#BEEN STUDYING STUPID ASS MATH | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

i-literally-cant-with-this · 3 months

Note

Hi bb, just a thirst idea for you: Study fucking. Your fave has trouble being "smart" but he is a genius when it comes to pounding that ass after he gets too frustrated during a study session.

Oh, Vi, my sweet. I know you sent this a while ago. But when I read it, my heart wasn't the only thing to clench up 😈! Thank you so much for sending this to me. It was so fun to write!!

A/N ::: Nerd/Bad Boy!Keisuke Baji x F.reader, reader doesn't know he's in Toman until later (or at all, idk), he is NOT playing stupid, math is just really fucking hard!

C/W ::: Mutual pining that's super on the DL, unprotected P->V, Baji surprising us ... so nothing out of the ordinary.

WC ::: Just over 2k.

"Why though?!" Baji yelled a little louder than you thought he needed to. But it was clear he was getting more and more pissed about this. "Why the FUCK does it have to equal the fucking same area as this fucking pellaroraglam?"

You bit the insides of your cheeks and your tongue to keep from laughing at him about his pronunciation of the word 'parallelogram'. "Because that's how the Greeks intended it. Ok? Let's take a 10 minute break and come back to this again, yeah? You're not an idiot, Kei. I think you've just been staring at the book for so long that things are starting to make less and less sense. Does that make sense?" You reached over and took his glasses from his face and brushed your finger up and down the bridge of his nose. "Do you want to go for a walk or get something from the kitchen? Maybe to eat or drink? Make this 10 count because when we get back, we're hittin' it hard again, ok?"

Something about your wording made his cock twitch. But he shoved that thought down almost as quickly as it bubbled up into the forefront of his overworked brain.

"Hittin' it hard again, hah? You're mean, y/n. You're a bully. A learning bully. You're not gonna give in until I understand this shit, are ya?" He stood up from your desk and he gestured for you to follow him to your kitchen.

Your apartment was nothing special. But how you made the space your own was something that Baji always found so sweet and comforting. Of course, he'd never admit that to you. He is, after all, the first division Captain of Toman. Captains don't find things 'sweet.' They find them masculine and bloody. That's what everyone from the outside looking in thought, anyway. Though, no matter how hard he tried to ignore the pull you and your apartment had on him, he always found himself wishing he was back here, with you, in this little bubble of mild contentment you'd created.

He was relaxed when he was with you. Save for right now. But you were trying to help him study for his midterm. Any other time he's been here, he always felt safe. Maybe even small, for lack of a better descriptor, when he is anything but 'small' in any sense of the word.

"You really do have a mean streak in you, you know that?" He teased as you both walked into your kitchen. "But you're right. I need a break from that book. My eyes are crossing and it's starting to give me a headache."

"Do you want a couple of tylenol? I think I have ibuprofen, too. Anything I can do to help you with this, Keisuke. It's my job, after all. Use me however you need to to get this through that stubborn head of yours." You smiled so cute at him that he had a difficult time not telling you what he really wanted to use you for.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that. But first, can I ask you something kinda weird?" He sat down on one of the bar stools at the counter and you followed suit, sitting next to him.

"Of course! Anything, Kei." You rubbed your fingers up and down your forearm, a nervous habit. Even still, you assumed it was a question about the math you were helping him study. "What's up?"

"So, like, I know you're not into me in that way. Right? And that's fine. You've made that very clear. But, like, if you were...into me, I mean, into someone … hypothetically, I mean, what kind of person do you think you would be into? Like, are you more into the nerdy type, or the bad boy type, or, like, the artsy type?"

You didn't really understand where this was going. But you decided to humor him. "Well, I guess I've always been pretty attracted to the bad boy type. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't go for someone who was nerdy, too. It all depends on the person, you know? I have to like them first and foremost. Like, just because I see some bad boy doing bad boy stuff doesn't mean I'll fall to my knees and s-"

Baji choked on his tea, spitting it all over you in the process of trying to control the amount of liquid that was coming out of his mouth.

"Oh fuck! I'm so sorry, y/n! Gahhhd damn it. I am so sorry!" He grabbed the roll of paper towels from the counter by the sink and tore some off to frantically wipe your chest.

"K-Kei! Oh my god! Stop! It's ok! I'm at home, I can easily change my shirt. Don't worry about ... about it. You yell so much. Geez."

You hopped off of the stool and went back to your bedroom to find a shirt to change into. As you did so, Baji felt his stomach turn. He knew he shouldn't have asked you that. It was stupid and immature. But he couldn't help it. He'd had a crush on you for so long that he just needed to know if he had a chance in hell with you or not. But, as he'd guessed, you weren't interested in him that way.

He waited for you to come back to the kitchen before apologizing again. "I really am sorry, y/n. I don't know what came over me. I was just, I dunno, asking for a friend. And then you started to say that if you saw someone doing something that you’d fall to your knees and …" He waved his hand in the air as if to clear what he was going to say away before it’d even had a chance to see the light of day. “And I choked and blew my tea all over you.”

You giggled and shook your head, smiling at him. "It's ok, Kei. You're a little clumsy, but you're still really sweet. I like hanging out - I mean, you know. Helping you study. I enjoy your company, regardless of what we're doing."

"Y/n? I really wanna kih-" He blushed and looked away from you before he thought you saw his face turn a pretty shade of pink.

"You what, Kei?" You leaned around him a little to get his attention. "What do you want, Baji? You can tell me. We're friends."

FRIENDS

"Oh, y-yeah. Of course we're ... friends. Yeah. Well, let's get back to the math, then. C'mon." His heart, smile and morale sank as he headed back to your room with you.

Meanwhile, you were left to wonder what he was going to say. What did he want to 'kih'? Kiss? Oh, no. It couldn't be that. Right? Maybe he just wanted to kick your butt for making fun of his pronunciation earlier ... even though your face was the only thing giving away the fact you were getting quite a bit of entertainment from that. He wouldn't have noticed that. Right?

You followed him back to your bedroom and decided to keep quiet about the whole thing. You couldn't imagine that he would want to kiss you. You were just his tutor. And he was so cool. He had cool friends, girls practically fell at his feet when he walked by them. He couldn't possibly have feelings for you, right?

Oh, but he did. He really did. He was mad for you. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his lap and kiss you senseless. But that couldn't happen. He couldn't ruin the time you spent together. It was precious to him, even though he knew you saw it as nothing more than a job.

The next hour of your time together was spent studying right from the book. There was no talking, no joking, just Baji finally getting to work. It was a welcome change for you. It meant you could focus on your task at hand and not worry about him trying to distract you with his unfinished sentences.

He was still so frustrated. But he was starting to make progress. He was starting to understand what you were trying to teach him. He just wished he could show you how he felt.

As you helped him work through the last of the 4 problems he had to do, he tried to come up with a way to say it. To tell you how he really felt. He was never good at words. Action was his strength. "I'm not sure about par-parallelograms? Is that how you say it? I'm so fucking sick of that long ass word. It's so stupid. Why couldn't they just say a special type of quadrilateral that has both pairs of opposite sides parallel and equal. That word is like 73 letters long. I hate it. It's so fucking annoying, y/n. Jesus."

You clapped and jumped a little where you stood, your tits bounced and his eyes went right to them. "Yes! Yes, Kei! Good! Good job!" You jumped into his arms and hugged him so tightly, burying your face in his neck, (accidentally) inhaling his scent. "I knew you could ..." you pulled your face back from him and looked into his brown eyes. "I knew you could do it ... Keisuke. Mmm ... Kei-suk-e. You ..." you breathed the words out heavily and found yourself staring at his full lips. That sly smile, his sharp teeth. Pain never looked so appealing.

Your heart stopped in your chest when he threw the math book across the room and it slammed into your wall with a loud thud. Before you had time to process what was happening, his hands were in your hair and his lips were on yours.

You'd been so stupid for someone who taught other people things. So stupid to not see how he felt. And now, here he was, kissing you like he needed you to breathe. You reached up and pulled his long black hair back from his face and returned the kiss with just as much intensity.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything, y/n. I didn't think you'd want me that way. I'm just a dumbass with no future. You're so smart and pretty and funny and ... and I just can't believe you're actually kissing me back right now."

You shook your head and smiled. "I'm sorry! I didn't realize what was happening, Kei. You're not as good at hiding your feelings as you think. You should have just said something, though. This whole time we've been studying everything together, we could have been ..."

"... fucking like rabbits?" He laughed, but his eyes were serious.

You reached down and unbuttoned his jeans. "You know, it's not nice to talk to your tutor like that. But Baji, you've made a lot of progress tonight. I think you deserve a reward."

He picked you up and laid you down on your bed. "Oh yeah? And what kind of reward do you think I deserve, y/n?"

You reached over to your bedside table and turned on your neon pink LED lights. "The best kind, Kei. You've earned it."

"Fuck, y/n. You are so hot. I can't wait to fuck you so hard you forget everything you've ever taught me. We’ll have to have some more lessons. Is that ok with you?"

You nodded as you pulled your shirt up and over your head. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. We can even work on your pronunciation. You're a bit of a mess with your consonants."

He kissed you again and smiled. "Y/n, oh my god, shut up ... you're the worst." He pulled his pants down and straddled you, his cock rock hard and ready for you. "But you're also the best. I can't wait to make you mine."

"Kei, you're already mine." You reached up and cupped his cheek, pulling him in for another kiss. "Now ... teach me something.”

@darkstarlight82 @katshimizuu @kazutora-kurokawa @southside-otaku @arlerts-angel

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royaltozaki · 1 month

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what if nerd momo x bimbo reader author I need u

failing maths, but getting the girl

synopsis: momo and y/n have hated each other ever since an incident in first year. now, y/n's failing a class and momo offers to help.

warnings: mentions of blood and cuts, overbearing parents, drugs, implied sex

w/c: 4.0k

a/n: this is kinda funny for me bcs im blonde and my dad keeps making jokes in chinese about how im ltr a blonde bimbo now. anyway i combined these 2 reqs bcs im lazy forgive me anon/s

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"y/n!"

you turn in the corridor, almost crashing into the burly man behind you who yells a "watch where you're going blondie!" before rushing off to a class he was probably late to.

you spot your friends who had called you, grinning and waving you over, "can't go one day on campus without running someone down can you?" a friend teases.

you pout, "i didn't walk into anyone yesterday!"

"no but you got stuck in the revolving door outside the chem building."

you whine at their teasing, you were a naturally clumsy person! sometimes you'd mix up salt and sugar, and sometimes you'd lose your car keys only to find them still in the ignition keyhole of your car from the last time you used it.

"so you coming to that party tonight? i heard some famous dj from the states is playing."

"awwh really?! i can't tonight i'm failing that dumb math class i have to take and i have a quiz tomorrow so i gotta study."

"you're failing everything y/n, what difference would one night make for you anyway?" a scoff from a student passing by, who you recognise as the infamous hirai momo from the back of her head and the evil way she sends a side-eye at you and your friend group in disgust.

"i wouldn't be if it weren't for your sad ass hirai!"

"stop looking at my ass and get your eyes on some books for once."

momo was meant to be your roommate in first year. although you had accidentally locked her out in the rain for 5 hours while you were hooking up with someone you can't remember the name of anymore. that was during orientation week, safe to say she was pissed and completely drenched when you finally let her in. she filed for a roommate change not long after, citing "poor etiquette and stupidity that could infect my genius", and being the university's most promising academic scholar, she pretty much got whatever she wanted. meaning she also got you assigned to the harshest tutors and markers as her own form of personal revenge, essentially making you fail most of your first year courses. which is why you were even taking this math class again.

the problem arose however, when you find out you would actually lose your scholarship if you failed another class. so failing was definitely not an option.

⋆｡°✎ᝰ ˎˊ˗

“you failed.”

“what!? but i studied all night! i even brought the right calculator model this time!”

“miss l/n, bringing the correct calculator doesn’t help you if you don’t know how to use it. and neither does studying all night if you haven’t been coming to class for most of the semester.”

you’re gaping at the professor in disbelief.

“i’m afraid you’ll lose your scholarship if you fail the upcoming final exam. take this as your final warning. good day miss l/n.”

the door is shut in your face while you're still left trying to process exactly what just happened, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

a familiar scoff behind you brings you back though, "what is y/n l/n doing here outside the staff meeting room? what? about to blow one of your professors for marks or something?"

you spin, stepping into her space, faces inches away from each other, "you jealous or something hirai? i'll blow you too if you beg."

you revel in the way her cheeks immediately flush, a slightly shaky finger pushing up the glasses on her nose as she looks away, "jokes on you l/n. i don't have a dick dimwit."

"you don't need one for me to make you feel good."

she's sputtering, moving around you quickly to escape, knocking on the staff door. you smirk, reveling in the slight win over her but immediately forgetting the feeling of triumph when you realise you're still fucked for your final in 2 weeks.

