#i got into a fight with a substitute teacher

[rissslays]

i hate old people who think they should be respected because of their age. Like if you dont respect me im bot going to respect you??? there is no "free" pass because you have lived longer than me???

[ellie-the-character]

when u find out ur toxic former best friend is in your chamber drama class

[loveinhawkins]

It’s the last period of the day, and in his peripheral vision, Steve can see Eddie Munson fighting sleep, elbow repeatedly slipping off his desk.

They’re not usually in this class together; a good handful of teachers are on a ‘field trip’—which had been sold to the principal as an educational experience, but was really an excuse for both students and staff to while away the last remaining days of the semester.

So most classes have become an assortment of students who haven’t gone on the trip, odds and ends who usually wouldn’t cross paths.

When Steve had entered, he saw that the room was sparse, people dotted about the place with no regard to a seating plan—he’d headed straight for a desk by the window, hadn’t even noticed that Eddie Munson was in the seat right beside him until he’d already sat down.

And then it turned out he couldn’t even reap the benefits of choosing a seat near said window. The room was stuffy, unbearably so, and Eddie had beaten Steve to it, actually raising his hand and asking, perfectly politely, if he could open the window.

But the substitute teacher had just sneered and replied haughtily, “No, Munson, you cannot.”

Condescending ass, Steve had thought, and he was almost looking forward to one of Eddie Munson’s infamous diatribes.

But Eddie just wilted in his seat and didn’t say another word.

That’s when Steve noticed that he kept looking down at his desk. There was a piece of paper on there, an end of year test—Steve recognised Mrs O’Donnell’s handwriting making comments in the margins. The top right hand corner was folded over in such a way that just made the hiding of the grade all the more obvious: it was clearly an abject fail.

As Eddie stared at the paper, he started to blink rapidly, and for a horrible moment it seemed like he was going to cry, so Steve quickly looked away.

By the time he dared to look back, it was a quarter of the way through the period, and the heat of the room must’ve been getting to Eddie, his eyelids fluttering as he tried not to doze.

And now Steve’s stuck with a teacher who’s clearly immune to every pointed look he shoots his way. He gets to the point where he’s glaring daggers at the dude—seriously, where does he get off, keeping the window closed just to prove some bullshit point about authority?

Every so often, Steve finds himself catching a paper airplane—what are they, five?—that had been heading for Eddie’s face, made by some meathead junior. Steve either swats them away or, if he’s feeling particularly pissy, crumples them up with one hand, throws them back at the junior’s head.

Eddie’s repositioned his elbow so it’s no longer in danger of slipping off the desk—eyes totally closed now, like he’s accepted defeat.

Steve is too late to catch the next paper airplane as it hits the side of Eddie’s head, and when Eddie stirs, blinking blearily at him, he says, defensively, “It wasn’t me.”

“Relax, Harrington,” Eddie says, yawning, “I know.” He unfolds the paper airplane with a tut. “No structural integrity to this thing at all. You’d give me quality.”

Steve doesn’t think of a barbed comment to reply with, because Eddie starts refolding the paper and uses it as a fan—and it’s not even for a bit or anything; Steve can tell that he’s just genuinely suffering.

Movement draws his eyes to the front of the room; he watches as the teacher makes his way to the door and leaves.

“Thank God he’s gone,” Steve mutters. He stands and lifts up the window as far as it will go, hears Eddie’s quiet sigh of relief as the fresh air comes in.

Steve glances over at the door; the paper airplane-throwing junior has gathered a little group, and it looks like they’ve locked the teacher out. There’s no footsteps or furious knocking yet, so Steve figures he’s got a bit of time.

He jumps up onto the window sill to better enjoy the breeze, stretching his legs and idly looking outside.

He just catches Eddie scoffing, the little aside he makes: “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Steve turns his head to him. “What?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “Just… you,” he says.

And it’s said with a kind of reluctant fondness, almost like they’re friends—which is bizarre, Steve thinks, since this is definitely the longest conversation they’ve ever had.

But maybe the approaching summer break has Eddie all sentimental.

“What about me, Munson?”

Eddie gestures at him, as if to say uh, everything, but it somehow doesn’t come across as an insult.

“Just… the way you do things sometimes. Like you’re in a goddamn movie.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Dude, I’m just sitting. Anyone could do this.”

“Nah, Harrington. It’s all in the execution, y’know?”

Steve snorts. “Bull.”

“And not all of us have the hair for it.”

Steve tilts his head, drawls, “Oh, I dunno.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh like he’s been taken by surprise.

Steve turns back to the window. It’s not all that great a view, really, the sun only highlighting the dried unkempt grass around the track. Still, there’s an undefinable something to it that gives Steve pause.

Maybe it’s because graduation is right around the corner. Even just walking down the school corridors feels like a series of goodbyes.

“Hey, Harrington. You heard of mise-en-scène?”

And Steve finds himself grinning at the French accent Eddie slips into.

“Bless you,” he says, just to be annoying, though he has heard of it, remembers it from when they looked at some plays in English. Then overheard it, really, while the aspiring film students fretted over their college applications in the library, and he listened with a jealousy he didn’t care to analyse. “I’m seeing some movie shot stuff here, is all.”Steve looks over again, in time to see Eddie adopt an over-the top trailer voice. “The fallen King—”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“—looks down at what remains of his Kingdom, setting his sights on pastures new.”

A wistful edge creeps into Eddie’s voice, something separate from the theatrics—confirming Steve’s suspicions that he won’t be graduating this year, after all.

“Not exactly pastures new,” Steve says. “I, um, didn’t get into anywhere so.” He shrugs vaguely. “Gotta hold down a summer job and then… I don’t know. Not thought that far ahead yet.”

Eddie seems to consider him. “Nothing wrong with that, Harrington,” he says quietly.

“I know,” Steve replies. Because it’s true; he knows he’ll be far from the first high school graduate staying in Hawkins, working a minimum wage job all summer.

His parents had said as much. But then…

He doesn’t know how to explain that it’s the tone in which they say things rather than the things themselves that sets him on edge. That sometimes just the way they shut doors around him inexplicably prompts a feeling of nausea.

But they’re out of town for the whole summer—already left this morning, thank God. So he’s hardly going to get into all of that with Eddie Munson, of all people. Barely addresses it within himself, honestly.

“It’s just… not really what I pictured,” he says instead. “You know, like…” And maybe Eddie’s theatricality has made him a little bolder, because he looks out at the view, and slips into a brief understated impression with ease: “I'm shakin’ the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm gonna see the world.”

When he turns back, Eddie’s lips twitch again, and this time the smile wins. “Well okay, George Bailey.”

Steve smiles back. Shrugs once more. “It’s for the best, really. Means I can keep an eye on—”

And he stops himself, realises he was about to say the kids.

Eddie’s eyes light up with interest. “Oh? So you’ve found someone worth staying for.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice when he adds, “S’awfully romantic of you, Harrington.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Not like that. But… yeah, you could say so. They’re all worth it.”

“Huh,” Eddie says thoughtfully. “What happened to you, Steve Harrington?”

Steve laughs. Shakes his head. “Life. And, uh, got a thump to the head.”

Eddie whistles lowly. “Damn. Maybe I should try that.” He glances down at his test, frowning.

“Hey, come on. Everyone loves a comeback kid.”

“Hmm. Not everyone.”

Eddie sighs and stuffs the test into his bag. As he does so, there’s a sudden pounding on the door, and Steve hears some of the students break out into whispers that are so loud they might as well be shouting: discussing their plan to pin the blame on Eddie for locking the teacher out.

Perhaps it’s the fact that he’s soon leaving high school behind that has Steve viewing all of this with a clarity he can’t remember having a few years ago. They’re just mean, he thinks, just plain mean for the sake of it. Jesus Christ, you don’t kick a guy while he’s down.

