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fairy-angel222 · 2 months

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𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—“i just wanna be one of your girls tonight,”

pairing: geto suguru x fem! reader

synopsis: you’ve had a crush on your brother’s best friend for a long time, and just wanted to have his attention at least once

content: smut, weed consumption, blowing smoke into your mouth, choking, fingering, mirror sex, praise

You would do anything for the attention of Geto Suguru. There was just something about him that you needed. Yes he was your brother’s best friend. And yes he was three years older than you. But that really meant nothing.

Your teeth bit down painfully on your bottom lip as you watched Geto flirt with an older girl. His signature smirk on his face as he leaned onto her locker, hands in his pocket with his lips moving in the sweetest words.

You wish it could’ve been you. The way she got shy, her face flushed red as she tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear with a perfectly manicured nail.

All you could do was watch with longing as his arm wrapped around her waist, her head on his side before they began walking the halls together. His smirk never faltered as he nodded along to her words.

Lucky. You thought to yourself, a tight lipped smile painted on your face.

You finished packing away your books, slamming the metal blue door shut before making your way to class. You’d always be his best friend’s little sister.

“Fuck- sorry..” you trailed off as you looked up to find his eyes staring back down at you. A smile on his face and his eyebrow raised as broad hands held onto your waist to steady your frame. “Language sweetheart. And careful now, wouldn’t want Gojo to kill me, would we?” he teased.

Your mouth opening and closing with no words escaping. “U-uh y-eah, well n-no, i mean no.” So fucking embarrassing.

Geto only chuckled, shaking his head in amusement then walking off with a grin. “Bye little Gojo.”

There he goes with that stupid nickname again.

…

The day goes by with nothing on your mind. Well, except Geto of course. He would be coming over to your house later to hang out with your brother. And as always, they would have girls over.. and you weren’t invited as Gojo put it.

Leaving your classroom, you passed by your locker to collect your things. Swinging your bag over your shoulder and making your way to the school’s doors. “Hey y/n,” a deep voice called. Turning around to see Geto jogging up to you with a girl’s arm hooked around his. A brunette this time.. great.

“Yeah?”

“Gojo asked for me to take you home, so you’re stuck with me.” He stated, winking jokingly before draping his arm over your shoulder as he walked you and his girl of the day to his vehicle.

If only he knew what that mere gesture did to you.

You took a seat in the back of his vehicle. Awkwardly watching as his hand squeezed the thigh of the girl in the passenger’s seat, massaging her skin until she was looking at the side of his face with nothing but want.

You blinked your attention away from them, resting your head back and looking out the car window instead. The ride to your house was silent apart from the girl’s constant giggling. And you kept your focus on anything but them, missing the way Geto glanced back through the rear view mirror. His head tilted and a small smile on his face.

She’s jealous, cute.

…

“We’re here,” Geto announced.

Walking into the house and greeting your brother in a hug before flopping down on the couch with his girl on his lap.

Gojo had his own blonde sat next to him, her legs on his lap as she played with his hair. “Hello little sister, not even gonna greet your favorite big brother hello?”

You gave a short wave before going up to your room, locking the door shut before flopping onto your bed. You wanted him.. so bad.

Maybe if you were just two years older.. granted, 18 and 21 wasn’t even that bad.. but maybe he would watch you then.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you heard loud music fill the house, the group most likely beginning their drinking and make out session by now.

Grabbing your phone, you plugged in your earphones. One of The Girls by the weeknd blasting through your ears as you let your mind wander. Geto, his hands, on your body.

You let out a soft whimper as you allowed your hand to roam to your chest, squeezing your tits and rolling your nipples between your soft fingertips.

“Mmm..” you moaned, imagining his hand instead of yours as you trailed it lower, slowly pulling down your pants and letting it slip inside the white lace of your panties. “Fuck.. Suguru,” your fingers rubbed along the line of your slit, teasing your clit before you finally allowed them to dip into your wetness.

“A-ah, so good,” you threw your head back into your pillow, thrusting your fingers in and out of your dripping heat with desperation. Trying your hardest to curl them to reach that good spot. Almost there.

“Fuck.” you yelled out in frustration, they were not enough. You needed his. His long, veiny fingers.. you needed them in you, around your neck, squeezing at your flesh. Anything.

Sighing loudly, you stood up. Walking over to the door of you and your brother’s shared master bathroom. You would usually knock. But he and his friends were clearly getting drunk— and high, downstairs. So there was no need.

Pushing the door open, your eyes widened at the sight of Geto leaned over your counter. A blunt between his lips as red eyes stared at you through the mirror, his face drenched with water.

“A-am sorry, I thought it was e-empty.” you rushed out, your thighs clenching as you watched his muscles flex as he gripped the counter’s edge even harder.

“Wait,” he called out, stopping you mid track from closing your side of the door. “Come here.”

You gulped hard, shakily walking over to him. “Y-yeah?” Geto smirked, “you know, it’s cute how flustered you get around me.”

You could feel your cheeks heat up, your brain scrambling to find something to say. Geto only chuckled, “wanna try?” holding the blunt out in your direction. “I.. I don't think Gojo would like that.”

He shrugged, “I won’t tell.” Before stalking over to you and backing you up against the counter. You yelped as his arms hooked under your thighs, swiftly lifting you onto the counter top before situating himself between your legs.

Geto’s fingers hooked onto your chin, your eyes meeting his as he lifted your head towards him. “Open.” You did as told, parting your lips and watching as he took a hit, blowing the smoke into your open mouth before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

Your stomach burned with heat, your pussy drenched as his lips found your neck. You let out a soft moan, your hands wrapping around his neck while your fingers tugged at the back of his hair. “What about your girlfriend downstairs?” you spoke between moans.

“Not my girlfriend.” he reassured “And tonight’s all about you.”

You were in heaven, it was even better than you imagined.

Setting the rolled paper down, Geto helped you remove your shirt, pinching your nipples and twisting them softly just to hear you moan. “You sound so pretty.”

Geto hurriedly peeled off his shirt, his abs on display making you bite your tongue. “Touch them.”

“W-what?”

“Go ahead, touch them.” Grabbing your hands and placing them on the hard muscles.

You could only whimper when Geto pulled your pants off of you, his eyes going dark at the sight of the white lace covering your pussy.

He looked down at you with a look of confirmation, you looking up at him through long lashes as you nodded. “Please.”

That was all he needed, ripping the flimsy material off of you and admiring your glistening cunt. His fingers found your wetness, rubbing up and down before sinking them into you. A loud moan escaping your lips making his eyes widen.

“Shhh, don’t wanna get caught do you.”

Geto’s free hand made its way up to your mouth, muffling your mewls as he curled his fingers up into you. Perfect. They were hitting inside you so good, and you allowed yourself to moan his name over and over into his palm. His eyes never leaving yours as he fingered you dumb.

Your eyes rolled back and your mouth hung open, drool coating his hand as you rocked back and forth on the marble top. It was happening, it was actually happening.

“Is this what you wanted baby? This what you been waiting for?”

You nodded, your eyes teary as the pads of his fingers pressed into your g spot with every thrust. Your legs hooked tightly around his waist, your toes curling as you began to tremble.

“Cum for me,” he whispered in your ear, hot tongue making you moan out as he nibbled on your lobe. You could only let out a soft cry as you clenched down on his fingers, rocking your hips onto his hand and fucking yourself through your high.

Geto watched in pure lust as you came, your glassy eyes looking up at him before shutting in pleasure, your head falling back as you met your release. You looked like a fucking angel in his eyes. And he wanted nothing more than to be the demon to corrupt you.

“Good girl.” he smirked.

You smiled, your eyes trailing to the blunt once more, making Geto’s smirk grow impossibly wider. Picking it up and bringing it to your plump lips. “Inhale... there we go. Now let it sit.. and exhale.” he coaxed, “You like that?”

Your head felt so dizzy, intoxicated even. And you nodded, watching as Geto took his own hit before blowing it out onto your face.

His fingers were dripping with your slick, and he brought them up to his mouth with a smug smile. Using his tongue to lick up your sweetness before connecting his lips to yours again. The kiss was hard, sloppy, and you moaned loudly into him.

Pulling away, Geto flipped you over. Using his knee to spread your legs apart and push your chest down onto the cold marble. You let out a needy whine, meeting his eyes in the mirror as his hand wrapped around your neck. The other lining his cock up with your hole. He let out a choked groan as he eased into you. A loud moan being drawn past your lips.

“S-so tight, fuck.” Geto’s lips parted in a loud groan, using his now free hand to pin both your smaller hands behind your back. “Beg me.. beg me to ruin you.”

You let out a broken cry. “P-please Geto.. please fuck me, ruin me, anything. ‘M all yours.”

You let out a string of high pitched noises when he began slamming his hips into yours. His tip piercing deep into you with every thrust.

“F-fuck, y-you’re.. s-so,” you let out a broken mewl, “so d-deep.” Geto tightened his hold on your neck, lifting your head slightly to force your eyes to stay on his. A deep growl sounding in his throat when you closed them.

“Look at me when i fuck you.” he demanded, your eyes shooting open and meeting his immediately.

Your mouth hung open in a small o. Soundless cries filling the room as you watched your body jerk forward with each movement of his hips.

You were so tight around him. Even tighter than he had imagined. And he couldn’t help the moans leaving his own mouth as he destroyed your pussy.

“Does that feel good? Does my cock feel good inside you baby?”

You nodded with a whimper, your breathing heavy as you were forced to watch yourself be fucked dumb.

“Words sweetheart.”

“Y-yes, it feels s-so good Suguru.”

“That’s my girl.”

You could feel your legs going weak, your knees trembling as you were fucked into the counter. “Nngh- Sugu,” you moaned, a smirk on his face as he thought back to mere minutes ago when you were moaning his name from your bed. Now you didn’t have to imagine, he was right there.

“‘M so close,” you mewled.

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess for me? Show me how much you wanted this?”

His back hunched as he flattened his chest against you, the position allowing him to hit deeper than you thought was possible.

“F-fuck,” you cried out, your eyes widening with tears as you felt his dick fucking you so deep, so good. The pleasure was too intense. The coil in your stomach painfully ready to snap.

“Look at how good you look when you fall apart on my cock. Come on baby— cum for me again.” He encouraged as he rolled his hips up into you, forgetting about being quiet as he relished in your loud moans and cries. You sounded so pretty for him. And for him only.

A loud scream fell past your lips when his dick hammered against your g spot. Your legs shaking uncontrollably as you began to gush around him. Eyes rolling back as you basked in the pleasure from your high.. the highest you’d ever been.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he dragged out, breathing getting heavy and his thrusts sloppy as he gave your pussy its final thrusts.

“Wish i could fill you up more than anything. Fuck, wanna make you mine. Wanted to for so long.” he moaned, voice cracking slightly as his abs tensed.

Geto groaned, pulling out of you before spilling his cum onto your ass, his head thrown back as he let rope after rope fall onto your plush flesh.

Strong hands held you up before you collapsed, holding you tight against him as he breathed heavily into your back. Your chest heaving in an attempt to steady your own breathing.

Your heart clenched as your eyes trailed over the scene in the mirror. You, Suguru.. together, sweat coating both of your skins.

Geto’s voice was soft as he mumbled, “Want you so bad.. need you to be mine. I can’t wait anymore.”

Your heart rate sped up as you felt your tears at the brink of falling. This wasn’t a dream. “I— I..” you were at a loss of words.. he wanted you too.

“It’s okay, I know. You don’t quite make it discreet.” he joked, pulling you into a tight hug and placing a kiss onto your head.

Geto cursed, letting out a long sigh and picking up the still lit blunt. Taking a puff before releasing it above your head. “What the fuck am i supposed to say if Gojo finds out.”

Oh yeah.. your brother. He would most definitely not approve.

Just then, a knock sounded on the door. A very drunk Gojo slurring, “Yo Suguru? You in there? I need to piss.”

Geto only shook his head with a silent laugh. While you, you couldn’t be bothered. You had him. You actually had him. Suguru was yours. And you weren’t just one of his girls. You were his girl.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #geto x reader smut #geto suguru x reader smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #geto x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo smut

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fuckaperioddrama · 2 months

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Theodore Nott Headcanons

Fem!Reader

Author’s Notes: Kinda realistic, but you have to be a little delulu with the Slytherin boys. FIRST POST!

Proofread, but there's probably still mistakes.

Mattheo Riddle Headcanons

Lorenzo Berkshire Headcanons

Blaise Zabini Headcanons

Tom Riddle Headcanons

Draco Malfoy Headcanons

Masterlist

Minors DNI | 18+

___

Theodore Nott | Physique

6’5 - 6'6 | Sorry, he’s just super tall in my head. I'm a tall girl so let me have this.

Lean, but lanky? He's in the in-between stage.

He doesn’t have a lot of muscle, but you can still see muscle?

He's a little insecure about his body, especially since Mattheo and Lorenzo are more on the buff side.

Would never go to the gym though, he only works out during Quidditch.

Resting bitch face, but I feel like this is established.

HOT AS FUCK! HOT! I MEAN HOT AS FUCK! | Shameless Theo girl. SHAMELESS! |

Theodore Nott | Personality

He’s an asshole, but he’s funny. He’s more on the quiet side, but once in a while, he’ll say something witty that’ll make everyone in the room laugh.

Don’t get into an argument with him. He has a comeback for everything. It’s actually really fucking annoying.

So blunt. He won’t share his opinion unless asked or if it’s important to him but don’t ask him unless you want the complete and total truth.

Plays the piano and guitar.

He loves books. He reads a lot of romance, but he would never share that with anyone.

He’s very smart. He studies a little here and there, but mostly he just understands everything naturally. He doesn’t even really have to pay attention that much in class. Something else that’s really fucking annoying.

I feel like he's not amazing at DADA. He's not bad at it, but he gets in his head sometimes and will mess up.

He’s a homebody, but he’ll go out to parties every once in a while. Mainly to hang out with his boys and keep up appearances.

He’s prideful. He comes from a good family and he likes to make his presence known.

A chaser in Quidditch and is ALWAYS showing off. It pisses Draco off so much.

He smokes, but not a ton. I’d say a pack every 2-3 days.

Smokes weed though. He’s not reckless with it, but if he’s at a party or relaxing without shit to do? He’s lighting up.

Eats SO MUCH. Especially when he's high. He is always in the mood for food.

Theodore Nott | Casenova

He does have a lot of sex, but it’s usually one woman for a couple of weeks. He doesn’t talk to her outside of their meetups and will (and has) embarrassed a couple of women who even thought it was okay to approach him.

He’s an ASSHOLE!

The reason why these women keep crawling back? Theodore Nott fucks you like he loves you. He’s so attentive.

A MUNCH! Theodore Nott is a munch, through and through. He's so good at it too.

It's because he speaks Italian. Anyone who speaks the tongue of romance also speaks the tongue of absolutely devouring some pussy. I know that's not true for all, but let me DREAM!

He's also skilled with his fingers. | Piano and guitar player. Duh. |

As previously mentioned, this man is prideful. He will spend hours on a woman pulling out every sound, causing every jolt, and basking in the way they scream his name because it feeds his ego.

He's not doing all of that because he cares, he just likes knowing he's good at what he does. And he is good.

He’s a dom, and he is ROUGH, but he talks them through it the whole time. SO MUCH PRAISE!

This pussy is mine, toria. All fucking mine. There isn't a single man on this Earth who deserves to feel you like this.

I know, baby. Just cum on my cock one more time. That's all I need. Let me feel you just one more time.

Fuck, bella, you make me feel so good.

He'll have them thinking their vag was crafted by Aphrodite herself, meanwhile he's pulling these lines on every woman he fucks.

And when he starts speaking Italian? These women EAT IT UP!

I might be a strong woman, but I'd let this man use me too.

They eat him up too. Not just figuratively. It's become a guessing game for the boys trying to figure out who his hickey came from.

Theo isn't one to kiss and tell. He just smirks and lays his head back, exposing his hickey covered neck as his friends keep asking questions they'll never get the answers to.

And after sex? He’s the perfect, sweet lover. So time after time these women come crawling back despite how he treats them in public and he uses them over and over again.

Then he gets bored, he moves on to the next woman, and the cycle repeats.

Theodore Nott | Friend

Closest to Mattheo and Blaise

Talks a lot more around his friends. Jokes left and right.

Always doing some dumb shit. Pranks with Mattheo? His favorite pastime.

He likes going out with his boys, being reckless, blowing his money, and just being young.

He loves his friends because they remind him what it’s like to be free.

He’d never admit it to any of them, but meeting them was one of the best things that ever happened to him.

His friends (Aka Draco and Lorenzo) are bullies, but he couldn’t be bothered with that. He’s more of a fuck around a find out type of guy.

Yes, I believe Lorenzo Berkshire is an asshole. Please don’t come for me. Or do.

He takes care of his friends silently. He won’t ask them how their day is, but he’ll show up with their favorite things whenever he notices them feeling bad.

Very attentive. He is very in tune with the needs of the group.

Theodore Nott | Boyfriend

UGH, I LOVE THIS PART

He is used to being an asshole toward women so he’s not sure how to navigate his first relationship

Gift Giving and Acts of Service

He doesn’t know how to properly express his feelings so he just buys you shit and does stuff for you

PRINCESS TREATMENT

I’m talking back rubs, foot rubs, | If you want that. I know some people have a feet thing. | putting on your shoes, zipping up your dress, washing you in the shower or bath, doing your hair, carrying you when your feet hurt. Something broke? He’ll fix it. You need something? Baby, I’ve got it.

He serves you first in the great hall. He puts your food on your plate first and makes sure you have all of your favorites. He likes to give you food. He likes to eat so he likes it when you eat.

Buys you flowers. He always keeps a flower from the arrangement so he can tell when yours is about to die.

Dates 2-3 times a month.

Always buying you gifts. He will FORCE you to take them. Why should I not spoil you?

He can be a little misogynistic when it comes to taking care of you.

He's more of a feminist. He doesn't give a shit and thinks women can do whatever they want. However, some gender roles are just ingrained in him.

Do not try to pay for dinner. Don't try to pay for anything while you're out with him. Do you want these people to think I can't take care of my girl?

Will not let you carry anything heavy. In private he might let you get away with it if you argue, but not in public. He's a man and it's his job to act like the man. | I don't mind men like this too much. Like I'm an independent woman, but I'm also a damsel in distress. Please do everything for me.

Anything his baby wants his baby gets. He has a big protector/provider mindset. He will do anything for you because you’re precious and you shouldn’t have to do anything yourself.

Teddy, I’ve got it.

I know, cara mia, but let me do it.

His hands are always on you. Physical Touch.

When you first start dating it’s subtle. Hand on your back, hands grazing in the hallways.

He can be a little possessive. Or a lot.

He used to fuck the girlfriends of the guys he didn’t like so he doesn’t like when guys come around you. He keeps you close as a way to claim you.

Toxic

When he gets more comfortable around you it’s a hand on your waist, arm around your shoulder, occasionally smacking your ass.

He’s a thigh guy, but he appreciates everything. Boobs, butt, thighs, neck, arm, whatever. The female body is beautiful and he loves every inch.

Greets you in the hallways by putting his arms around you from behind.

Neck. Kisses. Always kissing your neck. Licking your neck. Biting your neck.

Kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you. Sometimes it looks like he's swallowing you, your friends think it's kinda gross.

Walks you to each and every class and makes out with you before them

He just loves to spend time with you.

Quality Time

As I mentioned before, he’s a homebody. He loves just staying in with you. After your last class, he always goes to your dorm or you go to his. Study together. Astronomy Tower dates.

He follows you around like a lost puppy. He’s so lover-boy-coded.

He didn’t pay attention to the girls before you, but he has no problem giving you his full attention whenever and wherever you need it. Call him a simp? He doesn’t care. That’s his girl.

He can be a little controlling sometimes. He likes to know where you are, and who you’re with.

He walks you everywhere. You’re meeting up with your friends after he spent two hours railing you against a wall? He’s walking you the whole way, he can't miss a second of you.

