had to Goggle search the definition of cut off one's nose to spite one's face: to do something that is meant to harm someone else but that also harms the person who does it

The unintentional harming the reader did towards their aunt and best friend back in New York. They ghosted their remaining family and old life, that had to hurt for the family members to be ghosted but assume the reader is dead despite a body not being found. Although the reader didn’t mean to harm their loved ones, they still did and in the process of ghosting, they are harming themselves.

“I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost The room is on fire, invisible smoke”

The absolute chokehold the readers anxiety has on them. They’re always between getting enough sleep or getting no sleep at all. And always find themselves crying from the stress and fear of being in Marcs and Stevens lives. They are struggling keeping their head above water so they don’t drown in the ocean of their own tears. They’re always anxious about something and it only got worse after being saved in the alley by Marc and Steven. The reader was saved but at what cost?

“And all of my heroes die all alone Help me hold onto you”

Although, Tony Stark didn’t die alone, he still died. So did Natasha and Steve Rogers. (Kind of: he retired and can’t fight anymore) The readers parents died in the aftermath of the blip, they were kind of like heroes. Y’know the typical “You’re my hero mom/dad.” So, of course the reader tries not getting attached to the moonboys but finds themselves attached through worrying for their strange disappearance and unanswered calls. They want to hold onto the boys despite their fears and they don’t want to let go. They need help holding on through the threat their alter made and the obvious dislike Khonshu has for the reader.

“Cause they see right through me They see right through me They see right through Can you see right through me? They see right through They see right through me I see right through me I see right through me”

Repetitive anxiety and breakdowns the reader goes through while carrying the weight of their grief. They need to be strong, they need to fake it until they make it, but it’s obvious that others can see them breaking down, right? Or are they too anxious and overthinking it that they just think others believe they are breaking down; but in reality, nobody notices?

“All the king's horses, all the king's men Couldn't put me together again”

The beginning of this lyric is a reference to the Humpty Dumpty nursery rhyme. As I stated before the reader is still a kid who is playing adult. So, this particular lyric is fitting and very sad. For a long time after the blip, between the beginning of the first year alone and right before meeting Marc and Steven, the reader was surviving and not living. The weight of their grief for everything hit them hard and they just didn’t get the chance to work through it properly. Now, that they kind of can slow down and work themselves out surviving, they can begin living.

“Cause all of my enemies started out friends Help me hold onto you”

This is the lyric that hit me the hardest since I listened to it the first time years ago. Before I looked up the lyrics I thought it said, “ cause all of my memories started out friends” not the actual lyrics: 'Cause all of my enemies started out friends." Either way, it still is like getting hit with a car.

So, with the lyrics I thought it was, it reminds me of the reader and their struggle with anxiety and everyone in their life being gone (parents/best friend/aunt/ no longer having childhood classmates be in your graduating class since they’re now twenty-one or twenty two and you’re still fifteen/sixteen). It’s kind of like the tipping point for the reader and their grief of being alone and losing the future that they once thought they had. The bravery the reader had to have while crossing the Atlantic ocean on their own and making a new life had to be astronomical or very small brain of them.

“I've been the archer I've been the prey Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay? (I see right through me, I see right through me) Who could stay? Who could stay? Who could stay? You could stay You could stay”

They don’t want to let go of the worst and best month of their life since they came back from the blip. They don’t want to lose Marc and Steven, the two men that had shown them kindness and actually cared for them even if it was through blackmailing them. The need to hold onto Marc and Steven. They just need it and want it. Even if they don’t know exactly how much they need it quite yet.

“Combat, I'm ready for combat.”

Is the reader ready to hold onto Marc and Steven? Yes, although they will second guess themselves multiple times due to their anxiety of everything the moonboys brought to their doorstep. They will do everything to fight for them; and hope that the boys will do the same.

---

The Archer is supposed to represent anxiety and Miss Swift captures it well not only in the lyrics but in the instruments. If you listen, you expect the beat to drop but it never does.

Feel free to send in any songs you think fit Transitions. :)

Want to be tagged for these breakdowns? Don’t be afraid to ask!

#moonknight #moonknight x teen!reader #moonknight series #marc spector x teen!reader #steven grant x teen!reader #Jake lockely x teen!reader #Layla el faouly x teen!reader #layla el faouly x you #jake lockely x you #steven grant x you #marc spector x you #khonshu x teen!reader #khonshu #reader #reader insert #x reader #transitions #breaking down

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ordinaryschmuck · 2 years

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Walt Disney Animated Pictures Studios from Worst to Best-Part Five: The GREATEST Films

Salutations, random people of the internet who certainly won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck! I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons!