⋆｡°✎ᝰ ˎˊ˗

"y/n, you know i love you, but i cannot explain this again in any other way."

you groan, hands coming up to pull at your hair.

"but you got like a high affliction or something for this class last year! if you can't teach me i'm actually royally screwed, pleaseee?"

"it's high distinction sweetie. and just because someone's good at something doesn't mean they're a good teacher. sorry to break it to you but i couldn't teach my little cousins how to multiply fractions without wanting to commit homicide."

you wrinkle your nose, "gross dude they're literally related to you."

"no babes homicide means i wanted to kill them."

"oh... i guess that's better?"

"focus! c'mon you remember how to do the cross product right?"

"i don't get ittttttt!!!!!!! isn't that just multiplication? a times b equals ab!"

"this isn't algebra it's vectors. cross product isn't multiplication y/n."

you groan again, facepalming the desk in front of you.

your friend sighs, "sorry y/n i have to get going now. promised my boyfriend i'd go watch his game tonight."

"what?! you can't leave me here!"

your friend's already packing up their stuff though, "sorry! good luck with the studying though!"

you wail in goodbye, sitting up again and slapping your face a few times, trying to hype yourself up.

two minutes later, and you're still absolutely nowhere.

you decide to go out for a quick stroll rather than start a campfire in the middle of the library with all your papers. the evening breeze feels refreshing against your skin as you take in the sky. breathing in a deep sigh and closing your eyes briefly.

definitely the wrong idea when you crash headfirst into something that yelps a "what the fuck!" followed by the sound of smashing glass and a whine of pain.

your eyes are quick to open and you stare down at a bleeding hirai momo next to what looks to be a ruined 3D print of a final project or something.

"oh shit momo! are you okay?" you crouch down quickly, trying to collect the glass pieces that have broken, yelping when a piece digs into your skin.

"has all that bleach finally reached your brain y/n? who goes for broken glass with their bare hands?" she's frowning, rubbing her head a little and inspecting the cut across her arm.

"i-i'm sorry i-"

she sighs, "save it. i've had a long enough day as it is. being around you any longer is just gonna increase my chances of dying to some freak plane crash or something." she's standing up and brushing her hands off on her pants muttering to herself, "i'll have to call security to come clean this up."

you realise then that her eyes look a little puffier than usual, slightly tinged with red, the telltale signs of crying.

you suddenly feel terrible. whatever you had just broken seemed like an extremely intricate piece of work, and she was still bleeding down her arm but she didn't seem to pay it much mind, taking a phone out of her pocket and dialing security.

you step to the side and wait for her to finish talking on the phone. she doesn't realise you haven't left yet, swearing under her breath as she assess the damage once again.

when she turns and sees you again, she scowls, "what are you still doing here bimbo? don't you have a dick to ride or some jewelry to shine?"

you ignore her, blushing instead, "you're still bleeding."'

she looks surprised at that response, glancing at her arm again briefly and shrugging, "it's whatever. i'll clean it up later."

you wrap a hand around her wrist then, still not meeting her eyes, "let me? it'll be hard to bandage it properly with your left hand. and i kinda owe you for all of-" you gesture vaguely with your other hand at the ground, "this."

she's tugging her hand back quickly though, "don't bother. you'd probably make it worse. just go home y/n."

you sigh exasperatedly, "won't you just let me help! i feel bad okay? i can't just leave you here bleeding onto the concrete waiting for security to come clean this up."

she's surprised at your outburst, eyes locking onto yours and then nodding slightly. you don't let her rethink her decision as you drag her back inside the library, heading into the storeroom where you knew they had emergency first aid supplies.

you sit her down on the chair and rummage through the small kit for some alcohol wipes to clean the wound first.

she's eyeing you with a sort of caution, but is quick to clench her eyes shut and gasp at the first sting of disinfectant.

it's quiet for a bit while you work on cleaning her wound.

"where'd you learn first aid?" she speaks up first, eyes meting yours again.

"my little sister used to play around a lot with the rougher kids in the neighborhood. so she was always coming home with scratches and cuts and my mom was at work most of the time so i had to learn to take care of her myself."

momo hums, "guess that didn't really translate to taking care of yourself then huh? i mean with the way you're always tripping over air and stuff, you're more of a danger to yourself than a serial killer would be." there's no malice to her words this time, just lightly teasing you and you smile.

"i am sorry by the way. for breaking that. it looked like it'll be pretty hard to replicate."

"nah. i can just print another one tomorrow don't worry."

you both fall into silence again as you finish cleaning her wound, going to collect a few of the bandages to start wrapping around her arm.

you clear your throat a little awkwardly, "so... long day?"

she chuckles humorlessly in response, "something like that."

"wanna talk about it?"

she bristles then, and you're quick to correct yourself, "i mean you don't have to. just... making conversation."

it's quiet for a little longer and you're finishing wrapping her up, grabbing a small adhesive to stick it all together when she sighs. "sorry. just had a lot of pressure from back home lately. my parents keep wanting me to hurry up and graduate so i can go back to japan and take over the family companies. they called earlier saying how they're cutting off my funding for next year if i continue to drag out my studies."

"what? but you're only 23. don't you have like, things left you wanna do before you're all old and unable to move anymore?"

she giggles a little, its the first time you've heard that from her, "yeah tons actually. i've always wanted to see the northern lights and stay in one of those cute little igloos in finland, maybe go to antarctica and do some research there."

"okay! do that! what's stopping you?"

she smiles at you sadly, "my parents won't allow it. they'd disown me for not taking over their companies. and frankly, i'd be broke without them. i don't have the kind of money to keep living abroad like this if they were to stop supporting me."

you tilt your head a little in confusion, "can't you find a job?"

she's laughing then, a full, nose-scrunching laugh, "not with the classes i'm taking. i'd have to either take part-time study, which my parents would literally kill me for because it's 'embarassing' and would bring shame on our family name, or... never sleep again and take a night job or something."

you frown, sitting back on your heels.

"thanks for this by the way. you're still hurt though, do you want me to do you?"

"-and don't make a weird joke about that." she interrupts you before you can even open your mouth.

you pout, nodding a little as she laughs, and grabs the first aid box from you, gently placing your hand in her lap and cleaning your fingers.

you're caught by the way her eyebrows furrow a little in concentration, her teeth biting into her bottom lip slightly, and you can't help but think she looks cute.

you're brought quickly out of these alarming thoughts though, when she asks "how come you're in the library so late on a friday night anyway? never thought the day would come."

you groan, remembering the stack of math papers you have sitting on your desk, "i have to study for a math final coming next week. if i fail i lose my scholarship and i can't let my mom pay for any of this. she's already worked hard enough getting both my sister and me through school."

momo looks surprised at your admission, "oh. i'm sorry. i didn't know you were on scholarship."

you hum, "yeah most people don't assume it from looking at me." you tease a little, flipping your blonde hair over your shoulder and giving a little jingle of your bracelets.

"i'm not materialistic or anything but i enjoy having things that make me look nice y'know?"

she rolls her eyes, placing bandaids carefully onto your fingers.

"you don't need any of those things anyway."

you're caught again, unsure whether that was a compliment or some new way of torturing you.

she clears her throat, "all done."

you look at your hand, cutely littered with some winnie the pooh bandaids she must have found in the first aid kit.

you beam up at her, "thanks!"

she blushes a little and looks away from you, shyly rubbing the back of her neck, "hey look... i can help you study for that test next week if you want. don't want you losing your scholarship over something simple like that. plus i kinda helped go through all the first year math exams for some extra credit with the head of department."

you're shocked at first, and then jumping and squealing, bringing her up with you, "what?! you will?! oh my god thank you!!!!! holy shit oh my god i'm not gonna fail oh shit i'm-"

she's shooshing you in an instant though, a hand clamped over your mouth, eyes darting behind you, "y/n! we're still in a library!"

you grin when she lets you go, whispering loudly, "thank you!"

she's rolling her eyes and letting herself be dragged over to your table, praying that she didn't make the wrong decision deciding to help you.

⋆｡°✎ᝰ ˎˊ˗

momo's standing outside your lecture theatre, waiting for your class to end. you texted her saying you were getting your final results back today so she decided to pop by and make sure everything was okay.

once students start exiting the class she slips in, walking towards the professor who's packing up her stuff..

"momo! good to see you here. although i'm a little surprised. i wasn't expecting you."

"hey professor kwon. i'm just here to-"

momo's attacked from the back, you're squealing as you latch onto her excitedly, waving a test paper in front of her face, "i passed! momo look i passed! with a 62!!!!! that's higher than i've ever gotten!!!!!"

"miss l/n. i didn't know you knew momo." professor kwon is looking you up and down with a little distaste but you ignore it, squeezing momo even tighter in thanks.

"y/n- stop- wait lemme see that-" she snatches the paper out of your hand and scans it, eyes lighting up when she confirms you did in fact pass.

"congratulations! all that hard work really paid off."

you're blushing, "couldn't have done it without you hirai. c'mon, come out with my friends and i tonight to celebrate!"

"o-oh i don't know about that y/n... i've got-"

"study yeah yeah you always do. but you've gotta relax every now and then you know?"

"miss l/n is right momo. you're the most hardworking student here you should give yourself a break every now and then."

you're nodding fiercely, "right right! thanks professor kim!"

she looks at you with a glare, "kwon. its professor kwon miss l/n."

you're nodding, waving her off shaking momo, "c'mon pleaseeeeeeee? i'll pay for everything. as a thanks for helping me. and i can afford it now too since i won't be losing my scholarship which is also thanks to you so..!"

momo's still uncertain, hand at the back of her neck again, a nervous tick you've picked up on.

"oh professor i just remembered!" you're switching back to your professor, excitement and attention everywhere, "you were looking for outstanding students to tutor next semester right? how about momo? she's the only reason i passed this final and trust me when i say i'm a pretty difficult student to teach."

"oh?" the professor looks towards momo who's eyes have widened, "i had actually planned on asking you regardless but seeing as you were very successful with miss l/n it's just even more proof that you'd be a great teacher. what do you say momo? it's paid decently and great on your academic and work transcripts as well..."

you're looking between your professor and momo with full eyes.

momo looks like she's about to reject the offer, you knew it was because her parents expected her to be back in japan next year but you stop her before she's able to say anything.

"momo! this is great! this is exactly what you need! a job while you're still at uni so you can study at any time but still get paid for it!"

"y/n..."

"it's okay momo. think about it and let me know if you're interested and you've got the job 100%. i've got to get going to my next class now but goodbye girls, congratulations miss l/n but i hope i won't be seeing you in my class next year."

"oh definitely not professor kim!" you wave enthusiastically, giggling at the way the professor sighs in defeat.

you look back at momo who still looks a little stunned.

"well? what do you think?" you ask her excitedly.

"i- i don't know... there's a lot to think about..."

you tilt your head to the side a little in confusion, a gesture momo was beginning to grow fond of.

"i can't just abandon my family y/n. it's a decision that will take me some time to go over." she smiles at you gently, you can't believe this was the same girl who used to call you mean words and intentionally pray on your downfall.

"mm okay. i don't really get it but as long as you're happy in the end it doesn't matter. now c'mon! you coming tonight or not?"

she sighs fondly, "yeah yeah just this once. and we better be home by 12!"

you're pulling her along again scoffing, "riiiiiiiiight 12pm maybe."

"y/n!"

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momo was most definitely out of her comfort zone. she mostly stuck to the bar, avoiding eye contact with people who tried to approach her. she quickly ordered another drink, hoping the alcohol could at least ease her nerves.

you were most definitely in your zone. you adored being able to dress up and let loose, especially when everyone else is so drunk you’re no longer the only person falling over themselves. you could laugh a little and have fun as well.

you could feel momo’s eyes on you and you ached to drag her out onto the dance floor and join you but she was adamant on staying by the bar when you had tried.

you’re not sure if it was the alcohol or maybe you were just attracted to her now after you’ve spent a whole week studying with her pretty much every minute of every day. but she looked good. you licked your lips as your eyes trailed down the slant of her jawline, her neck and clavicles outlined in the halter top she was sporting. your eyes politely moved past her chest but darted straight down to the abs that she apparently had hidden from the entire student body. how did she even have time to have abs when she always had her nose in a book or was in a lab conducting experiments?

you snap out of it when you realise said abs were moving closer to you for some reason, and suddenly she's all in your space, shoving someone behind you that you hadn't even realised was there in your momo-induced daze.

you turn to see a man with half his shirt unbuttoned and a look of surprise on his face. "the fuck dude?"

momo says nothing, reaching for your drink instead, sticking a finger in and swirling it around for 2 seconds before bringing it to her lips.

that was hot.

"rohypnol."

"what? what the fuck are you on about?" the guy is annoyed, drawing the attention of bystanders as they create a small circle around the three of you, you spot your friends in the crowd looking at you in confusion silently asking what's going on?

you can only shake your head, attention moving back to momo who's standing up straight, almost chest to chest with the guy now.