And afterward, he always gives you a kiss and a hug goodbye. I’ll miss you, amore. Like you two won’t see each other in a couple of hours. Then he'll keep pulling you closer to him every time you try to break free because he needs just one more kiss.

He’ll always make you late. Sometimes it's because he is smothering you in kisses. Other times, he spends a good ten minutes holding you and telling you how much he loves you. Words of Affirmation.

Once Theodore Nott is fully and completely comfortable in his love with you he will NOT shut up. He can be so cheesy too, he comes up with the most eye-roll-inducing stuff.

I know I won't make it to heaven, but at least I was given a taste before I go.

I think someone might have stolen the stars and put them in your eyes.

Then there's the unhinged cheesy ones.

Why should I waste time studying herbs with the power to heal wounds when the only healing power I need is right in between your legs?

Are you the witch who lost her broom? I couldn't find it, but I have something else long and hard that you can ride. I've heard it can last all. night. long.

ON AND ON. HE WON'T STOP.

Then of course you have his more serious declarations of love. Usually when you're sleeping because whenever he tries to say this stuff when you're awake he feels like his heart is about to backflip into his ass.

When I look at your face, I feel as if the sun finally rises. My world fades from dark to light and in that moment; and only in that moment, I find happiness. I am not a good man, I don't know what I did in life to deserve you but I promise to spend every second making sure I'm worthy of keeping you.

| Alright, that was a little cute. Maybe a little too cheesy, let’s move on. |

Theodore Not | Committed Lover

Tongue shoved in between your legs 24/7. On his knees in the closet, with you above him sitting on a desk, laying down between your legs, you sitting on his face. Anytime, anywhere he is tasting you like it’s the last thing he ever could do.

He is so good with his fingers. | Once again guys, he plays piano and guitar. | Fast fingers working you open every chance he gets.

Seriously every chance he gets.

He loves fingering you in the middle of class, by the lake, in the hallways, and anywhere in public. | With your consent of course.

I SAID IT ONCE AND ILL SAY IT AGAIN! ROUGH!

He loves doggy. Having you bent over while he smacks your ass raw and dicks you down like a fucking animal.

I mean leg up, holding you back by the ties around your wrist while he thrust his huge ass cock | At least 8 inches and THICK | into your SOAKED and achy cunt because you know he took his TIME getting you ready.

Literal hours sucking on your clit while he fucked you with his nicely long and thick fingers

Now he’s pounding into you at an unthinkable speed while you’re screaming, tears running down your face, and mind going blank as he fucks you dumb.

He lets you ride him sometimes. He loves seeing you on top, but he still never fully gives you control. He keeps his hands firm on your waist or ass and you can never get away with teasing him for long before he holds you in place and fucks into you like a man possessed.

He likes the soft stuff too.

Hands holding onto your hips as he grinds his cock into your pussy.

Head stuffed into your neck as he continuously moans. I could stay here forever. You’re all I need.

___

A/N: Overall, Theo is a toxic asshole but it’s okay because he magically becomes the perfect gentleman (not really) when we start dating him.

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kitchen-spoon · 2 months

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Steddie where Eddie moves into a small house in a retirement mobile home park. He is the youngest guy there and is pretty handy. All the old ladies in the neighbourhood start to talk about him when he begins to offer his handyman skills to them as well.

One day after finishing up winterizing Mrs. Harrington’s water supply to her trailer she invites Eddie inside for some tea to warm up. Winter hadn’t hit yet but it was already nippy out she told him. Once inside she invites him to come over Sunday night to join her and her friends ‘book club’. At first Eddie politely declines but once she explains to him that its all the old ladies in the neighbourhood sitting around drinking wine, smoking joints, and gossiping he’s in.

Enter Steve who visits his grandma every Sunday for dinner and sometimes stays for her gossip sessions with all the other bitties in the neighbourhood because the snacks are always great. Steve is surprised that week when the door bell rings and a hot long haired pierced man covered in tattoos is standing there instead of another old woman handing him her coat and cane. Steve sputters for a moment but then his grandmother is coming up behind him explaining this is the young man who fixed her water supply for her.

“Well um, thank you for that.” Steve nods awkwardly, watching over his shoulder as his grandmother waddled away back to her friends. “You didn’t have to come though, sorry if she twisted your arm about it, she’s stubborn.” He rubbed at the back of his neck with a small chuckle.

“It’s okay I really don’t mind.” Eddie smiled easily, inching his way into the house and Steve’s personal space. “Smoking weed with a bunch of old ladies and gossiping about my new neighbours sounds like a great way for me to spend my Sunday.” He winked.

“I- yeah it is pretty fun.” Steve agreed having not moved at all. “The snacks are always great too, you’ll have to try Betty’s blondie cake it’s always my favourite.” Steve leaned in to whisper conspiratorially.

Eddie beamed back at him, eyes roving all over Steve’s face before pausing at his lips for a second then darting back up to his eyes. “Lead the way then big boy.” Eddie bit his lip at how red Steve’s face got, he decided to push it slipping his hand into Steve’s.

“Yeah- uh sure yeah.” Steve nodded dumbly staring at their connected hands for a moment before snapping out of it and tugging Eddie along. “Everything is set up in the living room, I just got the fire going to so it should be warm.”

By the end of the night Eddie and Steve were melted into one another on a small single seater in the corner of the room. They watched as all the ladies gathered their coats one by one as their husbands came to collect them.

“It’s sweet.” Steve sighed unprompted, his head lolled against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie made a questioning noise so he continued. “Seeing their husbands come walk them back home at the end of the night. They aren’t annoyed that their wives are giggly and a bit wobbly they are just happy they are happy and want to be there to take care of them.”

“You are a sappy stoner Steve.” Eddie teased, he moved his hand over and dropped it onto Steve’s thigh giving it a squeeze. “Can’t say I blame you though, it is very cute to see.” Eddie sighed before unsticking himself from Steve’s side and making his way to the door himself. “I better get going, no husband to come walk me home”. He blushed at the implication of his own words.

“I’ll be your husband.” Steve blurted then immediately turned red. “I mean- I meant that I uhum-“

“You can walk me home Steve.” Eddie smiled wide and teasingly. He looked his arm through Steve’s and tugged him through the door, waving goodbye to Mrs.Harrington with a promise to be back next week.

The walk was short considering Eddie was only 2 houses down and one across. They kept their arms looped the entire 3 minutes they walked, and once they reached the door Steve still hadn’t let go.

“Well goodnight.” Steve spoke first, ducking his head away. He took a deep breath then looked back to Eddie determination on his face when he spoke. “See you next week?”

Eddie smiled but shook his head, “I was hoping sooner, how does Wednesday sound?” He moved in closer his hand sliding down to Steve’s waist.

“Wednesday is great I love Wednesday.” Steve nodded frantically then cringed. “I mean I don’t actually love all Wednesday’s just this one because we are-“

Eddie cut his rambling off with a kiss. He leaned in and connected their lips, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of Steve’s head.

Steve melted into the kiss, his body going lax in Eddie’s hold, “Thanks for saving me from embarrassing myself further.”

“Anytime sweetheart.”

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things ships #steve x eddie #stranger things #stranger things one shot #meet cute #strangers to lovers #flustered steve Harrington #eddie munson has peircings and tattoos #eddie munson knows how to flirt #confident eddie munson #gay steve harrington #steve harrington pov #handy eddie munson #gay eddie munson

2K notes · View notes

highvern · 7 days

Text

Between the Titles

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, smut (mature/18+)

warnings: egregious caffeine consumption, yoongi smokes cigarettes, reader is about the same height as yoongi (its me hello im almost the same height as him), gay taehyung, volunteer jungkook, silver fox yoongi (he just has some gray hair bc hot) smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), semi-public sexual acts, bathroom sex, protected sex, praise kink

Length: ~9.5k

Note: no thoughts, just big brain yoongi in a sweater smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. btw almost all the books in this are real but i haven't read them so if you have lmk if they're worth the read lmao. thank u to my dearest @gyuswhore and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing this

Summary: Five days a week in the library means you're very familiar with the senior research librarian. It also means he has no qualms about making his own book recommendations either.

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

The sweet aroma of old books and strong coffee infiltrates your nose as the heavy doors into the library swing open, offering reprieve from the storm raging on outside. It’s far too early for anyone to be here beyond staff and a few other morning birds. You glide right to the circulation desk as if fatigue doesn’t pulse through your veins, barely quelled by the second cup of coffee you sip from.

As always, the same familiar head of dark hair with sparse silver streaks waits at the circulation desk. He’s the only person working this early despite being the senior research librarian but you never hear any complaints louder than muttered annoyance under his breath when he thinks no one is around to hear. Bent over his laptop, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to look up as he slides a heavy stack of books to the edge of the counter.

Eleven total, ten heavy volumes on ancient fertility cults across the globe, and one book you know he’s mixed in for his own amusement.

It’s become something of a game between you two. At first you thought he was mixing your materials with someone else’s, but every time you brought the additional copy back to his desk, Yoongi insisted he had no idea what you were talking about and questioned your reading choices. Each time the titles got more ridiculous: Castration: The Advantages and the Disadvantages, How to Enjoy Your Weeds, Amish Vampires in Space, the list goes on and on. But after he slipped Why Fish Don’t Exist into your stack a few weeks ago, you decided to start responding.

You left the stack at his desk like usual, ears perked for his reaction to Fishes I Have Known. An amused snort rang out just as you opened the doors to leave for the afternoon. The sound was so unlike the stoic man you’d become accustomed to over months working on your thesis; not that you heard him talk much to begin with.

Since then you’ve made a point to match every book he leaves for you. Yesterday, Yoongi chose I Could Pee on This: and Other Poems by Cats. At the end of the day, you spent thirty minutes searching shelf after shelf for an appropriate response, every book failing to meet your expectations. It wasn’t fair he knew the expansive collection like the back of his hand but nevertheless you found something up to par.

Yoongi rolled his eyes when you passed your books over the counter, a copy of Staying Dry: A Practical Guide to Bladder Control, like a shining star on top. A brief pink of his tongue flashed across his lips, a feeble attempt to muffle an amused smile. It was the most obvious reaction since the first time you responded.

Smiling like the cat who ate the canary, you left on clouds last night.

But this morning you have notes to write.

Snagging the collection, you make your way deeper into the building. Your unassigned-assigned desk tucked away on the fifth floor, far enough away from any noise so you can fully immerse in work without the threat of distraction. An uninterrupted view of the courtyard below is an added bonus.

The wooden table top is covered in a neat collection of pens and sticky notes in minutes; your laptop and the foot tall collection of references you devour over the next eight hours taking up the other half.

A few titles you request over and over sit on top, too valuable to be checked out for long term use so you settle for keeping them in constant rotation since no one else bothers to read the dusty yellowing tombs. For now, you focus on the new pieces you hope hold the information you need.

Earth rites: fertility practices in pre-industrial Britain, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in the Ancient Mediterranean, Metamorphosis of Baubo: myths of woman's sexual energy—

I’m in Love with Mothman…

Well there it is.

You thumb across the glossy cartoon cover, failing to bite back a smile. Yoongi has a penchant for tossing in the most outlandish romance books he can find. Maybe because he knows you spend just as much if not more time than he does between the stacks. The suggestion box at the desk was full of cards stained with your penmanship asking for longer hours; several of which you’ve seen Yoongi rip in half as he pointedly met your gaze.

Tossing it aside, you pull forward one of the more musty books and start reading.

When you finally manage to resurface from laborious tales on several cults of Aphrodite, the rain is long gone. Even the darkest corners of the old building seem to glow gold in the evening sunset filtering through the glass doors. They're the only thing standing between you and freedom in the form curling up on your couch with a glass of wine and a new episode of your favorite reality dating show. But first, Yoongi needs his books back.

His desk chair is abandoned and the return cart is gone as well which means he could be anywhere in the building. Disappointment leaches into your spine at the fact you won’t be able to witness his reaction to the twelfth book in your pile; the one you spent an extra fifteen minutes looking for in the corner of the third floor.

A thick piece of library paper lists the materials you’ll need for the next day lays atop the neon green cover of Pest Management Solutions: How to Manage Your Moth Problem. They decorate the corner of the desk until Yoongi returns to find them. Hopefully he appreciates your humor.

Yoongi isn’t at his desk the next morning when you come in either. Instead, a doe eyed man with a lip piercing occupies the chair, clearly playing some game on his laptop.

Approaching the counter, you begin to ask, “Where’s Yoon–”

“Staff meeting,” he interjects like he’s already answered the question a million times despite the library opening only five minutes ago. The white of his teeth threaten to blind you. “But I can help you!”

His name tag isn’t the same engraved golden metal Yoongi’s is, it’s a plastic sleeve with a paper insert with barely legible handwriting you decipher as “Jungkook” and below “Volunteer.” You’ve seen him before from a distance. Usually trudging through the shelves with the book return cart in tow, occasionally taking a quick read inside before putting them in their rightful place.

“I need to pick up some books. I gave Yoongi the list yesterday.”

“Sure.” Jungkook jumps up, approaching the shelf lined with piles for other patrons. “What’s your last name?”

He combs through the list after you answer, finding your stack easily enough.

“Alright so Yoongi left a note that the encyclopedias you wanted are on the usual desk you have upstairs. But other than that I’ve got: Historical Studies of Changing Fertility, Sacred Mushroom and The Cross, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in The Ancient Mediterranean…” Jungkook lists off the titles, checking to make sure they're all in order. “And, um, this one isn’t on the list.”

It must be Yoongi’s choice for the day.

“What is it?”

Jungkook looks like he’s trying to hide his own amusement as he slides it over for you to read.

If I Were a Bird, You'd be The First Person I'd Shit On.

“Huh,” you blush. “Wonder how that got in there.”

“He must have left it by mistake. I can put it ba–”

“No, I’ll take it.” You toss it on top of the other, less embarrassing books in your stack and gather it into your arms before Jungkook can get in another word. “Thanks for your help!”

Scurrying towards the hallway housing the elevators, you attempt to juggle the pile of books, your stuffed bag, and coffee without taking a spill. It’s one thing to have your silent battle with Yoongi, but having someone else witness it makes you feel downright silly. And for the first one witnessed by others to be such an absurd and downright passive aggressive selection sends embarrassment through your veins.

As promised, three encyclopedias sit neatly on your desk; the volumes so thick they protrude from the table top like a small mountain. No wonder he left them there instead of making you carry them up in individual trips. But Yoongi’s goodwill clearly ended there. A sticky note on top of the stack pens his discontent at your selection.

I had to spend 3 hours in the basement to find these. If you need them again, don’t.

Even though he hadn’t signed it, you know it’s from him. The tight script fits his personality; thin lines of annoyance bleeding through the ink, not just his words. A waft of musty old paper and dust breezes through your nose as you open the first copy. They must have been housed in a forgotten storage area. At least his bird book makes more sense now.

You don’t dig into the heap until after the sun is halfway through the sky but when you do it only proves to unravel your wits. Reading on, the wrinkle in your eyebrows deepens further. Page after page of conflicting knowledge passes by, each sentence more confusing than the last; minutes negating months of research. The thick pages hardly provide a soft landing for your head as you allow it to thump forward in exasperation.

The scrap of chair legs alerts to a new presence watching your meltdown in real time.

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asks.

With a heavy sigh, you respond.“I want to die.”

“Get in line.”

Shifting in your seat, you peer in his direction. A different day but the same wardrobe: dark button up, glasses, same unapproachable facade. But what Yoongi is doing sitting next to you is new.

Yoongi makes himself comfortable, picking at his nails as he waits patiently for an explanation.

“Everything in my thesis is either wrong or the world authority on fertility in Europe is full of it.”

“Bummer.”

“Your sincerity is overwhelming.” You snap.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. Boredom seeps across his face but he doesn’t move to leave, just sinks deeper into the chair. “You’ve read almost half the collection since you started coming here, why are some old dusty books such a big deal?”

“Because all of those books cite these books which means those books are wrong and all my work is in the toilet.”

“Those books are from the seventies, the information is probably out of date.”

Slamming the copy serving as a pillow shut, you take a second glance at the title: Encyclopedia of Women and World Religion, Volume 7.

“Yoongi,” you sing.

Yoongi’s gaze flashes to yours, a trickle of confusion flashing across his eyes.“What?”

You stack up the books and push them across the desk with some effort. Just to savor the satisfaction of besting Yoongi, you indulge a long sip of now cold coffee before speaking again. No one else is around to witness your victory but that won’t dampen the high.

“Looks like you’ll be back in the basement because you brought me the wrong editions.”

He opens his mouth to argue, snatching one of the books to investigate but you beat him to the punch.

“I asked for the twenty-fifth edition, not the seventh.” You smirk. “I think you're losing your touch.”

He watches you over the rim of the cover. A fleeting glance in your direction but it makes your heart squeeze with need.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” Yoongi sighs, standing. “Do you still need them for anything or can I go ahead and take them?”

With your approval, he heaves the heavy tombs on to his cart. The strain of his forearms, bare from rolled up sleeves, catches your attention. Veins raised under creamy skin, lean muscles leading down to hands you’ve noticed since the first day you started visiting the library.

If you keep staring, you’re likely to start drooling. So you dive back into one of the useful books littering your desk and pretend to read until he’s disappearing down the hall.

On your way out, leaving much earlier than a typical day due to Yoongi’s mistake, you drop the remaining books off at the circulation desk. Along with a copy of Avian Hunting Techniques. He’s absent again but it doesn't matter.

You continue out the doors and down the sidewalk only to spot him leaning against the brick exterior further down the street. Even from a distance you can make out the natural scowl he’s constantly sporting. Except this time his lips pout around a cigarette.

Of course he smokes.

The quasi-mysterious librarian who flirts with you through book titles, smokes cigarettes and looks hot doing it.

“You know those things will kill you, right?”

“That’s what the box says but they aren’t holding up their end of the deal,” Yoongi responds, flicking the ash before looking at his watch. “Wow, out before six. I’ll alert the press.”

“Well, if someone gave me the right books then maybe I’d stay longer. But I’m not about to wait around while you get the ones I need.”

Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette before responding, “Are you trying to say I forced you to take a break?”

The realization dawns on you. Yoongi is the senior research librarian. He’s never given you the wrong books, even when you request the rare copies needed to be loaned from a different part of the country. The few times you’ve offered understanding if he couldn’t get them were met with a challenge in his gaze and smug satisfaction when handing them over a week later.

“You brought me the wrong copies on purpose!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s lying. You know it. Yoongi definitely knows you know by the way he smirks. But he’s already crushing the filter under his shoe and moving back towards the library by the time your brain catches up to your mouth. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

With a scoff of indignation, you stalk towards your car.

The next morning, you march straight through the class doors to where Yoongi sits, fueled by snowballed annoyance from the previous day. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is an understatement. If there are any gods, Yoongi should pick one and pray.

Your free afternoon of yesterday was spent dealing with the chaos your apartment has become over the past few weeks. Unfolded laundry, stacks of random papers, out of place books, and errant dust bunnies all became new victims to energy usually reserved for a full day of research. Taehyung practically shit himself when he woke up before dinner and found you scrubbing the bathroom sink.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, hand to his chest like a flustered old woman.

Bleach curled in your nostrils. “I live here.”

“Not between the hours of eight and seven.”

But after the mess was dealt with, aggravation set in. How dare Yoongi purposefully meddle in your work. Well meaning or not you were an adult and could decide when enough was enough. The purposeful mishap hadn’t set you back far, one afternoon but a drop in the bucket in comparison to the months you’ve already spent chasing new leads. But the principle of the matter is that it’s none of his business what you do and when you do it.

Yoongi slides a slimmer stack over when you stop in front of him.

“Encyclopedias are on your desk,” he announces through a sip of coffee. He continues to type away, feigning disinterest as you sort through your stack with measured annoyance.

“Are they the right copies this time?”

“Double checked them myself.”

You open your mouth to verbalize your doubts but Yoongi’s pick of the day catches your eye.

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to Go to Grad School.

Scoffing, you flip the book around and shoot daggers into his face with your eyes. “Do you think you’re funny?”