Eddie’s eyes dart over to the group. He’s clearly overheard them too, but he seems resigned to it, like he’s got no more fight left in him.

A girl unlocks the door, and the teacher storms inside, apoplectic with rage.

And before anyone can get a word in, Steve says, “It was me. I locked the door.”

He can feel Eddie staring at him. He leans more into his lounging on the window sill, pretends to check his nails.

The teacher’s eye twitches. “And may I ask, Harrington,” he seethes, “what would even possess you to—”

“Oh,” Steve says, faux brightly, “that’s easy. I don’t like you.”

Eddie’s hand subtly rises up to cover his mouth. Steve bites back a grin; he knows a hastily stifled laugh when he sees one.

“Out you go, Harrington,” the teacher says, pointing at the door.

Steve stands up, unbothered. He’ll just ditch, head home early before the dick’s had any time to step out into the corridor and scream at him. That mall’s almost done being built; he could finish filling in a job application for one of the stores there before the day’s out.

He makes sure the window’s pushed up so far that it’ll be more of a pain to try and close it compared to just letting it be.

Then he swings his bag over one shoulder, says in a little aside, “See you, Munson. You know, Class of ‘86 has a better ring to it anyway.”

“I’ll, uh, take your word for it, man,” Eddie says, and he sounds a little taken aback.

Steve glances over his shoulder just before the door shuts behind him, and he sees Eddie’s hand raised in an uncertain wave, like he can’t believe he’s even doing it.

And if you ask Steve, that’s a movie shot all of its own.

[creamhoodie]

Hot Kettle

synopsis: "Reader is a new teacher at Jujutsu High school. She and Gojo have mutual feelings for each other but she at first thinks he is a player and avoids him. After being snowed in and spending time with each other, they learn more about each other.

A/N:Not sure how I feel about this but I've been working on it for weeks and have writer's block when trying to write anything else.

tags/warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, fluff, afab reader. Switching perspectives between Gojo & Reader. Flashback scenes written in italics. Other jjk characters mentioned.

word count: 8.2K

Snow flurries fell on the campus of Tokyo Jujutsu High and the ground had frozen into crystals.

You had only been working as a professor here for four months and it was your first winter here. 

Principal Yaga had sent out an email saying that classes were canceled. Of course the students rejoiced, but for faculty members snow days meant faculty meetings. 

You made your way to the designated meeting spot now, your snow boots clicking along the ice as you made your way into the building. 

Upon arrival, you found the room empty. Strange. Surely this had been the designated meeting room as stated in Principle Yaga’s email. 

Perhaps you were early? You had a tendency to arrive notoriously early for meetings and events. No matter, it gave you enough time to pop into the lounge room and heat up your ramen as a substitute for the breakfast you had skipped in order to arrive on time. 

You made your way into the lounge room that was only two doors over. It was also empty, but that was expected given the ghostlike fashion of the building besides your presence. You placed your tote bag down on the table and took out your heatable ramen. Fortunately you had packed a plastic fork. 

That meant the only thing you needed was water. The kettle was out already, strange but there was nothing suspicious about this given that and the toaster were often left out after use and not put away into their assigned cabinets. 

You went to grab it and as you did let out a blood curdling shriek as the white hot pain in your palm and fingers signified it had recently been used. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Oh my god we’re sorry Professor!”

“What do you mean we? I told you to put it away!” 

As your eyes opened, having winced them from the pain, your eyes focused to find three of the students: Megumi fushiguro, Yuiji Itadori, and Nobara Kugisaki.

They were all staring at you with concern and from the mugs they were holding in their hands and their words you pieced together that they were the culprits.

You didn’t have a chance to respond however as footsteps came running over and to add more insult to injury, your fellow faculty members were peering in: Principale Yaga, Mei-Mei, Kento Nanami, and of course dreadfully… Satoru Gojo. 

You felt his eyes watching you underneath his blind fold.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice sounded unusually harsh.

“We wanted to make hot chocolate and we were in a rush because afterwards we were gonna have a snowball fight using our techniques. I guess we didn’t put the kettle away properly and the Professor here got burnt,” Yuji explained for the group. 

His explanation did nothing to dissuade Gojo however.

“And how many times have we told everyone to put the kettle away properly so that this doesn’t happen?” 

By this point, all eyes were on Gojo. He was sounding so stern and angry, nothing like himself. He was usually the most carefree of the adults. 

“Gojo, it’s okay. They didn’t mean to, I should have been more careful,” you said. 

“No it’s not okay,” Gojo said, going up to you now, his thumb wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized had been shed from the pain. 

Now your face was flushing and you were glad that the onlookers would just take it as embarrassment from the situation not knowing that there was more at play here, that there was history between you and the blind folded man which added to your embarrassment.

“That’s enough. Gojo, would you escort her to Shoko please? She should still be in her office since she hadn’t met with us yet for the meeting,” Principal Yaga said. 

“Can Nanami escort me instead please?” you asked.

You didn’t want to be alone with Gojo, it would only make things more awkward, no right now you needed to be with anyone but him. 

“That’s fine with me, I’ll go with you,” Nanami said, ever the gentleman. 

You gave an apologetic smile to the students as you followed Nanami.

“Oh and Nanami? Relay to Shoko that the meeting is canceled. I’m sure given the morning’s events and the weather that’s the last night anyone wants to do,” Principal Yaga said. 

You felt several eyes watching you as you followed your tan suited escort, but only one pair of those eyes mattered, pairs that you had actively been trying to avoid. 

The thing you enjoyed about Kento Nanami was that he didn’t pry, meaning he wasn’t one to ask invasive questions. 

While others may have asked about Gojo and why he had reacted the way he had, Nanami had only assured you he’d get you there safely and that Shoko has healed far worse. 

He had a calm presence and demeanor, the type that set you completely at ease. That is why though you had only been here a short while he was your favorite coworker.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to spend your morning,” you felt the need to apologize to him all the same. 

“It’s no matter. I’m sure you didn’t want to be burnt this morning, but life is full of things we can’t anticipate,” he replied kindly. 

You followed him to a part of the school you hadn’t been before. Luckily you've had the fortune of not having to visit Shoko for healing purposes until now. In a way it was embarrassing as you were sure Nanami had been here for much for dire wounds, battle wounds really from his missions since he was a grade 1 sorcerer. But Nanami didn’t judge, he wasn’t the type to goad or say hurtful things. 

After what felt like forever due to the burning sensation in your hand, you two at last arrived in a wing of the school that seemed more like a hospital with its medical items laid out and its fluorescent light. A figure with long brown hair was slumped in a swivel chair in front of a computer.

“Shoko?” Nanami asked, shaking her shoulder slightly so she’d wake up.

Her eyes fluttered open and as if she could sense it she seemed to know there was a problem.

“What is it? Who needs to be healed?” She asked, but she answered her question upon looking at your tear stained face. 

She stood up and took your hand. Her gaze shifted between you and Nanami, clearly questioning.

“The kids left the hot kettle out and she got burnt,” he explained.

“Ahh,” she said in understanding. 

Your face flushed even more. It was so embarrassing. But Shoko was focused on healing you now and her mind had gone into the place only she and few others knew.

You watched as she worked her magic. You had heard others speak about it in awe but having never witnessed it yourself, it was amazing to see. Your palm and fingers once jaded red were now returned to their baby soft pink, they seemed even more soft than before as if you had just been reborn. Most importantly, there was no pain. Matter of fact if it wasn’t for your current location and Nanami at your side, you would have almost thought you dreamt the whole thing.

“Better?” Shoko asked, her eyes were dim and jaded and you remembered thinking how she always looked sad. 

It had always been strange to you how someone with an ability capable of performing miracles could be so sad but you chalked it up to the fact that healing wounds lost its charm when it was those close to you on the brink of life and death.