Now we’re getting into it with this Walt Disney Animated Pictures Studios ranking! This time, we’re talking about the movies that are simply the greatest. The films that I’ll always be in the mood for, what with them being fun, creative, and, at times, simply beautiful. Not the best just yet, but these next few movies are far from being the worst. And we’re going through them by starting with a movie that I’m sure some of you are surprised that it’s ranked this high.

#20. Hercules-If you’re hoping for a grand, epic retelling of Greece’s greatest mythological hero…you’re not going to get it.

But if you’re looking for a cartoonish comedy with a decent amount of heart and some insanely catchy music, you’ll get that in spades.

There’s not much to say about Hercules other than that. It’s a fun movie, but it’s one that’s definitely not for everyone. I certainly had a blast, but I can understand why someone else wouldn’t. The stars just don’t line up for them.

#19. Tarzan-I feel like I can talk forever about what I like in Tarzan, and, really, there’s quite a bit.

Tarzan’s journey to discovering who he is and where he belongs is easy to sympathize with and is engaging to see him come to his own inclusion.

Jane is a decent love interest, who is bubbly and excited to learn about everything, while also getting a chuckle or two out of me when necessary.

Kala is up there as one of the best Disney moms, doing her darndest to support Tarzan, letting him know that he always has a place in the family, and especially a place in her heart.

Clayton is a decent villain, whose motivations are simple but his personality is what wins me over as this impatient meathead that clashes well with Tarzan. Also, he’s a contender for having one of the darkest moments in Disney’s history.

Speaking of dark, there’s some effective and tense peril in this film, with three exciting set pieces that gets the blood pumping as Tarzan tries to survive a predator, whether it’s a leopard or a Clayton.

I could go on forever, but I also don’t want this list to go on for too long. Besides, while there’s a lot to love with Tarzan, there are issues that hold it back.

Tantor’s blind hatred for Tarzan is pretty messed up. He bullies Tarzan from infancy to adulthood, never giving him a chance for no reason. If there was a scene that showed that he hated humans, I might understand, but as is, it’s harsh as hell.

Terk and Tantor are not as funny as I remember them. Honestly, I’m pretty sure they were funnier in the TV show. But here? Eeeeeeeeh, they have moments…or A moment.

Tarzan’s close proximity to Jane can get…creepy. Very creepy.

Not to mention that Jane’s conclusion in the end is pretty rushed, as it’s hard to believe that she’ll make it after the short time she’s spent with Tarzan.

And then there’s the Phil Collins songs. Whether you love ‘em or hate ‘em, you gotta admit that it would have hit harder to have the characters sing, not Phil Collins. Imagine if Tala sang “You’ll Be in My Heart” or if Tarzan sang “Strangers Like Me.” Wouldn’t that be more powerful, even if it was by a smidge?

Again, I could go on and on. And maybe I will one day. But to keep things brief, I’ll say that while Tarzan is far from perfect, the things that work well work enough where I’ll be willing to sit through what’s imperfect just to get to the good stuff. And, as I’ve said, there’s quite a bit of that.

#18. Atlantis: The Lost Empire-Stop me if you’ve heard this one: A heavily underrated Disney film that tries to be more mature and adult compared to the others. Sounds familiar, right? Well, this time, I can certainly say that it is one of the more effective attempts. The story is fairly simple as it’s an expedition that heads out to find the lost city of Atlantis, but the simplicity helps add to the main theme of preservation and how taking from lost civilizations for the “pursuit of knowledge” isn’t as noble as people think. Sure, there’s still a princess that needs saving and that kind of shows Disney’s true colors, but is that really worth complaining about? I mean, look at everything else this movie does right compared to that.

It has some incredible animation aided with a comic book-like art style that leads to some incredible shots and expressions. The character designs are also top-notch, saying everything you need to know about them just by the way that they look…though one might be a little offensive to a particular group. I’m not sure.

I AM sure, though, that the comedy that comes from these characters are pretty funny, with Vinny in particular getting the most laughs with his dry wit and line delivery. And as for character development, Milo’s is pretty solid, going from meek nerd to brave hero in a convincing manner. At least, to me he does.

If there’s anything worth complaining about, it’s the pacing, as the movie feels like it’s on fast-forward at times. Things go by so fast that there’s hardly time to breathe once we get to the main voyage.

