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#I had to actually tell her that someone WORSE could come along and she said; “Okay true; we don't know the future.”

sleekswosobession · 3 months

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you are broken on the floor

alexia putellas x keeper!reader

overview: goalkeeping means sacrificing your body, how far would you go?

A/N: i feel rlly sad so i got the discord to come up with ideas (thanks @totaly-obsessed + @alotofpockets)

TW: Blood, Severe Injury, Brutal Angst

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ever since a child, you loved the feeling of saving footballs. If any of the teams you were on needed someone in goals you'd be the first the volunteer, along the way you actually got good at it and eventually signed with Barcelona in 2021, making good friends along the way.

Along with joining Barça, it came with getting a girlfriend. Who was the best person you'd ever had in your life romantically.

Being a keeper in the best club would always mean injuries, trying to keep a clean sheet like any defensive player wants.

Sometimes though, injuries are worse. Life threatening in some cases, career ending in others. It's something no player even wishes upon their most rivalled team.

You just had to be unlucky didn't you?

Barcelona were comfortably winning against Frankfurt 3-0, when a gap in defense allows a German player to make their strike. You fall back onto the line hoping the punch the ball away.

Seems like life has other plans.

The player shoots left, you dive left and push the ball away. However with being airborne, you can’t stop. Your body crashes into the post with a loud thud.

The stadium goes quiet, your screams and cries horrific. Your body looks… wrong.

Your collarbone isn’t straight, it’s indescribable. Bones are poking out. There’s blood running down your face where your head has cracked open after hitting the post.

It’s sickening to watch.

Players immediately rush over, forming a circle around you as to not show a fellow player in such vulnerable state.

Alexia is by your side trying to comfort you, trying to keep you still. Seeing you in this much pain makes her heart ache. If she could take it all, she would.

Paramedics are by your side instantly as the circle of players back up to give them space to work, Alexia sits helplessly watching you worm in pain.

After quick testing to make sure you were still alive and conscious, they get you on the stretcher. Which includes more screaming, and more pain.

Alexia watches as you get taken off the field in a hurry, fans of both teams clap and give you a standing ovation.

“Alexia, she’s strong. Let’s finish and win this game for her yeah?” Mapi pats her best friends back, also devastated at the turn on events.

“Ye- yeah.” The captains broken voice says.

- - - - -

As the rest of the minutes in the game are being played, you’re fighting for your life in the back of an ambulance.

The pain getting unbearable, you find yourself slowly slipping in and out of consciousness. Paramedics are doing things around you, but your eyes are too glossy to really tell. Your mind is also too fuzzy to think straight.

There is one thing you want, Ale. But, with everything? You wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve ruined some of your vocal cords from screaming so loud.

Soon enough, you succumb to the darkness. Letting it engulf you to a place less ridden in pain and chaos.

- - - - -

The game is over, an unspoken heaviness in the air surrounding both teams. There is little interaction with fans, whom luckily understand the pain the players must be feeling at the time.

Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid get in the Norwegian’s car and drive straight to the hospital where the medical team said you were going to.

When arriving, Ingrid drops Alexia and Mapi before parking, understanding they need each other. You were important to everyone, but Mapi was like your sister and Ale was obviously your girlfriend.

They rush inside, talking quickly to the nurse at reception who gives them sorry smiles, updating them all that she could. Which was that you were alive and in emergency surgery.

They don’t argue, it’s pointless. So they sit down on uncomfortable plastic chairs, playing a waiting game until you were coherent and safe.

- - - - -

4 hours and many freak out sessions later, a doctor walks over to the three girls explaining the situation you’re in.

“It’s a grade 2 concussion to her head, in cases like these there is chance for memory loss. I believe she has all her memory, we were talking about different things before I came here. It’s a high possibility that she has no memories from the accident though.” He pauses before continuing.

“She experienced a dislocated collarbone. We’ve put it back in its original place, recovery could take 1 year and she might never be to the level she was at currently again. We had to do work on surrounding ligaments which makes the recovery time longer.” The girls take in the information.

“Have you told her she won’t play for a while?” Ingrid asks the question on everyone’s mind.

“I did, she was upset in her own right. If that is all your questions, she has her own room. I believe you all know concussion protocol?” They nod.

“Ok, room 3146. If you need anything at all just shout.”

“Gracias, for everything you’ve done.” The doctor smiles at Alexia.

“No problem.”

- - - - -

When reaching the room, the 3 Barça players see your state, a gauze wrapped around your head and a large cast across your torso, restricting movement.

“Amor?” Alexia asks cautiously.

“Hi Ale.” You look at the other two. “Mapi, Ingrid, nice to see you.”

Alexia sits by the chair on the side of your bed, looking up with teary eyes.

“Please, please don’t ever do that again.” She sobs, cradling your face softly. “I can’t- I can’t lose you.”

“Ale, you’ve got me. I’m right here, please don’t cry amor. Por favor.” You look over to the other two in the room, smiling softly.

She takes a couple minutes to settle down and finally talk.

“Have you heard about your recovery?”

“Sí” You watch her sigh, tracing patterns over your hand.

“Lo siento, but I’ll be with you the whole way ok? I promise.” She says without an inch of hesitation in her voice.

“Te amo mucho Ale. That means so much more than you could ever know.” She responds by leaving a lingering kiss against your hand.

“I’m glad you’re ok. Had as all worried.” Ingrid smiles lightly.

“Yeah.. I don’t remember much about what happened. I might later on but for now I’m content without the memories.” She laughs.

“Well, all of the culers and people at Barça wish you a safe and great recovery. Even if the doctor hasn’t said it, you’ll come back stronger I know it.”

“Thanks Maps, I think I stay in the hospital for a few more days then I’m clear to go home. I have to wear this for like 6 weeks then start the strengthening physio whatever.”

“Ah, can’t wait to see you on the pitch again then amiga. Well, Ingrid and I will leave you and Ale to talk on your own. If you ever need funny company instead of serious company I am always here.” You hold onto your laugh smirking.

“Alright León, keep it moving.” You joke back and watch the couple leave.

You think back to what recovery is going to be like. A very long journey. It seems your girlfriend notices your thoughts.

“Shh, you’ll be fine and as Mapi said you’ll come back better.”

“Thanks Ale.” She leans over and presses a kiss to your lips softly.

- - - - -

The next few weeks are tough, you feel as though you’re useless. Alexia has all this stuff on her plate already and you’re just another one. However she is always quick to shut those thoughts down. No matter how moody, or how angry you got at her. She stayed, just like she promised she would.

Who knows what the future holds, maybe something, maybe nothing. What does matter though? Is who you go there with. For you it’s Ale. It will always be Alexia.

—————————————————————————

PART 2 - here

also i did say i was sick now i’m feeling better.. physically (not mentally since i just wrote this fic)

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #wlw #espwnt #espwnt x reader #ingrid engen #mapi leon

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vivwritesfics · 4 months

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(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Three - Date Night

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.4K

Warnings: Shitty date, alcohol, violence

Series Masterlist

"Where are you going?"

Again, Lando was sitting in front of the television with a bowl of cereal in his lap. Although this time it was the early evening and he had done all he needed to for the day, giving him time to wind down.

Y/N wasn't in her workout gear. On the contrary, she was in a lovely black dress with a white shirt over the top and black tights covering her legs. She had a small bag dangling from her shoulder and a pair of chunky, heeled boots on her feet.

She looked lovely, even Lando could admit it. Actually he'd have the imagine of her burned into his brain for all eternity.

"On a date," answered Y/N, her voice rather snappy. She grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter and headed towards the front door.

But, out of the corner of her eye, she saw as Lando shook his head. Y/N turned on her heel, eyes fierce as she stared at him. "What?" She barked, her hand still against the door knob.

Lando shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't say anything."

"But you shook your head."

He turned to face her over the back of the sofa. "That's not saying anything."

"Just tell me what you mean!" She stamped her foot, her voice growing louder.

Lando let a sigh out of his nose. "Fine," he said and held up his hands. "I'm just saying, what if this guy is using you? You're a world famous Formula One driver - he could be using you for fame."

"What, because it's impossible for somebody to like me otherwise? Is that what you're trying to say, Lando?"

He held up his hands defensively. "All I'm saying is you have to be careful."

But Y/N didn't believe that, not for one minute. "No, you're being an asshole."

"Y/N, I'm not being an asshole. I'm actually trying to look out for you."

"Sure," she scoffed and turned the door handle, ready to leave the apartment.

But Lando cleared his throat. "Are you gonna put out on the first date? That would make a great story for the reporters."

"Fuck off, Lando."

"You're only making yourself look bad," he muttered as he returned to his now soggy cereal.

Y/N left the apartment. She walked out with confidence, although it had been shattered by Lando. She didn't let it show, though, just how terrible she was now feeling.

Because Lando was right, he could just be using her for fame and notoriety.

Dating had been hard ever since she entered the Formula One scene. All of her colleagues seemed to get with models or sporting stars. But Y/N didn't want a model or a sporting star. She wanted someone she could get along with, have a good time with and be herself.

She walked to the restaurant, not driving as she didn't want to "show off" in front of her date. He arrived late, his outfit not nearly as put together as hers was (although she wasn't judging him based on that).

The minute he sat down he immediately ordered the most expensive things on the menu. That wasn't the end of the world - he was paying for his own food.

When he opened his mouth to talk, that was when things really started to go wrong. He was non-stop talking about formula one. At first, Y/N thought it was nice. He was taking an interest in her career. But then it became clear that he was a super fan and he just wanted to talk about her colleagues.

It became evident that he didn't actually care to get to know her. That Lando was right. He only wanted to take her on a second date for a chance at Bahrain tickets.

That was all he kept asking about. Bahrain. At first Y/N thought it was to take interest in her career. Be he kept coming back to it, complaining about the price of tickets and how he would loved to have been her plus one.

The only thing getting her through dinner was the alcohol she was throwing back. And then, when it came to paying, he had conveniently forgotten his wallet.

At least he offered to driver her home. He drove her back to the apartment, stopping outside. "So," he said, hand on her leg. Y/N was quick to move it. "Can I walk you upstairs?"

Y/N let out a huff and held her bag tighter. "Look, Ryan, I don't think that's a good idea. My roommate is trying to sleep and our walls are thin and-"

"I swear I'll just walk you to your door."

She should have said no. She should have left him in the car and made her way up to her apartment alone. But she had also been drinking, and wasn't thinking straight. It was the alcohol that answered for her when she said, "sure."

He walked behind her as Y/N went up to the apartment. When she got to the door of her apartment and pulled out her key, he leaned against the wall and placed a hand on her waist. "So, can I come in?" He asked with what he must have thought was a seductive look.

Y/N shook her head, hesitating to push her key into the lock. What if he pushed his way into the apartment? Would Lando help her? Would he help her to kick this guy out?

"Oh, come on baby," said Ryan as he took her key from her hand.

"Hey!" Y/N shouted, reaching for it. "Give it back! I don't want you in my apartment!"

Her shouts seemed to be enough. Suddenly the apartment door was pulled open and Lando was stood in front of her, his swing fast as he punched her date.

"Lando!" Y/N cried as Ryan dropped her keys and stumbled backwards, holding his bloody nose.

Lando placed himself between Y/N and Ryan, ready to swing again. "She said no, fuck face," he said, his voice calm. But his stance said otherwise. Ryan squared up to him but, when Lando raised his fist once again, he backed down, turning and running away.

As soon as he was gone, Lando reached down to pick up her keys. He placed them in her hand and walked back into the apartment without another word.

On shaky legs Y/N followed him in. She placed her bag down on the sofa and sat herself down, kicking off her boots.