“Thank you,” you said as she slumped back into her previous position.

Nanami filled her in on the meeting’s cancellation as she took out a cigarette and lit it. 

The first time you had met Satoru Gojo was in one of the faculty meetings that he had hosted at his place. It was your first faculty meeting in fact, and it had been hosted on your third week at the job.

By then you had met all the others, besides him. 

You had been filled in on the details about him from students to faculty alike and had gathered a mosaic of him from their words: the strongest, childish, intelligent, 

Those were all adjectives that had been used to describe him.

However, nothing had prepared you for when he had asked for you to stay behind once the meeting had been dismissed and everyone else had left.

“You’re new. We haven’t been properly introduced,” he said to you then outstretched his big hand for you to shake.

“I don’t really think you need an introduction. I’ve heard a lot about you,” you said, noticing how he still held your hand in his own despite the shake being far from over.

“And what is it you’ve heard?” He asked in a teasing fashion, his lips curled up at the ends.

“Only that you're the strongest sorcerer, Nanami said you’re childish, the students like you a lot,” you paused.

“What is it?” He probed. 

“I’ve been told you have these eyes that are so vividly blue,” you said, not being able to hide your curiosity.

He chuckled in understanding.

“You want to see them? You can take my blindfold off,” he said. 

At last he released your hand so you were able to do so. You had to stand on your tippy toes and he had bent down to help you as you flipped up the blindfold so it was resting on his forehead. 

You had gasped at the mesmerizing blue that was like no other.

“Like them?” he teased. 

His words had sent a jolt of heat in somewhere you were sure was not appropriate. 

“They are beautiful,” you had found yourself whispering. 

After that encounter, you and Gojo had experienced various flirtatious exchanges. The two of you had only gotten physical once and it had been unexpected. 

You had been cleaning up your classroom, the students having long been dismissed when he had come in.

“Still here?” He teased. 

“I’m not in a big hurry to go home,” you said offhandedly ignoring how his presence next to you, heat radiating off his body was making you nervous. You finished wiping off the chalk board and looked up at him. 

“Lonely at home?” he continued to tease. 

“No,” you said a little too defensively before adding, “I just like being here. You may have been here for a while but I’m still trying to get established.” 

It was true, you had shared it with him in one of your lounge room talks where he had asked you about your background. You were a foreigner that had cursed energy and had taught at a non sorcery university in your home country. Having heard of Jujutsu High and being introduced to Principal Yaga through a mutual connection, the principal had then invited you to come teach at Jujutsu High. 

“That’s right, I’m sorry,” he said, tugging at a strand of your hair.

“Why are you still here anyways?” you asked, turning the question back on him. 

“Because I knew you’d be here,” he answered honestly.

“Me?” you asked dumbfounded. 

He chuckled, stepping forward.

“How long are we gonna do this dance, princess?” he asked, calling you the nickname he had coined for you. 

“What dance?” you asked.

But you knew, of course you knew. All those flirty exchanges, light touches, teasing, and lounge room talks weren’t for anything. 

“That we don’t want each other,” he said simply. 

“And who says I want you?” you asked defensive again. Okay maybe you did want him, but he didn’t have to be so arrogant about it. 

“Hmm. Well what was it you said about my eyes again? ‘They are so beautiful.’ “

You flushed in anger and embarrassment now and tried to push past him, but he held onto you effortlessly by your shoulders. You were pinned against the chalkboard.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours and your body instantly relaxed, you felt him smile at that. 

He was right of course, even if he had gone about it in the way he had, there was no denying the sexual tension and chemistry between the two of you. 

Giving yourself over to it now, you moaned as his lips moved to your neck, teething slightly at the skin. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he groaned into your skin. 

Your hands went to his hair, fisting the soft white locks. 

Nothing else seemed to exist besides you and him. 

“Gojo,” you whined wrapping your legs around his waist and he seemed to know exactly what you needed as he hoisted you up easily and placed you on your desk, notebooks clattering on the floor. 

“Fuck,” he cursed as your long skirt spilled around your thighs revealing your silky skin and damp underwear. 

You bit your lip as his fingers found your clit. You felt like you were in heaven and his name had spilled from your lips over and over again like a prayer. 

Satoru Gojo…

Of course you had wanted him who wouldn’t? He was impossibly handsome, he had truly won the genetic  lottery in more ways than one, and he was so gifted with his fingers that were making you reach new heights even you hadn’t taken yourself to.  

That line of thinking created a problem brewing in your mind: Everyone wanted him.

So what made you different? You were the new girl on the block, and you didn’t know him all that well despite your talks with him. You didn’t know him all that long. Maybe you had been overthinking, but it was that thinking that had taken you out of the mood.

“Gojo stop,” you choked out. 

His movements stilled, hearing the tone in your voice.

“Is something wrong?” He asked. 

You couldn’t exactly tell him your worries as you didn’t want to make things awkward. Besides what were you supposed to say? ‘I’m worried I’m just another one of your quick hook ups?’ You didn’t want to be clingy or weird especially if he just saw this as a casual encounter.

“No, no, everything is fine. I just should be going now it’s getting late,” you rambled straightening yourself up and standing up from the desk. 

You had been grateful you hadn’t seen his eyes as you were sure they were confused.

“Well can I  walk you to your car?” he offered. 

“No, that’s not necessary but thank you for your concern,” you had stated. 

Then you had rushed off. 

Your relationship with Gojo has been rocky ever since. You actively avoided him and he started doing the same. In a way you wondered if you had bruised his ego since he had never been used to rejection. 

Having assured Nanami you would be fine, you had driven yourself home. There was no reason for you to stay on campus given the meeting’s cancellation and the snow day. Moreover, you weren’t up to sticking around because of the morning’s embarrassing events. 

You made your way into your small apartment, and kicked your shoes off.’

When you were about to settle down on your couch and watch some television, the doorbell rang. Perhaps it was Nanami doing a possible checkup on Principal Yaga’s orders? 

You opened the door and found the person you were actively avoiding: Satoru Gojo.

“You forgot this,” he said, holding up your tote bag that you had left behind in the lounge room. 

“Oh, thank you,” you replied, still stunned. You stood there frozen for too long until he cleared his throat.

“It’s kind of cold out here, you know snow day and all,” he said, shivering with emphasis.

Even though it was the last thing you wanted to do, you invited him in. 

“Make yourself comfortable. Do you want anything?” you asked, closing the door behind him and watching as he looked around your living room. 

“No, I’m good. I can make you those noodles you wanted earlier though,” he offered. 

The noodles? Oh yes, the ramen pack. You had forgotten about them. It was endearing in a way that he had even remembered them. 

Before you could answer, he was picking the plastic bowl out of your purse and heading towards the kitchen.

“That’s not really necessary..” you began to protest as you followed him but he cut you off.

“Have you eaten today?”

Your stomach betrayed you, giving a rumble by way of answer. 

He chuckled before saying, “thought so.” You watched as he filled one of the pots with water before placing it on your stove and turning it on. The kettle would have been much more straightforward but given the morning’s events you figured he didn’t want to use it. Once the water heated up enough, it didn’t take too long on account of you having a gas stove, he transferred the dry noodles from their plastic bowl container to the pot.

Watching him in this domestic setting did something to you. Though you couldn’t see his eyes, his face was calm and focused. 

“Watching me?” he teased.

Your face blushed scarlet. 

“You know it’s not really fair that you wear that blindfold around,” you said. After all, it gave him the advantage of being able to catch you gawking at him. You suspected this wasn’t the first time he had noticed. 

“Would you like me to take it off?” He asked innocently. 

Remembering your only other exchange with him that involved his unsheathed eyes, you opted against shaking your head then adding a firm “no” in case his eyes weren’t on you for once. 