The corner of his mouth twitches then becomes a full blown smile. Leaning over the desk, he drops his voice, “I think I’m hilarious.”

Remembering you are, in fact, in a library, you manage to muffle a frustrated groan. You dump the supplementary reading back on the counter for Yoongi to deal with and head upstairs.

Unlike the usual days where you put off finding a response to Yoongi’s extra copy until the waning hours of the afternoon, you drop your bags and head straight for the shelves. The fifth floor houses a collection of textbooks and other reference material. It’s why it's always deserted unless some poor fool stumbles on it by accident; the perfect place to work uninterrupted for hours.

You head down stairs, circling the fourth and then third floor like a shark in a feeding frenzy. A few covers spark interest but nothing captures what bubbles in your veins: annoyance, anger, confusion. A brief flutter of interest as to why Yoongi decided to mess with you but those feelings are more dangerous than the acidic ones.

Row after proves unfruitful in your quest for passive aggressive revenge. None have the same bite as his book, or seem to curb the homicidal thoughts raging in your head.

Until a little white book peeps back at you from the end of the aisle.

Yoongi jumps when you slam Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass in front of him. A feat in and of itself to sneak up on him given the loan desk has a perfect view of the entire first floor but whatever he’d been clicking away at on the computer was distraction enough.

“What's this?”

“Thought you might like some new reading.” You flash your teeth.

His chin jerks towards the glossy cover. “I already gave this two stars on Goodreads.”

Of course he has.

Face prickling in embarrassment, you turn back the way you came without a word.

Hours later, when half the day has ticked by and the ache for more caffeine burns your eyes, Yoongi stops by your desk. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try and gain the attention you pointedly withhold. He sets a paper coffee cup on the corner of the tabletop and leaves.

You snatch up the cup after he rounds the corner out of sight. The lack of sugar leaves much to be desired but free coffee is free coffee, especially to a PhD student with limited means.

It isn’t much of an apology but guilt blooms down your spine anyway. He meant well. You aren’t known for giving yourself breaks; unable to quit while you’re ahead. A voluntary day off is less likely than winning the lottery. You’re a busy body and the constant work keeps you from dissolving into chaos.

You don’t see Yoongi again until every book at your desk is exhausted, begging for a break from your manhandling. Double and triple checking notes and citations are the poor excuse you implement to delay the inevitable. At some point you’ll have to go downstairs to face the music.

He’s waiting like always, scanning the mountain of returns littering the counter from a long day. Each step closer withers something in your stomach.

The copies in your hand shift onto the wooden surface, joining the stack for him to work through. Yoongi flashes a polite grimace when you catch his eye before immediately diving back into his work. Hopefully he understands why you chose Thank You for Smoking. And why you covered the second half of the title with a sticky note.

Jungkook’s smiling face greets you bright and early. His name tag has been upgraded from flimsy paper to a plastic one and a printed label with his name.

Handing over your library card, he quickly scans it and grabs the books meant for today’s dissection.

“Yoongi wanted me to tell you that if you want more coffee while you’re working, you can go to the staff lounge on the second floor.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook continues sifting through your requests, making sure each is correct. “Between you and me, the coffee down the street is better. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a coffee snob and thinks his shit—sorry—stuff is the best.”

“Okay,” you say, grabbing your pile. “Thanks.”

You set up your station like always, sorting through each book and devising a mental to do list. The desk resembles a feast but instead of food it’s encyclopedias, printed articles, and dusty manuscripts Yoongi wrangled from who knows where. On the outer board of your work station rests the feature of the day: How to Beg for Cigarettes.

A few hours pass between the pages. Your previous research is confirmed by the significantly less dusty encyclopedias this time, corroborating the basis of your thesis. A new work you haven’t seen is cited in the back, piquing your interest for more evidence.

Instead of bothering one of the staff, you use the library website and find it in their catalog. It’s somewhere on the second floor where Yoongi offers free coffee. Two birds, one stone; a new book and a new cup of coffee.

The layout resembles all the other floors. A collection of study tables in the center crowded by bookshelves on all sides. One person, an undergrad by the look of pure dread on their features, occupies a table but that's it. Glancing at the note with the call number, you start towards the stacks on the left.

You find the correct area, eyes scanning up and down the different shelves to no avail. Hundreds of books, different sizes in an array of colors, flash by but none are the one you need. You’re about to call it quits when you spot it on the top shelf, just out of reach.

Call it a moment of stupidity, a brief blight of recklessness, but the book sits only a few inches beyond your fingers. You look around to make sure no one is around to witness the brilliantly flawed idea crest in your brain. With the coast clear, you hoist yourself up the shelf.

A deadpan voice nearly makes you fall.

“Looking for something?”

Yoongi stands a few feet away, head cocked to the side. Of course he’d find you in such a ridiculous position. Even through the blur of your peripheral vision, the harsh lines of his usual uniform clashes against the back drop of books. Dark jeans fitted over his thighs, dark button down rolled up his arms, and a pair of glasses that make him look hot. But you’re in no position to dwell when the risk of falling on your ass is so high.

“Nope, just getting in some exercise” you grunt, moving your foot to the shallow hold of the next shelf.

Yoongi moseys up behind you before continuing. “And climbing a decades old bookshelf is how you stretch your legs?”

“You smoke cigarettes, I climb old furniture. We all have our vices.”

Your foot slips from its perch, making you squeak before catching your balance.

“Alright spider-monkey, that's enough.” His hands slide across your hip, fingers curved around the softest part of your waist as he helps you down.

Distracted by the weight of him still on your hip, the heat of his chest a scorching across your back, you don’t even think to disparage him for the cheap Twilight reference. The few inches Yoongi has on you allows him to reach overhead to snag the copy you need with ease. But as you watch his hands close around the spine everything beyond fades to black; like the universe pinholes where you two stand.

“This one?” You feel the vibration of his words up and down your spine, warm breath tracing across the shell of your ear.

Body on autopilot, you turn to face Yoongi. His mouth moves, eyes scanning the book cover but every word deafens in a muddy haze. He doesn’t seem to realize his hand is still on your waist, or how he crowds you into the shelves; chest to chest, stomachs barely an inch apart.

“Huh?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from his mouth.

“I said, if you asked for this book earlier I could have gotten it for you.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?” he asks, stepping further into you. “You look a little flushed.”

The bastard smiles. A God’s honest smile like his thigh isn’t between your own, or he isn’t waiting for a reply while his fingers dig in beneath your ribs.

Just when you open your mouth to say something, Yoongi silences you with a firm squeeze of his hand. His head lowers until his breath ghosts along your chin.

Then you’re kissing; lips sliding together easily like he anticipated it. The world shatters all around from just a few passes of his mouth across your own, the weight of his body flattening you against the bookshelf.

The first hint of his tongue against the seam of your lips makes you gasp and Yoongi takes the opportunity to taste you. You melt under his attention. Head tipping back, shoulders bowing to take more, your senses flood with the remnants of coffee and something else; something so quintessential Yoongi your head spins. It lights a new flame in your veins, one burning with pure want.

A handful of his shirt pulls him closer. Yoongi follows easily but gets more than asked for when one of your hands tangles in the back of his hair, tugging until he’s tilting his chin the way you want. It’s a bad habit other dates have subtly complained about but a noise bubbles in his throat at the dig of your nails; responding with his own palm squeezing roughly across your ass until your hips meet his.

The crash of the book near your feet is like a bucket of ice water.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Jumping back proves futile as the shelf digs further into your spine. “I–”

Puffy lips and lowered eyes stare back at you, clear evidence that you haven’t hallucinated what just happened. Yoongi dips down to kiss you again but you slither out of his grip.

Forgetting the book on the tiled floor, you mumble an apology and flee back upstairs, beelining to the vacant restroom.

To your own mortification, your features mirror Yoongi’s; lips swollen, eyes glazed. Your sweater twisted around your torso clearly betraying your rendezvous in the stacks. Beads of sweat cling to your forehead and neck.

A few splashes of cold water help clear the fog in your brain but as it dissipates embarrassment sets in. Making out with a handsome man is one thing. Making out with the librarian assisting in the most important work of your life is an entirely different ordeal; one that can only spell trouble.

Pacing back and forth, the cool paper towel on the back of your neck helps calm your racing heart enough to leave the safety of the ladies room.

Try as you might to drown under piles of books, it’s useless. You pretend to read the same passages over and over but none of the words register. The kiss replays over and over and over again. You kissed Yoongi. Yoongi kissed you back. He tried to kiss you again when you pulled away.

The end of the day inevitably comes which means you have to face him whether you want to or not. But you won’t allow a single lapse of judgment to affect your work; a moment of weakness propelled by months of abstinence that just so happened to coincide with a surly librarian’s entrance into your life. You just needed to get it out of your system. If it hadn’t been Yoongi it would have been someone else.

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

A glance at your watch informs you that today is the second day you’ll leave the library early. Rather than give into the stubborn instinct to stay, you decide putting as much distance between yourself and Yoongi is far better for your mental health. With squared shoulders and a raised chin, you head downstairs.

Yoongi’s waiting behind the counter. He isn’t typing on his computer or scanning books. He watches every step you take, arms crossed in front as he leans forward like he’s eager for a confrontation.

“Yoongi,” you say.

“Y/N.”

You use every fiber of will to maintain eye contact as you pass your stack over the counter. “I’ll need these same ones tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He nods. “And the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you croak.

Yoongi’s eyes blaze like you’re a new puzzle to be solved, like he wants to take you apart and find exactly what makes you tick. You feel naked. “The one where you—”

“Must have been someone else. Sorry. Have a good night!” You rush for the door before he can say another word.

Another morning is another day in the library, but this time your roommate begs to tag along.

“Look, I’m not getting anything done on my thesis so maybe you’ll rub off on me,” Taehyung says.

Rolling your eyes, you step through the door he holds open. “I think you’ve had plenty of people rub off on you.”

Gasping with fake indignation, he catches up easily. “Are you calling me a slut?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Is that him?”

Yoongi and Jungkook are talking behind the counter. Jungkook’s hands wave wildly as he recounts whatever information to his boss while Yoongi listens with fake interest. Or that's what someone else might think. The subtle signs he cares are hidden in the details; the miniscule lift of shoulders, a cock of his head, and when Jungkook pouts in a way too ridiculous for a man his size, Yoongi hides a smile in the shake of his head.

“Yes.”

“And I’m the slut?” Taehyung scowls as you pinch his shoulder. “What? He’s a nerd’s walking wet dream.”

“And he can hear you, so shut up.”

“Morning!” Jungkook calls on his way past with a cart full of books.

He grins like he knows exactly what happened on the second floor yesterday but that can’t be true. Yoongi doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell. Only the type to kiss and tease you relentlessly for it when no one else is around to hear.

Taehyung’s attention immediately locks on him. You love your roommate, always have and, unfortunately, always will; but he is a slut and Jungkook is definitely his type. However, he’s on your turf and knows better than to fuck where you have to eat for the next few months.

“Y/N, Y/N’s friend,” Yoongi says when you approach his desk.

“Taehyung.”

“Right,” Yoongi drawls, blinking lazily before sliding your books over and turning around to sort something on the opposite counter.

Taehyung, ever the gentleman, grabs the pile for you and follows upstairs.

“Well he seems like a cup of sunshine,” Taehyung whispers.

“Just because he isn’t fawning over you doesn’t mean he’s an asshole.”

“I’m very fawn-able, ask anyone,” your roommate argues as you approach the fifth floor. “Wait, what's this… How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Tips for Surviving the Biotech Revolution. This is the type of shit he’s giving you? You’re easier than I am.”

“Give me that.” You snatch the paperback out of his grip. “Stop being nosy.”

Taehyung lets you work in peace after that, disappearing to gather more of his own materials. Even in undergrad he’d never been one to sit still for long. But he still managed to get a spot doing an engineering thesis despite the constant changes in his attention.

After several hours of mind numbing typing you need a break, and another cup of coffee on someone else’s dime sounds perfect.

“I’m getting coffee.”

“Bring me some,” Taehyung says without looking up from his screen.

The staff lounge is nothing fancy. A couple small tables with plastic chairs tucked around, a cork board covered with fliers, and a white board stuck to the fridge scrawled upon with black dry erase marker. The coffee pot sits full in the machine, still hot to the touch.

You pour two cups. Taehyung’s gets loaded with creamer cups until it’s closer to white than black while yours is sweetened to sickening perfection. When you try to take a sip, the liquid immediately burns your tongue. Too hot coffee is better than cold coffee but an ice cube would help make it more palatable.

Moving back to the fridge, you go to open the freeze but stop when the white board catches your attention again.

Most notes are chores or friendly reminders about time cards but almost half the board is dedicated to a back and forth.

‘Unofficial Employee of the Month: Jungkook’

A note in Yoongi’s tight script: ‘You don’t work here.’

‘That’s why it's unofficial!’ in what must be Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

‘You’re my official employee of the month. - Namjoon’

At the bottom is a crude drawing of stick figures, two tall smiling ones holding hands under a rainbow labeled ‘JK’ and ‘Joon’ and a comically shorter one with evil eyebrows surrounded by storm clouds and ‘yoongi :(’ overhead.

“Snooping for secrets?”

“Jesus Christ,” you jump, turning to face Yoongi. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

“You’re in the staff lounge, there’s gonna be staff here.” Yoongi crosses to the coffee pot on the counter and pours himself a cup. He doesn’t add cream or sugar or anything else to lessen the bitterness. Cliche. “So, was bringing your boyfriend here your subtle way of letting me down?”

“You think Taehyung is my boyfriend?” You whirl around in shock. Yoongi raises a brow, prompting you to continue. “Jungkook is more his type than I am.”

Yoongi releases a pleased hum, eyes shining. “So no boyfriend then?”

“Nope.”

You’re shaking but don’t look away from his hungry gaze. Yoongi takes a step closer, and another and one more until you're pinned to the countertop and his mouth is on yours.

This time, you're more aware of everything. The smell of his cologne, the tickle of his bangs along your forehead, all the tiny details that were muffled before. Yoongi’s lips are firm against your own, a little chapped but it only makes you hotter with each pass.

His mouth is everywhere; your chin, your jaw, peppering down your throat until he pushes aside the hem of your shirt and sets to work on the jut of your collarbone like he’ll never get a chance again.

“Yoongi,” you hum on the first rake of teeth.

He takes it as an invitation to dig in harder, sucking the skin until your spine threatens to break and you say his name again. Desperate for some kind of anchor, you knot your fingers back in his hair and pull.

A throaty noise responds and the need to hear more rears its head. Yoongi who always watches with measured fascination undone by some light petting. The power is addictive.

Legs spread, he presses in flat. The heat of his cock, rigid beneath the fabric of his jeans, teases across the seam of your own. You're technically still in public but the consequences concern you less than the knowledge that you’ll go mad if you don’t feel him. His arms circle your back, pulling you firmer against him, right to the edge of the linoleum counter.

Wedging a hand between your bodies, you manage to get his zipper undone while your tongue traces along his jaw. Yoongi angles his hips to help, curling into your palm when you cup him over the fabric of his boxers. Every press has him swelling harder.

His hands reach under your shirt. Skin on skin, the rough calluses of his fingers trace your ribs, thumbs following the cup of your bra in a tease. It’s a simple touch but your own hands falter when he brushes a nipple. You melt into each other.

“Hey, Yoongi, do you know where—HOLY SHIT!”

Jungkook stops at the door, eyes wide, mouth wider.

“Get out!” Yoongi barks. He’s trying his best to keep your body covered from the younger man’s view but even if Jungkook isn’t getting a full frontal he isn’t dumb enough not to realize what’s going on.

Yoongi shudders a few breaths. Head hung low, he tucks himself back into his pants without moving away. You’re already slipping down from your perch when he looks back up.

“I’m just gonna…go,” you mumble, scurrying out the door.

Jungkook waits outside, eyes still bugging out of his head but at least has the decency to pretend he didn’t catch you in the act.

Tugging your shirt down, you avoid his gaze. How far would you have let Yoongi go if Jungkook hadn’t interrupted?

“Coffee?” Taehyung asks as you approach the table.

You know what you look like without a mirror. The same as yesterday with glassy eyes and bruised lips, clothes wrinkled. Thankfully, Taehyung is more interested in his modeling software than where you’ve been.

“They were out.”

With a sigh like he is personally victimized by the lack of caffeine, Taehyung collapses on the table and plays dead. But he perks up at the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.

“You left this in the break room,” Yoongi says, dropping a cup of coffee by your side before disappearing.

You turn to follow his retreating for until he’s hidden back between the shelves. The back of his hair is still messy despite his attempt to fix it, same with the wrinkles in his shirt from your hands.

“I thought they were out?” Taehyung eyes you suspiciously when you look back at him.

Cradling the still hot cup in your hands, you avoid his gaze. “Shut up.”

“So you do have to sleep with someone to get a cup of coffee.”

“I’m not sleeping with him,” you spit in a harsh whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Because what exactly? There isn’t a good reason other than the fact Jungkook was the king of cockblocks. You would have let Yoongi do just about anything he wanted and he seemed to be in agreement. But you’d rather die than admit that out loud.

“You are so smart and so incredibly stupid.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, rising to pack his things. “I need to pee.”

You point him in the direction of the bathrooms and get back to work.

When Taehyung returns minutes later he starts shoving his things in his bag. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

“This is like the epicenter of hot smart men and I refuse to suffer any longer.”

“You got Jungkook’s number,” you deadpan.

Taehyung can’t hide his own shit eating grin. “Yoongi gave it to me.”

“If you’re leaving, so am I.”

“Why?” your roommate whines.

“Because I got you a hot date and that means you owe me dinner.”

“Technically it was Yoongi but I’ll concede.” Taehyung heaves his bag up. “Come now my dearest, we can still get happy hour if we hurry.”

You reach in your own bag and toss him your keys. “Go wait in the car. I’ve gotta go grab another book real quick.”

“Whatever,” Taehyung says, mumbling something like ‘nerds’ under his breath as he heads downstairs.

You find Yoongi while on your way to his desk, already toting around the cart piled high with returns from the day. Several of the covers are Taehyung’s picks and somehow the knowledge they’ve spoken almost knocks you off kilter. Taehyung is a good wingman and that’s what worries you most.

“Hi,” he says, kneeling to put a book on a low shelf.

It shouldn’t have the effect it does but something about the way Yoongi looks up at you, on his knees, head tipped back, has your mind running wild with the image of him in the same position with both of you wearing far less clothing. Maybe if you weren’t interrupted in the staff lounge you’d have seen it in real life.

“Hi. Mind if I add these to the pile?”

“Go ahead.”

The Stocking was Hung sits on top. You don’t wait around to see his reaction.

The temperature had steadily been increasing over the past weeks but this morning is the worst of all. That inescapable warmth fully seeded overnight and promised the comforting days of sweaters and pants are long gone.

Heat makes you lazy and fitful. In the early hours, long before you actually need to be awake, you stare up at the ceiling of your room. Not even a frigid shower helped the stickiness of your skin or laying still in your bed in nothing but one of Taehyung’s shirts and ratty shorts. It followed you everywhere until you left for the same brick building you spend more time at than at home.

Without thought, you throw on the first seasonally appropriate outfit in your closet; a thin dress that covers enough for the public but promises to keep you cool.

Yoongi seems to be taking the change in weather as well as you are. His usual attire is absent, nothing but a white shirt clinging to his torso. The pale skin of his forearms briefly catches your attention but you focus anywhere else to stop from rounding the desk and finishing what started upstairs.

You steel yourself and approach the desk, determined to act normal.

Familiar dark eyes flash up to greet you but Yoongi’s mouth doesn’t form any words. He just stares at you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulders, your neck, and then he pointedly keeps them trained on your eyes. Like he's willing to pretend yesterday didn’t happen.

He doesn’t speak when he passes over the same pile of books as yesterday but you can feel him burn a hole in your back. Even after you climb up the stairs and out of sight, the prickling sensation you’re being watched follows.

You don’t get anything done. The words on the page might as well be another language as your mind races.