Lando suddenly placed a glass of water on the coffee table in front of her. He looked down at her for just a second as she pulled the white shirt tighter to her body.

But, when she said nothing, Lando turned to walk away.

Y/N was feeling a certain amount of vulnerability. She couldn't stop herself as she grabbed his arm and said, "wait," her voice little more than a whisper.

Saying nothing, Lando turned to face her. She watched as Y/N let go of him and sat back on the sofa, sitting just a little bit straighter.

Somehow, Lando knew exactly what she was asking for. He sat on the sofa beside her and switched on the television.

There was little distance between them already. Y/N shuffled closer to him. Blame it on the alcohol and the frigid February air, but she shuffled closer to him.

"You were right," she muttered and picked up the glass of water. "He was an asshole and he just wanted Bahrain tickets."

Lando looked down at her. "Told you," was all he said as he placed his feet on the coffee table.

Her head fell onto his shoulder. "Thanks for saving me," she mumbled.

The only way Lando could get comfortable was to put his arm around her.

"I was actually getting a little scared out there."

Lando shrugged his shoulders. She'd been drinking, that much was clear. She kept leaning against him as the television played on in the background, neither of them paging much attention to it.

She fell asleep against him. Lando left her there for an hour. When he was sure she wasn't going to stir, he picked her up and carried her to her room, laying her on top of her covers.

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fxrmuladaydreams · 1 month

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little crush (cl16)

charles x reader

request: hiya lovely could you maybe write something about charles with the subtle romantic gestures prompts? any of them are fine ❤️❤️❤️

wc: 1234

notes: charles, my first f1 love 🤭 this was actually so fun to write, i hope you enjoy it

Charles Leclerc was the Prince of Ferrari, Il Predestinato. He was one of the best drivers on the grid, sought after by almost every team. He had fans swooning for him wherever he went. And yet, he couldn’t get over this tiny little crush on you.

You were a friend of another driver, brought along to a race as a guest. He watched as you wandered the paddock with wide eyes, staring at everything around you. He watched as George threw an arm over your shoulders, steering you to the Mercedes building.

A few people questioned the Ferrari driver’s sudden interest in hanging around the Mercedes area all of a sudden, but all it would take was one look at him with you for everything to become clear.

It was nearly impossible to hide the longing look in his eyes whenever he was near you, and it only became worse when he actually got to know you.

He would often be caught trying to pull you away from the Mercedes garage, setting a bright red cap on your head after tossing away the black one. It wasn’t uncommon for you to willingly follow him to his garage, catching a smirk from his teammate. Even the fans had started to question why George Russell’s friend had suddenly become a frequent Ferrari guest.

You thought your friendship with the Monégasque was blossoming beautifully, but others would tell you otherwise. George’s teasing comments about the smile you couldn’t wipe from your face made you flush. Carlos’ insistence that Charles drives better when you’re in his garage made the Monégasque blush.

Of course Charles had already been aware of his crush on you, he’d had a crush on you before he even knew you, when you were still someone who just passed him by in the paddock. He just hadn’t expected his feelings to grow when he’d gotten to know you.

He didn’t want it to seem like he was taking some sort of claim over you, but he couldn’t help but be moody towards anyone who tried to pull you away from him. He remembers an incident with Pierre, the Frenchman had tried to get your attention, he’d offered to take you to the Alpine garage, to show you the car after you had mentioned liking the pink livery. He’d ended up on the receiving end of a harsh glare from Charles, but that quickly faded from his face when you turned back to him, tugging his hand towards Pierre.

“Let’s go see the car Charlie.” He stumbled after you, his hand still clasped in yours and a goofy smile spread over his face.

As much as you’d hoped the others were right about Charles’ supposed feelings for you, you took everything they said with a grain of salt. Charles was a world famous F1 driver, one of the top athletes in his sport. You were simply a friend of a friend, and he was simply being nice.

You had been looking forward to a dinner coming up that George had invited you to, some of the other drivers and their girlfriends would be there too. You enjoyed getting a look at the extravagant life George lived, and he enjoyed having you there with him.

George and Carmen had picked you up from your hotel, Carmen looking you up and down and fawning over you.

“Charles is going to melt when he sees you!” She says as she loops your arm with hers.

You simply laugh and shake your head.

The restaurant is dimly lit, a waiter guided your group to a back room where the rest of the drivers were. George and Carmen were quickly pulled away by Alex and Lily, leaving you shifting awkwardly on your feet. You felt a little out of place, like you were somewhere you didn’t belong, until your eyes met Charles’ and it all melted away.

He quietly excused himself from the person he was talking to, and took a few quick strides to get to you.

“You look beautiful Y/n.” He says as he pulls you into a hug.

“Thank you Charlie.”

You mingle a bit with the others, Charles' hand never leaving the small of your back, even when he’s talking with someone else.

“He’d been waiting for you to come in ever since he got here.” Lily whispers to you, a smirk on her face.

You end up seated across from Charles at dinner, his eyes rarely leaving yours, and watching you as you laugh at a joke he makes. A proud smile graces his features as he watches you lean into George slightly, hiding your face with a hand.

He’s surprised to feel a foot kick his leg under the table, and turns to see Carlos looking at him. He smiles, and shakes his head.

“You’re funny, but you’re not that funny.”

The rest of dinner goes well, more mingling afterwards, until you slowly feel your social battery draining.

“I think I’m going to head back to the hotel.” You tell George and Carmen.

“We can drive you back.” George starts, reaching for his keys in his pocket.

“It’s alright, I can walk.”

“I’ll walk with you.” Charles is quick to say.

“You don’t have to.” You tell him.

“I want to.” He smiles.

He grabs his jacket from his chair and follows you back outside.

The evening brings a cool breeze, making you shiver slightly. Charles drapes his jacket over your shoulders, shaking his head when you tell him he should wear his jacket.

“I’m fine amour.”

The term of endearment takes you both by surprise. His cheeks color a soft pink, but whether that was his words or the cold air you didn’t know.

You make conversation on the way back to the hotel, smiling to yourself when Charles steps around you so that he’s standing on the edge of the sidewalk.

Your hands brush against his several times, tempting you to interlink your fingers with his. You’ve held hands before, but always as friends, this would be stepping over a line that still seemed foggy to you.

He walks you up to your room, his arm brushing against yours. He looks like he wants to say something but can’t quite get it out.

You stop in front of your room, and slip his jacket off, holding it out to him.

“Thank you Charles.”

He smiles and ducks his head down.

“Did you want to come in for a drink? Before you have to go back to your room?” You ask, taking a chance.

He furrows his brows and fiddles with the jacket in his hands. “I have to walk back to the restaurant to get my car…” he laughs awkwardly.

“Charlie, why-”

“I wanted to spend more time with you, and I had fun. I like being with you.” He shrugs.

You stare at him, Charles Leclerc and his pretty green eyes, and his stupid smile, and you can’t stop yourself from holding his face and pulling it to yours to kiss him.

His hands instantly find themselves resting on your waist, pulling your body against his as he returns your kiss.

He smiles into the kiss, cursing the need to breathe when he has to pull away from you. As you pull him into your hotel room with you, he thanks god that he never got over his massive crush on you.

#charles leclerc x reader #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc #formula one x reader

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denim-mixtapes · 1 year

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Showstopper

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t help but laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which is what brought you here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Teardrop tattoo,” he says, snorting.

“A pentagram.”

“You could shave one side of your head.”

“Or my eyebrows.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on,” he urges.

“You come home with me.”

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

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

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

“I– yeah.”

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could hear a pin drop.

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

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

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

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

Thank God.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He smokes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, well, I–”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be down to help in a minute!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You had it bad, huh?” She teases.

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

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

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

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

You snort, “you’re telling me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-”

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

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

—

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

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

You’ll have to thank her later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he just keeps on talking, stealing the show.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would it be so bad if he did?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It might be your favorite one yet.

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

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

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

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

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

“How much did you overhear?”

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

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

“...Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eddie, I’m– fuck, you gotta–”

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

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

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

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

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he’s right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would he touch you?

Yes.

Would you really mind if he wanted to?

Fuck no.

What does this mean for your friendship?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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yawntutsyip · 1 year

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Avatar The Way Of Water x Deaf!Human Reader:

italics = sign

warnings: she/her pronouns, some cussing, bad writing 😔

an: idk if I hate it or somewhat like it. We shall see what happens… if people actually like this then I’ll make chapter two, if not then let’s just say this was a oneshot Lmao

Silence | Chapter One

Silence, if you had to describe your world to someone in one word, that’s what you would tell them because that's all it ever was. Sure you had some hearing growing up in your younger years. It was mostly muffled though like you were underwater but you did your best to make out as much as you could, but each day it had gotten worse, and the next thing you know, by the time you turned nine your hearing completely vanished.

When people say you should cherish things, don't take things for granted, and be grateful for what you have, you really should. Of course being a child that saying went over your head as you didn’t think much of it but now you wish you had listened to the wise words as you find yourself longing to hear your mother's voice, or the littlest things like the clicks of equipment from the lab or the buzzing from the fluorescent lights, one last time. Now, being sixteen years old, you could hardly remember what they sound like as it turned into a distant memory, all a blur.

Growing up your mother taught you sign language so it was easier to communicate than having to read someone’s lips. It was difficult at first as you had to learn to differentiate whether the person was speaking English or the Na’vi language but you managed.

Your mother was great friends with Neytiri and Jake despite Neytiris hatred for humans. Neytiri had a soft spot for you and your mother. You grew up along the side of the Sully kids and Spider, , you always had one of them along your side, as you weren’t allowed outside the lab alone due to Pandora's dangerous nature, they were all very overprotective of you, sometimes it got annoying but you understood why.

It was always surprisingly Lo’ak. He always took you on his adventures through the forest, exploring and finding new hang-out places. Sometimes Lo’ak could be forgetful as there were times where, when he had taken you out with him and he calls your name to get your attention, but when he receives no response it clicks back into him as he says ‘oh yeah, she can’t hear me at all duh’

When you turn around to look at him you find him hunched over with his hands on his knees as he laughs at his dumbness. You cock your head to the side as if questioning ‘what are you laughing at?’ and roll your eyes as he signs to you that he forgot you were deaf for a second. It concerned you sometimes that you were relying on this boy for protection.

Right now you, Spider, and the Sully siblings minus Neteyam were all in the forest following Lo’ak to wherever he was going hand in hand with Tuk. You and Tuk stop for a second and crouch down touching the plant that had caught your eyes, you smile as the leaves stick to your hands, You look at Tuk and could see a smile on her face as well as she playing with it but soon pulls away standing up tugging you along.

A frown finds its way on your lips as you look back at the plant while getting dragged away. You wanted to look at it for longer. You soon all come to a stop as Lo’ak turns around saying something you couldn't quite make out, You look at Kiri and she quickly signs to you what was said.

Looking back at Tuk you see her sticking her tongue out at Lo’ak while pouting, You giggle at her childish antics before you all continue back to where you were going. Finally reaching the spot the boys and Tuk go and climb up to wherever it was as you stayed behind with Kiri, Both of you laying in the grass next to each other. These are the times you wished you could have your hearing back, you closed your eyes and tried your best to imagine what kind of sounds could have been heard although there wasn't much to imagine as you hardly went outside of the lab so you didn't know what sounds there were in the beginning. The breeze from the air and the light shining down on you paired with the quietness eased your mind as you found yourself drifting off.

A little later you found yourself and Kiri getting woken up by a spider by his light shaking.

‘Have go back’ Spider signed to you the best he could with the little knowledge of sign he had, you still understood what he was saying as you nod your head and stand up following them out, leaving to go back.