All the same, you continued to stand there leaning alongside the counter watching him as he had now taken to stirring the boiling noodles with a fork. After a few minutes of this, he transferred the now ready noodles into one of your bowls. 

“Do you prefer your noodles with broth or drained?” He asked. 

“Drained,” you replied, 

“Me too. I find that too much liquid laps up the flavor,” he said, going to drain it now in your sink. He then added the flavor, stirring it. When it was at last ready, he set it on your kitchen island, beckoning you to come sit. 

Hunger winning out, you did as he had instructed, not even bothering to care that he sat in the seat next to you. 

The noodles were good and just warm enough for you to enjoy and satisfy your hunger. You eagerly stuffed your face forgetting for a moment the man at your side. 

It was only when you finished eating that he at last spoke up.

“I wanna talk to you about what happened between us,” he said. 

Of course you had expected this, but it didn’t make it anymore easy to breach this topic. 

“What is there to talk about?” you asked, deciding to play dumb. 

“The kiss we shared,” he said, turning his body towards you.

He knew damn well it had been more than a simple kiss. If you hadn’t put the brakes on when you had maybe the two of you would have gone all the way in the classroom! 

“I don’t see why we have to discuss it. We kissed, so what? We can move on from it,” you said. 

“But that’s the thing. I can’t move on. I think about it all the time,” he said. There was a unique yearning in his voice, a tone you had never heard from before. At last you turned to face him as well and though his eyes were still hidden there was an expression of sadness on his face. 

“Well I’m sure you kiss people all the time,” you said. In an effort to put some space between the two of you, you stood up and walked away from the kitchen back into the living room, hoping he’d follow so you could direct him to the door. 

“That’s it then? You think I just kiss anyone?” he asked, following you as you had anticipated. His long legs allowed him to catch up to you quickly and he caught your wrist, swiveling you around to face him. “Don’t ignore me. You feel something for me too, I know it.” 

His proximity to you had your breath hitching, it had been a while since you had been this close. 

“Gojo-“ you began to protest.

“Satoru,” he corrected, wanting things to be less formal. 

“Maybe you should get going,” you said but your voice wasn’t as convincing as you’d hoped. 

“You’d really throw me out in the snow like that?” he teased. 

“You’d be fine,” you retorted. 

By now your resistance was waning, despite your better judgment, the scent of his cologne and the feel of his warm body was threatening your resolve. 

He seemed to know that all too well. 

“Let me kiss you again. I’ve missed your lips,” he whispered. 

Your knees buckled a little. 

He bent down, lips brushing against your jawline, the scent of him intoxicating.

It was futile, you wanted him desperately and he knew that. So when you didn’t push him away his lips lingered merely inches from yours, his minty breath in your face, leaving the option to you. 

Giving into your urges, you had only to bend forward, and once you did his lips were on yours. Like before, the passion between the two of you was intense, even more so given the built up frustration from how you had avoided him then. 

His tongue soon found yours and your legs hoisted yourself around his waist. 

“Satoru.. bedroom,” you whimpered. 

He understood, still holding you as you guided him to your bedroom. 

You didn’t have time to feel embarrassed about the plushies you had on your bed despite being a grown woman, as he plopped you down alongside them.

“Lay back,” he commanded. 

You did, but watched as he got on his knees in front of you. 

“Satoru, what are you doing?” you asked, still breathless from the kisses you had exchanged. 

He took his time answering you, a sly grin on his face as his hand caressed your pantyhose clothed thighs that were exposed as your skirt fell in ripples around your waist. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good. The way I wanted to before you left that day,” he said. His hands went up to the top of your waist band, pulling your pantyhose down effortlessly. He gasped at his newfound discovery. “No panties? You really are so shameless.” 

Your face was red.

“I- there was a line with my skirt and the tights are thick,” you stammered, feeling the need to defend your choice of wear. 

“I like it. How often do you go commando under these long skirts of yours?” he probed, fully removing your tights and leaving your legs and sex naked underneath the layers of your skirt. 

“Only when I wear the tights underneath,” you replied.

His hand cupped your heated sex, your arousal leaking into the palm of his hand.

“That’s right you did have some panties on in the classroom that day,” he said recalling. His fingers parted your wet folds. “You think one of these days you could just go completely commando for me? Nothing underneath? Not even your pretty little tights?” 

By this point you kept feeling pangs of pain and your clit throbbing, there was no denying the effect he had on you. 

“Somehow I don’t think that would be appropriate for the classroom,” you stated. 

This only seemed to encourage him more. 

“It’d be fun though. Just think about it,” his hand released your sex. He seemed to have something devious in mind. He came closer to you whispering in your ear. “You and me. The fun we could have. The quickies we could partake in between classes.” 

You’d be lying if you said his words weren’t appealing to you and vivid images of you hoisted against a desk and him shooting his load into you were intruding your mind.

“Satoru…” your voice had an edge to it. One that still remembered why you had put the brakes in between the two of you in the first place. 

He seemed to understand.

“Oh that’s right. You think I do this with just anyone. That I’m something of a player huh?” He asked, and you were surprised to hear offense in his voice. 

“I just don’t know you all that well yet,” you stammered apologetically. 

You felt that it was an almost stupid thing to say given the state the two of you were in. 

“Do you want to know me?” He asked. 

“Yes,” you replied. 

“Good, because I want to know you too,” he said. He sunk back down to his previous position between your legs. He pulled his blindfold down, letting it rest at his neck so his crystal-like eyes were visible. “And right now, I want to know what makes you tick.” 

When Principal Yaga had first told him there would be a new professor from overseas joining them, it hadn’t mattered to him greatly. 

Another teacher? Well that was good. A foreigner? Interesting. 

However, it hadn’t been something he had given much thought to.

So when he first met you at the faulty meeting he had hosted in his apartment, he had been surprised to find out how beautiful you were. You were also young, a little bit younger than him but still so young for someone so well accomplished (yes after your flirtatious encounter where you called his eyes beautiful he had looked you up). 

He must confess, he read your academic articles all thirty of them and he was always finding an excuse to speak to you in the lounge room. 

At last when he hadn’t been able to fight the longing for you anymore, he had waited until after hours, knowing you’d still be on campus. 

“Still here?” He had taunted. 

“I’m not in a big hurry to go home,” you said.

That was interesting to him. Surely a woman like you had someone waiting for her? It was something he had pathetically tried to find the answer to online but had fallen short given your profiles being professional in nature.

Desperate for the answer he continued to tease.

“Lonely at home?” 

God, he could shoot himself in the foot for that one! How incredibly cringe. He was used to getting away with it on account of his good looks, but you were different than most. You didn’t seem to fall easily to his charm. In a way it was humanizing, you didn’t let the veil of his looks and his power get in the way of seeing him for what he was. 

“No. I like being here. You may have been here for a while but I’m still trying to get established.” 

As suspected, you didn’t find his comment charming, answering rather defensively. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said, tugging a strand of your hair and considering it a good sign when you didn’t shoo him away. 

“What are you still doing here anyways?” You asked him. 

His heart was racing from how your eyes looked up at him and he was (not for the first time) grateful that his blindfold kept him shielded for surely he looked like a lovesick schoolboy.

“Because I knew you’d be here,” he said.

“Me?” 

The way you asked so dumbfounded made his heart ache for you more. 

Yes you, he wanted to tell you, he wanted to tell you just how completely unaware you were of the effect you can have. 

Even more so when you allowed him to kiss you, he felt like he was on cloud nine. Your body had felt soft on him, it was everything he had dreamed about, everything he had allowed himself to feel despite his fragile heart being ever so cautious.

“Gojo stop,” you had said suddenly, and to his horror.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. 

You had only made excuses and ran off leaving his fragile heart to shatter into a million pieces. 