"rohypnol. a drug belonging to the benzodiazepine class of drugs that inhibits the central nervous system causing the user to experience extreme drowsiness and even blackout in some cases. it can also cause the user memory loss and brings the user to a higher state of intoxication in a rapid amount of time. it's street name is roofies."

the man is sputtering now, "w-what? what is this bullshit? what are you tryna say huh?"

"that you tried to roofie my friend here. do you want me to call the police? have them check this drink for traces of the drug?"

"what!? the fuck?!"

momo sighs, her eyes closing for a second, "is your vocabulary only limited to what? and the fuck? it's getting tiring talking to you."

he's gaping like a fish, the people surrounding you have called security over and they're tying his hands behind his back and he's left squirming against them, yelling more curses as momo stands stoically, watching him get taken away.

she sighs when he's out of sight and turns to you with a smile, "you should be more careful. you could've been hurt tonight."

you can't even think straight and the music is being turned back up, and momo looks so good, you can't help the way you're pulling her in by the waist and planting your lips on hers.

she makes a sound of surprise and is shocked for a second, but closes her eyes and returns the kiss, maneuvering you a little so she can place the spiked drink on a nearby table before her hand returns to you, one hand cupping your cheek, the other on your shoulder.

you're a little desperate when you claw at her abs that are now within touching distance, and she giggles into the kiss. you mutter a small shut up, reattaching your lips, feeling all the adrenaline of the night pumping through you as you mould yourself against her.

"god is it weird that- that kinda turned me on a little?" you're speaking between breaths, her lips swallowing up your words, not letting you catch a break.

she hums lightly against you, "which part?"

"the- when you were talking- about all those chemicals- and whatever-"

she breaks away from you then, an eyebrow arched and a hint of a smirk on her face, "you get off on me talking nerdy?"

you want to wipe that smirk off her face. "take me home and i'll show you what i get off on."

her eyes darken considerably, and she's tugging you towards the exit, grabbing the spiked drink and pouring it down the drain first to make sure no one drinks it. the little action of consideration even when you're both overwhelmed with lust just gets you more wet.

you send a quick text to your friends saying you had to leave early, and then you're in a cab, lips on each other's again, hands roaming and exploring every inch of available skin.

you suppose the one good thing out of that math exam was it bringing the two of you together at last.

#momo #hirai momo #twice momo #momo x reader #momo x f!reader #momo x fem!reader #twice x reader #twice x fem!reader #twice x f!reader #momo imagines #twice imagines #royaltozaki

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i4oba · 2 months

Text

haechan as… 💭 / your study buddy ⊹◞✿

haechan as your study buddy sounds like a complete nightmare

I KNOWWWW

but hear me out… Hear!!!!! me out I swear

when he’s determined, he can focus, it just takes … a bit too much in him to do that

not because he’s stupid, he’s super super smart when he’s actually trying

but you know… there are courses that are pain in the ass and you cannot even deny that

and as complete opposites.. you Do care about it, meanwhile he Does NOT give a shit about those

like he couldn’t care less if he failed introduction to philosophy

he doesn’t even know why he has to complete that course. like what’s the fucking point..

FUCK HEGEL???likeee

but you were hella determined to help him out and kind of motivate him

i mean, he wouldn’t mind a little extra cash as a scolarship either ???The least he can do is just sit down and study

that’s how it always have been anyways, ever since middle school

studying together at the library, solving math problems and talking shit in between two of these sessions

the latter part was hyuck’s favourite honestly, he’s such a shittalker fr (i get it, i am too)

he knows basically every gossip… that’s how it always have been! (he knew about the crush jisung had on one of the seniors back in high school and was sooooo into this little affair he singlehandedly ruined his chances… by accidentally spilling it all to the girlie… Oops was all he said too like LMFAO)

he starts and ends all of your uni study sessions with gossips as well honestly

he says it should be a sandwich (or some bullshit idk)–one nasty rumour, some molecular biology and one lighthearted gossip as a way to finish

letting some steam off

he’s not even sorry about it.. at least he has something to look forward to everytime you meet

he’s such a big gossiper it’s actually crazy

and when he gets soooo into it, his voice gets all squeaky and shit lol

him studying journalism doesn’t even help at all, like why is he so fucking interested in this

he says he wants to work at atlantic but… what are the chances? HE SHOULD STUDY

and that’s why you two were there!!! nose should be buried in books!!!!!!!

but his is… well, behind the screen of his phone, going through his instagram dms and showing off other girl’s messages

some extremely cute ones and some embarrassing love confessions as well

you cannot help but laugh when you see someone replying to his thirst trap stories with heart eyed emojis and shit

especially when you can recall how you literally called him a loser in your reply

i mean, you were right after all Lmfao

he knows you’re joking though.. he knows he’s hot as fuck and the most important: he knows that you know

but let’s get back to our main point ???Duh

you were Sat at one of the lesser crowded corners of the campus library, surrounded by a couple of notebooks, one half cup of coffee that has long gone cold, and your laptop–meanwhile hyuck only had one, pretty small notebook he used for every lecture he had, and it had been…

through a lot (as if a dog chewed on it or something but really it’s just that he didn’t care about it)

but anywaaaaays… in the first like, ten minutes he was actually working??? studying his stuff???? Even telling you some fun facts he could remember

like that’s how he is naturally, his method of learning is teaching at the same time as well

which is actually such a useful way imo, that’s how i do as well lmfao

but then you had to avert your attention and do the rest of your research paper to finally finish the project.. it had been ages since you’ve started and you were nowhere near the finish line

so he just.. went on his phone instead. he thrives on attention and when you’re not giving it to him… well YEAAAHHH

he intentionally puts the volume of his phone pretty high so he can annoy you with the sound of him typing and shit

going through tiktok and all

he’s such an asshole for that

but you like the presence of him. it’s soothing kinda that he’s .. there?? clearly not studying but keeping you company

i mean, doing this all alone would be rather depressing, isn’t it? You’re not a big fan of that

so he stays. because he’s aware.

and maybe, with some extra help, he could learn his material.. you just gotta take break more frequent so he can act like as if he was a lecturer ahah

mansplaining and shit ijbol

and at the end??? at the crack of the night??? walking you back to your dorm???? he’s the one offering you two should do this again soon

not tomorrow, he adds–there’s a frat party he’s expected to attend

but after that????He’s excited to do it again :P

#nct dream #nct dream headcanons #nct dream imagines #nct #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct dream writings #nct dream stories #nct dream x reader #nct imagines #haechan imagines #haechan #haechan x reader #haechan x you #haechan scenarios #haechan fluff

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dogs2shouldvote · 10 months

Text

during my latest relisten of taz balance, i recorded every line i found even the slightest bit funny with zero context, not even who said it (though some are pretty obvious). here’s all my favorites!!

“i’m probably studying.. my cantrips”

“just say mastrubating, dad”

“don’t come in mom i’m studying my canteips!!”

“yeah you’ll do any dumb shit”

“it’s like a bag of holding! but for.. ass.”

“do we know how much damage we did to him?”

“six damage, you said it out loud with your mouth.”

“it should be in the player’s handbook! get your salty snack to enjoy while you play dnd”

“my grandpa says it’s rude to whisper. especially on a train!”

“i’m not going to go toe to toe with a crab while youre armed with a terrible scottish accent and travis doesn’t even have his sheild. i’m out! … did i say travis? i mean leman kessler.”

“nope! that was wrong all the way around.”

“i’m cosplaying taako right now, as a stupid man.”

“who’s just rolling dice? who is doing secret checks that i don’t know about?”

“i always waste my 20’s on perception checks. like i give a shit.”

“it’s completely conceivable he would have a name tag.”

“IN A GANG?”

“like a pelt??? like a bramble*pelt*?????”

“is there a math check? what are you talking about?”

“yeah it’s your fucking brain. you use your brain to add numbers together”

“16”

“what are you fucking doing??”

“griffin i love you youre my brother. but if my skill called history doesn’t literally help me with history trivia questions in a category called history what are we FUCKING doing here??”

“can i ask you a question? are you guys mean to everyone?”

“fus-ro-over dere”

“that one was actually a badass bernie sanders”

“hey thug! what’s your name? i’m about to tentacle your dick.”

“a d6 is like some dice ass dice. that’s some monopoly shit.”

“i thought you were saying merle, it’s his bread and his body, take 2d6 healing points”

“you two remind me of something… you remind me of the babe! and then i throw the glass sphere at them.”

“make a constitution saving throw to see if you can eat this fucking rock with your mouth.”

“dungeons and dragons is a. great game.”

“my name is magnus burnsides”

“marchins burchens”

“magnus would not say that. however, travis would.”

“can we please not talk about chekhov’s bush?”

“we’ve got a ball, a sack, and a tool!”

“everything is gross here in dnd.”

“only losers smoke, isaac.”

“i give isaac an hour long lecture about the dangers of smoking.”

“i’m just gonna put my mouth down there and go buck wild”

“there’s a lot of go cart tracks called the adventure zone and i’ve been working with my lawyer to shut them all down forever”

“does taako fish?”

“yeah taako fishes.”

“a rock hard-“

*justin, clint, and travis laugh*

“come ON, *really*?”

“taako rushes in!”

“what! magnus follows him.”

“merle’s good out here!”

“WHAT is going on?”

“how do you not have a d6 it comes with every board game”

“my daughter-“

“eats them for power???”

“uhhh how much health do you have.”

“im not gonna tell you.”

“let’s see… i am going to hurt jenkins. with a magical spell.”

“this is about to become the taako show starring taako.”

“BLUFF FUCKING BLUFF O’CLOCK?? WHAT IS THIS, HALF PAST PERSUASION TIME??”

“i’m not laughing in game” *justin fucking loses it*

“she’s the best at burning shit ever.”

“traaav griffin got to do his show for so long and now he’s gonna destroy yours.”

“fucking lup finds like. a gun.”

“for sure, keep it sleazy. we’re out, bye!”

“i have to believe…. i’m gonna get those fifteen dollars back from greg fucking grimaldis”

“based on the rules of the game, dad… you die.”

“dad’s making a jerk off motion at me”

“don’t play the pennywise card like you ALWAYS try to”

“should i talk slower so that everybody who has been complaining about us not playing dnd has time to nut?”

“i am a wizard. my name is taako. and i am pretty well fucked.”

“yeah i’ve got cumin who do you think i am?”

“hear that, babe? we’re *legends*”

“i’m clint mcelroy and i played merle hightower-“

“nope”

#i actually have a ton more #taz balance #taz balance spoilers #kinda #the adventure zone balance #mcelroys #taz #the adventure zone #mcelroy brothers #taako taaco #merle highchurch #magnus burnsides

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smut-slut69 · 7 months

Note

Could you pretty please do a chishiya x fem reader grinding until he lets go in his pants. Reader teases him so he gets revenge with fingering and eating her out.

“You’re so pretty when you’re quiet Y/n”

Kinktober 2023|Day 6 ~ Exhibitionism

Words: 1.5K

Pairings: !nerd!Chishiya x !slut!Reader

Summary: Exactly what was asked for, just a bit of Exhibitionism along with it.

You weren’t an idiot, not in any way.

You couldn’t blame people for thinking that though. After all, you were only known for three things on campus. Throwing awesome parties, having a rich ass dad, and spreading your legs.

But the point is, you weren’t the brightest, but you weren’t stupid. Science, reading, history, all those subjects were easy for you.

But math. . . you just couldn’t do it.

Which is why you were confused when you had AP calculus on your schedule this year. Surely you weren’t that advanced.

Your father had known this would be a struggle for you, as your math problems were no secret. So after he called a friend of his, you had a round-year tutor just like that.

That was how you met Chishiya Shuntaro. At first, he tutored you the way he would tutor anybody, and that hadn’t seemed to work. But after some time, you and chishiya had found a different way for you to work, a reward system if you will.

Like now, you and chishiya were studying for an AP calc test, you had aced your practice test and it was time for your reward.

Which was how you ended up straddling Chishiya’s lap, the blonde thankful you two had chosen a table in a hidden corner of the library. You two had been making out like animals for a while now, your hips bravely exploring his, only stopping when you felt something wet hit your thigh.

You laughed, pulling away from Chishiya’s swollen lips. “Did you just . . .cum?” you spoke, trying to hold back your laugh.

Chishiya looked away bashfully, hands gripping your hips awkwardly. “S-sorry” he gasped, wincing as your hips brushed his now sensitive dick. You laughed a little harder as you saw the wet stain on his sweats. He had cum. “That's. . .actually fucking pathetic. All I did was dry hump you a little bit” you snickered.

He stared at you, your words filling him with embarrassment and something that he couldn’t pinpoint yet. “You don’t have to be so mean about it” he groaned.