Coming to a halt once again, Lo’ak jumps off the large branch you were all walking on and crouches down to the dirt where laid a footprint. ‘Is it an avatar’s?’ You sign to Lo’ak while crouching down next to him to get a closer look.

“Maybe…” he said out loud while signing at the same time. You turned your head to look at Kiri with your brows frowning with worry written on your face, Kiri could only smile at you while signing ‘It will be okay’ as she pats your shoulder.

You watch as Lo’ak and Spider continue to move forward and you all follow. Lo’ak quickly turns his head back and looks at you while bringing a finger to his lips, blush creeps up on your face in embarrassment as you bring a fist to your chest and move it in circular motions ‘Sorry!’

Crouching down hiding in the grass you all stalk forward, looking up ahead you could see the old shack and what seemed to be Avatar’s walking around with guns. ‘Are they from the lab?’

You ask Lo’ak who was crouched behind you. ‘I don’t think so’ he shakes his head, eyes still ahead.

“I better call this in,” Lo’ak says while walking back grabbing your arm to follow.

“No bro! We're gonna get in trouble!” Spider says in a hushed voice following you guys. You guys all move behind some trees as Lo’ak reaches to his neck about to press the button, You watch as he hesitates for a second. He did not want to get in trouble for the second time with his dad but he knew that he had to, this was important. You give him a reassuring nod with a hand on his arm as if saying it's okay.

“I got eyes on some guys. They look like avatars..but they’re in full camo and carrying ARs. There are six of them. Over.” You move your attention back to the avatar’s ahead as you watch them go through the old shack and look around as if they were trying to find something, but what was it?

“We're at the old shack.”

“Who’s we?”

“Me, Spider, Kiri…Tuk…and (Y/N)” Lo’ak hesitates to bring up the fact that he had you and Tuk with him in such a dangerous position.

“Son, You listen to me very carefully. Pull back right now. Do not make a sound. Especially (Y/N). Get the hell out of there. Move. Copy?”

“Yes sir.”

A tap on your shoulder pulls your vision away as Lo’ak grabs your arm again picking you up in his arms and catching you off guard. You look up ‘What are you doing?’ he ignored you as he was too focused on getting out of there. He was not gonna take his chances of you accidentally stepping on a stick and blowing everyone's cover.

Not even a second later an Avatar pops out from the bushes and grabs a hold of Tuk. Lo’ak quickly sets you down pushing you behind him as he pulls out his bow and points it at the many Avatar that appeared out of nowhere.

What is going on? You ask yourself as you swing your head back and forth looking in all directions to see that you all were surrounded. Although to everyone else there was loud screaming at each other and Tuk screaming, to you there was nothing. You could only watch as their lips moved, you tried your best to make out what they were saying but they weren’t pronouncing the words properly so you couldn’t tell.

One by one you all got grabbed by one of them, You tried backing up away only to feel someone harshly grab your arms pinning them behind you, you scream at the unknown hands as you struggled in fear. Lo’ak and Kiri were shouting at you to stop struggling hoping somehow you would hear them but of course, you don’t. You soon find yourself knocked down with a swift kick to your knees and pinned down to the ground on your stomach, freezing up as you feel a cold metal being pushed against the back of your head.

“Don’t hurt her!” Spider and Lo’ak shout out.

You felt useless as all you could see was the dirt ground beneath you, not knowing what was going on with your friends. Were they okay? Hell were they even alive? All you know is they could have been shot already and you wouldn't have a clue.

Quaritch signals to the man holding you to pull you up, you frantically look around checking to make sure everyone is okay before looking back at the man who stood in front of you.

“Two humans with the Na’vi? What's your guy's name?”

You saw his lips moving but couldn’t make out what he was saying so you turned to Spider.

“Hey!, Sweetheart, I asked for your name!” He shouted at you again, grabbing your face in his hands, and bringing it forward. The grab from his hand hurt as it grew tighter when you tried pulling away. You gave him a glare and spat on his face, watching as he furiously wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“She can’t hear you, dumbass! She’s deaf! She doesn’t know what you are saying!” Spider shouts at the man gaining his attention. Quaritch gives you one last look before shoving your face away and moving to Spider. You watch with a glare as they talk for a moment before you all get dragged to follow wherever they are walking before once again being pushed down, now with hands cuffed together.

It had gotten dark as the eclipse happened, feeling droplets of water fall on your skin as it began to rain. You were so lost while all this was happening, not knowing what was going on, who these people were, What they were gonna do with you and your friends. You were scared.

You wished you had just stayed back at the labs, where your mother was, probably worrying about where you were right now. Were you even gonna make it back to her? You watch as everyone's ears perk up meaning they heard something. You look at Lo’ak who was beside you. He looked down at his hands signaling you to follow and watch as he signed one word

‘Mom’

Looking back up you nod your head before looking away hoping no one saw what he signed.

Your back was turned from everyone else, you stood still not moving as you could feel the gun against your back so you were unaware of all the commotion that was happening, but you could feel the person behind you leave. You still stood there not trying to take chances.

The feeling of someone grabbing your hand startles you as you turn your head and realize that it was just Tuk, Eyes widening as you watch guns being fired, and a yellow gas releasing everywhere. “We have to go! Come on!” Tuk says to you, this time you were able to tell what she said and follow behind her as she ran, Lo’ak tailing right behind you.

You all kept running, your breathing became heavy as you weren't used to this much moving as you usually just stayed in the lab or at the most, walked around the forest, You kept looking back checking if anyone was following, not paying attention to what was in front of you, running into someone's chest.

You let out a scream, scared of it being one of the Avatars from earlier that had caught you but your face was pulled up to meet a familiar face in front of you telling you to calm down while placing a hand over your mouth to silence your screams but removes it as you quiet down realizing it was just Neteyam.

Your tense shoulders drop as you bury your face in his torso letting out breaths of relief. Oh, thank Eywa you are safe now.

#atwow #avatar the way of water #atwow x reader #atwow imagine #avatar x reader #lo’ak x reader #aonung x reader #ao’nung x reader #☆ — ao’nung ˖˚⊹#☆ — lo’ak ˖˚⊹

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onceuponastory · 2 months

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twelve minutes - bucky barnes x reader

But for now we stay so far 'Til our lonely limbs collide I can't keep you in these arms So I'll keep you in my mind - you and i by PVRIS

Plot: Almost a year after their breakup, Y/N sees Bucky Barnes again. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (past) Warnings: Mentions of a breakup and heartbreak, angst without a happy ending. Bucky being a shitty boyfriend. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: So You and I by PVRIS, one of my favourite songs ever, turned 8 on Friday, and I had to write another fic for it to celebrate (please ignore I'm a few days late) so here we are!

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

One night, Y/N stands outside the Avengers tower in the cold New York air. A chilly wind blows, and she shivers. She can still hear the party inside, the muffled music and laughter. Maybe she should just go inside? Isn't that better than being out here, alone and in the cold?

But just as she’s about to turn back, she shakes her head. She didn’t even want to come tonight. Although the Avengers are still her friends, a party attended by her ex, Bucky Barnes, was not the ideal way to spend her night. But Natasha whined and begged for her to come, promising her she’d have a good time and it wouldn’t be that awkward. Unfortunately, it was just as awkward as Y/N expected. In fact, it was worse.

Sure, people still spoke to her, but she could tell they all had one question on their lips, one she was not willing to answer: "So, when are you and Bucky getting back together?"

And so, Y/N left. She types on her phone, ordering an Uber to take her home. Sighing, she wraps her jacket around herself as another chilly wind blows. Soon, she’ll be home and can eat her sorrows in ice cream.

“Leaving so soon?” A familiar voice asks. One that Y/N was hoping not to hear tonight.

“Hey Bucky.” He looks different from the last time she saw him, almost a year ago, now. Just over ten months, in fact. Not that she’s counting or anything. He’s bulkier, no doubt an effect of Steve’s constant early morning runs. Each time he left their bed, he promised to come back, kissing her cheek softly. Even now, her skin tingles just thinking about it. Bucky smiles, brushing some of his longer hair out of his face.

He looks good.

He looks great, actually. She can’t deny it - he still looks as attractive ever. Deep down, something registers in her gut. It’s a strong, passionate longing feeling, the same one she used to have whenever she thought of Bucky. One that she thought disappeared a long time ago. But seeing him now is reigniting that feeling. Desperately, she tries to bury it.

“Good to see you again.” He murmurs, a sign that he’s feeling just as awkward as she is. After all, how often do you run into your ex at a party you didn’t even want to go to? “Nat never said you were coming.” He looks around, a brow raised. “Where’s that boyfriend of yours? She said he’s a lawyer.” Of course she fucking did. She’s going to kill her next time she sees her. “Can’t imagine he’d pass up a moment to spend time with you.”

“We um. We broke up. Well, he dumped me for his secretary, actually. So… yeah.” She’s immediately embarrassed, not meaning to spill her heartbreak to anyone, let alone Bucky fucking Barnes, her ex of all people. Honestly, part of her reasoning for coming tonight and hopefully dragging Harry along with her was to make Bucky jealous, show him that their breakup wasn’t affecting her that badly.

And look how well that turned out.

But her wounds are still raw. Perhaps, after suppressing her feelings for so long, she simply needed to release and express her frustration and pain to someone. And Bucky just happens to be the one she’s letting it out to, the welcome respite she’s needed for so long. That's how things used to be between them. Whenever something was wrong, Y/N and Bucky relied on each other for comfort. They would spend hours in each other’s arms, talking about their problems until they felt better. Y/N still aches for that comforting grasp, even now.

But now, things are different. Including her and Bucky.

Especially her and Bucky.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” He sighs. “I’ve fucked up, haven’t I?”

“It’s okay.” She lies, but knows that if she dwells on it too long, she’ll start sobbing in front of him. Her chest tightens in an all too familiar way. This is what people like Bucky Barnes do. They come into your life and leave a mark. Once they’re gone, you work so hard to heal yourself and make a new life, and then they come back in and destroy everything all over again. And she won’t put herself through that again.

“Looking back on it now, we just weren’t a good fit. Or at least, he didn’t like me as much as I liked him.” The heat on her cheeks deepens, as if she’s embarrassed to admit falling in love with and getting her heart broken by someone like her ex. To admit that she subjected herself to so much pain and heartbreak yet again. But thankfully, Bucky doesn’t mention it.

“Honestly, it’s his loss. You deserve better.”

“Thanks.” And again, silence envelops them. She wonders if he’ll start talking about their breakup, or continue ignoring the enormous elephant in the room. And honestly…. she doesn’t know which she’d rather have. To lay everything out in the open, or just ignore it all again, pretending everything is fine. When her eyes drift back to him, he’s not looking at her anymore, and despite how angry she was at Bucky for what happened, and how much she likes to kid herself that she doesn’t care about Bucky anymore, it still stings.

Deep down, she wants him to want her, like she wants him. To still want her, even now.

“Can we talk?” He asks suddenly. She already hates the idea of being forced to spend time with another ex so soon after losing another relationship, but there’s not much else she can do. And honestly…. She misses Bucky a lot.

“Sure. You have….” she peers down at her phone screen, the light illuminating the space. “Twelve minutes.” Bucky raises a brow.

“Twelve? That’s very… specific.” He chuckles awkwardly. Y/N doesn’t laugh.

“It’s how long until my Uber arrives.”

“Oh.” There’s disappointment lacing his tone, which Y/N picks up on. She stares at him, waiting for his response. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what happened between us.”

“Okay. Me too.” She nods. Bucky raises a brow.

“...That’s it? Y-You’re not going to say anything?”