“Fuck, Satoru- you’re so good at this,” you moaned, your back arching as you fell back against the mattress. 

He tongued at your folds, lapping at your clit and your arousal as if he was dehydrated and needed it in order to live. 

His fingers spread you open for him, flashing him with your inner pink, the sight nearly sending him into a frenzy. 

Your hands went to his white hair, gripping the locks and using them as an anchor as his tongue continued to pleasure you. 

Your moans were just as pretty as he had imagined and between that and the taste of you, he was determined to make you orgasm hard. 

It didn’t take long for him to find your sweet spot. You were starting to realize that of his mouth had more uses than just teasing and your toes curled. 

“This is where you’re weak, huh?” he said, sensing it from how your grip on his fingers tightened. You felt him curl his fingers up inside of you, continuing to pleasure that new unlocked spot as he leaned forward tongue still sliding down your sensitive clit. 

“Mm- Satoru I’m close,” you warned.

“I know, I know,” he cooed against your skin. 

Continuing that pace and motions, you felt it arising now, the tell tell signs of orgasm and the adrenaline feeling as if you were falling off a cliff. “That’s it, baby, let it go.” 

And you did, coming down from your high as your fluid flooded his tongue. 

You panted and watched as he lapped you clean, relishing the taste. Then, like before, a devious look rose to his crystal eyes. He came up to you, hovering gently above you, hands on the bed to steady himself.

“You should really taste yourself,” he said. Before giving you time to register what he meant, he kissed you and you moaned against his lips. The taste on his lips was sweet yet metallic and it was yours. It was so lewd, the way you enjoyed it, but again the fire of desire was burning for him so you simply indulged in the passionate makeout.

“Want help with that?” you asked, eyes pointed at the bulge in his pants as the kiss broke apart, salvia still connecting the two of you faintly. 

You swore you saw him blush, but having a new found confidence, you didn’t wait for him to answer, fingers shakily undoing his pants. 

“So eager,” he teased, stepping back to fully shrug the pants and his boxers off. His shirt followed after.

His cock was big, bigger than any you had been with, and the head was just as pink as his lips. A forming bud of precum was visible at the tip.”Like what you see?” 

“Very much so,” you admitted. You were ready for him to sink into you, but an expression of concern overtook his face. 

“I don’t have a condom,” he explained, “I know you think I do this a lot but I don't, I don’t just have them on me.” 

You chewed the inside of your cheek. You weren’t exactly on any birth control right now since it had been a while since you were sexually active yourself, but you didn’t want to turn him down. Plus you were aware of where you were in your cycle so the chances of pregnancy would be slim.

“It’s fine, but I’m gonna need a morning after pill just in case,” you stated. 

He seemed to perk up.

“Does that mean I can spend the night?” He asked. It never ceases to amaze you how someone of his stature could still have such a childlike demeanor. 

Oh what harm could it do? You had already made it this far with him.

“Yes,” you conceded. You tried not to think about the fact that he was still technically a coworker and you intrusively wondered how the students would react if they knew the two of you were engaging in such activities. 

“Hey, what’s going on in that pretty little head?” He asked. 

“Nothing I just, we’re still colleagues,” you said. 

He smiled and lined himself up with you, the tip of his cock fettering your entrance.

“And? Colleagues can’t blow a little steam off together every now and then?” 

You gasped feeling him against your slickness, not in yet but only just, still lingering at your entrance.

“That’s not really helping your case of not doing these things with just anyone,” you said. 

He laughed.

“I can assure you before you I had no need or desire to fuck a colleague,” he said. 

Then at last, he began to sink into you. At first only the delicate pink tip, then an inch, then two more, until the full length was bottomed out inside of you. 

“Oh, you feel so full,” you whispered more as an exclamation to yourself but he heard all the same. 

For him, it has always been a fantasy to fuck you in your work clothing, as he had told you before your long skirts offered the illusion of quick access whenever at his disposal. 

He began to thrust lightly, allowing himself to relish all your warm walls. 

“So sexy,” he praised as his pace began to quicken. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and you could feel his pulse beating away inside of you. 

It felt natural being under him like this, almost right as if you were meant to be underneath him like this taking every inch of his impressive rod. 

Although you were no stranger to sex at your age, his thrusting made you feel something you never had before. 

“Fuck me back, you’re a big girl aren’t you?” he teased, his mind probably following your line of thinking.His words emboldened you, and your vaginal grip on his cock tightened, and you began to thrust your hips up to meet his pace. 

You craned your neck a little to watch as his cock went in and out.

He caught you looking. 

“So you like to watch, huh?” his voice was heated. God, he was finding out so much about you. You were just as dirty as him, even if you were usually so well composed. 

“Satoru!” you yelped as he easily lifted you up, bodies still connected and dragged you to the restroom. 

“Oh this is perfect,” he whispered. 

Your bathroom had a large full length mirror and another large mirror above the sinks. Here, no matter where you’d look, you’d be able to see him fucking you. 

“Satoru, can I take my clothes off?” you asked, horrified at the idea of your work clothes getting soiled. 

“I have no objection to that,” he said. He placed you against the countertop, and undid your blouse removing it and your bra. 

Then came your skirt. 

Regrettably, for this he had to slide out of you, but it only took a moment. 

“Face the mirror I want you to be able to watch,” he said.

You did, gripping the counter as he slid into you from the back.

This all felt so surreal. 

Had it only been just this morning that you had burnt yourself? You had still been avoiding him then, now he had you bent over in your own bathroom as he thrusted in and out of your vagina raw from behind. 

You supposed this was what fucking a colleague entailed, it was much more chaotic than in the movies. 

Your eyes caught sight of his face, red and sweaty, eyes closed and turning your head to your side, you saw his length going in and out of you from the reflection in the full length mirror. 

His fingers kneaded the flesh of your ass, and you threw your ass back against him, cheeks enveloping his cock.

“Fuck,” he cursed. 

Your shared moans echoed in the bathroom’s acoustics and it only set him off more. His pace quickened and his hands reached around to cup your breasts, squeezing the sensitive nipples. 

You turned your head and your lips found his, all the while his thrusting and you grinding your ass back against him were bringing you both closer to reaching your peak.

“Satoru-“ you warned, but he seemed to understand.

“I know, I know. I’m cumming too,” he panted. 

Breathing heavily, you felt him shoot his load into you as you came on him, fluids dripping to the floor. 

He gave a shaky laugh.

“Erm- I can clean this up. Don’t worry about it. You should go lay down,” he said after using your hand towel to clean in between your legs. 

Mumbling in agreement, you went back to your room. 

Heart beating fast you tried to reconcile with the fact that you just had sex with a colleague and moreover you had agreed for him to stay the night. It wasn’t that you regretted it, Gojo was many things but a bad lay wasn’t one of them. 

You opened your drawer and quickly changed into a matching lounge set. You heard Gojo humming and moving around in the bathroom as he cleaned up. When he came out, he held your clothes in his hands, still naked himself. He placed your clothes on your bed before going to pick his own up and putting them back on, laughing slightly.

“What’s funny?” you asked. 

“You,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His lower half was covered once again as his boxers and pants came back on. 

“What about me?” You pressed. 

“You’d think after what we just did you wouldn’t be so shy still. It’s cute,” he said, pulling his top on and adjusting it so his v-line was no longer visible. He left his shoes off and when you raised your brows he said “remember I’m staying the night?” 

Of course you remembered. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, shrugging. 

He let out a belly laugh. 

“Why do you keep laughing at me?” you asked, growing frustrated. 

His face softened as he smiled at you fondly. 

“It’s just I don’t think I’ve met someone who is worse at expressing their feelings than me, it’s comforting.” 

Well, he was right in that assessment so you couldn’t help as your lips twitched upwards in a smile of your own. 

If today was going to be his only chance to make a good impression of you, he was going to use it to his full advantage. 