Yoongi didn’t give you an extra book today.

An endless list of potential explanations race through your mind. Maybe you’d been too forward with your choice. Maybe he’s gotten it out of his system, a quick tryst in the employee lounge enough to satiate his curiosity. Maybe because it’s the second time you’ve brushed him off. Even if it wasn’t your fault Jungkook stumbled in before anything worthwhile could happen.

But he isn’t speaking to you and he isn’t giving you the random book you’ve come to look forward to every morning.

Channeling the restless energy of overthinking, you take a lap around the floor. You pause to flip through random books as you zigzag through the stacks. Anything to take your mind off the unshakable tension sticking in the air like syrup.

Your laptop is in sleep mode by the time you reluctantly come back. Everything is as you left except a book you’ve never seen before sits on top of the open one you’d been reading.

There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom.

A sticky note sticks up from the inside of the cover. A bolt of excitement shoots down your spine. When you flip it open a familiar handwriting stares back: ‘on the seventh floor’.

You hadn’t been gone too long but the fear of making him wait has you rushing up the stairs. Each step brings you closer to where he waits until you’re opening the bathroom door.

“Yoongi?”

A hand wraps around your upper arm, yanking you in. Another hand silences a surprised shout before you realize it’s Yoongi and not a murderer pinning you to the interior of the door you just came through.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he breathes. “It’s just not a good look for me to be up here.”

“Oh, really?” You smile. “And why is that?”

“This is my job.”

“Didn’t seem to stop you before.”

“Who says it’s stopping me now?”

He thumbs the strap of your dress, hooking under the thin material and dragging it down your arm. The heat and weight of Yoongi against you, touching you so simply, makes you vibrate. Yoongi moves into your neck, panting with a grind against your thigh. “I swear I don’t usually do this.”

You want to argue that you have two accounts that he does do this often, at least with you. But for someone who says they don’t, Yoongi is surprisingly natural. The tease prickling the end of your tongue fizzles out under his teeth across the curve of your shoulder, goosebumps blossoming along your back.

A whimper unbecoming of an adult woman breaks the lullaby of summer air conditioner singing through the vents. You’re sweating under the cling of your dress, skin hot to the touch thanks to Yoongi’s attention; long fingers curved around your waist, thumbs skimming just under your breast.

“Could have fooled me.”

“This is a very nice dress.” His mouth bites down your neck, taking advantage of the new strips of skin the neckline unveils.

“That’s all it takes?” you pant from the wet of his tongue. “A pretty dress?”

“If you think,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m doing this because of your dress then you really haven’t been paying attention.”

The dark locks of his hair are too alluring to resist, tempting one of your own hands to scratch against the tip of his spine when Yoongi rolls against you again. A firm tug brings him to your mouth, lips molding to one another in a searing kiss. You can taste the coffee from the lounge and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, like he thought to hide it before asking you to follow him.

“How long? How long have you wanted this?”

Yoongi hooks one of your thighs higher, savoring the heat of your core against the crotch of his pants with a slow thrust. “Since you came in and busted my balls over not having that archived manuscript when the website said we did.”

You remember that day. Patience thin from Taehyung’s loud overnight guest, you stormed into the library looking to take it out on a photocopy of the manuscript only for the only copy to be AWOL. Yoongi became the surrogate for your rage, his eyes burning into your skull as questioned how he could let it happen.

The next day was when he started adding books to your stack.

“That was months ago.”

“I’m a patient guy.”

You want him naked; ache to catalog what he’s hidden underneath bulky sweaters and loose button ups over the past few months. But that idea has to wait for somewhere less risky. You settle for dipping your hand under his shirt, tracing your fingers over the elastic of his boxers peeking from the waistband of his pants.

Attempting to hide the effect he has, you loop your fingers in his belt loops and pull him even closer so your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. “There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom? A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Like The Stocking was Hung is any better?” Yoongi sighs as your mouth ghosts over the rising vein webbing the side of his throat.

“Hey!” you object, rising to face him. “I thought you’d appreciate it after that mothman book.”

“I appreciate you complimenting my dick plenty.”

Yoongi doesn’t let you go, hands palming at the swell of your ass the entire way from the door to the counter. He’s got one hand curved along your jaw, thumb hooked around your chin and his teeth bruising your lower lip. The edge of granite digs in your spine but not for long as he lifts you and settles on his knees to dive under your skirt.

He kisses up your calf, tongue snaking across the knob of your knee then the plush of your thigh. Just when you feel a puff of breath against the damp crotch of your panties, Yoongi falls to repeat the same path against your other leg.

You don’t suffer for long. Pooling the excess fabric around your waist, Yoongi blinks up from between your thighs. The pink of his tongue follows the edge of your panties, wetting the fabric more until it clings obscenely.

He pushes his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, keeping the mess of gray and black hair out of his eyes before diving back down.

His tongue lathers over your covered slit with a groan. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You thought about this?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about it. On my desk, yours, against that fucking bookshelf.” Yoongi punctures each word with more wet kisses against your core. “In my car, my bed. Everywhere.”

A cool breath has your thighs squeezing around his head thanks to the erotic combination of his spit and your own fluids drenching your panties. “Is this all you think about?”

“I had to come up here and jerk off yesterday because I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands.”

Your panties are pulled to the side before you can indulge in the new visual blooming on the edge of consciousness. “Yoongi.”

Eyes closed, his mouth circles your clit, tongue gently stroking you to life. Every pass against the sensitive bundle of nerves has your thighs squeezing around his head.

The first prod of fingers makes Yoongi’s hold on the crook of your knee tighten. He stretches you back open, eyes following the way you suck him inside; coating his spindly digits with more arousal each time.

“A-ah,” you shake. “Please.”

Yoongi chances a glance up at your face, the needy sheen in your eyes, the way your mouth gapes, and decides to take mercy.

He latches back onto your clit. Yoongi groans as you tug his hair, knocking his glasses to the ground. The pace he works your remains lethargic, savoring the kick of your hips until you grind against his mouth.

Throaty groans vibrate against your cunt, tightening the muscles along the inside of your thighs. Neither of you are doing a good job muffling yourselves but if it’s between getting caught and having him stop then you’ll deal with the consequences when they come.

“Oh, Yoongi.” Your chest pulls tight; spurred on by the sounds of Yoongi bullying your insides, his mouth smacking against your folds. “I’m— oh, oh, oh!”

The rough crook of his fingers sends you flying. Only the pressure of his shoulders keep you from slipping off the counter as you explode against his mouth. Euphoria rushes your veins, licks of pleasure overwhelming. Every muscle quivers as Yoongi works you through until you use his hair to pull him away.

He’s quick on his feet. You’re still recovering as Yoongi pushes your bra down and draws one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking until you pull his hair again. Eyes cinched tight, face wet, you force his pants open then his underwear until Yoongi is almost as exposed as you are; pretty in your palm, sticky and hot to the touch.

But it’s not enough to feel him in your hand, you need to feel him inside. To fill you up where you sit hollow and aching without his fingers to provide a sliver of relief. “Fuck me.”

Yoongi doesn’t tease, has no quip about how needy you are. He keeps his mouth on your chest and uses his hands to grab something out of his pocket. It happens so fast you don’t even realize the condom is on until he nudges between your legs.

Your nails dig into his back, breathing through the initial stretch is the only way you stay quiet. Yoongi hides himself back in your neck, strained noises clawing out of his throat.

Yoongi isn’t gentle. Not caution or waiting. Months of push and pull destroy any desire for him to treat you as something fragile. He rushes into desperately, forcing your palm flat against the mirror behind you for some semblance of stability.

“God,” he grunts. “You’re incredible.”

You whimper a quiet acknowledgement, too fucked out to blush under his praise; pulling Yoongi closer until he’s scooping his hands underneath your ass, thrusting into you over and over. His mouth finds yours. Greedy. Hungry.

It’s Yoongi who struggles to stay quiet. Even through the kiss he moans loud enough you feel it in your throat. You listen to them all, twisting the hand knotted in his hair to hear the whine you’ve quickly become obsessed with.

“Should have done this sooner,” your back arches and Yoongi’s mouth slips back down.

“I tried. But you kept ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t—fuck—ignoring you.” Yoongi is everywhere. His taste on your mouth, cologne burned in your nose. The feel of him all over your body. “Shit.”

He fucks you harder to prove a point, hand slipping down to rub your clit. Your second orgasm glows on the edges. If Yoongi keeps playing with you, stretching you in half on his cock and biting a mark into your breast, you know you’ll come.

You focus on breathing. Letting it come to you instead of chasing it, overthinking it to the point it evades you. It’s easier than usual. Yoongi doesn't leave room for anything else beyond feeling good.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as the cord tightens.

Everything turns white hot, pleasure tearing through your muscles and ripping them to shreds. You convulse in Yoongi’s hold, only pinned down by his hips fucking you brutally. Nerves shot, Yoongi babbles praise in your ear but it's indecipherable from the headrush.

Yoongi follows you over the edge a few strokes later, twitching inside you until he stills. His hips give a few arrhythmic bucks as he fills the condom with his load.

There's something nastier about clothed sex. The way sweat makes your clothes cling tighter, the rush of needing each other so badly you can’t be bothered to do more than pull things to the side.

You feel dirty but in a good way. Yoongi kisses across the apples of your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, even your brows, but never returns to your lips. Each leaves you more frustrated than the last, muscles twitching beneath and head turning at the last second to try and meet his mouth.

Tricking you with a brief connection, he laughs when you chase his lips as he dodgers back. But a pout and whine bring him back into your orbit.

He cleans you up with paper towels, wiping away the mess between your thighs with something akin to disappointment. But he doesn’t complain as he fixes your clothes and then his own. Muscles like jelly, you fall into his side when he helps you down from the counter.

With a kiss to your temple, “Let's get out of here.”

“Morning, Yoongi.” You smile as you walk up to his desk.

A set of dark eyes rise to greet you, taking the cup of coffee you so graciously offer before smiling as well. “Good morning.”

Jungkook gawks like he’s never seen you two speak before. Round eyes bounce between you and Yoongi as if it’s a tennis match instead of a normal conversation. Probably because Yoongi was less than subtle when he pulled you out of the building yesterday, telling him to call Namjoon if anything came up.

Or maybe because you’re wearing one of Yoongi’s shirts.

You discovered much about the mysterious librarian overnight. He’d taken you back to his apartment; a perfect extension of himself decorated with dark furniture and more books than anyone could possibly read. Yoongi owned a collection of vinyl records that rivaled his book collection, he was a great cook, and he was studying to take the entrance exam for law school.

After you were wined and dined, Yoongi dedicated hours between your legs. On his couch, against the massive bookcase in his living room, between the sheets of his bed.

He also had a kink for eating you out while you explained your thesis in precise detail.

You’d only been allowed to leave when Yoongi was getting ready for work, not that you'd put up much argument.

You make a scene of sorting through the stack he slides over. It’s not that you don’t trust Yoongi. But now that you’ve had a taste, you’re addicted to his presence. But he unfortunately can’t follow you upstairs so you savor the time now.

“One of my books is missing,” you say.

“Oh, right.”

Yoongi passes over an unfamiliar copy.

Maybe He Just Likes You

And the blue sticky note attached, with his handwriting. ‘Dinner when you're done?’

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whore-era · 1 year

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infatuation - part 1

☁︎ delinquent!ellie williams x preppyfem!reader, enemies to lovers trope ☁︎ smut, angst, tiny bit of fluff ☁︎ summary: don’t let your boyfriend stop you from finding your girlfriend. ☁︎ warnings: 18+ only. kissing, fingering & oral (r!recieving), masturbation, mentions of weed and smoking weed, mentions relationships w/ men, feelings, kinda mean ellie but then shes nice again, arguing and yelling kinda (let me know if i miss any more necessary warnings ty baes) ☁︎ a/n: i wrote this in like one day. hope u all enjoy this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it! ya nasties ;) ☁︎ word count: 4,347 ☁︎ 1/2 - part 2

you swore to yourself you’d never let yourself get involved with the university’s infamous delinquent— ellie williams. but you should’ve known that’d be hard to avoid, knowing she was just in reach as your roommate’s best friend.

ellie was always, and i mean always, there in your dorm. either chilling with dina, talking with dina, or, much to your disliking, smoking with dina.

ever since you ran into her on the first day of dorm move-in, she was constantly there, bickering with you, poking at you, and judging you for every little thing you did.

ellie had this image of you; an image of this perfect, high maintenance, always put-together, prissy, goody-two-shoes. it was far from the truth, well, kind of.

you did pride yourself on being one of the smartest girls on campus, and being very active in numerous extracurriculars at school. you were in the student body, the recycling club, the campus book club, the health club, the cooking club— you were just in a lot of clubs.

but it would be an understatement to say that ellie williams is everything opposite of you. she was on the other side of the spectrum you were on.

ellie williams was aggressive, a smartass, foulmouthed, risky, and usually up to trouble. always going to the dean’s office for a fight she probably started. the only reason why she hadn’t been kicked out from campus was because her stepdad is the dean's brother. don’t get yourself wrong, she was brilliant being an engineering major. but she was always doing something she wasn’t supposed to as if it fueled her drive.

you unlocked the door to your dorm, greeted with a fog of smoke. hacking out a cough, you switch on the lights, “dina!! what’d i tell you?” you lecture, stomping over towards the window to open it, “if you’re gonna smoke in here, at least open the window!”

“sorry, roomie,” dina coughed out, “we were just hotboxing.”

you turned towards the pair, criss-crossed on dina’s bed, and furrow your brows, “what? hotboxing?”

“yea, you know, smoking weed ’til the room fills up with smoke, so the high is more enhanced.” dina explained, you tilted your head to the side, still not fully comprehending whatever hotboxing was.

the brunette girl leaned against the wall, giving you a smirk. “c’mon, dee. don’t waste your breath explaining,” ellie retorted, “i’m sure lil miss perfect here never smoked or drank before.”

you scoffed, crossing your arms, “for your information, i have drank before.”

“oh yea? when was the last time, princess?” god, you hated that nickname. you hated the way it made you red in the cheeks.

“….at church.” you muttered quietly, sending ellie and dina into a fit of laughter.

“did you hear that, dee? at church! she said the last time she drank alcohol was at church!” ellie let out a boisterous laugh, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“good one, princess.”

you huffed, rolled your eyes, and rummaged around your side of the room to search for what you were looking for in the first place.

was it so wrong for you to not drink or smoke weed? you didn’t think negatively about anyone who used it, but you just didn’t feel comfortable using something that had such an effect on you. you wanted autonomy over your body at all times.

bingo. you found the cropped white baby tee you wanted to change into, finding it more comfortable than the scratchy sweater you had on currently. turning away from the chatter of dina and ellie, you lifted the sweater above your head, tossed it in your laundry bag, and slipped into the more fitted and more comfortable white tee.

standing in front of your mirror, you checked your outfit. you thought a simple t-shirt and black yoga pants were cute enough to hang out with jacob in. you fixed your hair, and looked up at the corner of your mirror, your eyes meeting green ones.

ellie bit her lip, watching the beautiful yet stubborn girl in front of her. she couldn’t tear her eyes away from you. you just looked so goddamn beautiful. she couldn’t help but take a peek at the way your bare back curved or how soft your skin looked as your sweater slid off your body. ellie definitely didn’t complain about the yoga pants either and how they hugged your ass and thighs in all the right places.

knowing she was staring at you, you hiked your yoga pants higher and bent over a little, reapplying your favorite shimmering lipgloss in the mirror. you weren’t sure what came over you, but the feeling of knowing ellie was watching you, gave you butterflies in your belly.

you see her smirk and break eye contact with you. picking up your backpack and your ‘Organic Chemistry 101’ textbook, you bid dina a goodbye.

“i’ll be back later tonight dina, don’t wait up for me.” you said, slipping your shoes on.

ellie cleared her throat, “where you headed off to?”

“pi kappa alpha frat.” you met ellie’s eyes. they looked disappointed, but then quickly rolled to the side, masking whatever sadness you thought you saw.

“hm, i see,” ellie commented, “gonna go blow some frat dude’s cock, huh?”

you groaned, “ugh, no, idiot. i’m just gonna go study.”

“mhm, whatever you say, princess.” you open the door and leave, hearing the sound of dina yelling ‘be safe’ right before you left.

walking down the corridor, you thought to yourself ‘jacob isn’t that bad’. i mean, you both aren’t in a relationship by any means. you would describe it as ‘situationship’. jacob was nice, funny sometimes, cute, had a nice body, and was cool. him as a boyfriend though? you weren’t sure about that. he was good company, provided mediocre sex, and was nice to talk to, well, usually he’d talk about hockey and you’d listen. but that’s beside the point. you’re content with this situation, right?

walking back to your dorm from what was probably the worst sex of your life was, quite frankly, embarrassing. you spend time changing into a cute outfit, fixing your makeup, and spritzing on a little bit of your favorite expensive perfume to show up to this dude’s room with him reeking of sweat and ham. you were disappointed, to say the least.

yet, you stayed anyways, unsure of what even compelled you to do that. you stayed for the company, and that company starts rubbing on your ass and tits not even 5 minutes into the netflix show. eventually, you give in, feeling in the mood from a little making out, and you were met with 3 thrusts and cum on your stomach.

needless to say, you left in a hurry. currently cuddled under your pink duvet with your earphones on, you end up scrolling about on instagram, tapping to like and swiping up to comment on your friends posts.

while aimlessly scrolling, a picture from @e.williams pops up on your timeline. you study her picture in fascination.

it was a mirror picture of her in the gym, she had her hair up in her usual half-up half-down style with a tight tank top accentuating her physique as she was flexing her arms. gosh, how could someone so annoying be so gorgeous? your eyes trail to her arms and hands. and so fine? you double-tap on the picture, looking at it for a second more before scrolling past to the next post.

your phone vibrates, and you check the notification from your instagram dm’s.

@e.williams: you checking me out or something ??

you scoff, heat rising to your cheeks. luckily, ellie wasn’t here to see that, or else you would’ve never heard the end of it. you type back.

in ur dreams idiot

you lay in bed closing your eyes, and somehow, your mind drifts off to that annoying green-eyed girl.

your mind goes to the way she looks at you when she thinks you don’t notice, or how even though she comments on everything you do, she’s so attentive about it. your mind plays in your head the way she calls you those stupid nicknames, and as much as you claim to hate them, you can’t deny the way it makes your heart flutter.

then, your mind floats to the corner of your brain that you keep locked away. you think about the way ellie bites her lip when she gets anxious, how better her lips would feel pressed onto yours. you think about the way she flexes her arms and hands, wondering how they would feel stroking your most intimate parts.

you find your hand inside your panties. luckily, dina was in the communal showers, doing her 25-step skincare routine. knowing you had the time, your hand goes down to your wet heat, rubbing your clit in slow circles.

you close your eyes, picturing her in your head, imagining her fingers working on you instead. you think about how perfect she’d look above you, looking down at you with adoring eyes. you knew she’d take good care of you. you suppress the need to moan by biting down on the duvet.

even when she wasn’t here, ellie had a way of drawing out unrecognizable responses from you. your finger still rubbing circles on your clit, an orgasm began to bubble in your stomach. you picked up the pace, legs beginning to shake, “fuck, ellie..” you manage to moan out as you finish on your fingers.

gosh, what was this girl doing to me?

it was saturday night and you had managed to get another date with jacob. you rejected him at first, but he was very persistent and promised ‘mind-blowing sex’ and takeout from one of the best restaurants in town. you obliged, clearly in it only for the takeout.

you thought it’d be a good idea to hang out with him. his hockey stories distracted you from the real person you had your mind stuck on, ellie.

you thought about her all the time, it gave you a migraine. you couldn’t look her in the eyes anymore without feeling nervous. luckily, you managed to avoid her all week, hanging out at one of your good friend’s dorm room ’til you knew the coast was clear.

you didn’t let yourself think about what it would be like being in a relationship with ellie williams. she didn’t like you at all, not in that way anyway. she’d probably make some comment like ‘hell would freeze over before i even look at you like that’. the two of you together would be a recipe for disaster. you literally despised each other.

smoothing down your dress, you smiled at the mirror in satisfaction. you went over to your desk and sat down, getting ready to apply some light makeup.

hearing the door open and close, you assumed it was dina.