“What can I say? You said that you’re sorry for how it ended, and so am I.” She shrugs. “There’s no point in beating ourselves up, Bucky. We just never worked out. You were always too busy, and after a while I just stopped waiting for you. The fights got too much, and we just stopped loving one another.” Honestly, she never stopped loving him. But it’s better to lie and tell him that the feeling is mutual than waste all her tears on someone who actually stopped loving her. She stopped being important to him and was no longer the key priority in his life. Missions were his priority, followed by dinners, drinks, and world trips with teammates - things she stopped being invited to. As an Avenger, he can't refuse to save the world, but she thought she mattered to him. Realising she didn't hurt her deeply.

So one day, she decided enough was enough, and… it was over. And she’s missed him terribly since then.

“You really think I stopped loving you?” Bucky frowns. There’s a strange mix of guilt and accusation in his tone. Y/N nods. “Well, I didn’t. I never stopped.”

Y/N gasps, and his revelation makes her heart pound. What if this is a good sign? A chance for them to make things right? “I thought you did. I thought you stopped caring.” For a moment, she wonders how he’ll react, if he’ll take her into his arms again, and whisper sweet nothings. Maybe they’ll finally make things right.

Instead, he turns defensive. “I didn’t. And it’s not all my fault, you know. I did try to make it home to you, but you didn’t understand how busy I was sometimes.” He snaps, sending a fresh strike of pain through her already damaged heart and destroying all hope she ever had of them rekindling their relationship..

“You had a funny way of showing it.” She retorts, rolling her eyes. Anger flows through her veins, overtaking her last shred of guilt. Why is it her who has to fix things first? To be the villain, the one who has to admit that they’re in the wrong? Angry and bitter tears sting at her eyes. “But yeah, whatever. It’s my fault our relationship fell apart.”

Immediately, Bucky regrets his words. “Look, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.” He hates that this is what they’ve come to now, unable to speak to one another without anger, bitterness and hurt feelings. But maybe this is a chance to make things right? A whole twelve…well, probably ten minutes, now. “And I’m sorry if it seemed I wasn’t trying hard enough. I loved you a lot.” He sighs. “I still do.”

“I never stopped either.” She admits, and Bucky’s eyes widen.

“Really?” He gasps. “W-Well, do you wanna get a drink somewhere? Or some dinner?”

“Wait.” She raises a hand, cutting him off. She sighs. “Not tonight.”

“Tomorrow? I’ll wait. We can go whenever you want.” He urges. But Y/N just can’t ignore the feeling deep inside her, of guilt and apprehension. What if she lets him back in and it happens all over again? If she gives him all of her heart and gets it back broken, yet again? She’s already been through two heartbreaks in this lifetime, and she can’t go through that pain again.

Especially not one caused by Bucky.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” She whispers, biting her bottom lip. Bucky frowns, confused.

“What do you mean? W-Why not?”

“Because I can’t do this again.” She whimpers, her voice cracking. “Our break up destroyed me, and I’ve just been through another one. Another break up between us would actually finish me off.” She shakes her head. “Maybe one day we can talk…but not now.”

Bucky opens his mouth, ready to speak. But he nods. “I understand.” He sighs. He keeps his gaze on her, his blue eyes imploring and hopeful. Suddenly, the sound of an engine approaches. Y/N sighs. “Guess my twelve minutes are up.” Bucky chuckles nervously.

“Goodnight Bucky.” She says, getting into the car and closing the door. He watches her go, looking crestfallen. She looks out of the window, locking eyes with him.

“You okay?” The driver asks. “Need a minute?” Y/N’s heart aches, and her chest aches.

“No.” she murmurs. “You can keep driving.” And then they pull away, and Bucky fades into the distance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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fan-fantasies · 9 months

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Learn to Love (p.3)

A/N: this is the final part, I hope you enjoyed the mini-series!

Pairing: Rhea x Reader

Warnings: swearing probably, smut, fingering, oral/69-ing

Part two

Your nerves were increasing as the day went on, not quite sure how the crowd was going to accept yours and Rhea’s partnership. You knew they loved her and they seemed to love you, but would they love you together?

Rhea stayed close to you throughout the day and you actually didn’t mind. While she calmed your nerves in some ways, she made them worse in others.

Now wasn’t the time to deal with those feelings bubbling up inside. You had bigger fish to fry and matches to win.

“You ready to go, babe?” Rhea asked, grabbing her bag to head to the show.

“Yeah, ‘babe’, I’m ready,” you laughed.

“I have an idea. Come here real quick,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Put this on.”

She handed you her hoodie and you slipped it on. She pulled the hood up and turned you toward her so your back was facing the mirror on the wall. She snapped a quick picture and posted it to her Instagram with the caption “big surprise coming tonight 😈”

No one could possibly tell it was you in the picture but you enjoyed the comments of people speculating what was going on.

Someone commented “Rhea’s new gf?” to which you noticed Rhea had liked.

“So I’m your new girlfriend then?” You asked, showing her your phone.

“Sure are, sweetheart,” she said with a smirk.

“That escalated quickly.”

“What did?” Dom asked, coming over.

“Rhea’s my girlfriend now,” you said, jokingly.

“Took long enough,” he said with a big smile. You were too confused by his reaction to notice Rhea’s, who was behind you waving her arm and signaling for him to shut up.

He looked at the confused look on your face and noticed Rhea’s panic and realized he may have messed up.

“I’m just saying…enemies to lovers is a very popular trope nowadays and that would be an interesting storyline for the two of you,” he quickly covered.

“Maybe we’ll run it past Vince,” she said, quickly stepping in front of you. She motioned for him to leave and he thankfully for the hint.

“Well, uh, good luck tonight!” He said before running off.

“What a weird kid,” you sighed, making Rhea snort.

“I’m telling him you said that.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you said. She turned to face you fully and came closer.

“Try me, sweetheart.”

You knew she was trying to be menacing but she never scared you. You straightened yourself out to stand taller, leaning in so you were only inches apart.

“Maybe I will,” you whispered.

“Don’t tease me now.”

You weren’t quite sure where your little exchange was going but it was pumping adrenaline through your veins.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Damian had taken a picture of the two of you and sent it to Rhea.

She felt her phone buzz and decided to step back with a small smirk on her face.

“Just kiss her already,” he wrote. Rhea looked up and saw him staring from down the hall.

You followed her gaze and he waved when he noticed you looking.

“Did I miss something?” You asked.

She turned her phone toward you so you could read his text with the picture attached.

“It looks like we’re about to kill each other, not kiss,” you laughed nervously. There was obvious tension between you, you just weren’t sure if it was sexual or otherwise.

“Would you rather kill me?”

“No?”

“So you’d rather kiss me?” She asked, stepping closer once again. Your eyes widened and your heart was racing.

“That’s- that’s not what I said,” you stammered.

“But you said you didn’t want to kill me.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to kiss you either,” you argued.

“Do you want to?”

“Kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“Well-“

“Ladies! You’re up next!” The producer interrupted, making you jump back from her.

“Let’s go kick some ass,” Rhea said, grabbing your hand to pull you along.

How could she just be so calm when you were left reeling? You’d have to figure that out later, after the match.

To say the fans loved the two of you together was an understatement. They went nuts when you were announced as her partner.

The match was just a warmup to see how you worked in the ring together and it went surprisingly well. You played off each other’s strengths and made up for weaknesses. When Rhea made the pin and the final bell rang, you ran into the ring and into her arms. She lifted you with ease and spun you around.

You made your way backstage and you were ecstatic. Rhea was looking at you with such adoration in her eyes; what a change from just a few days ago. Rhea was beginning to think Vince was a genius for teaming you together.

Rhea’s bliss was cut short when she saw Shayna coming over and scooping you up.

“That was awesome! You guys did so well!”

“You watched?” You asked, finally being set back down.

“Of course, I watch all your matches,” she answered.

A sour feeling was settling into Rhea’s stomach as she watched your exchange. She was jealous; there was no way to deny it. She brushed past the two of you and went into the locker room. Your smile fell as you noticed her walking off. You thought she’d be happier after your win.

“I’m gonna go make sure she’s alright,” you said, giving Shayna another hug.

“No worries- go get your girl,” she said with a smirk.

You went into the locker room and found Rhea scrolling through her phone. She didn’t even look up at you when you walked in.

“Hey, are you okay?” You asked.

“Yeah I’m fine,” she mumbled, still looking at her phone.

“You don’t seem fine,” you said.

“Well I am so why don’t you run back to Shayna,” she snapped.

“Seriously? We’re back to this? I thought we were past that,” you sighed.

“I’m just saying, you’d obviously rather be with her right now.”

“If that were true then I wouldn’t be here…with you,” you said, sitting down next to her. She finally looked up with regret in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I’m gonna need more than an apology to understand why you get so weird when I’m around other people.”

“I can’t explain it.”

“Try. Please?”

“I just don’t like how it makes me feel…”

Part of you, deep down, hoped it might be jealousy- a feeling you could easily relate to. It was how you felt every time you watched her be flirtatious with other women or even Dom. You figured that’s where part of your animosity toward her came from and you were hoping it was the same for her. Then the two of you could put those nasty feelings aside and admit to one another how you really felt.

“What does it make you feel, Rhea?”

“Confused, I guess,” she said quietly, looking down at her fidgeting hands in her lap.

“Can I maybe help un-confuse things?” You asked.

Rhea took a deep breath before looking up at you. Before you knew what was happening, she grabbed your face and pulled you in for a kiss. You were frozen at first, but you quickly reciprocated the kiss. You were certain your heart was going to beat out of your chest. You wanted to badly to deepen the kiss but before you could, Rhea pulled away.

“I have to go,” she said, quickly getting up and running out of the room. You were stuck in your spot- your mind racing with what just happened.

When your body finally caught up to your mind, you were racing after her. You weren’t sure where she went so you were looking anywhere you could think of.

You were running out of areas when you were stopped by the interview crew.

“Could we ask you a few questions about your new tag team with Rhea Ripley?”

“Oh um sure,” you said, bouncing back and forth and looking around for her.

“When did the two of you decide to be a team? It always seemed like the two of you were at odds with one another.”

“It was a recent decision actually. We’ve been getting to know each other inside the ring and out. I think we work pretty well together.”

“That’s an understatement! You guys were amazing out there; I think you might have something special on your hands.”

“Yeah, I agree. Rhea is definitely very special and I think we have a bright future ahead of us,” you said with a genuine smile. You excused yourself from the interview to continue your search.

You didn’t realize, however, Rhea had been watching the interview with Dom and Damian.

“She obviously likes you,” Damian told her.

“I don’t think so. She’s been pretty friendly with Shayna lately- and then I just go and kiss her and mess everything up!” She whined.

“First off- Shayna isn’t in the picture like that. She knows you like her and wouldn’t get between the two of you. Second- kissing her was probably the best idea you’ve had so far. Now she knows how you feel. Your only mistake was running away from her!” Dom said.

“How does Shayna know how I feel?” She asked.

“I may have mentioned it at the gym the other day,” Dom said quietly, looking at his feet.

“Is that why she canceled dinner?”

“Just so the two of you could have some time together,” he defended.

“I should kick your ass, but I’m too shaken up still,” she sighed.

“Why don’t you go find her? I know you’re worried things are gonna go wrong, but just remember, Mami always gets what she wants,” Damian chuckled. Rhea sighed and hanged her head in her hands.

“I think I’m just gonna wait for her at the hotel,” she said.

She quickly gathered her things and went back to your room. You searched the arena high and low and with every failed turn, your frustration was building. How dare she give you attitude, then kiss you, then run off?