“You know what I always loved to do during snow days? Build a fort and watch movies with hot chocolate.” 

Luckily, you had taken his suggestion well and so he had taken it upon himself to build said fort by maneuvering your furniture and bringing your blankets and pillows over to the living room in front of the tv. 

He was aware of your eyes watching him as he did so. 

“What?” he asked, his hand rubbing the back of his neck self consciously. 

“You’re just different than I expected,” you said genuinely, your voice free of judgment. 

He nodded in understanding, he was used to people having the wrong impression about him. His looks, his talents, which were given to him at birth, all of these were things that shaped how people viewed him. He couldn’t fault you for having thought the same, but it did relieve him that you seemed to be gaining a more comprehensive perspective of him now. 

“I’m gonna make us hot chocolate, you’re still banned from using the kettle after this morning,” he said, making his way to the kitchen and looking through your cupboards. He found the hot chocolate packets and went through the motions of heating up the water again just as he had done for the ramen earlier. 

“Speaking of this morning, you should really apologize to the kids. You were kind of stern with them,” you said, appearing at his side and leaning  against the fridge. 

You looked so beautiful to him in the fluorescent lighting, your lips still puffy from the kisses you had exchanged and your hair tousled. He wanted to freeze this moment and live in it. He could see himself growing old with you and sharing domestic moments such as this. Satoru you poor romantic thing, he thought to himself. He had quite a habit of being a yearner, of letting his feelings consume him. 

It was his biggest flaw.

“Yes, maybe I should. Tomorrow I’ll make sure to do so,” he said. 

He finished preparing the hot chocolate and carrying both mugs he said: “now would you like to choose the first movie?” 

Watching movies with Gojo was peaceful. You each took turns choosing a movie. He preferred comedies and animated movies while you chose cult classics. 

Strangely enough, you felt comfortable with him. His commentary every now and then throughout the movies and the way he laid close to you in the fort, with only your knees brushing past each other occasionally, made you feel like he was trying to put you at ease.

Despite the two of you having sex earlier, he didn’t make any moves to touch you again, and you felt that it was intentional with him leaving the choice up to you. 

After the last movie finished, credits rolling, he turned down the volume before facing you.

“So what’s with you and Nanami?” he asked. 

You could tell from his expression he was trying to seem nonchalant, but his eyes that had remained unblindfolded betrayed him, there was worry in his pretty blues. 

“Nanami? Nothing. He’s just a colleague and I enjoy working with him. Why?” you asked. 

“I just wondered because you chose him to accompany you to see Shoko over me,” he said. There was a long pause before he added, “you know we’re colleagues too.” 

Your face flushed as you understood. 

“I don’t like Nanami like that,” you mumbled, no longer able to meet his eyes. Luckily, he didn’t press you more, your answer being sufficient enough for him. 

You felt him shift besides you until he was no longer on his back but facing towards you. Having had his blindfold still off you were able to notice more of his emotions he usually kept hidden. Now there was a hint of sadness in them, the same sadness you had seen on….

“Satoru, why does Shoko always look sad?” You asked. 

He gave you a wry smile. 

“It’s a long story and I’m sure only Shoko can speak for herself, but I can tell you about it as best as I can.” 

So he did.

He told you the story of three young gifted sorcerers and their ‘blue spring,’ as he had coined the last time the three ever felt a sense of normalcy. The story involved himself, Shoko, and someone named Geto, but mainly it orbited around him and Geto. Gojo told you of the mission they had failed at, to keep a young girl named Riko alive since she was the Star Plasma Vessel. You could tell by how he spoke of it that he felt largely responsible, especially since he hadn’t rested as much as he should have. 

“But that wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have possibly known about Toji and he was strategic so you’d never see him coming,” you said. 

“Maybe but it’s my fault for not noticing after how Geto changed. It affected him more than me in a way because of his ability to absorb curses. All that negative energy and the way it made him feel especially after he was jaded by the fact that non sorcerers couldn’t care less about sorcerers who protect them.”

Feeling that this was the first time he had opened up about this, you turned your body to face him as well and took his hand in your own squeezing it for support. 

“Maybe you didn’t notice it because he kept it to himself? You can’t fault yourself for that,” you said.

“Or maybe he didn’t tell me because of who I am, who I was born into being and my abilities. You know I’ve never known what it’s like to feel weak to feel truly powerless? Sometimes I don’t even feel human.” 

You felt a twinge of guilt for having thought he was some sort of womanizer, after what he had told you, that seemed so far out from the truth. It was clear he wore his heart on his sleeve and that it was his nature but he was guarded, even felt isolated because of the magnitude of his strength.

“I don’t think that’s fully true. Maybe in terms of power and your cursed energy but what you described: regret, guilt, and loneliness. All those things are very human,” you said. He smiled at you, and it reached his eyes so you figured your words had been of some comfort to him. 

“In a way Shoko probably feels more regret than I do, though I can’t be certain,” he explained to address your original question. 

“How so?” you asked. 

“Shoko’s ability is to heal. Curses destroy, people get hurt, and she heals. It is the same over and over and after a while you can start to wonder if there’s a point, if there is an end to the cycle.”

“Just like Geto did,” you finished for him, making the connection. 

He nodded. 

You laid there in silence for a while, listening to the gentle sound of his breathing. 

“Why me?” you asked, finally asking the question that has been the source of your previous resistance to him. 

“You’re beautiful, I thought so the moment I saw you. In truth it was after reading your published articles that I wanted to know you more. I felt like you’d understand me. You know your article analyzing Shakespeare's King Henry?” 

You nodded. How could you forget? It had been a pain to publish through all the hurdles of academia. 

“There was one line from the play you wrote about and it really stuck with me,” he said. He waited as if he wanted you to guess which line it was, and instinctively you knew.

“Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”

You don’t remember falling asleep or making it to your bed but when you wake up with the warmth of the sunlight kissing your face you immediately sit up as you remember the previous day's events. Your blankets having been used for the fort were draped back around you. 

A glance at your bedside tells you that Gojo had been to the store already, the morning after pill box sitting there waiting for you to take with a glass of water next to it. You go through the motions of taking it and then follow the scent of bacon and eggs to your kitchen. 

Gojo is there, cooking breakfast and his blindfold is back on. 

“Good morning,” he says, seeing you linger at the entrance. 

“Satoru, what time is it? It’s so bright out,” you asked, going to sit at the kitchen island. 

“A little past noon. Shhh don’t worry. Classes are canceled for today again so I turned your alarm off,” he said, setting a plate of food in front of you alongside a cup of orange juice.

“I don’t remember falling asleep,” you said, biting into the fat of the bacon. 

He laughed.

“Yeah you went out like a light. I think it’s my fault we spent the whole day watching movies and I trauma dumped on you,” he said. 

He sat down next to you with his own plate of food and orange juice. 

At his words, you briefly remember strong arms carrying you to bed, lingering lips on your forehead and a gentle kiss on your skin. 

“Did you sleep here last night?” you asked him remembering how he had wanted to spend the night with you.

“I did. I slept on the couch. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he explained. You nodded, yet a part of you was worried. Would you two go back to formalities? After everything the two of you had done and shared yesterday you couldn’t phantom that possibility. Fortunately he felt the same way. 

“Listen, the kids told me they are gonna have another snowball fight today before all the snow melts up. They asked me if I wanna join and I want you to come with me,” he said. 

You finished eating and looked at him. 

“I’d like that,” you replied. 

His hand reached for yours and he interlocked the fingers with you. 

“I want to be your man, if you’ll have me. I know we’re still getting to know each other but I can see myself spending forever with you,” he said, his cheeks were rosy.

“I want to be with you too. Forever is a long time,” you said. 

“I know so let’s start with now and we’ll lead our way into forever,” he said. 