“damn, who died?”

your head turns and meets those stupid green eyes and that stupid smirk adorned with those stupid freckles that make your stupid heart race a little faster. god, you were so stupid.

“ha ha, very funny,” you snapped, “what are you doing here, anyways?”

“dina doesn’t get off work for a couple of hours and i didn’t have jackshit to do, so i thought i would wait for her here,” ellie plops down on dina’s bed.

“hell, no. get out,” you demanded, pointing to the door. you really just wanted her to leave so you could let go of the breath you’ve been holding. it made you anxious being alone with her and the fact that she wore that stupid blue button-up that made her look so good didn’t make anything better either.

“chill out, princess,” ellie said leaning back against dina’s head board, “you won’t even notice i’m here.”

you huffed in frustration, trying to hide the crimson creeping up on your cheeks. you proceeded to get your mind off the brunette by continuing your makeup, intently dabbing your concealer in, and carefully curling your lashes. you pat your face gently with some powder and brush out your brows, once in a while looking to the side of your mirror, catching ellie looking at you before she quickly looks away, pretending to be on her phone.

“gettin’ all dolled up for your lil’ boyfriend?” she asks dryly, still looking down at her phone.

“wouldn’t you like to know?”

“please, do enlighten me, princess.” you swallow hard, “i’ll have you know that i’m going out with jacob anderson tonight.”

“no fucking way, is that the shithead you’re seeing from pi kappa alpha?” she says, surprised with wide eyes.

“mhm,” you hummed in confirmation, still rummaging in your makeup.

“why am i even surprised, you did always gravitate towards the assholes.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”, you paused and raised a brow.

“you go for assholes,” she stated, “do i need to spell it out for you?”

“jacob is not an asshole, he’s really nice.” you muttered, patting on some blush. “he’s hell of a lot nicer than you.”

okay, you knew that was a lie. but you had to think of a way to get her off your back.

“m’yeah, i highly doubt that. he’s a fucking tool,” she says nonchalantly, “where’s he even taking you anyways?”

“he asked me to meet up with him at the frat house, we’re gonna watch netflix and eat takeout and stuff,” you admit.

“you fuckin’ with me?” ellie looks surprised and almost pissed.

“no, why would i?”

“are you serious? it’s pouring rain outside and he asked you to come over,” she points out, “the asshole didn’t even have the decency to come over here and walk with you himself.”

your eyes look out the window, barely registering the pitter-patter of the rain hitting your window. you didn’t even know it was raining and you wore a dress. your mind was so consumed with classes, ellie, clubs, ellie, student body, ellie, and ellie. the small details just flew right over your head.

you stay silent, and she just gives you a look. a look you couldn’t decipher.

“you’re a real piece of work, y’know that?” ellie retorts, crossing her arms. jesus, why did she have to look so good like that?

“what’d i do this time? please, share with the class.” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“you just go for guys who treat you like garbage or who’re way out of your league.” she argues, “they’re either too stupid or don’t give a fuck about you.” ouch. that kind of stung.

you close your eyes, waiting before answering back at her, “can you stop it?! just for once. stop judging every single thing i do.” you yell, exasperated.

ellie’s eyes widen and she lets out a laugh, which sets you off even more.

“you think this is funny? you always make some snide comment about me. i’m too high maintenance, i’m a teacher’s pet, i’m spoiled, i go after horrible guys—“

“because you do!” she yells back.

“and why do you care, ellie?!” you yell, becoming out of breath, partly due to the hard pounding of your heartbeat in your chest, “why do you care so much?

she goes silent.

“god, you infuriate me, ellie williams.” you breathe out. you felt almost as if fire was igniting inside of you and your slow breaths were releasing the smoke. you close your eyes, attempting to calm down before opening them again and putting on the last finishing touches on your makeup. as you stand up grabbing your purse, and you hear ellie let out a heavy sigh.

“you’re seriously still gonna go out with that fucking frat bro prick jacob anderson? after everything i said?” she snarks, “i thought girls like you were supposed to be smart.”

“yea, as a matter of fact. i am still going,” you give her a mocking smile.

“why? so, he can fuck you missionary in the dark while he finishes in 3 seconds?” she lets out a harsh laugh, “how fucking romantic.”

“again, why do you even care? you don’t even like me,” you counter, her head spins in your direction.

“who told you that?” ellie appeared angry, her eyes sharp and a serious tone in her voice.

“no one that matters.”

there’s a pregnant pause in the air as if she’s hesitating to say something.

“well, whoever the fuck they are, they’re wrong.” she confessed, her voice wavering.

“what do you mean?”

she sighs in frustration, running a hand through her hair before standing up in front of you.

“i’m infatuated with you.”

“huh?” you manage to croak out in shock. did you hear her correctly?

“yea. you heard me. i’m infatuated with you. you fucking consume every corner of my mind. every capacity of my being.” she comes closer to you, backing you up against the door, “you drive me absolutely insane.”

“then why do you treat me like this?” you ask, looking up at her with big, curious eyes. ellie’s eyes soften at you.

“because— i hate seeing you go on dates with those dicks who don’t deserve you. i hate seeing the way you dress in those short-ass fucking dresses and skirts for them. i hate knowing that they don’t even make you feel good. i hate that you waste your time on those assholes instead of—,” she breathes, “—instead of me.”

you look at her, searching for any sign of doubt in her face. nothing. no. she couldn’t do this. she couldn’t spring this on you. she couldn’t act one way to you for months and then tell you something different the next.

“so what? you think you deserve me? you deserve my attention?” you snap ungraciously.

“as a matter of fact, yes. yes i do.” she whispers, getting closer to you. “you and i both know it,” her breath fans your face, “i’d make you feel better than any of those assholes could.”

you shift uncomfortably in your spot, pulling your eyes away from hers.

“i can give you everything you deserve. i can give you everything you want.” she swears. “i can make your pussy feel so, so good, baby,” you can feel your wetness pool in your panties.

“can make you whimper and moan,” ellie suddenly grabs you by the bare flesh underneath your ass, her warm hands hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around her waist.

“jus’ give me a chance to show you.” she whispers lowly. you smash your lips onto hers, your hands holding onto the nape of her neck. you knew this was probably a bad idea, but god, the way her tongue felt in your mouth felt ungodly. her tongue rubbed against yours, exploring your mouth like it was something she was destined to do.

walking towards your bed, your frame still wrapped up around her, she bent down to lay you on your bed. ellie pulled away from your lips and looked down at you, scattering gentle kisses below your jawline towards your neck, your legs still firmly wrapped around her figure.

with your eyes closed, savoring the feeling of her lips all over your neck, you attempted to put an end to this. “el, we can’t,” you nearly moan out.

“why? ‘cause of jacob?” ellie lets out an amused laugh, before pressing her lips against the weak spot of your neck, sucking on it.

another moan vibrates through you, “god, ellie,” you let out meekly.

“tell me to stop,” she commands, her lips moving to suck on the spot above your collarbone, the tip of her tongue gliding against your skin. don’t stop.

“tell me that i’m wrong,” ellie murmured, “that i don’t deserve you.” you deserve me.

her fingers lift up the hem of your dress, exposing your stomach. her lips pepper sloppy kisses against the supple skin of your stomach, “tell me you don’t want me,” i want you, “that you don’t feel the same for me.” i do feel the same for you.

“tell me, baby,” ellie kisses in the space between your breasts, “tell me you’re not mine.”

your heart was beating in and out of your chest. this was it. this was your chance. getting an opportunity to be with ellie williams was a once-in-a-lifetime offer, and you weren’t passing up your dream girl.

you grab her face, lifting her lips up to yours. “i’m yours, ellie,” you cooed, “i’m all yours.”

leaning her forehead against yours, her lips curled into a smile, before pressing onto yours one more time. her warm hands rubbed against the skin on your waist, exploring every inch of warm, flesh. you whined against her mouth, wanting more. you needed more. you needed her.

ellie’s hands trailed upwards, lifting the dress off you and discarding it somewhere in your room. she took this opportunity to pull away from you for a second, her eyes grazing your body. ellie found it hard to believe she was in this situation, with you underneath her, nearly naked and looking angelic. she took a mental picture of this moment, never wanting to forget how you looked at her— with love.

her fingers went behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall and tossing it to the side.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” she whispered, “you’re beyond anything i could’ve dreamt of.”

your stomach erupted in butterflies, flushed at this newfound sweet side to ellie. her mouth placed sloppy kisses on your chest, sucking on the soft skin and leaving maroon-colored marks as a reminder of where she had been and where she belongs.

she took your breast in her mouth, letting her tongue wrap around your hardened nipple. “oh my god, ellie,” you hissed. she smirked up at you, letting one of her hands massage and pinch on the other nipple.

“please, ellie,” you begged, “touch me, please.”

she let out a sickening chuckle, the heat of her mouth fanning your skin, sending shivers up your spine.

“where, sweet girl?” she said bringing her lips down to suck on your nipple again, “use your words.”

you bucked your hips up, “please, el, touch my pussy. pretty please.” you breathe out.

“ah, ah, ah, can’t hear you, baby.” she mocked, pulling her lips away from your now sensitive nipples.

“ellie, please,” you whined out, “i want you to touch my pussy. please.”

she smirks, satisfied with where she has you. “that’s my good girl. how obedient, hm?”

she stands up, still in between your legs, and pulls your body to the edge of the mattress. her hands go to the waistband of your panties, using her fingers to ever-so-slowly peel them off of you. she was intentionally moving agonizingly slow. her hands caressed your inner thighs and calves, finally chucking your panties somewhere on the floor.

“fuck, i’ve been waiting so long to do this,” ellie said, crouching down on the floor in front of you. you could feel her hot breath against your pussy, and you couldn’t bear it any longer.

“please, i need you, el,” you beg, hoping for some relief. her hands lifted your thighs and placed them on her shoulders, her lips pressing soft kisses in between your thighs. she presses a kiss against your inner thigh, on your pussy lips, and then finally on your clit.

ellie works slow and patiently, using her fingers to steadily spread your pussy lips apart and gather your wetness with her tongue. she uses one finger and inserts it inside you, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

you throw your head back, “oh my god, ellie, yes,” you moan out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“look at you, getting what you want, you spoiled girl,” she mutters against your pussy, before putting her lips on your clit again, sucking on your sensitive core. her finger pumping in and out of you easily, the slick sound of your wetness reverberating throughout the room.

“you taste so fucking good, baby,” ellie hums against you, slurping up every drop of your juices. she adds a second finger, stretching you out a bit, but still sliding in and out of you with ease.

her tongue flicking against your clit combined with her fingers fucking you was enough to almost send you over the edge, you cover your mouth with your hand, suppressing a loud moan that was tempted to come out.

“no, let me hear you, sweet girl,” ellie orders, “let everyone in this whole goddamn hall hear how good i’m fingerfucking you right now.”

you let your hand drop to your side, relishing in the ecstasy, and letting out a moan you were holding back.

“that’s my girl.”

you hear your phone ring, knowing it’s jacob, probably wondering why you haven’t shown up by now. but here you were, with ellie, knuckles deep inside your pussy.

she grabs your phone from the nightstand with her free hand, while the other is picking up the pace with her fingers, eliciting another moan from your parted lips, “hey fucker, leave a message. she’s busy right now.”

you should’ve scolded her about how she answered your phone, but right now, any consequences you thought about vanished as she continued licking circles against your swollen clit while simultaneously curling her fingers up inside your leaking hole.

“el—“ you barely choked out, “m’gonna— gonna—“

she kept the same pace, not for a second slowing down, “you gonna cum, baby? huh? you gonna cum for me?”

you nodded weakly, clenching your pussy around her fingers and tightening your thighs around her head.

“go ‘head, angel,” her pace never misses a beat, “show me who you belong to.”

your back arches off the mattress and you cry out, riding out your orgasm and letting your juices flow out of you.

after cleaning your thighs with a wet wipe and towel, ellie comes up to hover above your face, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“is it too late to ask you to be my girlfriend?” she asks, letting out a sincere laugh.

“i thought we already established this, idiot.”

read part 2 here

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst

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cherrychilli · 3 months

Text

18+

Eddie Munson x flexible! reader, AFAB reader, allusions to PIV sex

Eddie finds out you're double jointed.

A/N: This one's super self indulgent because I'm very bendy and I felt like writing about it. Also they smoke weed but everything's consensual✌️

"C'mon, there's gotta be something about you I don't know already", he prompts after another smoky exhale, blunt pinched between his thumb and forefinger. It wisps out into the evening air beyond the back doors of his van, opened out to overlook a moon dappled lover's lake.

This is what the conversation had dwindled down to after having spent the whole day together, most other talking points already stretched thin by now.

Usually you would have considered the question more carefully but now that your intuition's been dulled by his stash, you search through the foggy corridors of your mind for an answer like you're feeling around for a light switch in the dark.

Eddie has been your closest friend for the better part of five years now and you weren't exactly a closed book by any means which made coming up with something all the more difficult.

Most of what comes to mind feels too mundane to mention so you pass them over in favor of searching for something that might pique his interest.

"Hmm, I'm kind of double jointed I guess", you slowly recalled, too mellowed out to realize the kind of implications something like that might carry to a man like Eddie.

But where there should have been raised eyebrows and a lascivious curve on his lips you find his eyes narrowing into a puzzled little squint instead as he looks at you from where he's leaned against the back of the driver's seat.

"But we've only had one", he turns the joint in his hand over to examine it closer as if a second one might be hidden somewhere underneath.

Maybe you'd given him too much credit.

You roll your eyes at him playfully, leaning closer on your hands and knees to pluck the joint out of his hand and take another puff. The weed might have made him a little slow and sluggish to fully comprehend your what you'd just shared with him but not enough to prevent him from sneaking a peek at your cleavage from this angle.

"No Eddie, it just means I'm flexible. Like, a little more than most people", you return to your side of the van, leaning back against the side door with your knees pulled up to your chest.

"So, like the splits?"

"More than that"

"More?", his eyes go wide and you can see a hint of redness bordering his sclera, certain the same tinge is present in own eyes too.

"Yeah, like check this out", you hand him back the last of the joint for him to finish off and put out. Holding up your left hand, you fold your thumb into your palm and gather the rest of your fingers with your right hand, slowly bending them back beyond what he thought to be your limit.

The unnatural arc might have unsettled anyone else but not Eddie and you begin to giggle when his face lights up instead of twisting into a wince.

"Shit, does that hurt?"

"Nope", you start to beam a little, letting him take your hand in his when he reaches for it eagerly.

Carefully, he manipulates them, making them bend in all kinds of ways; touching your thumb to your forearm, pushing the first joint of each finger back as far as possible.

"Oh that's fucked", he smiles big and wide as if he could gladly spend an entire day just messing around with your fingers.

"What else can you do?"

His impress fills you with a new kind of high, one much more heady than the weed and you fail to resist it now that you've gotten a taste.

"Mm, I can get my legs behind my head too", you shrug, this time much more aware of what you're divulging.

"Seriously? both of them?", he manages to ask calmly enough though you can almost feel him buzzing under his skin like a cicada about to take flight.

"Yeah, don't even really have to stretch to do it"

His jaw tenses, his normally expressive face unreadable before he quietly asks, "can I see?"

Oh this is dangerous. You feel like you're entering uncharted territory in your friendship but you like the look stirring in his eyes too much to deny him.

"Maybe just one", you offer, thankful that you're wearing your cotton shorts today instead of something denim.

Sitting criss cross on the old blanket he uses to carpet the back of his van for smoke sessions, you slip off your flip flops and place both hands on your right foot. With your left hand cradling the ball of your foot and your right hand gripping your heel, you begin to lift your leg up past your chest.

The underside of your thigh which he only gets to secretly ogle on days when you're dressed like this is bared to him as you get your calf over your shoulder, no trace of pain or discomfort on your face. Dropping your right hand, you duck your head slightly to maneuver your foot over it with your left hand then it's done. Your foot slips into place behind your head, heel nudging the nape of your neck. You're able to straighten up to look him in the eye, shooting him a wink while you wiggle your toes.

"There. Not so hard", you can't help but show off, drunk on the stunned look etched on Eddie's face.

And then his eyes trailed lower.

He does it quickly -- a mental snapshot that he'll file away for later. He memorizes the way your shorts have ridden up, so tight around your core he can make out the print of your underwear and the shape of your cunt beneath the stretched out fabric, wishing he could rip the stitches of the offending material apart and fit his tongue there instead.

Pleased with your display, you untangle yourself smoothly, limbs returning to their rightful alignments as Eddie takes a few seconds to blink himself out of his thoughts. His entirely non platonic, downright debaucherous thoughts.

"Woah that was...wow", he settles, pressing his lips together before his motormouth revs up and he lets out something he'll regret. 'You're like a sexy stretch Armstrong', nearly makes its way through but he's able to bite on to it and swallow it back down just in time.

"You're the first guy I've ever shown that to", you laugh but it comes out a little weak now that you're processing what you've just done.

"Seriously? what about Mark?", he asks, face scrunching up slightly like the name left a bad taste in Eddie's mouth.

The mention of your last ex sobers you up even more. "No, I never told him", you tell him simply, smothering down a laugh. The truth was Mark's idea of kinky was leaving the lights on so you never brought up your little contortionist act, afraid it would be too much for him to handle.

"Don't think he would have been into it", you tell Eddie instead and he looks back at you, deadpanned.

"What?"

"Sorry I just find that really hard to believe", he clears his throat, barely disguising his own interest.

The silence that follows has a certain weight to it. It's a familiar kind of weight that you've felt before on days when you're alone with Eddie and the line between friends and something more begins to blur. The weight of possibility.

"Always wanted to try it", you add, hoping like hell that you haven't misread that hungry look in his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I don't know just seems like it could be...fun?", you shrug, a not entirely successful attempt at appearing nonchalant because you've begun to sweat. The van feels far too small all of a sudden which doesn't make sense because you're nowhere near as close as you would like to be with the boy who's seems to be stuck on what to say next.

Call it a leap of faith or call it a huge fucking mistake but you decide to take the plunge and ask him the question that's been beating on the inside of your cranium like a hammer on a nail.

"Eddie, would it be weird if I ask you to-"

"Yes", he answers quickly. Resolutely.

The swiftness of it hurts like a guillotine coming down on your heart -- shot down before you'd even finished the question so you swallow down your regret like a throatful of gravel.

"R-right. Yeah I know it was stupid of me to even try to-"

He doesn't know where he went wrong until he sees your bottom lip tremble and the confidence you'd worn up until now completely strip away, realizing you've mistaken him eagerly jumping the gun for flat out rejection.

Eddie's hands come down on your shoulders as he bolts up to kneel in front of you, shaking you to shock the tears away before they have a chance rise and turn your eyes glassy.

"No! I mean yes, it's not not weird but I don't care because YES, I want to um, do that with you… is what I meant"

His grip eases up but his eyes stay wide to read your expression, chest no longer feeling like an anvil had been dropped on it when a smile breaks out on your face, the kind that feels like it could reach beyond his ribcage and touch his heart.

"Really?", you ask, somehow understanding him perfectly. If there was anyone who could make sense of Eddie's nonsense it was you.

"I mean, if you want to...", he leans closer when he catches you looking at his lips.

"I do want to", you lean in too, hands smoothing up his chest, bringing your lips closer to his.

For all the effort he put into keeping his unfiltered thoughts from spilling out it's just his luck that he stumbles over the very last hurdle before the finishing line.

"Oh my god I'm going to fold you like a pretzel"

It's so abrupt and silly and just so Eddie that you can't help but laugh, dropping your head. His lips skim your forehead and he laughs too, both of you holding each other, locked in a giggle fit until it tapers and subsides.