You needed answers and you wanted them now. You finally found Dom who was packing up his gear.

“Have you seen Rhea?” You asked without greeting him.

“She left already. She said she was going back to the hotel,” he said.

“Seriously? Oh I’m gonna kick her ass,” you snapped.

“Is everything okay?” Dom asked cautiously.

“No, everything is not okay. You’re gonna need to find yourself a new Mami by the time I’m done with her!”

“I know she hasn’t always been the best at expressing herself, but she really does care about you,” he told you.

“Then why did she run away from me?”

“I think she’s scared- but you didn’t hear that from me!”

“Well off to the hotel it is then,” you sighed.

“Want a ride? I’m heading out now too,” he offered.

“That would be great,” you smiled.

The ride was quick and you tried to pry more information out of Dom but he didn’t let anything more slip.

Once back at the hotel, you practically ran to your room, hoping she was there. Thankfully, she was sitting on her bed when you went in.

“Are you done running from me?” You asked, crossing your arms in front of you.

“I’m not sure, are you going to yell at me?” She asked.

“I have half a mind to! First, you get an attitude when I’m with Shayna. Then you won’t tell me why. And then…and then you kiss me and run off to hide from me. Why shouldn’t I yell at you?”

She got up from the bed and stood in front of you. Your arms dropped to your side, subconsciously opening yourself up to her.

“I’m sorry for everything. And I’m sorry for kissing you. I was out of line and it won’t happen again,” she sighed. Your heart broke a little when she said that.

“I’m not mad that you kissed me,” you mumbled.

“You’re not?”

“I’d be more mad if you never kissed me again,” you admitted. A small smirk was playing on her lips.

“Is that so?” She asked, taking another step toward you.

“Yes, but you still need to tell me why you get so upset whenever you see me with someone else,” you said.

“I get scared. I get scared that they’re going to take you away from me- which I know sounds insane- but you’re mine, no one else’s.”

“Is that so?” Now it was your turn to smirk.

“Yeah, it is.”

She closed the distance between the two of you and kissed you again. This time you were ready for it and immediately deepened it. The kiss was full of passion and heat, each of your pouring your desire for one another into it.

She slid her tongue into your mouth, easily winning dominance over yours. She spun you so your back was to the bed and she laid you down, not once breaking the kiss.

She hovered over you and began to kiss down your jaw and neck, leaving love bites in her wake.

“Rhea, please,” you whined.

“Please what, pretty girl? Tell me what you want.”

“I want you. I want you to touch me,” you said.

She pulled your bottoms off quickly, sliding her hand in your panties.

“You wanted me to touch you here?” She asked, sliding her fingers through your folds.

“Fuck, yes!”

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, babygirl. I’m gonna make you forget anyone who isn’t me,” she said.

“I’m yours, only yours.”

“That’s right, sweetheart; good girl,” she said, circling your clit.

Your body jolted as she slid two fingers into your entrance, slowly pumping them in and out. Her thumb was still circling your clit and you couldn’t help the moans falling from your lips.

She quickened her actions when she felt your pussy gripping her fingers more, signaling you were close to your peak.

“Gonna cum for me, love? Cum all over my fingers,” she told you, sucking another hickey onto your neck.

“Fuck, Rhea, I’m cumming,” you moaned. You reached your climax moments later and you swore you’d never felt better in your life. She circled your clit slowly, allowing you to come down from your high once she was certain you were satisfied.

She pulled her fingers from you and licked them clean, moaning at the taste.

“I think I need more,” she said, smirking at you.

She tore your panties off and threw them across the room.

“Wait, it’s your turn though,” you said, tugging at her pants.

“I have an idea then.” She quickly pulled her pants and panties off, crawling over you once again. “Are you okay with this?”

“Of course, only if you are,” you replied.

“Okay with it? Sweetheart, I’m in love with it. Besides, Mami is always on top.”

She quickly turned herself around and knelt over your face. Her pussy was only inches from your tongue and your mouth was already watering.

“You ready, love?” She asked.

“So ready,” you sighed happily.

She lowered herself onto your face and leaned down so she was now level with your pussy as well.

You beat her to it, your tongue diving between her folds first. You felt her jump at the feeling before she quickly began to devour you as well.

It was hard to focus when she was making you feel so good, but you could tell she was enjoying herself as well by the noises she was making.

You could’ve sworn you had died and gone to heaven, with her body pressed to yours and being able to pleasure her just as much as she was you.

Your hips began to move, your climax approaching once again. But you were determined to get Rhea there first. You focused your attention on her clit, sucking and licking at the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Her legs began to shake slightly and you knew she was close. It was as if she caught onto the secret competition because she doubled her own efforts between your legs.

Before you realized it was even happened, your orgasm crashed over you in waves. You let out a whine but continued to lap at her pussy. Knowing she gave you your own climax sent her into hers. She continued to lick at your clit as you both rode out your orgasms together.

When you were both satisfied, Rhea got off and laid next to you. She pulled you in for another kiss, the taste of the both of you mixing on your tongues.

“So is it safe to say you’re mine now?” She asked, finally pulling away.

“I’m most definitely yours,” you said with a smile.

“Remind me to thank Vince,” she chuckled. “This may have been his best idea yet.”

“I definitely don’t think this was his idea,” you laughed.

“No, but still, if he hadn’t forced us together, I probably never would’ve worked up the courage to tell you how I feel.”

“Well I’m glad you did. And now we can move forward and be happy,” you said.

“I promise I’ll do anything to keep you happy.”

She kissed you once more and you sighed contently. Things may have gotten off to a rocky start, but everything works itself out eventually.

——————————

Comments and reblogs are very appreciated!

#rhea ripley #rhea ripley smut #rhea ripley x reader #rhea x reader #rhea ripley x reader smut #wwe rhea ripley #rhea ripley fanfiction

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aheathen-conceivably · 2 months

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Josephine was sitting at the vanity table that Giorgio had restored for her, tracing her hand along the same wood grain that she had when she arrived over two years before. Only her nails weren’t painted any longer; they were bare and chipped, fingers permanently raw from hours of soaking and scrubbing.

She was staring at them intently, like their presence alone was enough to make her feel like she was a different woman than who she thought she had been her whole life. Out of the corner of his eye Giorgio could see that she was lost in thought, a small downturned frown playing on her lips. He barely had time to register just how unlike herself she seemed before she blurted out, “Do you ever think about having children?”

Gio nearly choked on the cigarette he had just lit. There were certain things he had given up on when he fell in love with her, things that he now told himself were for the best. He looked up at her suspiciously, now wary of the traps he knew she could set. The lost look in her eyes was vacillating with something that looked like what, suspicion? Like she didn’t trust him to answer correctly despite his years of acquiescence on the topic.

But as she addressed him through the warped glass, he got the impression that she wasn't actually speaking to him at all, “It would be stupid, you know that, right? Violette would hate it. She could learn to share, I know. But something tells me she wouldn’t. She would only get worse.”

Then she turned to look him dead in the eyes, and he realized he had been right. She was challenging him, even though he had only recently told her that he didn’t mind her near militant precautions against pregnancy any more now than he had in New Orleans. As she spoke her resolve became more palpable and the uncharacteristic insecurity that had been there moments before was replaced by something he was more familiar with: anger. “And Jesus Christ we can barely feed ourselves as it is. It would be stupid. Absolutely stupid. Why would anyone ever think otherwise? It’s a horrible, horrible idea.”

As she finished speaking she continued to stare straight at him, and he had to look away to escape the intensity of her eyes. It was nothing that he didn’t know; she had told him from day one that she would never have children, not for any love in the world. He had been young enough then to want nothing other than her, and over time his feelings had morphed into hers. It was never a dream he had, and it wasn’t as though he had a name he was proud to pass on. He had come here to hide from it, and it had done nothing but convince him that he would have no more sons to pass the name or the horrors onto.

As he gathered himself to look at her, his eyes cut through the tension that hung in the air like cigarette smoke. Because he had said it all a dozen times before, and that look was all she needed to know that he agreed; not just with her logic, but even to her aversion of having your life taken from you in that way, so that your dreams and your choices were no longer for yourself anymore. They would always have to be made in adherence to someone else, and they could barely do that for each other, much less a child.

He put his lit cigarette in the ashtray the moment she stood to walk nearer. Up close, the challenge in her eyes transformed into something like relief, like she had sated a fear that for however much he might ask her to give, at least he would never ask for that. Or maybe, unbeknowst to him, she had just talked herself off a ledge that he would never know had been an option at all.

She placed her hands on his shoulders, bringing one knee onto the bed beside him and the other one between his legs. His breath caught in his throat as his body responded to the movement, “Are you…sure? I thought we still couldn’t. I — I lost count of the days.”

Her voice took on a soft note of mockery, exactly the way it did when she knew more than the other person, ��As you always do.”

He took that to mean that they were once again free to do as they pleased for a few weeks, before the cycle of counting and caution began all over again. Yet even after all this time those days in the center of the month went by the slowest, so he immediately hooked his hand around her hips to pull her down on top of him.

She left one foot on the ground as she gave into his weight, letting him move her robe aside and bring his hands to her thighs. All the while she was sure to remain balanced on the tip of her foot, keeping herself from giving in completely even as she climbed far enough atop of him to let him think that it was fully off the ground.

Then she leaned back onto it, leaving him stranded on the bed as she moved her hand off of his neck, down his shirt front, and just above the button of his pants. She took it between her fingers and kept her eyes on his, silently telling him that she could unhook it without ever looking down, “But I never do; and I don’t make mistakes. So not until I say so, my love. Then, and only then.”

As his smile faded, she trailed her hand back up his shirtfront to his chin, letting it linger on his lips before she bent down to kiss him. He knew better now than to try and pull her down again, or even to bring his hands to her hips as they hovered above him. She moved away and looked down into his eyes as though to say, good boy. Then she walked away back to her well-worn seat at the vanity, leaving him with nothing but his half smoked cigarette and unspent longing.

#1932 #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #1930s #Josephine Duplanchier #Giorgio Mistretta #sim spice

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ladykailitha · 1 year

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Do You Know What Shovels Dig? Graves Part 2

My version of the shovel talk trope.

Part Two to This!

Eddie knocked on Steve’s door bouncing on his toes.

Steve opened the door and then just led Eddie into the front room without a word. Eddie’s heart let out a small mewl of distress. Either Jonathan had been underselling it or Steve was worse than when he left. Eddie had a sinking feeling it was the latter.

“I’m guessing Jonathan called you,” Steve said, sitting down hard on the sofa.

“Came over and plied me with weed, actually,” Eddie said, settling next to him. “I get why you didn’t tell me. I can’t fault you for being hurt by people who you thought cared. But I can fault me for not noticing you were hurting. Because yeah, maybe you couldn’t say why, but I could have been there for you anyway.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged. “I should have at least told you that I was feeling upset.”

“I think the part that upsets me more than anything, love,” Eddie murmured, pulling Steve close to his chest, “is that I’m the newbie in all this, shouldn’t they be more worried that I’ll hurt you? I’m the wild card here, not you.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist. “And it’s not as though I ended my last major relationship, either. That was all Nancy. I was trying my best, I really was. And I’ve tried with every other girl I’ve dated seriously, too. I’m always being broken up with, not the one doing the breaking.”

Eddie laid down and pulled Steve flush along the length of his body. “I’m the love and leave ‘em type, not you, sweetheart. The reason you are my first real relationship is because I liked not having to worry about get my heart stomped on by straight boys experimenting with gay sex and then fucking off back to their girlfriends.”

“So why are they coming after me?” Steve asked piteously, snuggling into Eddie’s neck.