“How can I not be, I mean, l knew you were a fucking loser, that's why you're so good at math, but I didn’t know you were a virgin too” you chuckled.

“I’m not-”

“I mean it’s obvious you’ve never had a girl as pretty as me on your lap, If I was you I would’ve cum that soon too. Well actually, maybe not, I’m not as desperate as you”

“God your such a bitch” he said lowly. But you didn’t even hear him, too busy ranting about him. If you had let him finish he would have told you that although he had little experience with women, he spent 4 hours a day studying the female anatomy, it was the only way to pass his medical science exams.

But if you didn’t let him tell you, he would have to show you.

In the middle of your hushed remarks, you yelped as he pressed you against the chair you had him pinned on. Slinking down between your legs. His move caught you off guard as you stared at him curiously.

Chishiya didn’t say a word as he spread your legs wide for him, staring at your cum stained panties. Before you could question him, he licked a long stripe over your clothed clit, making you moan in surprise.

You didn’t know what had gotten into him, through your whole arrangement, never once had anything gone beyond a fucking steamy makeout session. But now, here you were, quieted down immediately from the way he had your toes curling just from his tongue over you.

You smiled as he kissed down your thighs, teasing and plucking at the flesh there.

“Chishiya stop teasing, if I didn’t know better I would say you were stalling,” you said.

He rolled his eyes as you continued, “I bet you don’t even know how to eat p-”.

You threw your head back with a hushed moan when his finger grazed your clit as he pulled your panties to the side.

This time it was your turn to be embarrassed, he had barely even touched you.

“You better shut up, unless you want every damn person in this library to hear what a fucking slut you are. Even though they all already think that” he mocked before he dove in. He drove his tongue through your folds, taking in the taste of you.

You were a nasty person, you had a nasty mouth and a nasty attitude, but your pussy, your pussy was sweeter than you could ever be.

“Chishiya” You whimpered, nails pressing into your hands as the sloppy sounds his tongue made against you echoed against the walls of the library and back to your ears. Your hole, clenched. Begging to be filled with something. But he stuck to sucking your sensitive nub, juices flowing out of you in a way you had never felt.

The guys you usually fucked were horny frat guys who never truthfully cared for your pleasure, only ever seeking you out because of what you could do for them. None of them had ever even offered to eat you out before so this was a first, which you would never admit to Chishiya.

Especially since he was making you feel so fucking good.

Your manicured hands twirled their way into his blonde hair. They worked the rubber band out of his hair, setting his blonde strands free, massaging his scalp, and pushing his head closer into you. You weren’t sure what you needed, but you knew it was more.

Chishiya got the hint, sliding a slender finger into you. Moaning Louder, your eyes wandered down to Chishiya only to gasp at the sight of his pretty brown eyes boring into yours. You bit your hand to keep from screaming when he pushed in a second finger, fucking up into that spongey spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

At this point you couldn't think, your plush thighs crushing his head but he didn’t let that stop him. All you could focus on was the wonderful feeling of him kissing your puffy clit combined with his perfect fingers. You could feel your orgasm building in your core, ready to burst any minute.

“Chishiya!” you moaned as quietly as you could when you came, eyes rolling back in your head and thighs twitching when his tongue never stopped flicking your clit.

You whined when he didn’t stop, your body giving in to his touches as his mouth came to suckle your clit. Your hands stood pressed into Chishiya’s hair, just sitting there, not sure if you wanted this sweet torture to stop or end.

You shivered when he let up, replacing his tongue with his thumb as he looked up at you, all fucked out. Eyes blown out, chest heaving, and small whimpers leaving you.

“Chishiya, it-it’s too much” you whined.

He ignored you, picking back up the movement of his fingers inside of you, watching as your body slumped against the chair in pleasure, hands squeezing in his hair. “Chi-Chishiya I can’t take it” you stuttered, hips squirming away from his rough circles on your clit.

He rolled his eyes, using his elbow to press you down. “Don’t you take it from other guys all the time, or am I just better than all of them” he whispered smugly.

You blushed, his words bringing heat to your cheeks. “I-”.

“It’s okay you don’t have to answer” Chishiya continued, “You’ll take it from me, won’t you princess” he said, eyes begging for you to look at him.

Maybe it was the nickname or the way he looked at you, but when your eyes met his after his words you came so hard you almost knocked the chair over.

Your eyes squeezed shut and your hands squeezed open and shut, unsure of what to do to them. Chishiya kept his fingers inside of you, easing you through your orgasm, while his hand grabbed your hand as you shook.

When your body slumped down onto the chair he pulled out of you, smiling at the way your legs twitched when he dragged along your walls, pulling your soaked underwear back over your slit. Your eyes opened when he grabbed your jaw bringing his soaked fingers up to your mouth watching as you hollowed out your cheeks to suck on them. When he was satisfied, he pulled them out, looking at the fucked out picture in front of him.

But even when you were like this, hair a mess and sweat-covered, you were still the prettiest girl he had ever met, even with your attitude. He leaned in to kiss you, a kiss that was swiftly returned by you.

“You’re so pretty when you’re quiet Y/n”

Sorry For Any Spelling Mistakes. Hope you enjoyed!(Especially you Anon)

#chishiya #chishiya x you #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya smut #chishiya x fem!reader #alice in borderland #chishiya my beloved #chishiya shuntaro x reader #chishiya x y/n #chishiya fic

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thecoolblackwaves · 4 months

Text

Family Of Nerds: Feanorian Modern AU

(I’m sorry this is somewhat Americanized I just don’t have enough knowledge about anywhere else to make those allusions) (Also please reblog with your own headcanons or other thoughts!)

Feanor

Philologist; studies language history

Often assists at various museums, colleges, archeological sites, etc

Has published several books and given many lectures

Creates his own languages like Tengwar for fun, also is a hobby blacksmith

Teaches his children many archaic languages no one else speaks and takes his family on "educational" vacations

Also attends every convention known to man, even ones that have seemingly nothing to do with his own interests, dressed to the nines and spends his time there signing books and debating other people

Loves his wife just as madly as the day he met her and is ecstatic he married his high school sweetheart

Idolizes his father. Would have done great following his political career if he hadn't "ruined" his public image by becoming a teen parent, ultimately feels he's made the right decisions for his life though and is happy with his work

Rivalry with Fingolfin over who can host the best dinner party (and you best believe he wears smart-ass punny aprons while cooking a six course meal for his guests)

Nerdanel

Professional sculptor and multimedia artist

Teaches classes at an arts college

Is known to eat the fruit out of the bowls her students are sketching when no one is looking

Cannot cook to save her life

Enthusiastically attends every possible event in her family’s calendar no matter the weather or lack of skill at a toddler dance recital

Dresses in a fabulously bohemian eccentric artist way; stole the show when she attended the Grammys with Makalaure and has been featured in several fashion magazines

Carries all sorts of art supplies and seemingly random tools in her purse at all times, including a chisel, googly eyes, edible glitter, a bajillion hair ties, DW40, and peanut M&Ms

Has a calm, wise disposition that belies her truly chaotic nature

Often looked to for advice from her students and children and will only pull your leg when she thinks you’re being stupid

Does give genuinely good advice though, mostly because she is uncanny in her ability to read people and observe subtle hints

Maitimo

Studied communications, currently working as his father’s apprentice but hopes to find a position as a public relations specialist

Uses his intimidating stature and loud, deep voice to his advantage as needed

Was born while his parents were teenagers and still living with their families, he remembers watching cartoons with Grandpa Finwe and being babysat by his uncles

Also attended his mother’s graduation from art school as a small child and clapped until his little hands hurt

Is painfully aware of how all his younger brothers look up to him - literally - and sometimes struggles with the pressures of setting a good example, though he does much better than he realizes

Drinks his coffee from a mug that reads “don’t make this ginger snap” (Nerdanel has a matching one)

The gayest gay to ever gay, informs everyone of this via cheesy tee shirts gifted from his brothers and cousins

Drives a minivan, claims he chose it because it was the only car that would fit his legs and not because he can haul his brothers around in it

Frequently complains about missing the technology of his childhood but resents being called a millennial

Makalaure

Grammy award winning artist and composer

Created the score for a recent movie that bloomed his popularity and brought him to the limelight

Has a Youtube channel with several music videos he definitely didn’t blackmail his family into filming with him

Also performed on Broadway once and will not let you forget it

Used to skip school to busk in the train station and once caught his math teacher also skipping school

Extremely popular with interviewers, camera crew, and other industry specialists for his kindness and crazy stories about his family

Donates large amounts of his royalties to children’s hospitals and other charities

Used to hog the bathroom in the mornings to put on makeup and style his hair

Practices Beyonce dance routines in the mirror, has convinced Curufin to do them with him before

Spent a semester studying in Sydney, Australia and fainted after encountering a large spider in his dorm room

Tyelkormo

Forest ranger at a National Park

Works at outdoor summer camps every year, all the children love him and his giant fluffy dog

Also volunteers at animal shelters and the wildlife rehabilitation center at the National Park

Creatine for breakfast, lunch, and dinner; drinks so much milk Nerdanel used to tell him it was why his hair was white

Wakes up at 5 in the morning to exercise (disgusting)

Got a long bow for Christmas one year (the note said Santa but he knows it was his mom) and practices in the backyard by shooting at Amrod’s pumpkins

Metalhead, particularly likes viking metal and Nordic black metal

Made Huan his own battle vest complete with dog-themed patches such as “Bad to the Bone” and “No Leashes No Masters”

Tells the most terrible jokes you’ve ever heard then laughs like a seagull vomiting up a stolen bag of Doritos

Extremely loyal to his family, sometimes to a fault

Carnistar

Professional business accountant

Also does taxes as a side hustle because “it’s so easy”

Is obsessed with Oreos but will not admit it because of his brother's teasing about "Moryo's Oreos"

Obligatory family goth and not ashamed of it

Started mending his hand-me-down clothes as a necessity and got into sewing, now makes fantastic garments for his family and friends to wear

Halloween is the only valid holiday, he spends the entire year making his costume (it’s usually a vampire or some fandom character)

Stays up until 3am gaming on a PC he and Feanor built together one summer, favorite game is currently Balder’s Gate

Had to take speech therapy as a child and later some anger management classes.... because he got too good at expressing himself

Curufin

Silversmith and jewelry maker

Specializes in accessories for ballet dancers and other performers

Ballet dancer since he was young, never succeeded with a professional career but still practices daily and chose his specialty to remain part of the scene

Holds a serious grudge against certain critics that failed his entry to ballet academy (will not sell his products to them or their schools)

Always looking for new business opportunities, not always in the most honest of ways

Struggles with self esteem issues

Has several cats and claims they betray him when they snuggle with Huan but secretly finds it adorable

Frequently collaborates with Caranthir to make elaborate costumes just for the fun of it

Made a tiara for his favorite cat, Princess Paws

Would sleep until four in the afternoon if you let him (or if Princess Paws didn’t wake him up screaming for food)

Amrod

Gardening Club President at his school

Started a trade and barter farmers market after school to reduce waste and share the bounty of his and fellow club member’s gardens

Frequently tries to convince his parents to turn their property into a “self sufficient homestead”, leaves pamphlets and pictures of adorable baby animals lying around the house

Enlisted the help of his twin and Maitimo to build a chicken coop, forgot to ask Feanor’s permission first

Demands payment in the form of fresh caught fish or deer jerky for the use of his gourds in Tyelko’s target practice

Has definitely switched places with Amros to escape trouble or science tests

Often neglects his homework for pursuits he feels are more important, will only do it without complaint when Carnistar tells him to

Had eyes for the cool-looking red glow on the stove as a child and was banned from the kitchen for most of his adolescence

Is generally a persistent and stubborn person (wonder where he got it from)

Amros

Amateur photographer with an instagram following nearing one million

Account consists of 95% nature photography and 5% “The Adventures of Huan and Princess Paws” as he follows them around the back yard

Takes all of Makalaure’s headshots and creates his album covers, also photographs Curufin’s jewelry to upload to his retail website

“Borrows” Carnistar’s prized PC to upload and edit his photos

Conspired with Amrod to convince their elementary school classmates they were secretly Fred and George Weasley disguised as Muggles, ultimately failed because someone thought their accents “just sounded like they were copying Peppa Pig”

Still pulls out his British accent on occasion when someone needs cheering up

Inherited Nerdanel’s keen observation skills, mostly uses them to blackmail his brothers into doing his chores

But also gives the most amazing presents because he knows exactly what everyone truly wants

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adhdblues · 1 year

Text

I went many years not realising that something was wrong with me.

Many years of thinking that how I feel and how I process things was normal. Everyone experiences similar things, is what I thought.

School was okay. I ended up with good grades in the end - A, A, B for A-levels.

But I didn’t realise that I was struggling to understand textbook language. I didn’t know that comprehension of that type of text could be a learning disability. I just thought I wasn’t good enough.