When you do look back up the heat that had been there before his gaffe returns tenfold. "Maybe leave the dirty talk to me", you place a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a proper kiss.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things smut #stranger things #eddie munson x reader

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messessentialist · 4 months

Text

JANUARY MICROFIC - Fixation

@steddiemicrofic | PROMPT: hole | WORD COUNT: 404 | RATED: T | CW: none

---

They're hiding from the heat in Eddie's bedroom when it happens.

Eddie is draped across the bed, t-shirt rucked up under his armpits to let the window unit cool his tacky skin. Steve, in turn, is sprawled in the rickety chair, making slow work of shuffling through the contents of Eddie's desk drawers.

"Has anyone ever told you you're kind of a hoarder?" He asks, casual, and rattles an Altoids tin full of loose screws and washers in Eddie's direction. It's one of three such tins he's discovered so far.

"S'been said, yeah," Eddie sighs. "Mostly by people invading my privacy and smoking my weed."

"Shut up."

Eddie snaps off a lazy salute, but makes no further reply.

Steve is searching the back of the bottom drawer for further Sin Tins when his eye catches on something red. It's the curled edge of a notebook, crushed into the corner and forgotten. He tugs it loose, bending it back into shape before flipping it open.

"Oh, holy shit."

Eddie cracks one eye open, and then sits bolt upright on the bed.

"Steve, give me that. Right now."

Steve does not respond. He continues paging through the notebook, eyes impossibly wide.

It's…dicks. Every square inch of space on every page is covered in drawings of dicks. And not the lazy teenage graffiti type of dicks, either. There's an enormous variety of styles, from cartoonish doodles to hyper-realistic portraits, complete with intricately-scrolled frames. They're mostly in ballpoint blue or sketchy graphite gray, though some look like there might have been colored pencils or even markers involved.

"Dude," Steve breathes, holding the book out in front of himself and rotating it for a better angle on something, "some of these are…really good."

Eddie lunges for the book, but Steve easily snaps it out of his reach. He flops back onto the bed, heaving a defeated sigh.

"I'll have to kill you now."

Steve ignores him, flipping to another page and continuing his perusal.

"I mean, this one is crazy detailed. Did this dude, like…model for you, or something?" He brings it closer to his face, brows scrunching. "Is that…a piercing?"

"Prince Albert," Eddie groans from the bed. "If it's the one I think."

Steve's face has gone scarlet, voice weak. "People do that? Put a hole in their dick?"

And suddenly, Eddie has the upper hand again.

"They sure do, Harrington," he coos, saccharine. "Wanna see the original?"

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steddie microfic #steddic ficlet #my fic

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whomst-the-hell · 1 year

Text

The babysitters’ club, as the older members of the upside down crew have dubbed themselves, meet at least once a week. Sometimes it’s only a few hours, just long enough to watch a movie together, to confirm that everyone is still alive and coping. Sometimes it’s all night, and Argyle plies them all with good California weed while they attempt to work through their collective truckloads of trauma.

Sometimes, like tonight, they spend it goofing off and having fun like the dumb kids many of them couldn’t afford to be.

They’re gathered in a circle at the Harrington mansion, deserted as always, playing truth or dare. Nancy has just admitted to smoking weed in her freshman year, in the drama room with Barbara Holland, and she has set her know it all, meddling, journalist eyes on Eddie.

“Truth or dare,” she asks, a challenge clear on her face.

Eddie knows that, with most people, picking truth may be seen as the cowardly option. With Nancy, that couldn’t be more wrong. If he picks dare, he will be safe, but he will be mocked relentlessly by every single person in the room.

…

“Truth,” he sighs reluctantly.

“Who-” she pauses dramatically for effect, a theatrical detail that Eddie honestly respects, even if it fills him with dread, “-was your most embarrassing crush! And it has to be a person we know, no celebrities allowed!”

Shit.

He feels his eyes dart to Steve. Nancy smirks. Bitch. He can’t even lie about it then.

Time to face the music, he supposes mournfully.

“I would like to say, for the record, that I was in junior year, ok. And, in retrospect, with the knowledge I have now, it’s not even that bad, but at the time-“

“Spit it out, Munson,” says Robin, the fucking traitor.

“IhadacrushonSteve,” he says, all in one breath.

“What was that, dude, I didn’t catch it?” Argyle says, voice mellow. Eddie honestly doesn’t know if he’s in on this or not, but he glowers all the same.

Face red, he repeats, “I had a crush on Steve.” He resolutely does not look at Steve.

“No you didn’t!” Steve responds, immediately, aghast.

Eddie can feel his heart tearing in two.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Harrington, this was years ag-“

“You literally rejected me!”

Fucking what.

He knows he must look ridiculous right now, mouth hanging open, cheeks still red with embarrassment, but he does not have the capacity to care.

“Wh- what do you- huh?” he finally manages.

“When you were in junior year, and I was a sophomore? We were lab partners-“

And ohhh, hadn’t that just been sweet, sweet torture. Pretty, perfect Harrington had had to sit next to him all semester, where Eddie could see his freckles and smell his cologne, but-

“You spent the whole semester making fun of me!”

“What the fuck are you talking about, man?” says Steve, eyebrows furrowed in that way he does that makes Eddie want to kiss his forehead and- Fucking focus, Munson.

“You always used to make passive aggressive comments about my clothes, or my hair, or my books or whatever!”

Steve buries his face in his hands and groans.

“I wasn’t being passive aggressive.”

“You- what the fuck do you mean, you weren’t being passive aggressive! Why else would you have said any of that shit?”

“Because I meant it?”

Because he- what? Eddie played back as many of their interactions from that year as he could remember. I like your jacket, Steve had said when Eddie had started putting patches on his denim vest. Your hair looks nice today, he had said when Eddie had tied it back to beat the heat. Oh, that sounds interesting, when Eddie described the plot of the book he was reading.

“Oh my god, you were flirting with me.”

“No shit! I once told you you had really pretty eyes!“

“I thought you were bullying me!”

“How on Earth could ‘I think you have really pretty eyes’ be bullying?”

“I don’t know! It made more sense than it being flirting!”

“I asked you to go to the drive in with me! That is the most classic first date in the book!”

Holy shit, Steve Harrington had asked him out. Steve Harrington had asked him out and he’d said no. This was the worst day of Eddie’s life.

His face must have looked some kind of way, because Steve just groaned again. He sat there for a second before peeking up from behind his hands, a move that should not have been as cute as it was, what the fuck.

“If I tried again now, would you still think I was bullying you.”

Holy shit did Steve Harrington want to date him? This had to be a trick or a prank or something, right?

Except that he’d thought that in junior year as well, and apparently it had cost him a boyfriend, so.

“No- nope, I would definitely pick up on it, uh huh. Definitely,” he said in a rush. God, he was normally so good with words, fuck.

Steve emerged fully from his hands, face pink but expression determined.

“Eddie Munson, would you like to go to the drive in with me? They’re playing Jaws next saturday and I’d love to watch it with you.”

“Absolutely, Stevie. It’s a date.”

There are groans from the rest of their friends as they rifle through their pockets, each passing money to a very smug looking Nancy.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #my writing #i dont know the character tagging etiquette on tumblr #should i tag nancy or is that rude

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whoahoney · 11 months

Text

Eddie from Chili’s Pt 3

Waiter!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: After weeks of talking and texting, the stars (and schedules) finally align and it’s finally date night. Buckle up, baby. 💖

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mature language, slight angst, reader is nervous af but so is Eddie, allusions to smut, innuendos, weed smoking, lots of kissing and fluff!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie wasn’t a stranger to romance, by any means. He’d taken quite a few girls out on successful evening adventures and had done (close to) it all— dinners, movies, picnics, carnivals, festivals, concerts, rock climbing, you name it. He took pride in his creative ideas, most of them ending very well with a sleepover or quickie in the car with promises of second or third dates.

But no matter the passion and intensity that fueled their date, one of three things always happened; it would fizzle out, there’d be no real connection, or they couldn’t handle his schedule.

Eddie seemed to attract the girls that always wanted an adventure, the kind that wanted a fairy tale romance with extravagance and constant attention, which aren’t bad things to want, necessarily, he just wasn’t equipped for it.

So tonight, as he searched his closet for something to wear, he doubted his plan for the hundredth time.

You didn’t seem like one of those girls. Based off his impressions of you, you’d like to be cozy at home with a good book or a movie to watch. But if he’d asked you to spend the evening at his place to do just that, you’d probably get the wrong idea.

He sighed and dragged his hands down his face, sitting down on his unmade bed with shirts and pants thrown haphazardly around the room. “Dak!” He called through his hands. “DAAAAK” he cried until his door flew open with urgency.

“What?!” His older brother asked.

“Help me.”

“What?” He deadpanned.

“Help me.” He sat up and dropped his hands, his state somber as he help up two shirts.

“You’re not serious.” Dakota looked him over. “You’re not actually nervous right now, are you?”

“Sadly, I am deeply serious.” He shook his head at himself, in disbelief and almost disgust, “And that’s why I can’t dress myself right now.”

“Look at me, man.” Dakota crossed the room and put his hands on Eddie’s tattooed shoulders. “That girl has got it so bad for you already.” Despite his brothers assurance, Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’m serious!”

Eddie swatted away his brothers hands and walked over to the closet again, “Every time you look at your phone, you’re smiling.” Dak added.

“Not every time—“

“Every time it’s her, dumbass.” Dak rolled his eyes.

“So what?” Eddie grabbed yet another black band tee from the closet to look over.

“So! You act like you’re already in a relationship.”

Eddie scoffed, “How??”

“You haven’t been working your tables like you do!” Dak accused, and was already prepared with another reason before Eddie could roll his eyes one more time. “Those girls at brunch today! Two of them were making major eyes at you, one of them touched you and left a number and you didn’t do a thing!”

Eddie scoffed.

“—and I know you’re going out on the balcony at night to talk to her!” Dakota said with a smile, watching Eddie’s blush bloom.

“No, I just happen to be smoking when we decide to talk on the phone.” He shrugged and pulled the shirt over his head. “Thanks for nothing.” He pulled on his jacket and looked in the mirror.

Dakota rolled his dark eyes this time and sat on the bed, “Every night?”

“What? It’s not every night.”

“For the last two weeks, almost!” Dakota recalled quickly.

Eddie froze. It had been three weeks since you’d come back to the restaurant. Only three weeks had passed since he got your number and kissed you, actually kissed you. Since you’d started texting, the conversation hadn’t stopped.

You’d been great over the phone, your shyness only indicated by how long you took to type out a response, which he found very endearing, still. Your conversations ranged from the day to day of your work lives to why your favorite songs are your favorites, and who introduced you to your favorite snack and how you always have a bag in the cabinet. How certain books make you sit it down to take a breath and calm down and how you feel fictional things too viscerally sometimes.

Eddie loved that his phone was never dry anymore, finding himself lingering on every text bubble that bounced in wait for the next question you’d have for him. Girls seemed to ask the same questions, about his tastes and his history, but never why he still watches his favorite cartoon every night before bed or why he wears his moms rings on his right hand and not his left.

He hadn’t experienced this kind of infatuation before, so he tried not to count too much on it lasting—but it did.

“I like her! That’s not a secret!” Eddie says, sitting next to him to tie his shoes. Dakota smiles and looks down at Eddie’s glowing screen.

A notification from Snapchat with your name popped up, Dakota’s eyes going wide, “And you have her on snap?”

You’d added each other on snapchat before a week had passed, Eddie asking if you had one because he wanted to see your pretty face. You were thankful to not have to be the one to ask because you wondered about the same thing, he had the personality for it though, like he’d thrive on it or avoid it completely.

But Eddie liked snapchat. It wasn’t public, and his circle of friends were the only people he had on it. And now you were apart of that, too.

You loved watching his stories, the shenanigans he got up to at work and home were updated almost regularly. You’d seen him practice with his band, smoke in his car singing to music you’ve never heard, make drinks and salads at work with his hours in the caption and an invitation for his friends to “come see me, fuckers!!!!”

“My point is, little brother—

“Fuck offff—“

“—C’mon let me do my job.” Dakota looks at him pointedly. Eddie nods for him to continue. “No matter what you do tonight, she’s gonna have a great time. Cause it’s with you. And you guys already have a connection! I don’t recall you talking to anyone this much before a date.”

Eddie sighed and nodded. “You’re right.” He fought a smile by picking up his phone and opening the picture you took in a mirror.

‘Is this suitable? No scuba gear needed?’

Eddie chuckled to himself before he looked over your outfit in the frame and swallowed hard. You wore a fitted black skirt with a black knotted graphic tee, your legs covered by black sheer hose and black docs on your feet. You held a denim jacket in your hand and your hair was done the same way he’d seen it last.

He was thankful for the lack of time limit on the message, tempted to save it forever.

“My point proven.” Dakota stood and waved to the phone. Eddie groaned with a smile that Dakota returned.

“Stick to your plan, Ed, it’s a good one!” He called as he treaded down the hall, off to prepare for his own company tonight.

Eddie looked back down at the picture, at your lined eyes and glossed lips. He sighed and took a screenshot.

He flopped backwards on the bed, his arms flailed out and eyes closed before he had the idea to snap a picture of himself and draw x’s over his eyes.

‘So gorgeous you knocked me dead.’

He wanted to roll his eyes at himself, but he couldn’t because he had it on good authority it would make you smile.

And it absolutely did.

You fell into your couch, clutching your phone at the sight of him. His curls were perfect and his tattoos peeked out of the collar of his shirt. You groaned to yourself in agony—how dare he be so hot!!!

And funny!!!

He was always sending you something to make you smile—‘Avaca—don’t fuck with me” being one of your favorites he’d sent as he munched on chips and guac over his break one day.

But this one sent butterflies rushing through you, and they only multiplied when you saw he saved your picture.

You check the time, Eddie due to pick you up at 6:30.

It was 6:27, and as you get up to spritz some perfume, you hear a knock at your door. Your heart leapt, how long had you been sitting there looking at his face??

You grab your purse and shrug on your jacket as you run to open the door.

In the hallway he stood, 6’2” in boots that matched yours. “Hey, sweet girl!” His smile brightened as he greeted you, his heart quickening in delight when you threw your arms around him. He didn’t hesitate to bend down and hug you back. “I missed you.” He found himself saying into your hair.

“I missed you too.” You smile over his shoulder as his large hand rubbed your back.

He pulled back from the hug to let you lock your door and immediately offered his arm, “Right this way, milady.”

You chuckle and hook your arm through his. “So can you tell me where we’re going now?” You ask as you come to the elevator and he pushes the button. You’d brought it up a couple times in the weeks you’d been texting, determined to get a clue no matter how big or small.

But alas, Eddie was proving to be a good secret keeper.

He tsked and shook his head, “Nice try, sweetheart. But each location is highly classified and I’m not at liberty to divulge that kind of information.” The doors opened and he gestured for you to step inside first.

“But you literally are.” You say as he pushes the button for the bottom floor. He looks at you with mischief in his eye, one that sends your gaze downward and your cheeks blushing.

“Hey,” he says softly. You look up and find him closer, his hand landing on your shoulder, “No shy stuff tonight, okay?” He says gently. Not a demand, but an encouragement. “I want you to be comfortable with me.”

You nod at him.

“Yeah?” He asks in confirmation, to which you nod again. He takes your hand as the doors open and leads you outside to his car.

You should’ve known he’d drive a shiny blacked out camaro, the windows tinted darker than you thought legal. Eddie looked proud as he watched you take in his pride and joy he had detailed at his second job special for tonight.

You got to the door before he could, the man mentally scolding himself as he watched you buckle up while he climbed in and shut the door. He marked how pretty you looked sitting in his car, like that seat had been waiting for you.

Your skirt stretched deliciously over your thighs and rode up in the back as you settled, your fingers sat intertwined in your lap and picking at a hangnail absentmindedly as he starts the car, his music kicking on and the air conditioning blowing his air freshener through the vents, smelling like him.

“You sure you’re comfortable?” He asked, spying your hand and slipping his fingers between yours. Your hand relaxes into his and you give him a squeeze and nod, “Yeah!” You say, “I’m sure. Thank you.” You nod again.

Eddie narrows his eyes playfully, as do you with a poorly repressed smile. “You sure…” he says with suspicion in his tone.

You nod again with a soft smile, “Yeah.”

“…Can I have a kiss to prove it?” He asked, smiling when he saw you practically melt, your eyes dipping to his lips before you nodded and leaned toward him. “Thanks—” He mumbles before cupping your face and tilting you up to meet his lips for an innocent lingering peck. He pulled back and smiled at you when you noticed yours stayed closed for a few moments longer than his.

“Thank you.” You finally manage as he gently releases your cheek as if he didn’t want to, and chuckles at you, shifting the car into reverse and exiting the parking lot.

“Wait, locations? Plural? There’s more than one?” You ask suddenly.

“Aght! That’s all you get!” He says with warning in his tone before he takes your hand again. You giggle at his touch and he looks at you and then back at the road, “M’sorry! I just like you or something!” He says as he releases your hand and you’re quick to snatch his right back up.

“No! I think it’s cute.” You say, lacing your fingers with his and covering it with your other hand. You don’t miss how he smiles at the road, lifting your hand to his lips.

“I like affection, if you couldn’t tell.” He shrugged, his lips brushing over your skin as he spoke, and then pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

You smile at the feeling, “I thought it might be a possibility.”

“If you don’t like any of it, you’d tell me, right?” He asked.

You nod, “Yeah, I would.”

“You would?” He asks in clarification.

You nod again.

“So you like it?” He asked with a smile.

Your jaw opens and you can’t help but smile and nod again, “Yes!” You cover your eyes with your hands in embarrassment, “You just like to mess with me, don’t you?” You cross your arms and ignore your burning cheeks as you smiled at his own grin, really just taking him in after three weeks without seeing him in person.

“I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t so fun!” He remarked and patted your knee fondly.

You shake your head but say nothing back, knowing you liked it when he picked on you.

“And here we are, stop number one.” He says as he pulls into a restaurant. The building was white stucco and had two stories. There was outdoor seating with large black umbrellas for shade, and a sign sat atop the building with red neon lining the swirled letters that read, ‘LaDonna’s’

“C’mon.” He smiled, opening his door. You unbuckle and by the time you’re reaching for the handle he’s popped the door open and reached out for you. You smile as he pulls you to your feet and leads you to the door, your hand in his the whole way.

When you’re seated, a waiter bounds over with a smile set on you, “Hey guys, can I get any drinks started for you tonight?” He looked between you.

“I’ll have a coke.” Eddie said when you nodded at him to go first.

“Uh, me too.” You agree before the server hurries away.

“So… you think he’s cute?” Eddie winks at you as he shrugs off his jacket and then slides a menu to you.

“You jealous?” You chuckle and go to flip the menu over to view the entrees when he lays his hand on it to keep it flat.

“Absolutely.” He said easily, leaning forward, “Don’t tell me you have a thing for waiters.” He rolled his eyes with a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You blush and shake your head no.

“Good, cause we’re gonna see a few tonight, and I’m not prepared to take a loss like that just yet.” You shoot him a questioning look just as he taps the appetizers, “This is the section you need to pay attention to—I want you to pick one for us.”

You glance down to the section of options and back up at him, his gaze set on you with gentle intensity that has you smiling and nodding. “Okay.”

You try to relax as you scan the menu with his eyes on you, fighting the smile on your face and feeling like that pathetic thirteen year old you turned into when you first met, the words not having any meaning as you read each dish and the description.

Last time, it was the possibility of Eddie watching you read the menu and having to decide in a timely manner, that made your mind blank, and then it was his proximity as your waiter that drove you stupid, not to mention the circumstances surrounding your anxiety now.

Eddie’s knee bounced eagerly, his chain lightly jingling every so often. He twisted his ring and smiled when he caught your eyes flickering up from the table to his hands and back down again. His grin spreads and you notice, sinking in your seat and nonchalantly lifting the menu to form a wall between you and his face, the measure actually helping your ability to focus a bit.

“Aww, c’mon now, sweetheart,” he tapped at your menu shield and peeked over, “—you told me no shy stuff.” He chided and snickered as you lower your menu with a playful scowl.