“Because I keep myself to myself,” Eddie explained. “Even though I’m out and loud, I keep it tucked in my chest. But you sweetheart, wear your heart on your sleeve.”

Eddie kissed him and slowly began to rub circles up and down his back. He deepened the kiss. Yes, this was supposed to be a distraction, but he really wanted to make his boyfriend forget about his troubles for awhile. They were lost to time for awhile.

They didn’t get to sex, not really. Their clothes were still on, but Steve was sleepy and relaxed, so Eddie counted that as a win. He slipped out from under his boyfriend.

“Stay,” Steve mumbled into the sofa

“I’ll right back, darlin’,” Eddie assured him. “You need some sleep and I have to run a quick errand. You nap for a bit and I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”

“’Kay,” he replied, mostly asleep. “I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart,” Eddie said kissing his temple.

Eddie managed to arrived at the Byers house before everyone else. Will let him in.

Will led him to the front room where Joyce and Jonathan were waiting. Jonathan was on the sofa and Joyce was standing up chewing on her thumb.

“I talked to Jim and really chewed him out for scaring Steve like that,” she said the second she saw Eddie. “That wasn’t fair. Jim is supposed to be like a father to Steve, not be another bully.”

Eddie hugged her. “Thanks. I’ll talk to Wayne later, too. I didn’t even know he owned a shotgun.”

El scoffed. “He borrowed Dad’s.”

Eddie threw his head back and rolled his eyes. “Yup. That makes more sense actually and Steve would be too terrified to realize it was the same gun. He is in so much trouble for that.”

Soon everyone had arrived and piled into the small front room.

“What’s this about?” Dustin asked. “Jonathan said it was serious on the walkie. Not like Code Red, but bad.”

“I think it almost was,” Jonathan bit out.

Eddie winced, because he couldn’t be one hundred percent that if Jonathan hadn’t shown up that Steve wouldn’t have done what he threw at the older teen.

The room was silent. Eddie could hear his own ragged breaths and rapidly beating heart.

“Someone say something,” Robin pleaded. “What’s going on?”

“You are all assholes,” Will bit out. “Steve wouldn’t break Eddie’s heart if it was in his power and you all know it. So why the hell would you tell him if he did you would kill him? Not just cause him bodily harm, but actual death. Haven’t we seen enough of death to last our life time?!” He had been sitting on the sofa next to Jonathan when the meeting started but had risen to his feet.

Mike scoffed. “It not serious.”

“It sure the hell wasn’t the first time. But what about the second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth or even the ninth time?” El asked, her eyes blazing.

“Ninth?” Robin asked.

Jonathan nodded. “If my math’s right. It could be more or less, but yeah. There were only a small dedicated handful that didn’t tell Steve some variation of ‘hurt Eddie and I’ll hurt you’, myself included.”

“That can’t be right,” Dustin said with a frown.

“Oh no, Dusty,” Eddie said, tilting his head side to side. “That’s absolutely correct. And worse is that none of you shit heads even said boo my direction. Not that I want to be threatened. I get enough of that, which now that I think about it...that’s why, isn’t it?”

The silence in the room was deafening.

“Oh, that is it!” Eddie crowed. “Can’t go after me because I get literal death threats so lets all dogpile on Steve instead!”

“Steve was in a really bad place when I went over there this morning,” Jonathan said into the bitter hush.

Joyce stepped forward. “I realize most of you are children and don’t quite understand what you did. But actual adults got involved in this mess. Adults that should have known better. So let me put this to you in a way you can understand so this never happens again. You’re getting to age were you’re dating yourselves, so think about how you would feel if someone came to your partner and threatened them with violence.”

“I’d be pissed,” Max said from the corner. “It’s no one’s business but ours.”

Joyce held out her hand to emphasize her point.

“Oh,” Nancy said from the corner of the room. She looked over at Jonathan and then ducked her head, crossing her arms over her stomach.

“Steve is so far from the boy that was a dick in his junior year,” Jonathan said. “Like that was four years ago. Almost five. And yet you still treat him like he hasn’t grown. Are you even his friends at this point or are you just so used to having him around that he’s just a tool to you to be used.”

“We don’t use him, do we?” Lucas asked, his voice cracking with emotion.

“You tell me,” Eddie huffed. “Do you ask anyone else to take you places? Do you have parties anywhere other than his place? Do expect him to be there for you when this shit gets to you, but don’t check in on him?”

The room was filled once again with the awkward silence.

“We didn’t mean to,” Dustin said, near tears.

“I want all of you to apologize to Steve,” Joyce in her best mom voice. “Work on being better friends. Because if you don’t, some day you might wake up and wonder how he just slipped away.”

They all nodded.

Erica tilted her head to side. “Wait a minute. Why didn’t you give Eddie or Steve the shovel talks? Any of you?”

Jonathan shrugged. “Just didn’t care enough. Plus I always thought they were bullshit, anyway. Shit happens. Any of you want Nancy dead because she broke Steve’s heart?”

Nancy’s head shot up and her jaw dropped.

“I love you,” Jonathan said. “But you can’t deny that’s what happened.”

She snapped her jaw shut.

The whole room was shaking their heads. Of course they didn’t want to hurt Nancy.

“Friends don’t hurt their friends,” El said. “And if you’ve been hurting Steve, maybe he needs to be taken away until you learn to play nicely.”

Joyce hid her smile under her hand. That was one way to look at it.

They looked at Will.

He rolled his eyes. “I think made myself pretty clear when we started this, so yeah. Fuck off.”

“William!” Joyce hissed. “Language!”

Will looked up at her completely unrepentant. She sighed. “I’m with my boys, I’m afraid. Shovel talks are bullshit and Steve is a good boy who has continued to go to bat, sometimes quite literally, for all of us. He could have walked away from the Upside Down fuckery at any time, but he came. He stayed. He took hits meant for someone else. Someone weaker. That’s a good friend. Maybe you should start treating him like one, too.”

Eddie looked around at everyone. “Has everyone learned their lesson?”

Everyone nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Now I’m going to back to Steve because he’s waiting for me. But I want those apologies. I don’t care if you call, write, or visit. But you will apologize. And no more shovel talks.”

And now with part three! Part four ! Part Five Part Six

Tags because they asked: @justforthedead89 @zerokrox-blog @ihavekidneys

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #jonathan and steve are friends #ladykailtiha writes

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gojoidyll · 3 months

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Wriothesley x New Inmate ! Reader

Warnings | fluff, grammatical errors, wrio being down bad for reader, etc.

Note | reason for reader being sent to the fortress as a new inmate is up to your imagination <3

"I don't have any work today? Nice!"

For the past few months of being at the Fortress, you found that it was a simple and easy life. Especially since you barely had to work! Now, you weren't sure if it was because you were a new inmate or something, but, honestly, you didn't care by this point since you got to laze around and do nothing for most of the day.

Honestly, it was the perfect life for you. Way easier than what you had to deal with on a daily basis back on the surface.

You felt ... at peace. Sure you were surrounded with people who committed more worse crimes than you, but at least none of them held any sort of hostility towards you. They welcomed you here just fine. And, along with a welcome from the inmates when you first arrived also came a welcome from the Duke.

In your eyes, he was an absolute dream. He had a quick wit and a body that looked good good to be true, and his face was easy on the eyes too. In other words, having a sight like him around the Fortress definitely put the icing on the cake.

Though, despite your attraction to the man you never did have the courage to actually say or do anything about it. Not that you minded. You have a particularly long sentence and, hell, even when your time here is over you might decide to stay awhile and see what new life awaited you here.

"Huh?"

Another female innate who sleeps on the bed next to yours looked over and noticed the little gift in your hands. She couldn't help but to grin, "ooo, a gift? Who's it from?"

You scratched the back of your head, "honestly, I have no idea."

The other inmate shrugged, "well, it isn't uncommon to receive gifts from the surface."

"Isn't that considered contraband or whatever that word is?"

"Oh trust me, all mail is looked through before its sent to us prisoners, so that gift is perfectly fine if it found its way into your hands. Now, if you'll excuse me, I got an early shift. See ya, y/n."

"Yeah, see ya..."

You didn't bother to watch her leave ad you looked down at the gift in your hands. Settling back into your bed, you took a seat. Your hands shakingly unwrapping the gift while also being careful not to tear the paper.

This better not be a gift from my sister... that bitch totally left me for dead.

That was another thing about the crime you committed, your sister was in on it but ditched you when you got caught. So if she sent a gift, then you know that you'll definitely blow a fuse.

Opening the small box, however, you knew it wasn't from your sister.

It was a necklace with a rainbow rose glass pendant on it.

If there was one thing you knew, it was that your sister wasn't as kind.

So, could this be a secret admirer's doing? It couldn't be someone from the Fortress, right? None of the inmates you knew had the means of getting their hands on something like this.

Maybe it was someone from the surface? Ahh..., but you were never close to anyone up there, and you were sure you never caught anyone's eye either.

Questions on who it could be swirled around your head for the remainder of the day, but, of course, despite those questions it didn't stop you from wearing such a lovely gift. A gift that didn't go unnoticed by Wriothesley whi just so happened to catch you wearing it at lunch.

And just as he had thought, it looked very pretty on you.

"You're so weird."

"Thank you, Sigewinne."

"That wasn't a compliment... I just don't see why you won't go up to them and tell them how you feel."

"For one thing, Sigewinne, we're not exactly close enough for that. Besides, the only few words I said to them were the casual greetings I give to all prisoners when they come to the Fortress."

Sigewinne huffed, "well, just promise you won't be a secret admirer for long, ok? Cause they are very good looking and I wouldn't be surprised if someone else managed to wisk them off their feet before you do."

Wriothesley rolled his eyes as he turned to head back to his office before glancing at your smiling face one more time as you chatted away with your newly made friends.

Cute.

requested | @mitsumina12345

#genshin impact #genshin #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley #genshin impact wriothesley #genshin impact wriothesley x reader

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it-was-too-cold-always · 8 months

Text

Always Read the Fine Print Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Who actually reads all the terms and conditions? After mindlessly checking a box years ago, our Reader unintentionally agrees to be part of a scientific study to create super soldier babies. To make matters worse, her fellow test subject is the brooding and intimidating Bucky Barnes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader finds out exactly what Bucky wants out of this experiment.

Warnings: arranged marriage, forced proximity, eventual smut, lots of angst

Bucky Barnes was sitting right across from you. His long brown hair was neat and smooth but hiding his face. He wore a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. That's really hot, was the first thing that popped into your head. You immediately chastised yourself - now is aggressively not the time. He had a subtle stubble and dark circles, which made his light eyes stand out. The look on his face confused you. You could tell he was pissed, but when his eyes met yours, it turned to...pity? Guilt? Embarrassment? He could barely look at you. Before you had time to analyze the meaning behind his expression, his lawyer started talking.

"Sergeant Barnes has a few stipulations regarding this study. He WILL participate, as his contract demands, and he will do so without resistance. However, he will only be paired with one test subject. If this young lady is the only viable candidate you have for the study, after all these years, then I would assume she will be the one."

"You can't make demands like this, the study may require more than one test subject who could produce offspring. His request is denied," the woman flatly responded.

"With all due respect, you've spent years looking for a subject who has even the slightest possibility of moving forward with the study. It would be foolish to jeopardize his complacency for the chance you MIGHT find another subject. Now if you don't mind, I was not finished with his request," the lawyer retorted. "Sergeant Barnes would like to uphold the young lady's honor. If he is to produce a child with this woman, he would like to do so properly. He would like to propose a marriage arrangement, along with their own house free from your poking and prodding."