I never really did any work in class. I was actively involved in discussions. Always had an idea to share, and my teachers seemed to really enjoy those discussions. But putting them on paper was fucking hard.

And the research never really got any deeper than the ‘contents’ page and half of the ‘introduction’ of a book. I had piles and piles of books to look through, they all intrigued me. But they just sat there, in a pile, looking cute.

They sat there as the guilt (of not reading through them) weighed on me more as deadlines got closer.

If we had to take notes in class, I wasn’t able to focus. Notes were mandatory, as per my teachers’ expectations - that’s the only way they’d know whether we are concentrating or not. But, I would leave the classroom feeling like I didn’t learn anything that day, because it was all too fast.

Now I know why.

I knew I was smart (sometimes I truly believed that), and I knew I could understand everything that was communicated to me verbally. But the classroom setting just wasn’t right.

I never thought that I’d be one to have ADHD, or that disability they called dyslexia. It felt so foreign, so out of reach - I shouldn’t even consider it because I don’t need the help, is what I thought.

I needed that help.

I never thought I deserved extra time during exams - even though I never fucking finished my papers. No matter how fast I tried to get through the questions, I always had 3 or 4 or 5 pages left once the time was up.

I was actually never told about such things existing, I didn’t know what ‘accommodations’ were. Not until I saw a handful of classmates sitting in a separate room, taking the exams at a different time to us. But still, no one really talked about it.

I just wish that my school, one of the ‘best British schools in the country’, would take learning disabilities more seriously.

I wish they had taken the time to educate us about such things, instead of telling us off for the eyeliner or nail polish we wore.

Instead of giving us detention for wearing pants tighter than their liking.

Or the assemblies they forced us to sit through, where they would bring in alumni to talk about all the amazing things they had achieved since they left school.

If only I had been told about what learning disabilities were:

- I would have struggled less in GCSE.

- I wouldn’t have had those multiple breakdowns because I thought I was stupid.

- I wouldn’t have thought that I wasn’t good enough.

I was always so intrigued by learning new things. But the classroom setting just wasn’t right. The teachers never came to me to ask why I’m struggling, they came to me to tell me I wasn’t good enough.

My biology teacher said she’d be surprised if I get a C. Out loud. In front of the whole class. As she gave out our mock exam results.

I got an A in biology when the real exam came around. Because I studied my ass off. At home. In my own space.

She did nothing to help me.

My math teacher told the whole class that I got the lowest score in my mock exam. I wasn’t there, but my classmates told me. It was embarrassing. I fucking cried. But now that I look back, it’s because I couldn’t understand textbook language at the speed they wanted me to.

I got an A in that too, when the exam actually mattered.

I never really cared much for mock exams. They didn’t mean anything towards my final grades, or my future. I couldn’t care less and they didn’t deserve the stress I’d have to go through.

I just knew I would study for the real exams. I knew I could pull all-nighters and study better under pressure.

Now I know why.

I would wonder why it was so hard for me to keep up with deadlines. I would think that maybe I just don’t care enough. But I kind of did, because I enjoyed learning. I enjoyed discussing and sharing ideas.

But the school system just wasn’t right.

I look back and wonder what it would have been like if I got the extra help that I needed. If I knew I was dyslexic, maybe my English teacher wouldn’t always make me read out loud to the class “to help with my reading skills”.

That was torture for me and everyone else involved - (I think she enjoyed seeing students struggle though).

I remember I specifically went and asked her to stop making me read out loud. Because I felt ashamed of all the long pauses, when I couldn’t find the line I was on. Or for saying the wrong thing, or pronouncing the words wrong. I was ashamed that everyone had to listen to me struggle, because I thought I was wasting their time.

She asked me to read to the class, that same day.

#adhd #living with adhd #adhd problems #learning disability #dyslexia #gcse exams #a levels #education #reading comprehension #adhd things #personal #adhd post #actually did #adhd feels

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visceravalentines · 2 months

Text

a goddamn break

that's right boys it's a saw fic from me, the clown

2.5k words. neat n tidy little character study of my favorite guys in loathe with each other. no content warnings. not explicitly coffinshipping but anything's coffinshipping if you glare at it long enough. I fucked with the timeline of saw iv to make this make sense but literally time isn't real especially in these movies. hope you like it!!

Peter Strahm tells his doctor he doesn’t smoke, and if he were hooked up to a polygraph, it would read as true.

That’s because he knows how to lie in a way that makes the words fact, at least in that moment and the one that comes after. It’s because he quit in college, cold turkey, the day after he got his diploma, and the doc doesn’t ask if he used to smoke.

It’s also because the battered pack of Camels he keeps in the pocket of his suit jacket doesn’t count. That’s for emergencies only.

Today constitutes an emergency. The last two weeks have been a goddamn emergency. Every waking moment since he set foot in the Metropolitan Police Department has been nothing but dead ends and incompetence. Today is one of a long string of days he’d rather fast-forward through to get to the good part, the part where he wins.

He’s never had a liaison turn casualty before. Detective Kerry had a good head on her shoulders, knew which way was up. She’d reached out to the FBI for help on the Jigsaw case, not the other way around. That was the mark of a good cop. One who knew when they were out of their element.

Strahm isn’t ready to admit he’s out of his element. Not yet. Because he isn’t.

He just needs a smoke.

His jacket is slumped over the back of his garbage office chair in the shitty little temporary office he shares with Perez. She clocks him rifling through the pockets, raises a sympathetic eyebrow.

“Don’t,” he warns before she can open her mouth.

She puts her hands up like she’s negotiating with a terrorist. “I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“It’s been a rough couple of weeks,” she concedes.

“Understatement.” Strahm shoves a sigh out through his nose. “I wanna talk to Jill Tuck again.”

“I know you do.”

Her tone borders on consolation. Strahm shoots her a look. “She’s the key, Perez.”

“She’s a big shiny window and you’re a bird flying at top speed,” she replies. “There are other avenues.”

Strahm shakes his head, taps the pack of Camels against his palm. “I wanna talk to her again.”

Perez rolls her eyes, mutters a curse, and he feels a surge of pride. He's rubbing off on her. “I’ll bring her in.”

“Has forensics pulled their heads out of their collective asses yet, or is that too much to ask for in this shithole precinct?”

Perez smiles beatifically. “I’d rather not answer that.”

Strahm makes a sound like a shoe in a dryer. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

“Take fifteen.”

He grumbles something unintelligible even to himself and stalks out.

There’s a door to the alleyway near the men’s room. Strahm knows this because the two aren’t clearly labeled and he’s gone through the wrong one twice. As he turns down the hall he sees that someone has propped open the external door with a rock to keep it from locking behind them, probably some other idiot chipping away at their respiratory health.

He almost reconsiders, almost turns around to find his way to the front of the building. But that’s stupid. He can stomach five minutes five feet away from another person.

Strahm pushes his way through the door, descends the stairs to his left, rounds the banister to the right, and stops cold.

Hoffman turns that dead-eyed stare on him, blows a lungful of smoke through those Hollywood housewife lips. “Agent Strahm,” he says in a monotone that conveys the most mild surprise conceivable.

Strahm considers walking back in the building for five whole seconds. He has no qualms with casual incivility. But he sees Hoffman doing the same math, catches the twitch of a smirk that may as well be a gauntlet thrown at his feet.

Peter Strahm is many things, but never a coward.

He slouches over begrudgingly, finds a section of wall, gives Hoffman a noncommittal grimace and dares to hope, just for a moment. It would be possible for this interaction to pass in silence, incredibly possible. Painless, even.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” Hoffman remarks, and Strahm grinds his teeth.

“I don’t.” He digs in his pocket for his ancient Bic lighter. He picked it up at a gas station in St. Louis years ago, never saw the need for an upgrade. Bic makes quality products.

Hoffman takes a drag, watches him pull a cigarette from the pack. “My mistake,” he says in the back of his throat. Smoke wafts loose from his mouth.

Strahm strikes the lighter once, twice, thrice. It sparks, but no flame except a flash of white-hot irritation.

He pictures Perez telling him to picture a beach.

He strikes it six more times even though he knows it’s not going to work, tries to count to ten in his head and fizzles out around four, remembers now the last time he lit up in Baltimore and thought to himself I better fill ‘er up.

He did not, of course, do that. Unfortunately.

Strahm straightens his head and looks hard at the brick wall across the alley and waits for it. He can feel Hoffman savoring the moment, knows exactly the sanctimonious look that’s plastered on the detective’s smug fucking face.

If he makes him ask for it, on his sainted mother’s grave, Strahm will shoot him.

Hoffman exhales serenely. “Need a light?”

Somehow that is worse.

Strahm keeps the cigarette pressed between his lips and his eyes straight ahead and holds out his hand to the right. He’ll be goddamned if he lets Hoffman light it for him. He feels the brush of the detective’s fingers on his palm and the familiar weight of a Zippo, uncomfortably warm from Hoffman's pocket.

When he flips it open he sees an engraving, worn down by what appears to be the frequent back-and-forth rub of a thumb across the letters. Saint Mark. He doesn't want to know.

Strahm lights up and hands the Zippo back to Hoffman like it might carry some disease. He fills his lungs with a bittersweet buzz and lets his head drop back, blows smoke to the sky. “Thanks,” he mutters.

“Anything to help the FBI,” Hoffman replies, and Strahm really can’t tell whether or not he’s trying to be more punchable than he already is.

He inhales again and holds it as long as he can. Enough time has passed since the last time he smoked that it goes right to his head, makes his brain hum behind his eyes. He feels better immediately. The smell always whisks him back to his undergrad days, to the stairwell outside the campus library where he used to take study breaks. Cold night, dark clouds, sodium street lamps. A certainty about himself and the future. A support structure. Simpler times.

“Made any progress with Jill Tuck?”

His pleasant memory gets shredded like paper through Hoffman's weird little teeth and he’s back in an alleyway that reeks of trash and vice, stomach acid creeping up his esophagus. Strahm taps his finger, watches flecks of ash spiral down and disappear near his shoe. “What do you think?”

Hoffman takes a thoughtful drag like he’s never heard of a rhetorical question. “She's a deeply troubled woman.”

“Great insight,” Strahm snaps, “really valuable stuff there, detective. Why am I even here?”

“I just figured with your expertise, you might be more successful than me.” Hoffman wears a look of such mock deference Strahm wants to gag. “I'm sure whatever training you get at the FBI is unmatched.”

“Don’t give me that shit.” Strahm doesn't want to play this game, not in this city, not this time. “Look, I know you don't want me here. I know I stepped on your toes at Detective Kerry’s crime scene. That's my job. I come in and stomp around until something shakes loose.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly. Please don't mistake me for someone who intends to make your role in this harder than it needs to be.”

There's something besides cigarette smoke behind the words, something weighty. Something that gets Strahm to look directly at the detective for the first time.

Hoffman looks back, unblinking, and Strahm thinks of a shark behind glass. He thinks about perspective and how an object seems motionless when it's coming straight at you. He thinks all this too fast to parse meaning, but his instincts are good, have always been good, and the hair on the back of his neck wants to stand up.

“I think you’re a good cop, Hoffman,” he says carefully. He’s swimming slow back to shore. “I think your department has been sacrificed on the altar of obsession one by one and you’re still here.” No splash, no wake. “Whatever else that means, it means you’re smart.”

Hoffman blows smoke and gives Strahm a look of gratitude so patronizing it makes his skin crawl. “I appreciate that, Agent Strahm. The past several months have been…taxing.”

The past several minutes have been taxing, but Strahm keeps that to himself. He can't shake the feeling that something big just passed him beneath the surface, barely missed him.

“What’s your instinct?” Hoffman asks. “How much do you think Jill knows?”

Strahm scoffs. “Plenty. Enough to write a trashy memoir and disappear from the public eye if she really wanted to. But she hasn't. Why?”

“Because she's involved. Anything she says could incriminate her.”

“No shit.” Strahm sucks on smoke. “And no offense, detective, but I've seen those interrogation tapes. You're too fucking soft on her. You want juice, you gotta squeeze.”

“With all due respect, I'd like to see you try.”

Strahm bristles, shoots him a glare. “Is that a fucking challenge? You think I'm gonna meet my match in Jill fucking Tuck?”

“You misunderstand me, Agent Strahm.” Those eyes glitter with something like mirth. “I mean I truly would like to see you try. Jill Tuck has been a hurdle since the start of all this. Like it or not, we're all players in this game. It's about time she gets pulled off the sidelines.”

Strahm examines him with interest. “You make it sound personal.”

Hoffman breaks eye contact, settles his gaze on some invisible point down the alley. A look of remorse slides over his face like a shadow over the sun. “At this point, how could it not be?”

Whatever else might be going on here, even Strahm has to concede that’s a reasonable response. His mind conjures up memories of closed-casket funerals past and he thinks of his colleagues back at the home office. He thinks of Perez. He clenches his jaw, remembers he’s supposed to be relaxing, takes a hard drag and is rewarded with a wave of nausea.