“Also this movie is directed by Joss Weadon.”

Oh, right…he’s a piece of s**t and we hate him now…Yikes.

Still, if you’re willing to look past that (and maybe some racism?), you’re in for a fun time. Not a flawless adventure, but still pretty entertaining.

#17. Big Hero 6-I feel like the best way to look at this is to not see it as a Disney movie. Instead, it’s more like a mid-tear Marvel movie. It has an end credit scene, a Stan Lee cameo, and a solid mix of comedy and action, and all the makings that cause Marvel to be an easy box-office smash…Unless you’re Morbius.

Though, the fact that this one is animated gives Big Hero 6 more of an edge. I always feel like animation is the best way to bring superheroes to life because, when animated, the larger than life powers can be explored to their fullest potential and the action can be much more grandiose. Whereas live action is limited to what an actual human can do and has to rely on CGI…which is just animation with a cooler name. So I do think that Big Hero 6’s animation helps it be better than even the most mediocre of Marvel movies just for the spectacle it’s medium is allowed to be. That and the characters, primarily Hiro and Baymax. The other characters are more about being supportive towards Hiro rather than having actual arcs, but their personalities are entertaining enough to offer a good time. But Hiro is the true star of the show, going through the motions to learn that there’s a right way to process grief than doing…what he tries to do. And Baymax steals the show, being equal parts funny and wholesome, crafting an endearing relationship with Hiro that genuinely tugged at the heartstrings at certain points.

Unfortunately, like most Marvel movies, the worst thing about it was the villain. I won’t give much away, but trust me when I say that everything wrong with this villain is summed up in “That was his mistake.” He at least looks cool, but…that’s about it. The villain doesn’t hurt the movie too much, but I feel like the reason why I’m saying that is because I’m a fan of both superheroes and animation, meaning that this film checks off all the best boxes for me. So, if my bias is showing, then I guess that’s my mistake. Still, I’d be willing to argue that Big Hero 6 is always going to be a fun time for me.

#16. The Emperor’s New Groove-If there’s one word that describes this movie perfectly, it’s, “iconic.” The jokes, the characters, and even the facial expressions all line up for a movie that NO ONE will be able to forget. I mean, this is the movie that gifted us with Kronk. KRONK! The funniest and most quotable character in all of fiction! Not just in Disney, but in fiction.

The Emperor’s New Groove might not be as grand as other Disney films, or even as epic as its original concept, but that’s a bit of an unfair judgment. Yes, there are some movies better than it, but The Emperor’s New Groove is still pretty great in a vacuum. Kuzco’s arc into becoming a better person is handled well, his friendship with Apa is endearing as it is believable, and Izma makes for a fun, if not insane, antagonist that adds to the whole package that is an entertaining film. It might not be the objective best, but it is pretty fun. And who am I to knock down a movie for being fun?

#15. Zootopia-Once upon a time, I would consider this movie to be in the top best Disney films, and for good reason. It has stellar animation that makes the characters seem 2D with a 3D coat of paint, some great comedy, and two characters with an entertaining dynamic and adorable relationship. And, on top of all that, Zootopia also tries to have a solid message about prejudice. Some say it’s a bit preachy, but to that I say, “LOOK AT THE WORLD WE LIVE IN!” A six-year-old African American boy got arrested for picking flowers off a man’s lawn while waiting at the bus stop! No s**t it’s preachy! We need this stuff hammered into our skulls if s**t like this happens!

(And that story is true, by the way. Look it up.)

As for something I do agree on, the predator and prey analogy can be a bit iffy. Predators, despite what the movie preaches, are biologically designed to eat and kill prey. That’s just nature. So to have predators be the representation of every minority ever while preys are the ones that take advantage of them can be..rough, to say the very least. I will say that I do appreciate that even the main character has prejudices of her own, and even tries to work through them, meaning that not everyone is absolved from this issue. So, while iffy, it does come from good intentions. I won’t say Zootopia is the perfect movie to talk about race and prejudice, but it’s at least enough to transition kids into the discussion. It could have been done better, but it also could have been done way worse.