When he leaned forward to kiss you, you didn’t deny him, savoring the taste of him and bacon grease. 

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Soup for Breakfast

Summary: Javi comes home to find that you caught the flu from your class at school, and wants to help you feel better.

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: FLUFF. This is literally just pure fluff, as Javier Peña lives in my mind rent free as the biggest softie alive. Mentions of food/eating, mentions of death (but in a really wholesome way), reader being sick

Paring: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of Y/N, reader is an elementary school teacher)

This can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

A/N: I wrote this when I had COVID because I am convinced that if you told Javi that you were sick, he would literally go to the ends of the earth to help you feel better.

“Hey hermosa, I’m home.” Javi set his keys down on the entryway table and shed his dark gray suit jacket, flopping it over the edge of the kitchen counter. 

Silence. 

“Hermosa?” He questioned again, concern beginning to creep in his voice. 

Since you had started the school year, Javi came home every day looking forward to the image of you sitting at the kitchen table, projects and papers from your 3rd grade class spread across the oak surface. You’d smile and give him a big kiss, ready to share whatever crazy antics your class was up to that day. But when he stepped through the doorway, he noticed the usual construction paper, notebooks and crayons, but the seat where you always were was empty. 

“Hey baby, it’s me!” He tried one more time, hoping that you were in a room further down the hall and hadn’t heard him. No response. The silence sent Javi into fight or flight, now picking up his speed as he looked into other rooms to find them all empty. He paced back to the living room, trying to keep his composure, his past experience with missing persons not boding well for his current state. Taking a few more deep breaths before doing anything irrational, Javi went to sit down on the couch, until he heard a small grunt underneath him. 

“Please don’t sit on me.” You grumbled, nestled under a large pile of blankets.

“Hermosa, Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me.” Javi shot up, breathing heavily, placing his hand on his chest. You rolled over, shifting around in your blanket heap, head peeking out to look at Javi. “Baby, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Panic still lingering in his words, now realizing you were laying in a near lifeless heap on the couch. 

“No, I feel great. Isn’t this what everyone does when they feel good? Roll themselves into a giant blanket pile?” Your remark oozing with sarcasm and a hoarseness in your voice. “The flu has been going around my classroom and I think I got it.” You groaned, your body aching as you shifted yourself further out of your fabric cocoon. “You’d think by this point I’d have the immune system of a steel truck, but these kids are just never ending germ factories.” 

Javi quietly chuckled to himself as he knelt next to you, sweeping your hair out of your face and kissing your forehead. As he got closer, he could feel the heat radiating off you, your breaths heavy and labored as you fought to keep your eyelids open. He grazed the back of his large hand against your hairline, his deep brown puppy dog eyes growing more and more concerned.

 “Cariño, you look awful.” 

“Way to make a girl feel good.” 

“No, baby, that’s not what I meant, I-” he tried to quickly rebuttal. 

“Javi, I’m just joking. I know I look like a Gremlin someone just pulled out of a garbage can.” You both quietly laughed before you let out a deep cough, only adding to the effect of your disheveled state. “I started feeling gross this afternoon while the kids were at Art and Gym, so I already made sub plans for the rest of the week, just in case.” 

Javi leaned back down to kiss your head once again, knowing you really must have felt awful if you were willing to admit the fact you couldn’t fight your way through your sickness so you didn’t need to find a substitute teacher for your class. “Okay, hermosa. I think that’s a good idea.” He sat up to peek his head over the couch, starting at your kitchen. “Give me one second, okay?” 

You nodded, already back to being half asleep. Javi began rummaging through the fridge and cabinets, looking for any food that you would 1- eat, and 2- help you feel better. Grimacing at the low stock of items, he began frantically scribbling down a grocery list full of supplies. 

“Hey baby?” Javi had made his way back to the couch, squatting down next to you as he handed you a glass of water. 

“Mhmmmmhh?” You moaned, outstretching an almost limp arm to take the glass, sitting up as you took a few sips. 

“I’m gonna go to the grocery store to get some things. I promise I’ll be right back. Are you gonna be okay while I’m gone?” 

“Well I wasn’t planning on going very far anytime soon, I think I’ll be alright.” You half smiled at him, handing him back the now empty glass. 

“Okay. I love you.” He kissed you on the top of your head, his nose nestled in your hair before he pulled away, frantically gathering his keys and shutting the door behind him. 

“Love you too.” You mumbled, half coherent as you burrowed back down into your blankets. 

When Javi got to the store, he was a man on a mission. You would have thought someone had told him Pablo Escobar was inside at the rate he was moving through the aisles. Completely disregarding the list he had thrown together at the house, Javi had a shopping cart of supplies full enough to tend to the entirety of your 3rd grade class. The thought of seeing you sick and in pain absolutely wrecked him, wanting to do anything he could to help you feel better. He was so desperate, in fact, at one point while in the pharmacy section, he had thrown in a box of bandaids, just in case. 

When he returned back to the house, he was relieved to find you at least sitting in a semi-upright position watching TV, laughing to yourself at the ridiculous amount of groceries he had just set down on the kitchen counter. 

“I didn’t know we were planning on running a hospital out of our home.” You giggled as Javi unbagged the items. 

“I just wanted to make sure you had whatever you needed. I may have gone a little overboard.” He replied sheepishly as he continued to unpack a bag full of snacks. 

“It’s okay, it’s sweet. Thanks Dr. Peña.” 

“Of course.” He finished putting everything in its place before coming back over to you. “Here, drink this.” He passed another cup over to you. 

“Wow, you even got me the red Gatorade? You hate the red kind! You really do love me.” A soft smile crept across your face as you took a small sip. 

“Well I’m not the one who looks like they’re on their deathbed, Hermosa.” It took every ounce of strength in you to give him a playful shove. “I’m gonna make you some soup, okay?” 

“You didn’t need to go all the way to the store for soup, we have soup here.” You rolled your eyes, knowing how much it physically pained Javi to watch you eat Campbell's canned soup after having a taste of one of his mom’s recipes not too long ago. 

“I can already hear mi mamá yelling at me from the grave if I let you eat that shit, especially when you’re sick. I’m making you Caldo de Pollo so she doesn’t come back to haunt me. Had it every time I was sick. Swear it makes you feel better.” Your  heart was warming at the idea of Javi making one of his late mother’s recipes, thankful that Javi’s dad had given you some of them from her cookbook. 

“Thank you, Javi. You’re the best. I’d kiss your sweet face but I’m guessing you don’t want my germs.” 

“A quick one won’t hurt anyone, doctor’s orders.” He winked before planting a soft peck on your lips. 

As he got up, he went over to your entertainment center under the TV, pulling out 2 different VHS tapes. “Which one?” 

“You can’t pit two Harrison Ford classics against each other! Hmmmm, I do love Indiana Jones, but I think Star Wars is gonna have to be the winner today. 

“I had a feeling.” He smiled as he popped in the tape, the theme music blasting as he got to work in the kitchen. 

Javi had to admit, he wasn’t a terrible chef. It wasn’t until he met you that he actually felt a need to cook. In Colombia, he was either eating out or stealing whatever leftovers Steve and Connie had, and once he came home, his dad cooked, insisting he wanted to keep his wife’s habit alive and well, even after she was gone. After Javi had chopped up all of the vegetables, he tossed them into the pot to let them simmer with the already bubbling chicken and rice. Once the soup was done, he filled a bowl practically to the brim, bringing it over to you, only to be greeted by the sweet sounds of your soft snores, muffled under the blanket draped across your face. He laughed quietly to himself before putting your soup on the end table of the couch and shuffling himself underneath your blanket mountain so your head rested against his thigh as a pillow. He stroked the ends of your hair between his fingers in one hand, the other, rubbing up and down your back in soft, gentle circles. 