“It’s not my fault I lose my ability to read when I’m nervous.” You weakly chuckle and shove your hands under your thighs, dipping your vision back to the menu, spotting the words ‘chips and’ and then ‘fried’ when he tapped the table next to the menu again.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking— do you wanna g—“

“No!” You cut him off, finding his eyes soft and full of concern for you. “No, I’m okay.” You nod assuringly.

“Well, you… want some help?” He shrugs.

You cock your head but before you can ask he explains, “I could read them off to you and you tell me what sounds best! Half of my job is helping people pick, anyway.” He said as he picked up your menu and acted like he was straightening out a newspaper.

“R-Really?” You ask.

He nods as if anyone would think to do that for you—you hadn’t even thought of it.

“So we got chips, queso, guac, wings?” He looked at you like he’d cracked the code, but you scrunched your nose and shook your head. “—that’s okay— cheese fries, fried mozzarella—“

“—Cheese fries?” You ask.

“Yeah? You like bacon on them?” He asked brightly.

You nod, “And jalapeños, too.”

“Oof, so you like it spicy.” He said observantly, another blush painting your cheeks before he nodded at the approaching waiter and gathered the menus.

“Have we decided?” The guy asked after he set down your drinks, looking at you again.

Eddie answered, “Yeah! We’ll take a large order of cheese fries with bacon and jalapeños.” He handed the menus back and smiled at you simply while the waiter went back to the kitchen.

“So, how did that assignment turn out? That summer camp booklet thing.” He asks with a sparkle of interest in his eyes.

“The brochure?” You giggle, your cheeks heating as your heart swells at the thought of him asking about it.

You’d mentioned it one night when he FaceTimed you. He was outside on his balcony, his torso bare and covered with ink you hoped to inspect sometime soon. You noted where his shoulders dimpled and the way the city lights reflected in his eyes and hoped one day you could join him on that very same balcony, having the same kinds of talks about everything and nothing.

He nodded as he sipped and replaced his drink back on the coaster, “Yeah! Did you end up liking it? Was it what you wanted it to be?” He asked.

You smile and nod and take out your phone to show him the video you took of the finished product, an actual, cohesive, design that captured the vibes you’d felt when you’d initially received the assignment. The book was beautiful, in your opinion, and Eddie seemed to think so too as you told him about when you saw it printed and stapled you felt all giddy and lame.

“That’s not lame though, you’re proud of your work! I know I am! I remember you showed me when it was just the template and the color picker— it looks so good! Y’know I used to be fine with never going to summer camp, but now I’m jealous!”

You let out a hearty laugh and set your phone to the side along with his, “Eddie it’s not a real summer camp, I just made it up.”

“Oh.” He chuckles with a blush, “Well, you convinced me! The vintage kinda look you gave it feels very… authentic.” He nodded as he decided his final word, his assessment making your heart soar.

“Thank you, I got an A, so I guess my teacher agrees.” You shrug bashfully. “But what about you? How’s that song coming?” You ask before unwrapping a straw and plunging it in your drink.

Eddie smiles the same way you had when he asked about your project, “It’s getting there!” He said humbly, in a way that made you know he made great progress on it despite his words, “—inspiration struck fairly recently, you could say.”

You nod, “That’s great! What’s it about, again?” You ask, wondering if he’ll give you the run around again like when he’d first mentioned it.

“Well, i-it’s about a lot of stuff,” he nods, fiddling with his own straw but not yet tearing the paper off. “Like, where I come from and where I’m at and where I see myself going—what I’m looking forward to the most… etcetera etcetera.” He nodded thoughtfully.

You smile with him, “That sounds beautiful. I’d love to hear it when it’s finished.”

“Oh, I plan on you being the first to hear it.” He said with wide eyes that filled you with anticipation.

“Well I must be something special.” You tease softly.

He nods, “You must be.” He bites the inside of his lip to contain his smile, feeling like an idiot when he felt his heart speed up merely at the way you looked at him. Your eyes round and set on him like he was a dream. Your shoulders wanted to curl in on yourself, your shyness was lingering but you were peeking out from behind the curtain. And he loved what he saw.

You were smart, and despite your struggles with anxiety, you had a lot to say. He was determined to hear all of it, especially if it came out of your smiling mouth. He loved that you were figuring out how to play with him, but didn’t make it feel like a game. Eddie was used to flirty banter but nothing that made him feel like the way it felt with you.

Your shy nature really topped it off for him, your tentativeness making it that much more fun to mess with you.

He’d never forget the way you sounded on the phone when he called for the first time. Your trembling sighs were full of nerves, the phone picking up soft chuckles, and a shy lilt to your voice that clenched his heart to the point it ached.

You’d come quite a ways since then, though part of him hoped you’d always be a little shy.

The waiter brought over your heaping basket, mozzarella, sharp cheddar, Colby Jack, and American cheese all melted on the top of the extra crispy fries.

Eddie’s eyes were bright as he beheld the food, and then looked up to find you unfurling your napkin and silverware, your bottom lip in your teeth as you spear your fork into a measly section to pull onto your tiny plate.

“Oh, I should’ve known you’d be one of those.” He teased as he pulled a fry from the top, the cheese stretching an impressive distance before snapping.

“What??” You ask, welcoming his banter with pink cheeks you suspected wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.

“Don’t tell me you eat fries with a fork.” He deadpanned and took a bite.

“I don’t, but when I’m sharing an appetizer with someone I try to be polite.” You jab your fork into another helping to plop onto your plate. “Thought that’s something you liked about me.” You quip before cutting into the cheese fries and sticking a bite in your mouth, your lips sliding off the fork as you hold eye contact with him.

You barely notice how his gaze dips to your mouth, how he swallows before he smiles and speaks again, “I do. There’s a lot of things I like about you.”

You shake your head as you chew and swallow, “That was an easy one.”

“What??” He asked as he grabs another clump of fries, carefully stacking a jalapeño on top and biting into it.

“You and your lines.” You roll your eyes.

He smiles though he puts a hand to his chest in offense, “You think I have lines??” He asked.

“How can you not? You always know what to say, how to… I dunno… stun me?” You shrug at your loss of words.

Eddie almost cackles and wipes his mouth with a napkin, “Stun you??”

“You know what I mean!” You take a bite, taking care to get the perfect amount of bacon and jalapeño on top before taking a large bite that made Eddie a little proud. You chew and appraise him as he does you, strong jaw working and his eyes waiting for your next sentence. “I just feel like you’re too smooth for it to be real, y’know—I keep thinking this is going to turn out to be one big joke.” You chuckle weakly and shrug.

Eddie deflated a little and reached his hand across the table, resting on top of yours that held your fork. “Sweetheart,” he sighed and you felt a pang of guilt swim around in your chest when you saw the hurt in his eyes, “I… I know what that’s like. Believe me, it’s—“ he sighed again, “—I can’t ever stop thinking about you.” He squeezes your hand. “I’m not used to a girl doing that to me, taking over my every thought.” He chuckled in disbelief, “I like you. A lot.” He assures with a nod and you mirror it, feeling bad he had to do this already.

“I’m sorry.” You drop your fork and wrap your fingers around his. He shakes his head, as if it were no bother. “I…” you take a deep inhale and slowly let it out as you talk, “—kinda have trust issues, if you couldn’t already tell.” You avoid eye contact until you hear his chuckle.

“I get it, I really do.” He nods before meeting her eye again, “But my interest in you has nothing to do with a joke and everything to do with the fact you’re interesting. And sweet. And cute. And smart— I honestly have no idea what you’re doing out with me.” He said it as if he believed it and took a bite.

You shake your head, “You’re so full of it.” You chuckle and prepare to take another bite, though the smile on your face told Eddie you were flattered and ready for more back and forth.

“It’s true! You know how many people see me coming and cross the street to avoid me?” He seemed pleased with himself and with the face you made, genuinely confused. “—Cause I look mean and scary.”

Your eyes widen, “Oh! Well, I don’t think you’re scary cause you’re mean.”

“You think I’m scary?”

“I think you’re scary cause you’re so… pretty—I mean handsome!”

Eddie lets out a laugh so hearty it turned a couple heads, but all you did was blush and smile at the reaction you were able to pull from him.

“You’re too cute—wow.” He grabs a clump of fries and takes a bite through his lingering smile. “So you wouldn’t cross the street if you saw me coming? Shy little thing like you?”

You shook your head, “Would you cross if you saw me coming?”

“If I’m across the street on 8th and caught a glimpse of you walking down 7th, I’m jay-running to come introduce myself.” He said without missing a beat, “I’d change direction just to walk with you.”

“You really can’t help it,” You laugh melodically, full and with your belly, your eyes practically closed in your amusement.

“When it comes to you? Not a bit.” He smirked as you collected yourself with a deep breath and continued eating.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“No way. I don’t believe you!” You chuckle madly as he nods.

“Oh, but, I did, I read every bit of it— and from the sound of it, you did too.” He looked at you with his bashful grin as you nodded quickly.

“Look at me and tell me it isn’t obvious that I’m a TwiHard.” You say pointing to your face.

The conversation had turned to reading, Eddie asking about your reading goal for the year you’d set yourself and balking when you said you were on book twelve in the month of May, and then reminiscing on his days as a bookworm when people were waiting in line for the newest additions to the Twilight Saga.

“I guess there’s only one thing I need to ask.” He said as he leaned forward. “Team Edward or Jacob? You should know that there is a correct answer, and if you respond Team Jacob I’ll l have to La Push you into traffic.”

“Of course I’m Team Edward! Jacob can keep his idealized version of Bella and shove it—“

“—La Push.” Eddie teased.

“My mistake.” You chuckle and take another bite. “So did you read them or watch them first?”

“Oh, I read them.” He urged and shook his head at his past self, “I wanted to be a Cullen so bad.” He scoffed and smiled when you nodded in agreement.

“Who’s your favorite?” You ask.

“Hmm… back in the day I’d say Edward. But now I think my real favorite is Carlisle.”

You look impressed with his answer and nod for him to elaborate, “I didn’t have the finest of upbringings.” He cleared his throat, preparing to be vulnerable. To let himself be known. “My brother and I didn’t meet til we were teens—his mom and my mom didn’t get along because of the old man, but we both landed at our Uncle’s house around the same time and—“ he shook his head feeling way off topic, “I like the found family thing. You know? The people that don’t have to love you but still do anyways.” He chuckled.

When he looked up at you, he found your eyes soft and your hand reaching out for his again. The feeling of your hand in his was becoming familiar and he liked that he knew how you’d fit together.

“And you found yours?” You ask.

He nodded warmly, “Yeah. I did. I count Dak as found family since I haven’t always had him, y’know, sometimes it still doesn’t feel real that we’re brothers and not just friends. But brothers aren’t exactly supposed to show up on your doorstep one day and never leave, right?” He chuckles at himself and you give him a weak smile as you wonder what else you’ll learn about him.

“Do you have any siblings?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No. It was just me and mom, mostly.” You say almost tensely. “Things were… a lot different between us back then. It was hard living with her without my dad.“ you nod and your eyes flicker up to his, finding his gaze on yours, his lingering smile gone for the first time. “Reading helped. Still does.” You smile.

Eddie’s smile came back at the sight of yours and he nodded, “Agreed. Though I must say, I can’t find anything I wanna devour the way I consumed the hunger games trilogy—“

“Oh my god, yes!” You hastily agree and lean forward.

“I wasn’t that big of a fan of Gale.” Eddie sighed in thought as he sat back.

“What do you mean?! He kept her family alive while she was gone at both games, despite the mixed signals she was always sending him.” You explained and he shrugged.

“Mockingjay really showed their differences, though. They were each others first love, y’know? Best friends, most importantly. But he wanted her to be something she wasn’t. He became more desensitized to the violence and Katniss needed… I dunno… a softness, and m’boy Peeta knew exactly what she needed. Til he was hijacked.” He rolled his eyes and took a sip from his now empty drink.

You bite the inside of your lip as you come to realize you agree with him. “Okay. You got me. Katniss is softer than she lets on.”

“Kinda like how you’re braver than you let on.” He winks at you and you blush down at the empty basket. A waitress drops the check by the table, which Eddie quickly swipes up and places his money inside.

“C’mon, cutie,” he stands and hold out his hand, which you take without hesitance. “Time for the main course.”

You happily take his hand and follow him out the door, wondering if he would always wanna hold your hands so firmly in his. His grip reminded you of the way your mom held your hand in the stores as a child, like he’s afraid to lose you in the crowd.

You’re appraising him in the car as he fiddles with the radio, connecting his phone and playing a song you sent him a week ago. “Now you’re just trying to get brownie points.” You roll your eyes even though you blush.

“What? It’s a good song! Much like you, it’s been stuck in my head since I first heard it.”

“Have you always been like this?” You ask.

Eddie looks taken aback by your wording, “Like what?” He looks over at you incredulously, thought you can’t tell if he’s being serious or not.

“Charismatic and laid back and outgoing and, and, and!” You shrug and he scoffs. “I just wanna know if it’s a god given gift or if there’s hope for me, cause damn. You could charm the socks off anyone.” You shake your head and look out the windshield.

He chuckles and turns the wheel, getting settled in the new direction and lane of traffic before answering, “Just the socks?” He smirks over at you and you roll your eyes for the hundredth time and blush for the thousandth.

“Honestly, Eddie, I’ll la push myself out of this car if you don’t stop doing that.” You pry your eyes away from him and cross your arms though the playful smile lingered at the corners of your mouth. You loved it though it was growing immensely aggravating.

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart, look at me.” He pleaded with a sorry tone, one you’d give a child in a sour mood. You didn’t comply, choosing to watch the traffic lights instead.

Your silence is ringing louder than a gong in Eddie’s ears as he drives, and before he knows it, he’s pulling over onto the shoulder and turning on his hazards, “What’s going on?” You ask, looking over at the gages on the dash for a check engine light or something. When you find his eyes on you, you flinch back in confusion.

“Now that I have your attention.” He smiled. You can’t help your grin as you swat at his shoulder and he turns to you. “I was the town pariah until I left at 21.” He sighed, his eyes looking more and more puppylike the longer he spoke, his eyes darting away like yours had the day you met. “You know how it is—small town America, everyone hated me for the music and stuff I liked and how I dressed, it’s dumb. Me being me caused a lot of trouble. And I had to learn to overcome their bullshit or let it get the best of me, which it didn’t.” He nodded assuringly. “I made great friends there. Most of them are here with me in the city, now. College and all. But I really found myself when I left Hawkins. When I figured out the world really was so much bigger. And that the people at home are the real weirdos, not me.” He scoffed and you nodded in agreement.

“Point is.” He sighed. “It’s a coping mechanism—my charm.” He shrugged, looking at you from behind the mask, his smile weak and eyes looking almost sad. “I’m sorry, if I come on too strong—“

“No! No.” You shake your head. “You’re great, Eddie.” You assure and your heart swells with his smile, “I’m so glad you shared that with me.” You accidentally rasp as you try to be quiet, “I know what it’s like to not belong… I wish I could’ve seen you back then.” You chuckle.

“Oh you would’ve hated me.” He rolled his eyes. “Couldn’t keep my mouth shut.” He tsked.

“Oh I can’t imagine that!” You tease and lean closer as you grab his hand and he smiles down at it.

“I’ve never been so nervous about someone.” He admitted as he flickered his gaze up to your eye just for a moment before looking back down at your intertwined hands. “No one’s ever treated me like such a big deal before. Or wanted to know me the ways you do.” He smiles up at you again before kissing your hand. “With you it’s like I wanna…. keep being the cool guy, y’know?”

“Eddie, you can’t actually be saying you’re nervous… because of me.” You shake your head, “It’s me, remember? Chicken fingers?” You shake your joined hands to jostle him like a friend getting a pep talk. “Y’know I don’t just swallow my tongue for anybody, you must really be something special! Plus have you looked at yourself lately? It’s intimidating how hot you are!”

He rolls his eyes, “Can I take my girl out to eat now? Or are you gonna ignore me again when I flirt with you?” He asks.

The term strikes somewhere eager in your chest, your eyes flying to his as he turns his blinker on to merge onto the road, “Mhm.” Is all you’re able to manage as he grins in satisfaction and takes his opportunity to join the flow of traffic, all without dropping your hand.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The walk through the parking lot was quiet but the silence was warm. Eddie had brought you to a place called ‘Black Barn Reserve’ and from the outside, it looked very rustic and cozy. The dining area was dim, candles illuminating the tables, and a large bonfire at the front of the open room, the large glass doors swung open to the outside for more areas to eat and lounge.

“You ever been here before?” He asked, his eyes taking in the scene and looking for a familiar face.

“Oh, gosh, no— I’ve heard of it though. It’s beautiful! I wanna curl up and read over there.” You point to an over stuffed armchair in the corner, adjacent to the bonfire.

Eddie smiles at the mental picture of you curled up with a book and a blanket next to a roaring fire, until he spots the familiar head of hair he’d been searching for. “Steve!” He stuck his hand up in greeting as Steve pushed through the crowd, shoving his order book into his apron as he approached.

“Its so good to see you!” The guy pulled Eddie in for a quick hug, and released him before looking over at you, “And you! Eddie has told us so much about you—“

“S’enough of that Steve,” He turns to you with a smile and introduces you by name.

“Steve Harrington— Eddie’s best friend.” The guy smiled and shook your hand before looking to Eddie, “It’s all set up for you.” He released your hand and patted Eddie on the back before darting off in the direction of a set of booths.

Eddie smiled at you bashfully and took your hand, leading you through the room to a secluded corner by a bay of windows. The booth was small and round, three candles at the center of the table smelling like warm and spicy herbs.

“I used to work here, with Steve.” He chuckled as you sat and began scooting to the other side, finding him following close by and capturing your hand under his. “That’s far enough, sweet thing, come closer.” He teased. You oblige him and scoot so close your leg almost pressed against his.

“Comfy?” He asked, placing his hand on your knee. You smile and nod, opening the menu with few options and tiny writing.

“I thought you had to have a reservation to get into this place.” You smile and look up at the ornate ceiling, the chandeliers barely glowing with light.

“Uh, usually you have to! I just got lucky that Harrington still works here and the shift manager still likes me.” He shrugged, looking down at the menu before looking over at you with a smile. “I’ve always liked this spot the most. Thought it was the best seat in the house.”

“Why is that?”

“Cause you get to enjoy every part of the place sitting right here. Bonfire,” he gestures to the fire a few feet away just outside, “People watching,” he motioned to the loaded dining room before you. “Plus the food is fantastic.”

“I’ve heard!” You chirp, trying to make out the font and find the word ‘entree’. Eddie’s finger comes into view when he points it out.

“The menu changes every night, so you can choose from the steak, pasta, or soup.” He drapes his arm on the booth behind you, looking off your menu instead of picking up his own.

You sigh in relief, nodding and automatically deciding you wanted the pasta. “You mean they don’t have chicken fingers?” You ask casually.

Eddie chuckles through his nose and leans closer. “If the pasta sucks, I’ll personally get you your chicken tenders.” He squeezes your knee before stroking the round of it with his thumb and draping his other arm around you.

“How’d you know I wanted pasta?” You ask.

Eddie freezes before his smile blooms, “Oh, uh, well, I remember your mom saying you liked that pasta—the first time you came to the restaurant.” You cover his hand with yours, brushing against his rings with careful fingers.

“I think it’s really sweet you thought of that.” You giggle, lighting up his world, “And for the record, I wanted that pasta. I just said chicken fingers because it’s all I could remember.” You put your face in your hand.

“No!” Eddie tsked, “so you don’t like chicken fingers?? Is that why you didn’t eat them??”

“No, I do! Just couldn’t eat them when my stomach was in knots.” You laugh it off and find Eddie’s smile waning.

“Is it-is it always like that?” He asked gently, “Your….?”

“Anxiety? Yeah.” You chuckle as the waitress approaches, a black dress and pearls around her neck like the rest of the female presenting employees. Her French twist was elegantly loose, and her lips were the perfect shade of mauve.

“Good evening, my name is— Eddie?” She questioned.