(Remember that shock collar idea from the original plot? Yikes…)

#14. Pinocchio-Pinocchio has two jobs: Scare the crap out of kids and break the hearts of adults. If you missed your chance to be afraid of donkeys and whales as a kid, then you'll at least learn great sadness when you see characters like Pinocchio and Geppetto being in distress as you get older. Pleasure Island remains one of the darkest places Disney has ever created, with Monstro the whale being pretty threatening-looking. As for stuff like Pinocchio crying when in a bad situation or Geppetto being so worried about what happened to his son, it tears you up inside, I'll say that much. But aside from the solid emotional beats, Pinocchio also has a decent story. Pinocchio learning to be a real boy is handled well enough, making his reward feel earned after the hardships he went through and the bad choices he improved himself on. Maybe the movie tortured him a little too much, but, again, this movie has two jobs: breaking hearts and scaring kids.

(Don't smoke or drink, kids. Otherwise, you'll turn into a donkey and get sent into salt mines.)

#13. Cinderella-Cinderella is the movie I picture when I think of Disney. It's a charming retelling of a classic fairytale, fit with wonderful animation, beautiful singing, some pretty genuinely funny comedy, a sweet happy ending, and, hey, a decent princess. Cinderella is still a woman who needs mice of all things to save her, but her personality is still one of the best. She's kind and compassionate to everyone around her but still smart enough to know she's in a bad situation and witty enough to call some people out on it. It's mostly the cat, but it's better than nothing. Cinderella may not be a Moana or a Rapunzel, but at least she didn't eat an apple from a stranger like a naive child. The one thing that actually bugs me is the Prince, who's more of a plot device than an actual character. He's pretty forgettable and nothing like that himbo I've heard so much about in that straight-to-video movie that's apparently good (I'll take your word for it). Still, this is a classic movie, and I'd be dreaming if I put it any lower.

#12. The Little Mermaid-Like Cinderella, The Little Mermaid is a movie that comes to my mind when I think of Disney. Primarily, it's when I think of the point when Disney reached the Disney Renaissance. Every movie before it had a notable charm with the occasional fluctuations in quality, but none compared to The Little Mermaid. The animation's much grander, more fluid, and more expressive than past Disney films, all being a spectacle to see. What's also a spectacle is the music. Every song is catchy as all forms of hell while also giving me goosebumps at times. When Ariel started singing "Part of Your World," I remembered what's so enchanting about these movies. And we haven't even gotten to the characters yet, with each one being entertaining in their own way, especially Ursula. She's yet another villain that's both funny and scary, but where past Disney baddies attempted to get on her level, Ursula's the one who perfected the role. The only real problem would be this movie's prince and princess. Ariel at least has a fun personality of being obsessed with the human world, but Eric is...uninteresting. Bland. Devoid of any unique character traits other than wanting to marry a sixteen-year-old. By the way, Ariel's sixteen. Just...think some of you should know that. And I wouldn't have issues with how boring Eric was if he also wasn't the main goal for Ariel. She's willing to go through a lot of danger for this boring man who she knows nothing about. Which isn't something kids should look up to. Still, I love this movie for everything else it does right. It's fun, spectacular, and, at times, even beautiful. Everything I look for in a Disney movie.

#11. Beauty and the Beast-"BeLlE eXpErIeNcEd StOcKhOlM sYnDrOmE! HuRr-HuRr-HuRr-HuRr!"

There, I've made the same stupid joke everyone else made. Let's move on.

Beauty and the Beast is the first animated movie ever to be nominated for best picture at the Oscars, and...Yeah, it's pretty damn good. The characters are fun and charming, the songs are both visual and auditory spectacles, and the movie does something no Disney film did before it. It gives personality to both the Prince and Princess. While past princesses did have a personality, their princes were as dull as a plank of wood. Here, it's different. Belle is an intelligent lady who knows when to be brash if the situation calls for it, and Beast is a savage beast who slowly and convincingly learns how to settle down his...beastness. The one thing that doesn't really work is the development of their romance. If there's anything the movie could benefit from, it would be a longer runtime dedicated to showing more of Belle and the Beast spending time together to make it more believable that they fell in love. But, at the same time, this movie is clearly going for that "fairytale brought to life" feeling, which the romance, as is, still works well for. I guess it all depends on whether or not you want Beauty and the Beast to be more of a movie or more of a fairytale. And while I would personally choose a movie more than a fairytale, I can't really complain here. This was a beautiful film that deserved its nomination. But it wasn’t the best. None of these movies are. A lot of them are worthy enough to be contenders, just couldn’t make it to the top ten. And you’ll see why as we finally talk about the BESTDisney movies…Tomorrow.

#walt disney animated pictures studios #worst to best disney #disney hercules #disney tarzan #atlantis: the lost empire #big hero 6 #the emperor's new groove #zootopia #disney pinocchio #cinderella #the little mermaid #beauty and the beast

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