Hoffman is talking again. “Have you had a chance to look through the case files for the last three Jigsaw games? I think there were ten victims total. If you're right and John Kramer's health has kept him from hands-on involvement, maybe there might be something we missed, something–”

Strahm holds up a hand and exhales around his teeth. “Can we not do this? I just–I need a break from this Jigsaw bullshit. For like thirty seconds.”

“Sure thing,” Hoffman says amicably. He stubs his cigarette out on the wall, leans back against the brick, purses his lips. For a few blessed seconds Strahm thinks he might let the silence stand, or even better–leave. But then: “Got any plans this weekend?”

Strahm pounds his closed fist back against the wall with a little more force than he means to, closes his eyes, chews on a sigh. “No,” he says loudly with what he hopes is sufficient finality.

“Do you fish?”

“Do I what?”

“Fish. Go fishing?”

Strahm groans. “No, detective, no, I don’t fish. I spend enough time sitting waiting for lower life forms to take the bait in my professional life, thank you very much.”

Hoffman lets out what might be a laugh. “Fair enough. You strike me as more of a hunter anyway.”

“Never been,” Strahm says dismissively. This is a lie. He knows the woods of rural Vermont blind. The first time he shot a gun he was seven and the kick knocked him flat on his ass.

“I like to fish. Head down south when I can find the time. You ever been to Bass River?”

Strahm grunts, gives up, slumps against the wall mirroring Hoffman’s posture. “No.”

“Beautiful country. When this is all over, you and Special Agent Perez oughta make the drive down. Worth the detour.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Where are you and Perez staying in town? Maybe I can make some local recommendations, help you make the best of your time here.”

Alarm bells again. Something in the water. Something coming at him. “I don’t know,” Strahm deflects, “some place downtown. Old as fuck. No water pressure.”

Hoffman chuckles. “Sounds like my last apartment.”

“Yeah, you guys have a real issue with property values up here.” Strahm examines his cigarette, figures he can get one more pull off it. “Have you considered razing all the abandoned buildings so Jigsaw runs out of chessboards?”

Something like a smile twists Hoffman’s lips. “Arson, special agent?”

Strahm flicks his filter across the alley. “Whatever works.”

“Litter, too,” Hoffman observes.

Strahm rolls his eyes so hard his neck kinks. “This has been fun, but I’d better start combing through the four thousand page report your medical examiner handed me this morning. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” He stands up straight, winces at the tweak in his back, stretches his arms behind him.

“See you around,” Hoffman says.

Strahm makes it halfway up the stairs to the landing before Hoffman calls after him. He almost ignores him, thinks better of it. Gritting his teeth, he leans over the railing. “Yes, detective?”

Hoffman regards him coolly, his gaze like a blunt steel blade. “I'm sure it goes without saying, but…be careful who you trust. If there is an accomplice, we ought to proceed with caution.”

Strahm resists the urge to sneer. “No disrespect to your department, but I’m here because I’m competent. Some chemo-addled freak and his band of misfit toys? I’m not exactly shaking in my boots.”

He could swear Hoffman smiles, just for a second. A flash of teeth that doesn’t reach the eyes. “I understand. It’s just I would hate to see you…how did you say it?” He bites his lip thoughtfully. “Sacrificed.”

Strahm decides, once and for all, that Mark Hoffman is spooky.

“I appreciate your concern.”

He flings the door open and ducks inside without waiting for a reply.

For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, Strahm submerges himself in the cold, clinical mire of half a dozen autopsy reports. In the back of his mind, behind the descriptions of catastrophic injury inflicted on the human body, he is elbow-deep in a dissection of his own.

He replays the conversation in his head again and again like a microcassette tape, trying to pinpoint the moment when Hoffman shifted in his estimation. He tries to reconcile fact and gut feeling and is left wanting from every angle. The thing about fishing–you only ever see what takes the bait. What passes it by lives on unknown.

All the while, from the time he shuts himself in his office to the moment his head hits the hotel pillow, Strahm tries to shake the feeling he's being watched.

He doesn't succeed.

#peter strahm #mark hoffman #peter strahm fanfiction #mark hoffman fanfiction #saw fanfiction #literally so jittery about posting this sksnfjdndks it's not even x reader!! it's just new and scary!!!#it was so much fun to write tho. oh google docs we're really in it now

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Text

One Little Thing

Sequel to One is the Loneliest Number, One on One

Warnings: none, Professor Steve (that’s a warning in itself)

Dunno if I’ll be doing an exhaustive drabble series but there’s at least this. Let me know if you’re enjoying it or not and any thoughts you have. Love you!

You and Inez venture down to Marge’s after Grammar class. You sit near the window, a table over from where you and Steve– Professor Rogers had been. As you sit, a cherry lime parfait tea before you, you inhale the scent eagerly. You had to come back to finally get a taste.

“You came here without me? You promised–” Inez accuses as she stirs her Irish Cream.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you cradle your cheeks guiltily, “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, I’m just teasing,” she smiles, “they have so many flavours. We probably won’t even get through them all by the end of term.”

“Oh, well, depends, with Professor Laufeyson, we might need a few extra study sessions.”

“Why did we take history?” She sighs, “I hate it.”

“Stupid, why do we need all these electives to learn about Lit?” You roll your eyes.

“Ugh, I know, did you know we have to take statistics in second year?”

“What the heck?” You furrow your brow, “I’m so bad at math.”

“Why did we decide to go to uni?” She kids as a coat brushes against her shoulder.

“Excuse me,” the deep voice pardons as he pulls back the fabric.

You glance up at the dark-haired man as he passes close between the tables. You recognise him as a professor but you don’t know him. The man behind him is more familiar as he catches your eye.

“Hey,” Professor Rogers gives a small wave as he strides by.

“Hi, Professor,” you smile and lift your cup.

As you take a dainty sip, careful not to burn yourself, Inez scoffs and tilts her head at you, “hello to you too, professor. Damn. He didn’t even see me.”

“What?” You gulp, “I– maybe he didn’t recognise you?”

“Oh yes, me, the girl with the magenta hair, so ordinary,” she snorts, “girl, is there something… going on?”

“What? Going on?”

“With you and Professor Buff Body?” She leans over the table as she lowers his voice, “I mean, I don’t blame you but I can’t say I’m not surprised.”

“What? No, he just said hello.”

“Sure,” she squints at you, “but he had that tone, like,” she sits back and puts a hand to a chest, waving coyly with her other as she deepens her voice, “hey.”

“He’s our professor,” you say curtly, “Inez, please.”

Your cheeks burn and you shake your head at your cup. She snickers and curves her palm against her own.

“I’m kidding,” she says, “it was just… funny. Seriously. He’s friendly but usually, you know, it’s that hard ass sort of friendly. I don’t know about you but I’m scraping barely a seventy in classic lit.”

“Oh, uh, well, I went to book club, maybe that’s it,” you shrug, “I thought you were coming?”

“What are you talking about? It was canceled.”

“Canceled?”

“Uh, yeah, didn’t you get the email. Rescheduled for this week.”

“But I…” you stop yourself as your thoughts flurry.

You put your fingertips to your lip and hum as you think. Steve, or Professor Rogers, had been so disappointed but why would he lie? You’re confused. You look over your shoulder as the two professors sit in the corner by the book shelf, taking up the two leather chairs there. You’ll just have to ask him. You’re sure there’s something missing.

“Yeah, makes sense, must be why I was the only one to show up,” you hit your forehead dramatically.

“Oh, that’s so you,” she laughs, “you’re lucky I scooped you up at orientation or you’d be completely hopeless.”

“Hey,” you chide, though you can’t say she’s wrong.

“You know I’m just teasing,” she winks at you, “have you tried the pastries? I’m kinda feelin’ snackish.”

“No, I… had a cake pop. It was pretty good,” you offer as you cup your chin.

“Mmm, that sounds even better,” she turns in her chair to peruse the display from a distance, “oh, shut up, they have cheesecake, that’s it, I’m doing it.” She stands and pauses, “you want a piece? My treat?”

“No, I’m fine,” you answer, “I had that muffin in class.”

“Oh yes, with that loud ass wrapper,” she chortles, “pretty sure Laufeyson was about to come snatch it from you himself.”

“Ugh, I’m gonna fail,” you whine, “go, get your cheesecake.”

As she joins the short queue, you turn back to the table and take out your notebook. You flip it open to the day’s notes and review all the rules you went over. Why does English have to be such a complicated language?

You sift through your bag for a pen and shove it back under your chair. You fix a few missing words here and there as the buzzing cafe fades into the background. You give a start as you feel a light tap on your shoulder.

“You dropped this,” Steve, Professor Rogers, places the bookmark with the dangling tassel beside your notebook.

“Oh, thanks, Professor,” you pick it up and flip it over as you play with the braided string.

“I gotta thank you for showing me this place,” he says, “brought my buddy here to try it. Couldn’t sit in the office any longer.”

“Oh, yeah,” you turn in your chair to look over at the other professor, his thumb skittering over his phone, “does he teach English too?”

“History,” he corrects you, “I know, boring old men. But uh, I guess I just wanted to check in.”

“That’s so nice, uh,” you reach to rub the side of your neck, “erm, Professor can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he watches you intently.

“Did you cancel book club last week?”

“What?”

“Inez said you sent an email but I don’t remember seeing it, so…”

“Oh, uh, that was after, you know, er, tryna play it off, you know?” He chuckles nervously as he spreads his hand across his chest and drags it down, “saving face, right? Didn’t want anyone to know it flopped.”

“Oh, oh, I guess that makes sense. Sorry I asked, I was just… confused.”

“Wednesday,” he declares as he taps two fingers on the table, “same time. Hopefully we get a few more bodies this time.”

“Sounds good,” you say, “thanks again, professor.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, lingering just a moment before dragging his hand away, “see ya in class.”

As you’re left alone, Inez comes back and puts down a slice of cheesecake before her. You glance up from your notes as she twirls the fork in excitement. She stops herself before she can stab the tines into the soft dessert, “so, you sure there isn’t anything going on with Dr. Blondie?”

“I was asking about book club,” you sigh, “jeez.”

“Uh huh,” she sinks the plastic into the cake, “start student, over here, I tell you.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #professor!steve #drabble #dark drabble #drabble series #dark!drabble #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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every-dayiwakeup · 2 years

Text

Billy "if I fits I sits" Hargrove and Steve "if you don't get your ass out of my face I'll bite it" Harrington

Steve "are you sure this is safe" Harrington and Billy "probably not" Hargrove

Steve "do I smell something burning" Harrington and Billy "your toast has been ready for ten minutes" Hargrove

Steve "study day and night" Harrington and Billy "I'll leave it up to fate" Hargrove

Billy "where do you think you're going mister" Hargrove and Steve "to the bathroom" Harrington

Steve "please brush your hair babe" Harrington and Billy "it's for the aesthetic" Hargrove

Billy "are you annoyed yet" Hargrove and Steve "I'm starting to be" Harrington

Steve "my patience is wearing thin" Harrington and Billy "like your hairline" Hargrove

Steve "why isnt the car moving" Harrington and Billy "Maybe because it's in park Steven" Hargrove

Billy "why do you put up with me" Hargrove and Steve "I've put up with a lot worse don't test me" Harrington

Billy "Ratio" Hargrove and Steve "keep math out of this" Harrington

Steve "please slow down we're going to be late" Harrington and Billy "do you hear yourself" Hargrove

Steve "have you looked in the mirror" Harrington and Billy "have you?" Hargrove

Steve "I went to the bakery" Harrington and Billy "do I not have enough cake for you" Hargrove

Steve "I love you unconditionally" Harrington and Billy "how dare you say that" Hargrove

Steve "are you okay" Harrington and Billy "am I ever okay" Hargrove

Billy "what were you thinking" Hargrove and Steve "nothing" Harrington (works both ways hehe)

Steve "you could've died" Harrington and Billy "but I didn't" Hargrove

Billy "how can you love me" Hargrove and Steve "how can I not" Harrington

Billy "are you really wearing that outfit in public" Hargrove and Steve "if it embarrasses you yes" Harrington

Billy "please don't fall in love with me" Hargrove and Steve "too late" Harrington

Steve "do you think this is funny" Harrington and Billy "oh you're not laughing" Hargrove

Billy "pay attention to me" Hargrove and Steve "dude don't make me get a restraining order" Harrington

Steve "I don't smell" Harrington and Billy "allow me to bring you back to earth" Hargrove

Steve "I'm stupid" Harrington and Billy "that's okay, I'll just out stupid you" Hargrove

Billy "I'm an asshole" Hargrove and Steve "why do you think I like you so much" Harrington

Steve "why are you laughing" Harrington and Billy "why aren't you laughing" Hargrove

Billy "giggles at funerals" Hargrove, Eddie "places bets on who's going to sing at the altar" Munson and Steve "God isn't real but the devil is" Harrington

Steve "sit up straight" Harrington and Billy "i literally can't" Hargrove +(Bonus- Robin "and on Pride Month" Buckley)

Billy "I'm very disappointed in you" Hargrove and Steve "is it because I'm bi" Harrington

*****

Tags: (always room for more 🥰🤡)

@ouizzyharringrove

@harringroveho

@hephaestn

@emeraldwitches

@shipworm

@whoringrove

@polaris-ursae

@geormenia

@spaceboxkitty

@thatawkwardlittlefangirl

@wixterirox

#bi steve is everything #i just want robin and billy to be gay and do crime #is that too much to ask #eddie and billy making steve go insane is my religion #their dynamic #harringrove #harringrove incorrect #a hint of #mungrove #harringroveson #harringrove solos #steddilly for life #harringroveincorrect #incorrect harringrove quotes #they cant all be winning ideas yall 🤧#but i had fun #hehehehee #edit: i went to catholic school as a kid and i misspelled altar #my grandfather is rolling in his grave

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leahnardo-da-veggie · 4 days

Text

The Wanderer: Homesick

This one's a side-story for something I submitted for a magazine... Enjoy! (Also warning for angy teen girl swearing)

I sat on the train, cheek pressed to the icy glass. Trees sped by me, a swathe of verdant greens and deep browns. The leather of the couch gave way under my knees, and I dug into it with my fingers.