The woman looked to the others in the room, took a deep breath, and relented. "Alright, if Barnes wants to live his little apple-pie life, we'll sign off on it. But the timeline for an expected pregnancy just moved up. And let me make this very clear: you are not in a position to make any more demands. After your little stunt last week, you're on thin fucking ice."

With that, she and the others left the room, leaving you alone with Bucky and his lawyer.

"I'll get the marriage license in order, as well as negotiate your living quarters. I'll keep in touch. Who knows what timeline they're expecting now." The lawyer finished packing his briefcase and walked towards the door. No no no no, please don't leave me alone with him, you thought. I don't know what to do or say. Where do I even go? Back to the hotel? After all of this?

The sound of the door closing made you jump, even though you knew it was coming. You looked down at your wringing hands, bursting with nervous energy, unsure of what to do next. Do you introduce yourself? Make small talk? Was someone going to escort you back to the hotel? Your mind was reeling. You knew for a fact your face was flushed and your eyebrows were furrowed, which made you even more embarrassed. You decided you'd ask him what happened last week that put him on thin ice. Just as you mustered the courage to ask, he spoke up.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. His voice was raspy and low, barely a whisper. This confused you. Isn't he just as much a victim as you are?

"I don't understand," you responded, "this isn't your fault. We're both trapped." He nodded slowly, trying desperately to keep composure.

"If it weren't for me, there would be no study. You wouldn't even be here," he said. He was getting angry, his volume slowly increasing. So much for keeping his cool. "Now you're stuck. With me. I'm trying to do the right thing, but you don't understand, I'm not a good person. I've killed people. A lot of people. And now you're stuck." He stood up and started pacing the room. You felt the need to console him, but you weren't quite sure where to start. How do you calm down the Winter Soldier?

"Bucky listen to me. This is not your fault. We're in the same boat; we need to be a team. That's the only way we're gonna get through this." You stood up and slowly made your way towards him.

"You're not getting it - we don't 'get through this.' This is forever. This is the rest of our lives. The rest of our kids' lives. There is no happy ending, it's just being lab rats until we die." His words were starting to sink in and you realized he was right - this little science experiment will never end. As you struggled to say something - anything - a couple agents entered the room to escort you back to your hotel room. Part of you was relieved. Maybe with some quiet time, it'll sink in that you're about to become Mrs. Barnes.

Chapter 3

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader

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eagleeyecherrypie · 16 days

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Dickkory fans were robbed and malnourished: a rant

Being a fan of Richonne and watching how The Ones Who Live played out really makes me see how absolutely starved we were as Dickkory fans. I finished TOWL with mixed emotions. On the one hand I was over the moon with happiness. On the other, I was sad and jealous…of myself. What I mean is, the part of me that is a Dickkory fan was savagely jealous of the Richonne fan in me. One was over here fat and happy while the other was counting her ribs again. Both shows had the same potential with the chemistry between their two leads being off the charts. TOWL showed us what could have been while Titans left me wanting and there is no excuse for it.

Exhibit A:

I’ve lost count of how many times Rick declared his undying love for Michonne both in actions AND (very importantly) in words. I mean, I’m so full I’m about to pop.

It literally got to a point like “Dude we get it. She’s the air you breathe and you can’t imagine your life without her. Okay, okay.”

We. Were. FED!!

Exhibit B (or as a lesser man might say, Number 2):

Meanwhile Dickkory fans (me included) are/were over here living off crumbs and trying to find meaning in anything and everything. We all became experts in body language and read into everything we could just to add substance to their story:

“See, every time she touches him he short circuits. Dude is down bad”

Or “When he paused and sighed while mentioning her boyfriend that one time, that means he’s so in love with her that it pains him to imagine her with someone else”

Even the actual “love confession” was weak in my opinion. Far too passive.

I know Titans was not a love story but the man couldn’t have just said the words one time? Or at least used his actual words to discuss how he felt about seeing their baby from the future.

Don’t get me wrong, we got the occasional full bites instead of crumbs, but I would argue that this made the situation even worse. They got our hopes up. We got a glimpse of what could have been.

The show should have just kept all of that instead of teasing us with a love story so RICH with potential only to let us down again and again. They basically either completely ignored it or just keep dangling it in our faces until the final credits rolled. Not to mention the absolute travesty of the wasted chemistry between two actors. Brenton and Anna did the best they could with what they were given. I believe the few crumbs we got were mostly coming from them trying to drive the story along. We all loved the build up in season 1 (the GOAT) but they (the writers) completely lost momentum.

I could even forgive some of this if they just ran out of time to tell the story (again, I get it, Titans wasn’t a love story), but the truth is that they wasted so much time on unnecessary and frankly boring storylines:

🥱

🙄Why? What were the writers actually trying to accomplish here? Who or what was holding them back from greatness?

In conclusion:

Fan fiction is the only thing that got me through with Titans. (Shout out to the ones who held it down with those BTW. I’ve pretty much read them all.) Meanwhile, I personally haven’t read even one story about Rick and Michonne because there is zero need. I left fully satisfied with zero notes. Their story is complete.

Le sigh 😔

#dickkory #titans hbo #koriand'r #dick grayson #richonne #twd towl #dc titans #not my gif #towl #towl spoilers

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thesweetnessofspring · 5 months

Note

Since I love your headcanons so much, here it goes: Do you think Peeta had had other girlfriends or kissed other girls? 👀 I think it’s very ~interesting~ that the first kiss that makes Katniss want another is the first kiss where Peeta is fully present for, as in he is not in unbearable pain or high fever or feeling miserable, I thought that was very telling. Also, if it was his first time making out with someone it probably wouldn’t have left such an impression on Katniss. Of course, she also had no experience in kissing so that could be an explanation. However, he also said he noted just about every other girl and Katniss noted he was always surrounded by a crowd of friends so that makes me wonder. He was also an athlete and we know those boys tend to be popular with girls.

Thank you ☺️

Aw, well thank you nonny! Glad you appreciate these headcanons!

Interesting points that you bring up about for their first real kiss, Katniss enjoys it. So is Peeta experienced, is he that good naturally, and/or do he and Katniss just have that amazing of chemistry? 🎆

Well obviously I think that their natural chemistry plays a role in this, however, I headcanon that Katniss wasn't Peeta's first kiss. Not only does this boy seem to know how to kiss, but his flirting game is criminally good. Part of that is talent, but I do think he had practice. And tell me that half of the merchant girls in 12 weren't in love with Peeta (and probably some boys and Seam girls, too). Katniss was intimidating, but Peeta's so friendly someone was going to go for him.

Plus, Peeta admits to noticing other girls, but unlike Gale, he knows that detailing it isn't going to make Katniss feel good, so he doesn't show off about it.

I headcanon that Peeta had two girlfriends before Katniss, both pretty short relationships. His first one he didn't really like, but it was a her friends talked to his friends who convinced him to meet up with her and go out kind of situation. Peeta feels more like he's supposed to do it, because if he turns down this cute girl, his friends will think something's wrong with him, or worse, find out he actually likes Katniss! So he meets up with her, he has his first awkward kiss and they "date" but don't actually say anything to each other, and break up a week later. He's 13.

When he's 15 he thinks maybe this time he can get over Katniss. She's hanging out with the handsome Seam guy, after all, and they've never talked. So he finds a girl he has a bit of a crush on and starts flirting with her, asking her out. They get along much better than the first girl he was with, but every time he makes eye contact with Katniss, he knows what he's doing isn't working. They last a month before Peeta breaks up with her.

I know some like to think Katniss was the only one for Peeta, but I think part of the value of dating for 99% of people is learning who you don't work out with romantically as much as finding out who you do work with. Katniss was able to compare what she had with Peeta to what she had with Gale and come away knowing that Peeta is who she needs. I think it's just as important that Peeta gets the same experience. As much as Peeta follows his heart, he seemed to have thought his way out of pursuing Katniss, and in that had the opportunity to experience very early attempts at dating and discovering that you very well can't logic love. It's deeper and more compelling than that, and for all the reasons Katniss doesn't make sense, his heart knows it can only be her.

Thank you nonny! ❤

#everlark #everlark headcanon #peeta mellark #anon ask

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wosowrites · 11 months

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Sick for You (Vivianne Miedema x Reader)

warnings: ⚠️throwing up⚠️

a/n: very short fic but it’s based off this request here

prompt: in which reader is sick and viv takes care of her.

There was literally nothing worse than being sick. You hated it. You hated the sweat that made your hair stick to your face, and the stuffy nose that had you breathing loudly and blowing your nose over and over even though you knew there was nothing to be done. You despised the sore throat and the pain of swallowing as well as the repulse you had towards food. But man, there was nothing worse than throwing up. Nothing worse than the taste, the movement of it all, the smell and the energy it took out of you. And when you woke up Monday morning at the crack of dawn feeling like everything bad in the world had been transferred into your body, you knew exactly what the next couple of days were gonna feel like. Partly because you had a radar for this stuff and partly because the taste of vomit was slowly filling your mouth.

You jumped out of bed, throwing the covers off of you and rushing to the washroom connected to your shared bedroom with Viv. You barely reached the toilet, for once thankful for Vivianne's bad habit of never closing the seat. And then you threw up. It made you want to cry. You hated it. Not only the actual motion of throwing up but the helplessness that came with it.

You parents weren’t exactly… bad they were just absent. And when you used to get sick as a kid, they would get mad. You vividly remembered a time where you accidentally threw up on the floor and got yelled at.

And the fact that you and Vivianne had only been dating for 3 months made it all more scary. What if she was repulsed by you? What if she left? But come now, it was Viv after all.

The dutchie got up the second she heard the sounds of vomiting. She was on her feet and in the bathroom as quickly as humanly possible. “Y/n! Oh my god,” she said, her hair a mess, her eyes wide awake for someone who had been in a deep sleep seconds before. “I’m sorry,” you croaked before throwing up in the bowl again. Viv was quick to catch your loose hair and hold it out of the way, one hand on your hair, the other one slipped under your shirt and rubbing your back soothingly. “Do not apologize. There is nothing to be sorry for baby. You’re sick and I’m here,” she said kindly. You stopped the retching a few minutes after, leaning against the bathroom wall and looking at her with puppy eyes. “I’ll call in sick for both of us, let me get my phone,” she said, leaving the room to get her phone but not before kissing your forehead lovingly.

You leaned your head back on the wall, breathing out shakily but relieved Viv wasn't mad.

Your girlfriend walked back in a couple minutes later. “Let’s go back to bed,” she said softly. But before you could stand up, she put her arms under your legs and picked you right off the ground. “Viv!” you said, letting out a small laugh of surprise. She had made the bed, knowing how much you liked a made bed, and so she let you down on the covers before pulling them out from under you and placing them over you. “I don’t know what to do. I always cook for people when they feel sick but whatever I make you’ll throw right back up,” she said, sitting at the edge of the bed. “I’ll tell you what you can do, you can lie back down in bed with me, turn on the TV and put on a movie,” you said to her, patting the spot beside you. She smiled at you widely before basically throwing herself on to the bed like a child. “Ah! Do not do that, you'll make me throw up again!” you groaned. “Right, sorry,” Vivianne said quickly.

She lied her head on your chest as if you did, your nose would get even more plugged, and as she laid there, she trailed kisses along your collarbones, distracting you from the movie. "Aren’t you scared of getting sick?" you said to her, passing your fingers through her loose hair. "Mhm, well if i’m sick then you’ll take care of me, and that doesn’t sound half bad."

What was half bad was when you woke up from your nap halfway through the second Hunger Games movie with the worse nausea yet. You sat up quickly and tried to get out of bed but the second you were on your feet you threw up.