Eddie’s eyes fell away from yours and met hers with what seemed to be hesitance. “Monica! Hey! I didn’t know you were working here again.” He said tensely, making no move to stand like she seemed to think he would.

“I just started back about two weeks ago!” She informed him as cheerfully as she could before directing her attention to you, “I’m Monica, Eddie’s friend,”

“—old friend.” He clipped.

“Old friend.” She added, her eyes looking you over.

“This is my date, Y/n.” He put his arm around you, looking back to you, “Monica and I used to work together.”

“You could say that.” She scoffs, looking down at her leather bound book, “Can I get you some—“

“Two cokes, please.” You cut her off to get her out of the way, feeling quite shitty about it until she walked away and Eddie relaxed. You hadn’t noticed how rigid he’d grown when Monica arrived, the hundreds of questions swirling through your mind like an endless loop-de-loop.

You swallow before you meet his weary eye, flashing a closed mouth smile that was supposed to be encouraging, but for Eddie it hit him deep in the chest, like he’d already fucked up.

“Monica and I didn’t date.” He blurted.

You nod, the sentiment settling in. “I get it.”

“If I’d known she was working here again, I wouldn’t have brought you here, I’m so sorry.” He held your hand in both of his, “It wasn’t even a thing y’know, but she wasn’t… exactly… interested in me so I made a clean break and she…” he blew out a breath, “—was not happy.”

You nod again, the tension releasing in your chest. “Do you want to leave?” You ask, ready to give him an out and continue this date somewhere else.

“No, absolutely not.” He chuckled. “I’ve been wanting to bring someone special here for a while. Not gonna let anything ruin it.”

You smile and nod, happy to be wherever he is. Your eyes close in bliss when he leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead, as another waiter brings your drinks and asks to take your order.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“That was literally the best pasta I’ve ever had in my life.” You groan in satisfaction as you leave the restaurant under Eddie’s arm, leftovers in the other hand.

“And now my question is, are you ready for dessert?” He asked with a glimmer in his eye, “too full?”

You shake your head, “Uh-uh, desserts the best part!” You insist, ducking into the car.

“Good. Cause the next stop is my favorite place to eat, like ever.” He smiled over at you and started the car, handing you his phone and the aux cord. “Play me something good, DJ.”

You racked your brain, searching for something he’d like, something that would impress him. You decide to go to your messages and play the song he sent you the most recently. “What?” He croons in disappointment as he joins the night traffic.

“What?” You chuckle.

“I said play me something good, not play me my music I listen to every day! Put on something you like.” He urged. “Let me in that pretty little cranium of yours.”

You bite your lip and nod, “You like the Warning?” You ask tentatively as you search them up.

Eddie shook his head, “I haven’t heard of them.”

“Well we’re gonna fix that.” You smile as the beginning of ERROR fills the speakers.

Eddies face lights up, when he hears the thudding bass lead the drums in. “Oh, shit! Okay!” He bobs his head to the beat, “I like it!” He says with a look on his face that shows you he’s impressed. “You’re gonna have to play DJ more often!”

You blush at the idea of being with him often.

You hoped you would be at least. And something in your heart to you, you would be.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Eddie…”

“Mhm…”

“Why are we parked in front of Chili’s?”

“Because! I have a to-go order.” He smiled, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Sit tight, I’ll be back.”

You nod as he steps out of the car and bounds up the sidewalk to the door where he’d shown you his ‘hiding place’ the day you’d come back for him. Your heart beat madly in your chest, the first moment you’d had alone since the start of the date and you finally realize how out of breath you are.

Over nothing.

You take a few steadying breaths and press your hands to your hot face, the bitter sting of your cold skin bringing you back down to earth a little bit. He’d been practically perfect— the whole date was. You didn’t want it to end, to live in this warm, giddy feeling forever.

You check your makeup and are pleasantly surprised when you see it hasn’t budged or caked or creased, with the exception of your lipstick worn off from eating and drinking. As you spot the familiar bouncing strides turning the corner you slap the mirror shut and busy yourself queuing music on your phone.

The lights come on when he pops open the door and he smiles as he hands you a to-go bag containing a single box. “Miss me?” He asked with the playful smile you were growing fond of.

“Of course.” You chuckle and look at the bag, unsure if you should open it or not.

Eddie shuts the door and settles in his seat and turns to you with a smile, as if he were taking you in after a long trip.

“What?” You giggle.

He shakes his head, “Nothing. Just looking pretty kissable over there.” He smirks and put his hand on your knee, stroking in soft circles before glancing up at you again.

You smile and huff a gentle laugh before leaning forward and letting him kiss your lips, the energy bordering between chaste and something eager. You wanna deepen the kiss, tempted to put your hands on his face, through his hair, however you could keep him close— but he pulls away.

“Good girl.” He purrs and you stifle a gasp by clearing your throat and smiling. He nods at the bag. “Open it up for us.”

You unwrap it from the plastic bag and pop open the styrofoam shell to find a chocolate lava cake, a scoop of vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce drizzled across the top, and two silver spoons. You couldn’t help but notice the heart swirled in the chocolate on the bottom of the container and blushed madly as you look back up at him.

“You didn’t take a single bite—when you came with your mom. I even made sure you had a spoon in case you changed your mind and you didn’t! But… now that I know you a little better now… I assume you weren’t up to eating at the time. And everyone loves lava cake so…” he trails off as he purses his lips to the side.

You bite the inside of your smile and shake your head at him. “You’re—“ you try to find the words. Unbelievable? Amazing? Perfect? A dream come true?

He seems to realize your struggle and holds up a spoonful of cake and ice cream. “It’s still warm.” He whispers.

You take a bite and try to ignore the lump in your throat as you chew and swallow, or the tears prickling at your eyes at his tenderness. You loved how he made you feel and hated to think this could all be a trap. That he could give you this kind of love and take it away as soon as he grew bored.

And it made you feel so pathetic and weak and even a little naive all over again.

A tear slides down your cheek and he turns you by the chin to face him. “What’s wrong?” He says just above a whisper.

You meet his eye and wipe your face with a shaking head, “Literally.. nothing. I just—wow, I’m so sorry—“ you smile and sniffle and shake your head at yourself as you wipe your eyes, “—no one’s ever made such a big deal out of me. Not like this. Or—paid attention to me in the ways you do.” You shake your head. “I feel pathetic around so many people because my brain can’t handle life happening. I’m frazzled and scatterbrained and painfully shy, and I constantly feel like.. like a burden. Like it’s asking too much to be understood, Y’know?” You sniffle again as more tears fall.

Eddie nods and holds your hand and wills you to finish. His strong girl.

His brave girl.

“So, thank you.” You shrug. “Even if it doesn’t last I’ll always remember this.” You say candidly.

Eddie caresses your cheek and you lean into his touch, “Where have you been, sweetheart?” Is all he can ask. You scrunch your brows together in confusion and he leans in to kiss you again. Your lips are cold against his, tasting temptingly sweet, but he keeps this kiss innocent before pulling back and wiping away your tear with his thumb.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me to fuck off.” He said with only a hint of playfulness in his soft tone. You scan his face to find a sign that he was just speaking empty words but his eyes— his deep amber irises soft with the warmth of the sentiment he spoke between you.

You sigh and nod profusely, unable to string the words fighting at the forefront of your mind to be placed together properly, to form a sentence that articulated exactly how full and wonderful he made you feel. Instead, you lean for ward and kiss him, a hand resting on his stubbled cheek.

Eddie chuckles against your lips and you feel his smile as he moves. You break the kiss and you linger so closely your noses brush. He takes it upon himself to nuzzle his nose against yours and you let out a giggle.

You pick up the other spoon and scoop a bite to hold up for him. He chuckles and takes the bite, his eyes on yours in the dim car light.

The intro to Fade Into You by Mazzy Star comes on, and your eyes dart to his to lock in an eager gaze, “I love this song!” You both say at the same time.

You can help but share a laugh before Eddie serves you another bite, “We should’ve been doing this all night, how romantic.” He teased, though he meant it.

You blush and roll your eyes before you hold up your spoonful to his lips, and as he takes a bite, you pull it away and eat it yourself with a smile.

“Ohhh! Is that how it’s gonna be, now? We were having a moment!” He chided with an amused smile. You swallow and serve him an extra big helping to make up for it, which he’s happy to accept.

“You are forgiven.” He says through a mouthful and smiles as he scoops a bite of ice cream into the spoon and holds it up, offering it just in front of his mouth.

You lean in with closed eyes and a gaping mouth, only to feel his lips slot against yours sensually. Warm and firm and languid, the heat both physical and energetic, the passion rippling between you.

You thought back to that movie Pretty in Pink, when Iona talked about Duckie’s kiss setting her thighs on fire— that’s exactly what this felt like. The fire consumed you, licking up your legs and hips, his daring little nip at your lip rendering you utterly thoughtless until he lifted the haze like a blanket, pulling back from the kiss just as you really needed it most.

“Now, we’re even.” He winks.

“Oh, no, we are not.” You say through a scoff.

Eddie’s eyes light up at the challenge, “You took a bite, so did I.” He shrugged.

You cross your legs and shift your hips slightly, your jaw clenched and your eyes narrowed at him and his antics. Luckily, Eddie knew exactly what all of those things meant. He placed his hand on your knee and stroked in an agonizingly slow circle. “Isn’t that fair?” He asks.

Your brain begins churning into mush as he looks at you in the way he did the first time you saw him, like you’re the most interesting person on the planet—the sexiest most interesting person on the planet. And you only just now realized.

You smile in a way he hadn’t seen before as you looked him over, “Absolutely not, you practically, freakin’ mouth fucked me!” You accuse with a smile of disbelief.

Eddie’s jaw drops as he laughs, “What?!”

“You heard me!” You giggle, “You’re just gonna juice my brain and pretend it was no big deal like I’m not gonna have to take two days to recover.” You push his shoulder playfully as he keeps laughing.

“Oh my god, you’re- you’re—“ he shakes his head at her, and instead of finding a word, he brings her in for one more brain juicing kiss.

It was hot and slow, it had you whimpering without any care or notice and arching your back into him despite the console between you, his tongue moving against yours and his teeth nipping at your lip every once in a while to make you moan for him, hoping he’d soon find out how to play other parts of your body to create louder sounds.

When the kiss finally broke, Eddie pushed your hair behind your ear and smiled at you. “I wanna ask you—properly— if you’d… be my girlfriend. A-And we can get together like this whenever we can, Y’know? I kinda like how we have the same crazy schedules. And you’re good at phone tag! You make it fun.” He smiles and swipes his thumb over your cheekbone. “You make my days exciting again, you know that? He admitted. “I’ve never liked phone calls—ever! But every time you call, I wanna drop my whole life to speak to you.”

You nod, but in a way that tells him you share the feeling because of him.

“Y’know other girls, they like the whole ‘bad boy thing’ I have going on and think I’m good for a fun night and a motorcycle ride, but none of them wanna deal with my hours, or my life. They’re not actually interested in me, you know? And here you are.” He nudges your nose with his. “Wanting to know my deep dark secrets and my favorite color.”

“Favorite colors aren’t deep dark secrets! And it’s not a secret if you wear it exclusively.” You give him a pointed look and he chuckles.

“Like my own pocket sized comedian, I swear.” He holds your face in both of his hands like a child having cute aggression and shakes his head with an affectionate smile.

“What do you say, chicken fingers? Feel like bein my girlfriend?” He asks.

You smirk playfully and shrug, “I may have to take a couple days to think about it, y’know? Had a great time though.” You try to stay serious, but the second he looks fearful and the gooey tenderness leaves his eyes, you’re shaking your head, “I’m just kidding! Just kidding, I’d love to be your girlfriend—are you kidding me?” You scoff.

Eddie barely has time to smile before you’re kissing him again, his laughter a mere mumble against you before it’s snuffed out by your kiss, his lips melting against yours.

As he’s running his fingers over your hair and relishing the feeling of your soft lips against his, he can’t help but wonder what date you’ll go on next, before this one’s even over.

You pull away, “Do you, uh—“ you shake your head at yourself.

Eddie nods at you, hoping he knows what you’re gonna ask him. “Go on, brave girl.” He whispers, keeping you close.

You blush and look down, “Uh, do you wanna—maybe, take me—“

“What, you want me to take you home, now?” He asked, quieter than before.

You freeze and bite your lip bashfully, “Or… home with you?” You meet his eye before darting away and chuckling at yourself, “I’m sorry, too much? It was too much—“ you don’t get a chance to ramble on before he turns your face back to his.

He’s got a cocky, pleased smile on his lips when he says, “I will happily take you to mine. Or yours if that’s what you want.” He looks you up and down for any signs of hesitation.

You nod, “Yeah, yeah, wherever you want. Just not… ready for this night to end.” You chuckle nervously.

Eddie beams at that and scoops up another spoonful, “One more bite and I’m taking my girl home. We can finish this later,” He smiles as you take a bite, “Late night snack, maybe?” He whispered in your ear as you chewed, and smiled when your eyes went wide and your skin burned pink.

“Where-where are we gonna—?” You ask, closing the container and putting it back in the bag.

“I’m taking my girl back to my apartment,” he said as he shifted the car into reverse, “—spending the rest of the night with a movie on the tv and my lips on yours.” He smiles over at you. “How’s that sound?” He takes your hand in his and kisses it as he slows to a stop at a red light.

“…Will you take me out on the balcony?” You ask shyly. His eyes widen and he balks, your brain needing a second to catch up, “Wait, no that’s not—“

“Too late, baby, it’s already out there—and the answer is yes, absolutely—anything you wanna do on my balcony, consider it done.” He says as he eases forward with the flow of traffic and you bury your face in your hands and giggle madly.

You peek open your eyes to see Eddie still smiling at the road ahead, turning into a parking garage. He held his lip between his teeth, carefully maneuvering into his reserved spot and looking over at you eagerly as he threw it in park and turned it off. “You ready? Sure you don’t want me to take you home?”

You nod, ��Mhm, I’m sure.”

He nods back at you and opens his door, “Sit tight.” He says before shutting it and walking around to open your door for you.

“Oh, special treatment?” You ask as he helps you out.

“Oh, yeah, being my girl has its perks.” He pulls you up and wraps an arm around your waist before leading you to the elevator. He slides his hand across your back and grips your elbow before grazing down your arm to lace his fingers in yours.

You catch the doors going up with one of Eddie’s neighbors, an older woman named Nadine that wore an ornate silk scarf on her head, giving a warm toothy grin as she greeted you both. Eddie eagerly introduced you as his girlfriend, the woman shaking your hand with a warm pat before joking about Eddie’s appetite.

After she’d disappeared behind a red chipped door, Eddie fumbled with his keys as he explained, “Miss Nadine makes amazing dumplings and noodles, she’s always giving me leftovers since her husband passed away.” You watch her door as he unlocks his own, “He was great too.” He adds as the door opens and thuds the wall lightly.

“Home sweet home.” He says as he closes it behind you and you scan the area. “—sorry if stuffs a little…” he says as he snatches up some food wrappers and dirty cups. You giggle and spot the place on the counter where all the mail was dropped and torn open, Amazon boxes and shoes piled by the door.

Movie and band posters hung on the walls, along with some personal pictures that dotted the spaces here and there. “It’s okay, I like it. Clean houses can feel… sterile. Y’know? You live here, it’s supposed to look like it.” You chuckle as he successfully clears off the island and smiles at you.

“Well don’t you know how to make a guy feel at home.”

“In your own home?”

“Yeah!” He said as if it were simple. “Y’know… you aren’t the first girl I’ve brought back here…” he takes your jacket off your shoulders, you swallow thickly, wondering just how much he was used to in the bedroom, if you could deliver the kind of intensity he’s used to, “—but I was always really nervous about… I dunno, their judgement? Y’know they’d make comments sometimes and I wanted it be nice the first time you came and I dunno, just hearing that from you…” he shrugs with an easy smile, “C’mon. My rooms over here.”

You follow him, your heart thumping it’s way deeper into your chest. He pushes open the black door and you’re hit with the smell of him. His cologne, his detergent, the stale cigarette smoke, and a hint of skunk wafting over from the open grinder on his desk. “Fuck!” He mutters before shutting it and shoving the tray it rested on into the drawer.

You giggle and look around his room, at his messy bed covered with shirts and pants and jackets, several pairs of shoes strung about the floor. “Don’t worry, I kinda figured it came with the bad boy territory.” You turn to him and watch him pick up the clothes and stuff them back into their places to clear the bed.

He smiles and takes off his jacket, laying both yours and his on his desk chair.

“Ah, so.. do you…?”

You nod slowly and his face lights up, “Well… in that case..” he turns back to his desk and roots around for a minute before producing a blunt with the end barely smoked. “Care to ‘joint’ me out on the balcony?” He asks with a wink.

You practically snort, “That was awful, but yes, I would love to.” You smile and follow him to the double doors overlooking the street and horizon. He has it between his lips and lit by the time he turns to face you and leans against the rail, becoming a part of the gorgeous city view.

You tuck a leg under you as you sit in his chair, and wait patiently as he takes a hit. He looks over at you and smiles before reaching out to hand it to you, watching as you take a small hit without coughing, “Look at you, sitting all pretty in my chair, smoking my weed.” He said admiringly.

“Like what you see?”

“A little too much.” He smiles as you hand it back. “Been wanting to bring you out here since you first asked to see the view over FaceTime.” He blushed before taking a drag. “No one ever.. cared to, uh, come out here with me before.” He shrugged.

“Really?” You ask as you look into the blackness illuminated by the lights of night, stacked buildings and neon lights outlining and dotting the distance as far as the eye could see. “It’s like… a giant Christmas light show.” You mumble as he hands it back and you finally look at him.

“Think you could get used to it?” He asked.

You smile at him and his hopeful eyes, his knee bouncing with his nerves. “No.” You shake your head. He freezes for a second before you speak again, “It’s too pretty to get used to. I swear I just keep finding things to look at.” You shake your head in disbelief and then look back over at his smile set on you.

“I know exactly how that feels.” He whispered before squatting down to your level and stroking your cheekbone as you take one more hit.

“Do you?” You ask, turning the joint around and sliding it between his lips. He smiles at the intimacy and takes a drag as he nods.

“Mhm,” he says and exhales through his nose, “I thought this was beautiful, but now I got you out here and it’s just…” he shakes his head and you lean into his palm as his fingers find your hair, “You make it breathtaking.” He whispers, his eyes heavy with warmth and admiration.

You scoff and blush before looking away at the scenery, but a ringed hand turns you to face him by your chin, and he kisses you deeply, a warm palm on your cheek. It’s firm and deep as you move together, lustfully slow.

He pulls back from the kiss to whisper, “I wanna see you out here more, yeah?” He asked, kissing you once more, “—get you your own chair and everything.” He offers as he rests his head against yours.

You smile and nod the best you could, “My very own? More perks?” You say just as quiet, the street noise below barely even noticeable in this moment together.

“Not to mention the super comfy place in my bed… yours if you want it.” He whispers.

You stare at him for a minute and grab his wrist to lift the joint to your lips as he held it, your eyes on his the whole time had him gulping. “Can I… try it out?” You ask daringly.

Eddie’s eyes go moony and glazed as he nods eagerly, “Good girl.” He says before he’s bending over and flopping you over his shoulder to rush inside and drop you on the bed. He takes no hesitation in crawling over you and showering you with kisses that have you giggling the most you ever had.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hours later, when the moon was full and high in the sky, and both of you were well sated in your desire for one another, you laid in Eddie’s arms, in his shirt, eating from the same spoon as you finished the lava cake and kissed the stray bits of chocolate and vanilla from the corners of each others mouths.

You’re nestled between his legs, against his chest, and he ducks down into your neck to inhale deeply like he’d been dreaming of since he first caught a whiff of you and your fancy perfume. You giggle when he presses a kiss there and when you turn your attention back to the Simpson’s, he checks his phone.

Despite the notifications littering his Lock Screen, he’s marking the date below the time, knowing deep in his heart this is how he’d wanna spend it every year forever.

Or until you tell him to fuck off…

Which is never happening.

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