I'd been scratching dates into that seat, one for each day. The entire couch was covered in etches now, cross hatching as far as the eye could see. Having counted them, I could safely say they totalled up to 730 marks. That would be two years.

Two years since I'd seen my parents. Two years since I'd seen my home. Two bloody fucking stupid years! Even thinking about it, I wanted to scream.

The goddamn train's incessant noise grated on my ears. If I had to see its gaudy golden facade again, I would gouge my eyes out. Every single destination along the damn train's mercurial routes was a godforsaken shithole!

Oh my gods, I hated it. I hated it in ways no human could truly express. I'd tried, of course. I wrote emo poetry, sang off-tune songs, and when all failed, screamed incoherently into the endless void. To truly understand the depths to which my sanity had fallen, one must first endure this abomination:

Roses are blue

Violets are red

Fuck this shit

I want it dead.

It's likely the closest I've come to conveying my frustrations. It's also likely the closest I've come to convince my fellow wanderers that I've gone mad.

Did I mention the wanderers? They're the worst. The absolute worst. Psychos, the lot of them. We had Mr ‘Maya-be-a-lady’, Ms Magic-is-real-and-birds-are-a-conspiracy, Dr I-drown-babies-for-fun, and worst of all, Mx Doppelganger. Creepy ass bitch.

If I could meet whatever bitch put me in here, I'd tell them one thing: Fuck you. Fuck everything. Fuck the stupid train, the stupid people on it, and the stupid fucking places I kept getting dumped into.

I hate it all so much. I just want to go home. You know what I've missed in the past two years? My friends will have graduated. My cousin's probably turning two soon. I'm supposed to be in the University of Kristiania by now!

Everything I've ever worked for has been washed away. What was the point of learning trigonometry when the only triangles I'm ever going to see belong to interdimensional horrors trying to eat me?! I was set to win last year's Informatic Olympiad. I was so close.

But that's not the worst. (Oh gods, how bad is my life, that losing my future isn't the worst?) The worst is homesickness. I want to hear Qi's whining over her crappy grades. I wanna listen to Pam bitch about her latest boyfriend. I want to come home and eat my mom's porridge and study maths while metal blasts in my headphones.

I want the good and the bad. I don't care if I get yelled at by Mr Lim for failing physics again. I'd probably hug old Aunt Beatrice if she showed up and called me fat. Hell, I would give anything, anything to have my glasses broken by a stray football again, even if the glass goes into my eye.

I miss home. I… I hope I can go home soon. (Oh gods, I'm pathetic.)

Fun fact: She did not get to go home soon.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

#writeblr #writing #my writing #creative writing #writerscommunity #writing community #fantasy #spilled ink #short story

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queenimmadolla · 2 years

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Out of Touch In Harmony

SUMMARY: in which Eddie and his arch-nemesis smoke a couple of joints and talk about how much they (don't) hate each other. then proceed to suck face. WARNINGS: A whole lot of banter and misunderstandings. some fluff with a liddlebito spice. NOTE: the random thought that turned into +4k words. i tried to leave the timeline vast enough for drabbles and other stuff in case this becomes a series or something. i was also high the entire time I wrote this, and seeing as how I just finished like 5 mins ago, there are definitely gonna be mistakes because i am still indeed trippin. i'll fix it later though. also don't steal my shit i guess.

masterlist

You could feel the tension sloshing throughout the classroom, threatening to burst through the door and flood the halls.

English class with Ms. O’Donnell wouldn’t be considered entertaining to literally anyone in the entire world and truthfully it’s neither the subject nor the teacher (she’s too fucking expired to be as much of an old crone as she is) that keeps a smug smirk plastered on your face.

It’s the dumb ass super senior two rows back, one seat over.

You weren’t like the others. No, you hadn’t judged Eddie Munson based on reputation only. To you, he had the chance to prove he wasn’t a freak or a loser. And that’s were you went wrong. Unfortunately, that stupid little crush you had on him in the fourth grade when he was the only one to compliment your (admittedly) atrocious hair cut (which you still gave your mom a hard time about to this very day) clouded your judgement. He was two grades ahead of you, and your little self had been heartbroken when he moved onto high school, while you stayed in middle school.

You were completely fucking flabbergasted when you finally followed and saw he began to develop the sense of style he had currently, shit, you hadn’t even thought it was weird. It was hot and most certainly an awakening. You were meant for a different crowd, though. Joined Cheer as a freshman, and quietly pined for him. Then you found out he had a crush on Chrissy Cunningham sophomore year, so naturally you hated him.

That bitch Erin hadn’t been able to shut the hell up about it in the locker room. And Chrissy, the endearing little chick, found it cute. Not cute enough to date him, thank god, but cute nonetheless. Plus, you didn’t like how he ripped on other people’s interests just because some (okay, most, but not all!) didn’t like his. It hadn’t been too big of a deal until it had been your table that was the focus of one of his Public Lunch Announcements. You’d been so embarrassed, especially after seeing the way he smirked as he soaked the sudden emotion up, proud of the fact that he’d humiliated you.

You didn’t join the of hierarchy of popularity though until senior year. Freshman year was spent pining (and then hating) in quiet after him and being plain, sophomore year was spent more or less the same except your body proportions didn’t match your face, junior year you were almost there and losing the meek-ness that anchored you down from ever reaching confidence. You’d managed to squeeze Volleyball and Softball into your schedule. You’d also easily managed to maintain straight A’s (we don’t talk about how you’ve barely made it to Algebra 2 and that math is the subject you had to actively sweat your vagina off studying to pass) which pleases the parent (ensuring a bit more freedom), and then your cheer coach Connie announced that you and Judy would be taking over as Co-Captains since Alizae and Carmen graduated. Of course, Chrissy managed to become the most popular girl in school, but you still managed to obtain a validating amount of respect, and everyone says 'hi' to you first now.

Except Eddie. No, you two hadn't acknowledged each other’s existence except in instances to cause the other as much public embarrassment as they could in a single sitting.

You still maintained the latest victory after sticking some gum to the beginnings of a stream of toilet paper and managing to smush it against his dirty reeboks under the guise of kicking his shoe in class. He’d made it to his next class before he noticed what the looks were about. People usually had the decency to save the laughter for lunch, he should’ve caught on sooner.

He had failed senior year. Twice. Another thing you liked to use against him when you two got particularly nasty with each other.

It was a genuine hateship, one that had never managed to meet this amount of tension until this particular class. While you’d had the Senior Citizen for other classes before, the teachers mostly lectured. O’Donnell asked questions. Which gave you so many chances to embarrass him in front of the whole class by correcting his dumbass answers with as much snark as you could.

This time he couldn’t provide an example of a hyperbole and you’d offered up the solution. Sure, it was in relation to his embarrassing life and everyone laughed, but he hadn’t appreciated it.

You could feel the heat of his stare the rest of the class, but by the time lunch had ended, you’d forgotten about each other’s existence. He’d gone off to do stuff for hellfire and probably sell or whatever else it is he does, and you went to cheer.

Practice had ended earlier than normal when coach Connie hurt her hip and started crying over losing her youth. Sensing the oncoming breakdown, the team had encouraged her to just call it a night, which is how you found yourself on the wooden bench some ways into the woods behind the school.

With your schedule, you didn’t get as much downtime as you’d like this early in the day. Very disheartening, considering the sun was about an hour from sunset. So you’d thought you might just give yourself some time to yourself rather than go spend it with your friends. Besides, you had a nice joint to keep you company and your walkman.

You were about halfway done with the joint and you lowered your headset to swap out the tape when you heard a branch snap behind and nearly had a heart attack, twisting around to actually find someone sitting behind you.

You gasped, a hand rushing up in attempt to calm the organ through your clothes somehow, relief flooding you when you realized it was just Eddie.

He had that stupid smirk plastered on his face, probably got a thrill from scaring you. “Hey-,” it only widens as you settle enough to relax in a huff. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, spitfire.” There’s nothing nice about it.

It’s definitely the weed allowing you to be this cordial, because you find yourself saying, “It’s fine. Never thought I’d be happy to see your face. You, as opposed to like Jason Voorhees or some other killer.”

Eddie squints at you, slight disbelief on his face before it morphs into something resembling realization as he gives the air a good sniff, the corners of his lips twitching.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” He pushes himself dramatically back from the table, taking a few steps back all the while his expression takes on mock shock. “Spitfire…Spitfire, are you high?”

You can’t help the slow smile that you find your lips pulling up into, you give a pathetic attempt at hiding it before you give in. “Yeah. Uh, I am. Why is that surprising, you seem shocked.”

He stares at you, grin softening while he tongues his canine. You realize, thanks to your delayed sense of any self preservation, that his gaze is focused on you. Like hyper focused on you. Oh, shit. He had you when you were unable to defend yourself from an insult.

Then he just chuckles, gaze flickering to the ground and then back to you as he flicks his wrists before crossing his arms over his chest. “Nah, I just guess I never entertained the idea that you might smoke. Anything other than a cigar, anyways.”

You wince, but giggle knowing he’s referring to your projected air of sophistication compared to his. “Don’t even put that thought in my head, just the thought of a cigar tastes terrible to me.”

He laughs along with you, slowly making his way closer. “No cigars, noted."

You’re feeling relaxed, plus you know no one is around so you decided to offer a moment of truce. “Would you care for a temporary olive branch? Olive joint?”

Eddie scoffs and mumbles, “Would I care for a…” But he trails off, gaze feeling heavier as the those stupid big beautiful eyes stare at you. You can feel yourself beginning to react, how every single one of your nerves seem to be coming slowly back to life. Why did you feel like something was happening? “Yeah. Yeah, I’d care for an olive joint.” He closes the distance between you two, keeping an arms length away (his arm).

You had no idea touching fingers could feel as good as it does when his brush yours as they take the joint. You glance up at him to find him still watching you, then he moves to sit on the bench next to you, elbows leaned back against the table as he wraps his surprisingly plump for a dude’s lips around the filter and inhales. He exhales slow, the smoke wafting around you two, and pulls it away to eye it. “You make this?”

“Yup.”

“Nice craftsmanship.” It sounds genuine, which pleases you again for that mystery reason,

“Thanks, I spent an hour on it.”

He lets out a low whistle, looking thoroughly amused from you to the joint. “If you’re trying to impress me, spitfire, consider it a job well done. You craft instead of roll, so I’m guessing you don’t get to smoke often?”

You rest your elbows on before answering. “No, I smoke pretty often.”

“So then you don’t smoke often and get to enjoy it?”

“That’s right.”

“Pity.”

You spend the next 15 minutes passing it back and forth before it’s done. Eddie tosses it and rubs it into the dirt with his shoe before producing another one from seemingly nowhere. “Guess it’s my turn to extend the olive joint.”

It’s stupid, but you grin wide, trying to ignore the way his stare keeps flickering back over to you while he takes the first hit.

You take that moment to really look at him. How pretty his hair was, your fingers twitched, just itching to play with the waves. You wonder how soft it would feel, twirling around your fingers, would it be easy to run your hands through? How would it feel like, pressed up against your neck, or with thebottom half framing your face if he was on top? And those eyes, should be illegal for a man with a smile like his to also have eyes that beautiful. So intense, but so telling. That’s how you could always tell when you managed to push his buttons. Those eyes wouldn’t let him hide a thing.

Jesus. So much for being over Eddie Munson. The attraction you had nail gunned to the back of your head all those years ago came back much faster than you’d been able to learn how to ignore it.