Never had you felt more helpless. Puke on the floor and on your legs, you wanted to die. Vivianne wasn’t in the room, having probably retreated to the kitchen to make herself food. So, you hurried to the washroom, coughed up a bit more vomit in the sink and then grabbed as much TP as you could at once. But by the time you were back in the bedroom, Vivianne had opened the door and walked into the bedroom. "Oh baby," she said gently, walking up to you and trying to grab the TP. "Stop it. Stop please don’t pity me just le me clean it up," you pleaded with her, pulling away from her.

"Hey, you don’t have to do this yourself. It’s okay. Your sick, you didn’t ask to be sick but i’m asking you to let me help you. I know… you’re used to doing things yourself and being independent but right now you’re going to please go into the washroom and undress as i clean this up and then you’re gonna shower to get that-" she gestured to the vomit on you, "-off of you,"

You didn’t notice your eyes tearing up and when you opened your mouth your girlfriend cut you off again. "And do not dare apologize again," she said.

You closed your mouth swiftly.

However you did as she said. You gave her the TP and then walked into the washroom. You opened the shower, setting the temperature to cold like you liked it. You then pulled off your big baggy tee shirts and your adidas shorts followed by your underwear.

You stepped into the glass shower, letting your head fall backwards to appreciate the coldness of the water falling down your body. You made quick work of shampooing your hair and at the conditioning stage, Vivianne walked in. She headed to the sink and washed her hands, not looking at herself in the mirror, looking at you instead.

You smiled at her and she then sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, watching you. "Even when you’re sick you look beautiful," she said to you, tracing your body with her eyes before laying her gaze on your sunken eyes. "Sure," you laughed over the sound of the water, scrubbing your body clean. "I mean it, y/n. You’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen," she repeated. You closed the water and then stepped out of the shower, not caring about the water dripping all over the floor. "Can I kiss you?" you asked her, standing in front of her. "You can always kiss me," she said gently, rubbing her hands on your hip bone. "Yeah but i’m sick," you said, putting your hands on the side of her face. "Just kiss me," she said.

You leaned down, connecting your lips together and closing your eyes, thankful for her.

#woso fic #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #vivianne miedema

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antianakin · 4 months

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@theneutralmime

So again I'm going to hit this in a few parts because I think there's a few different things happening depending on the situation.

Plo's insistence that they will be found in the Malevolence arc is serving two purposes: he's presumably choosing to have faith in the Force which could be telling him to keep hope, AND he's saying what needs to be said to keep his men's spirits up. If they go into this fight believing it's hopeless anyway, then the chances are a LOT higher that they'll end up dead, whereas if they keep a little more faith in their chances of being found, it'll give them the best chance possible. He's also just trying to lift up the clones' self-esteem in GENERAL because they're mentioning that they're "expendable" which is why they have no hope in being rescued. It's not that they think the situation is completely unsalvagable, but that nobody would bother risking their lives to save a few clones when there's so many of them and they can be so easily replaced. What Plo is doing here isn't that far off from what Yoda does just the episode before with Thire, Jek, and Rys: he's affirming that he sees the clones as PEOPLE worthy of caring about and fighting for, not because they're tools he needs in the war but just because they're THEM. There is nothing else Plo can do in this situation aside from keeping them alive as long as possible, and the best way he can do that is to keep their hopes up and keep them fighting. So regardless of whether he personally believes their chances of discovery are high or not, their best chance is for Plo to convince the clones he believes they'll be found.

ANAKIN'S reaction is completely separate from that (unless you believe that Plo is sort-of listening to the Force which is telling him to keep up hope and that that's possibly coming from Anakin and Ahsoka's choices here). Anakin is basically just bending the rules here because he can tell Ahsoka cares about this. I don't personally believe Anakin would've ACTUALLY gone after Plo in this situation if Ahsoka hadn't been there and being so vocal about her feelings on the matter. I think Anakin likely would've recognized the situation as a pretty foregone conclusion and continued on in his own mission. Keep in mind that this isn't the first attack by the Malevolence and in the other situations, there were no survivors. There's no actual reason to believe Plo is alive this time and it's a LOT more logical to assume that he didn't make it. Ahsoka is being emotional because she's young and she cares about Plo and wants to abandon her own mission in order to go check on someone she cares about, which is something that could potentially have dire consequences in other areas.

What Anakin does is try to find a loophole of sorts that allows them to still complete their original mission while accomplishing this other task, too. And while this logic works out for him, it assumes that nothing is going to happen to his fleet on the way to their final destination while he's gone. He is, effectively, abandoning his entire battalion in order to go save ONE PERSON (because I don't for a SECOND believe he cares about the 104th, he only cares about Plo because that's who AHSOKA cares about). If the 501st had gotten attacked mid-route somehow or they'd had issues along the way, they were left without either Jedi General or Commander to help them out. Yes, Plo and his three men would've died, but losing an entire fleet (which would be in ADDITION to losing Plo's entire battalion) would be far worse in the long run.

And this is why Anakin keeps getting away with acting like this. He takes massive risks in the name of emotional attachments that COULD have dire consequences but he manages to just keep getting lucky, which he convinces himself means that he was RIGHT. But that's not how it works, it's not the same thing. And eventually, that kind of thinking is going to lead him down the wrong path and he won't get so lucky.

You can also look at this situation like the trolley problem. Ideally, they'd like to just stop the trolley before it gets to either line with people on it. But if they CAN'T stop the trolley in time (and they have no control over which line it goes to), and the trolley's now hit that line with one person on it, is it better to go check and see if that one person survived being hit or is it better to go get the other people off the trolley line so they DON'T get hit by a trolley at all? It's possible another trolley might never come down, it's possible that that one person is still alive and could survive if only they're attended to in time. But it's also just as possible that a second trolley might come down and hit those other people on the other track while you're off saving that one person who's already been hit.

Now let's look at Luminara on Geonosis during the factory explosion. Here we get a more direct comparison between how a REAL Jedi handles the possibility of losing someone they care about and how ANAKIN handles the possibility of losing someone he cares about. The main difference for me here is the way they ultimately end up treating EACH OTHER. There's zero evidence that Luminara WOULDN'T have supported Anakin's attempts at finding them, and in fact there's actually evidence to support that Luminara was ALSO trying to look for them when she knelt down on the ground to meditate (something Anakin, like most of the fandom, tends to misinterpret as Luminara dropping to her knees in grief). When Anakin sees what he THINKS is Luminara losing herself to emotion, he's completely capable of being compassionate and reaching out to comfort Luminara, but when she responds that she's actually okay and will deal with Barriss's death if it happens, his compassion EVAPORATES. Almost like it was never even there and wasn't truly compassion in the first place (it's not that selfless if it's only offered when she adheres to HIS idea of how to properly grieve). And he never gives her the benefit of the doubt after this, never tries to understand her perspective AT ALL. All he does is continue to provoke her and harass her and then when they DO find Barriss and Ahsoka, Anakin IMMEDIATELY chooses to throw Luminara under the bus and accuse her of not caring about her own padawan RIGHT IN FRONT OF BARRISS.

Luminara, by contrast, continuously reaches out to Anakin to offer HIM compassion. Even in the face of his being a complete and utter asshole, his anger and selfishness towards her, she recognizes that this is Anakin GRIEVING the possibility of having lost Ahsoka, and so she offers selfless comfort ANYWAY. Even as he lashes out at her, even as he rejects her comfort and advice, she keeps offering it. Because she's a TRUE Jedi while Anakin is only a Jedi in name and nowhere is that more obvious than in this super direct parallel.

And you can compare this later to the advice Plo gives Anakin about Ahsoka during the Padawan Lost arc where he says that all Anakin can do at this point is trust that he's given her enough training to find her own way home. When there's nothing Anakin can truly do to help, he just has to trust in Ahsoka and trust in the Force to guide her. He has to trust he's been a good enough teacher. And in both the Geonosis episode with Luminara and the Padawan Lost arc with Plo, Ahsoka DOES manage to save herself. Anakin isn't really the person who does anything to save Ahsoka on Geonosis because he has no idea where to even start looking and it's a large area to search and they don't have enough time to search everywhere. Ahsoka sends a signal that gets through to the others, though, and THAT'S what saves her. It's something Anakin taught her before, sure, but nothing Anakin is doing right now in this moment is helping and THAT'S what Luminara is trying to impress upon him. All they can do right now, just like Plo and his men with the Malevolence, is trust in the Force and WAIT. Luminara is keeping herself calm, focused, and centered because getting emotional isn't going to help Barriss. Anakin getting emotional certainly doesn't help Ahsoka.

This is also a lesson we see pop up in other areas, as well. We see Obi-Wan getting taught a similar lesson during AOTC where he has to just trust he's taught Anakin well enough that he can manage his own obstacles and fix his own mistakes on a solo mission. He has to let go of his worries and doubts enough to let Anakin go because that's just how growing up works. And while we as the audience know that there's absolutely good reason to worry about Anakin being able to handle a solo mission, the Jedi aren't wrong to advise Obi-Wan to give Anakin room to make his own mistakes so he can grow. Also, in the episode JUST PRIOR to the one with Luminara, Landing at Point Rain, we see Anakin dealing with the loss of a loved one in the RIGHT way. Obi-Wan's ship crashes and Anakin is stuck far away and they don't know if Obi-Wan is injured or even alive. But Anakin is also still with Ahsoka and their troops, trying to get to the original landing site. Anakin COULD run ahead and try to get to Obi-Wan's ship to help him, but he'd be abandoning everybody else in order to do so and there's tons of enemies between them and the landing site, so the chances that they'd make it without his help are slim at best. So when Ahsoka starts getting emotional about wanting to help Obi-Wan, Anakin has to be the one to teach her this and tell her that they can't just go running off when it means abandoning other people to die. All they can do is protect the people they have the ability to protect and trust that in the Force and in Obi-Wan's own abilities.

So it's not like Anakin doesn't KNOW how he's supposed to handle this situation. He literally does EXACTLY what Luminara does JUST THE LAST EPISODE and teaches this exact fucking lesson to his own Padawan like the day before. And yet, when he's losing it and someone else is having to remind him about it, he can't take his own advice. He forgets everything he's ever learned and instead becomes a complete asshole to someone who has done nothing to deserve it.

So the lesson here isn't that you should never do anything to try to help people that MIGHT be dead, it's about prioritizing and knowing what it is you CAN do in the situation. With Plo, Anakin and Ahsoka CAN go save Plo, sure, but it means making a concession somewhere else. They prioritize saving Plo over staying with their own battalion. Plo has to prioritize keeping his men alive which means he has to choose to be optimistic even in the face of low odds because all he CAN do is keep fighting to stay alive as long as possible. Anakin can't REALLY do anything for Ahsoka when the factory explodes because he just has too little information to act on and this drives him NUTS. AHSOKA can work on sending a signal to him, but all Anakin can do is WAIT and have faith that Ahsoka will find a way out. Anakin's not so good at the faith thing, though, just canonically. Anakin doesn't like letting go of that much control in his life (or the lives of people he cares about). Luminara, however, CAN let go of the need to have control over everything and is doing what little she CAN do, which is reaching out with the Force to see if she can sense where Barriss is and keeping herself calm and focused.

Anakin IS wrong both times. The fact that things work out for him both times doesn't make him right in either instance. Remember, the exact things that cause him to make the choices he does HERE are the same things he uses to convince himself it's okay to commit a genocide against the Jedi later in order to save Padme. It's the exact same reasoning, he just gets lucky these times and gets LESS lucky later.

#star wars #anakin critical #anakin skywalker critical #luminara unduli #plo koon #barriss offee #jedi #pro jedi #attachment #attachment ≠ love

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