You hoped like hell it was just the weed.

You couldn’t sit in silence anymore. “Why didn’t you try?” You ask, taking the joint as he offers it.

Eddie sort of gets this far off look in his eyes, and you know he’s aware of what you’re talking about, trying to decide if he’s going to play dumb or answer your question. It almost surprises you, “First time, I guess I was rebelling or some shit like that. Just didn’t care all that much, wasn’t too big of a deal for me. Second time, I got a little too comfortable. Thought I knew enough shit to scrape away with the bare minimum, but Ms. O’Donnell changing her final was a move I failed to anticipate.”

“Didn’t roll high enough to survive, huh?”

You noticed how he suddenly went stiff, turning to you slowly. “What did you just say?”

Oh, god. You were trying not to break the peace by saying something nice and relative to his interests but you’d probably fucked it up. Was that not how it worked?

“Isn’t that a thing?” He just stares at you, leaving your panic to heighten slightly and you flounder. “In D&D? Dungeons and Dragons? The game you play?”

He finally put you out of your misery, lips curling up into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on his face. God, he’s so cute. “Yes, it’s a thing. In D&D. Dungeons and Dragons. The game I play.”

You let out a sigh of relief, ignoring his chuckles. “God, Eddie. You almost ruined my high!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t expect you to know any terminology, let alone use it accurately.” You go back to sitting side by side.

“Good, that’s what you get for judging people.” You pulled your cardigan a little tighter around you and you dropped the stub to the ground. The sun was dipping low, barely visible behind the tree line.

“Now, wait just a minute. You’re trying to tell me not to judge anyone?” He sounded incredulous and you did not appreciate that.

“Are you implying I’m judgmental?” Your arms crossed just under your chest, and you caught the quick glance down he made. He seemed embarrassed about it.

“Implying? No. Stating? Yes.” Your mouth drops open in shock, and he continues. “C’mon, I know the score, Spitfire. I don’t exactly meet the criteria for normal or Christian around here. You took one look at me, and knew I was a bad apple.”

The Christian comment has you biting back a smile. “I did no such thing. I remember you from long before you were even a headbanger. Back when you could strike a match on that head of yours.”

He stands up at that, pacing a little in front of you before facing you with that shy look on his face and his arms crossed. “You remember me?”

Did he remember you?

“Yeah,” You don’t even bother to hold off with some teasing. “Yeah, how could I forget the first boy who ever lied to me to spare my feelings?”

His smile is so soft now, and it’s making that feeling in your stomach long for him again. “I really did like your haircut.”

You squint, slightly suspicious but he said it so softly. “You’re lying.”

He shakes his head, brown waves framing his face. “No. I thought you looked cool.”

You don’t know what to do with that. Fourth grade you would have fainted. “Huh. Guess it’s my turn to be surprised.”

It’s quiet for a few beats.

“Sooo, is there a reason why you decided you were gonna be a bitch to me in a high school?” He’s smiling when he says it, so you know he’s still being playful.

“You had it coming! I never thought you were a freak, or any weirder than any other teenage boy finding out who he is, anyways. I actually…” Why does it feel like you’re offering the villain in your life a huge chance to kill you? “…kind of admired you. Despite how hard everyone ragged on you, you just never conformed. And you didn’t just take their shit either, you gave it back.” Then you think about that day in the cafeteria, when you’d been on the other end of that.

“Sometimes, to people who don’t necessarily deserve it, too. Like my Sophomore year, when you told the whole school to take a good look at us because they were witnessing overachievers who would amount to nothing but a couple of retail salesmen in the making. Future Failures of America.” You avoid looking at him as you stare down at the pitiful little nub of a joint on the damp dirt.

If you were looking at him, you’d see him wince, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Senior Year number one. Rebel who doesn’t care about anything phase. Always finds a way to continuously come back and kick me in the ass.”

Yeah, it hurts but some part of you, the embarrassed part probably, found it silly that you’d hung on to that grudge for this long.

“The part that really bugs me is how I’m pretty sure you were right.” You don’t see the way his face contorts into a deep frown. “I’m an overachiever, I get the good grades, I play sports, I cheer, and I’ll be happy to do the college thing, but then what? I get an overpriced degree for what? I have no drive to do anything. I don’t want some boring job, I don’t want to be trapped in a nine to five, I don’t want to be a lawyer, or a doctor, or have any big career goals. It’s sounds nice at first, but the amount of depression that comes with realizing your life is just something you’re good at and not something you love is not for me. I just want to be happy.” Because that’s definitely not what you’re experiencing right now. No, that’s an existential crisis for you later. Not you now.

There’s no sadness in your voice, why would there be? You’re just stating facts.

“That doesn’t make you a failure,” He’s crowding closer to you, pulling off his jacket and denim vest to place over your lap. You hadn’t even noticed you were shivering, the thigh highs and leg warmers not enough to keep you warm. “That just makes you human. You don’t have to have your whole life planned out. Plenty of people don’t and stumble onto their thing. Like Ozzy. He dropped out, went through a ton of jobs, and found his calling. I don’t think he was necessarily searching for it, but he found it. One of the world’s greatest fucking rockstars. Wouldn’t have happened if he tried to plan his life out.”

“Or if he hadn’t been traumatized.”

“That, too. The point is, you’re doing just fine. Better than fine actually. Better than anyone else in this shitty town.”

You finally raise you gaze to meet his and the warmth in his eyes nearly takes your breath away.

You don’t know what to say, you’re on good terms with the former bane of your school hour existence. You give him a small smile. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“You’re welcome. Hey—I have a question.”

“I might have an answer.”

“Where do you get your weed?”

“From you.” You squirm a little, unable to stop yourself from giving up your secrets.

You know he thinks you’re lying because he’s doing some hardcore scrutinizing, but the small smile stays on his face, “Pretty sure I’d remember selling to you of all people, Sweetheart.” You’re pretty sure that up until your truce, he wouldn’t have sold you anything other than oregano. The glint in his eyes confirms it.

“It’s your stuff. Judy tells me when she’s gonna meet up with you to buy, I give her money, tell her what I want, and you unknowingly sell it to me. It’s not that complex of a plan.”

He groans, leaning forward to hunch over and rest his palms against the table. “You are breaking all the rules, Spitfire! All. The. Fucking. Rules.”

“I wasn’t about to go to Reefer Rick. I don’t think Rick is even his name. These rules I don’t know about suck, Eddie. Which ones did I even break?” You’re curious now, body very much so aware of how close he is.

You can smell his shampoo, and it pleases you that it’s a surprisingly sweet scent.

“You,” He begins, shoulders shagging like he’s giving into defeat, despite his coy smile, “were not supposed to be so damn cool. You’re not supposed to be sweet either, or even prettier up close. Pisses me off!” He’s grinning like mad at you now, and you’re beaming right back at him even though you’re not entirely sure what’s going on because you had to have imagined him calling you pretty.

“And you’re so fucking witty, too. Fuck, like in English today. What’d you say?” He says rather than asks, and you realize he knows exactly what you said. Memorized it, probably, because he quotes you from earlier except in a nasally, high pitched voice that doesn’t sound at all like you.

“‘You being able to graduate will suffice.’” And you don’t flood with shame, the opposite actually. You warm up inside because something about the grin on his face and the way he’s beaming makes you feel like that had somehow been the right thing to say. “That was so fucking hot. It made me mad.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, tongue peaking out to play with the left corner of your lips. “Wow. Is that all my carefully planned verbal sparring was to you? Foreplay?”

He laughs low, pushing himself up again, this time he moves to linger directly in front of where you sit, but he doesn’t make a move.

Were you missing something?

Was he? Maybe you misread his signs.

Or maybe you didn’t make yourself clear.

“You know, I used to kick myself in the ass in elementary school. I got held back in the third grade for not wanting to shake anyone’s hand, which meant you were two whole grades ahead of me, instead of the much more attainable one. I was gutted when I realized I wasn’t gonna be able to go out of my way to see glimpses of you anymore after your eight grade promotion. Then I got to high school and you got really hot, and I got my glimpses back, but you just had to go and like Chrissy—“

“Chrissy? I didn’t like Chrissy like that.” He interrupts you, making your heartbeat pound in your ears. It was one thing to be brave enough to vomit the truth like you were but now you were gonna have to try and make sense of the word vomit, to a guy you know is very aware that you just admitted your attraction to.

“Erin Miller said she overheard a couple of the guys on the football team giving you a hard time about making eyes at a cheerleader you were interested in. ‘Said it was Chrissy.”

“They said it was Chrissy. You were her partner during that little cheer thing you did at the homecoming pep rally. And you had on an eyepatch.” You remembered that, it was when you started trying your hand at softball. You’d gone to the batting cages the weekend before homecoming and came back home with a black eye that stuck around for a little longer than a month. “They were a little right though, I was definitely making eyes at a cheerleader, just got the wrong one down.”

“Oh. I guess we’re both victims of vast misunderstanding.”

“Guess so.”

He leans down and you lean up to smash your lips together, mouth immediately opening to welcome his tongue when it seeks yours out.

Eddie groans, one hand moving to hold the back of your head and the other moving to rest against your side as he pulls you to the edge of the picnic bench, licking any uncertainty remaining right off your tongue. It’s messy and urgent, but so satisfying given that it’s been years in the making.

He uses his hold on your head to angle the kiss deeper, there’s no doubt he’s in control. You nip at his bottom lip, causing him to gasp and creating a chance for you to explore his mouth instead.

He tastes mostly like weed, but there’s a hint of something underneath that must be Eddie, and you’re desperate to get a better taste.

Eddie’s moan is absolutely obscene as your tongue rolls over his, his grip on your side loosens so he can move his jacket out of the way and slide his hand down to rest on your thigh. The warmth of his hand on your skin makes you feel intoxicated (even more so) and he gives your thigh a good squeeze before tugging it just over his hip. You can feel him hard, and warm pressed up against your covered core. The bulge prodding at you is larger than you would have allowed yourself to expect from him, it’ll be a stretch for sure. Your terry ring shorts make it easy for his jeans to provide some much needed friction.

“Fuck.” He hisses, breaking the kiss when you grind your hips forward. “Fuck, I really—I want to—“

You can’t help but pout, lips swollen from the thorough job he’d done. “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming on?”

He leans forward to give you another kiss, this one is sweet but just as passionate. “But, you’re still high. If this is gonna happen, I need it to happen when you’re sober. I need to know you want to do this, You’re just so fucking beautiful and you look so hot in these shorts, and the thigh highs…” He grits out, fingers snaking under them to rest against the warm skin of your thigh, just for a moment, before his hand is retreating. “It’s like all my little fantasies, dirty and not, are coming true. I couldn’t resist. What kind of satanic witchcraft is this?”

You laugh as he presses a long kiss to your forehead, before forcing himself to give you room to hop down. “Just a little something the women in my family have been passing down since Salem. Old recipe, if you will.”

He watches you, smirking before he pulls you into him again. “You’re making it really hard to to be platonic here. You’re not supposed to have a sense of humor, either.”

“Well, you’re not supposed to be charming. You’re failing to live up to your reputation, not even half as scary as you try to look.” You retort, not eager to leave the warmth of his embrace.

He pulls back to look down at you, intrigued with your statement. “Sweetheart, you thought I was scary?”

“As scary as you thought I was.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to terrify you like that.” It has the desired effect, you laugh and playfully slap his shoulder.

“Shut up!” Despite the return of your affections for him, the sky is darkening significantly, and your dad is gonna have a heart attack if you’re not home by the time he leaves for his night shift. So, you reluctantly step away, his hands falling back to his sides as you shove your things into your bag.

“I gotta go.”

“I figured as much. Did you drive to school?” He knows you did, he just wants to be able to cover all possible grounds in an attempt to get a couple more minutes with you. He doesn’t care if you’re not gonna fuck.

You feel guilty, completely stupid. You should’ve just made the 45 minute walk to school instead of the 10 minute drive. Selfish. “I did.”

“Damn.”

“What were you doing here, anyways?”

“I’m supposed to meet someone around─” He glances down at his watch. “Now.”

You scoff, but you can feel your cheeks tingle. “And you were still gonna offer to drive me home?”

He shrugs his shoulders, looking irresistible in that hellfire shirt. “I’ve got my priorities straight this time. ‘86, baby. I know what I want.”

And the smoldering look he’s giving you has your kneecaps rattling, you gotta go before you risk it all. “Looks like I was wrong, you’re definitely no hyperbole.”

He lets out a loud laugh as you walk backwards, stomach still warm with affection for the super senior.

“See you around, Eddie.”

“Oh, I hope so.”

You can still feel his eyes on you as you make your way out of the woods, wondering if you’re gonna need to find a new arch-enemy or not.

#eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson #stranger things #Joseph quinn #Joe quinn #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things s4 #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff

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