He let the end credits of the movie roll before turning off the TV and carefully unwrapping you from your blankets, scooping you up to carry you back to bed. As he laid you down, gently tucking you in under the covers, he heard you mumble something. 

“What was that, Hermosa?” Javi’s voice just above a whisper.

“I never ate your soup.” You muttered, eyes still closed, words barely coherent. 

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep, baby. You need to rest.” He sat on the edge of your bed next to you, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

“Can I have it for breakfast tomorrow?” You grumbled, as you turned over on your pillow. 

Javi laughed to himself. “Of course hermosa. Nos vamos por la mañana con tu sopa. Espero que te sientas mejor pronto. Te amo con todo mí corazon, Osita.” (I’ll see you in the morning with your soup. I hope you feel better soon. I love you with my whole heart, little bear.) 

If you would have asked Javier Peña all those years ago if he would have ever made someone soup for breakfast, he would have laughed in your face. But now? Now, he would make a million bowls of soup for breakfast, if it meant he got to spend it with you. 

[elliottkay]

Hi, I’m Elliott, and writing smut changed my life.

I also write military sci-fi and fantasy and D&D shitposts, but this is about the smut. I promise it won’t get weird. Much.

In 2010, I was scraping by as a substitute teacher and things were not great at home. I had only written gamer fic for friends, my aspiring mil sci-fi novel was stuck, and I needed some sort of escape… and I thought, “Well, I like sexy stories, and Literotica is free, and…”

My story was a feel-good adventure about a college guy with a heart of gold, a jaded demon weary of evil, and Heaven's hottest mess. It was silly. It was sexy. It was polyamorous, warm, and irreverent, and Literotica loved it: high ranking, tons of comments, and holy shit am I getting positive feedback from the internet?

So it became my first book:

…and that book plugged some holes in my life. It didn’t get me out of subbing, but it filled the financial gap, and it picked me up after a break-up. More importantly, it gave me an audience. When I published Poor Man’s Fight, I already had readers, and that led to more readers… many of whom then picked up Good Intentions and loved that, too, though some had the shocking experience of “Oh my god, it’s full of butts!”

If you’ve read this far, it’s probably time for the content warning. I’m a big believer in these, for serious reasons and, um… less serious.

WARNING: “Good Intentions” contains violence, explicit sex, nudity, inappropriate use of church property, portrayals of beings divine and demonic bearing little or no resemblance to established religion or mythology, trespassing, bad language, sacrilege, blasphemy, attempted murder, arguable murder, divinely mandated murder, justifiable murder, filthy murder, sexual promiscuity, kidnapping, attempted rape (which is never comedy), immolation of said attempted rapists, persistent disrespect for vampires (which is always comedy), arson, dead animals, desecrated graves, gang activity, theft, assault and battery, panties, misuse of the 911 system, fantasy depictions of sorcery and witchcraft, multiple references to various matters of fandom, questionable interrogation tactics, cell phone abuse, reckless driving, even more explicit sexuality, illegal use of firearms within city limits, polyamory, abuse of authority, hit and run driving, destruction of private property, underage drinking, disturbances of the peace, disorderly conduct, internet harassment, bearers of false witness, mayhem, dismemberment, falsification of records, tax evasion, bad study habits, and an uncomfortably sexy mother.

…and that’s just the first book.

They've all got those warnings. Even the short story collections.

Credit to the incredible @leemoyer for all my book covers, and for teaching me so much about this biz. And while he's not on the book covers, I've gotta share the other central protagonist as illustrated by the awesome @juliedillon:

...yeah, Alex gets into some shit.

If you're looking for protagonists who really communicate, if you want polyamory instead of love triangles, and if you hate when steamy scenes fade to black, I've got you covered.

If you’ve read this far and you’re interested, or even if you just want to see more content warnings, please give my stuff a look on Amazon (including Kindle Unlimited) or on Audible where they’re narrated by Tess Irondale. Give her a listen and you’d be happy to hear her read just about anything.

[demon-guardian]

I live for adult comfort - child/teen reader! Can you do Opera, Balam and Kalego with a student reader who wants to be like them? Do the same job. So, they ask them to help them realize this dream. Because Opera/Kalego/ Balam is their model in life? Ur work is amazing

This is a cute scenario! Thank you for enjoying my work. For the story you are in the misfit class. Also takes around the harvest festival.

Opera

After seeing Opera fight at Walter Park, you were inspired by them and wanted to follow in their footsteps

When you go up to Opera and ask if can they teach you how to be like them

Opera is caught off guard for a second but then looks at you to see if you are serious

Opera, "Y/n you being a security demon means a lot of work right. You need to have a dependence on your serve. You need that "trust". Are you willing to do that?"

Y/N: "Yes I am willing!"

Seeing you so willing to learn and have that "trust" in another demon, Opera understands

After that day you start working with Opera at the Sullivan household

Even in a similar suit as Opera wears

Iruma was excited to see you there and try to interact with you like he would at school but Opera stopped him

Opera: "Sorry Master Iruma they are in training right now. So please treat them like you would me."

Iruma: "Oh alright. Good luck Y/N!"

The first week was a bit difficult, to say the least. You were surprised by how Opera does

But you never gave up and your hard work begin to show during the harvest festival

Opera taught you even during that time as well

You team up with Gaap and Agares and end up helping them by temporarily serving them

You help them fight and protect the base

At the end of the festival, you were able to go up a rank

You were proud of what you were able to become with Opera teaching you

(Who would have thought Opera would become your teacher again in your second year as well)

Kalego

While you knew Kalego was not the nicest teacher out their

You can appreciate how much he dedicated to his job

Seeing how well detail he is in his notes when you go up to him to ask a question he answers

Even turning the Walter Park Event into a teaching experience (No matter how bad it was)

You won't outright go and ask him to teach you on to become a teacher, because you don't think he will be too thrilled about that

So you go to him and ask him other questions about school and classes

But he catches on quickly to your plan and sees how you want to be a teacher

He takes pride that you see him as a good role model and when you come around he will start giving more tips and advice on the subject you ask

While both of you never admit to the true intentions of your interaction everyone else can see how you become Kalego's favorite student

Balam

Unlike the other two, you started to look up to Balam before the Walter Park event

It was during the crazy studying for your exams when you went to the class on the imaginary creatures due to you having trouble in the subject

That was when you met Balam who was substituting for the class

You were nervous to meet him of all the stories you had heard about him

But once you stepped into the class and heard him teach, his excitement for the subject made you want to stay

You try to go talk to him more after that class but you can never find the right time to do so

But when you got to Walter Park you saw this as an opportunity to learn more about him

Seeing him fight and how he use his demon knowledge to win a fight made you really love the subject and want to learn more about it

After the fight, you went up to him and ask him to teach you more about the subject

While you don't know if you want to be a teacher like him, what you do know is that you want to be a biologist like Balam

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

You know, I was just thinking about the UA entrance exam.

Specifically, how terribly designed it is, but not for the reason they seem to give in the story itself.

Like, here's how it is: Aizawa is shown criticising the UA Entrance Exam once, during the Sports Festival. And the ONE criticism he makes, is that the use of Robot enemies during the exam would disproportionately affect people whose Quirk work against biological opponents, essentially.

His one criticism, is that the exam is not designed to also cater to people like him, and that's it. The way therefore it's set up, it'd be logical to assume he'd ask for a restructuring to the exam to remove the Robots and substitute them with live enemies, possibly Ectoplasm clones.

This is never brought up again, aside from maybe a stealth bring up during the mid term exams when they switch the exam from fighting robots to fighting teachers.

The exam is, and I just got to it myself while watching this video about how Copaganda paints police training and the relative risk police officers face on the job, set up in a very specific environment:

An empty town, where what is essentially a murder spree is taking place. The ONLY entities in the place, outside of fellow examinee, are robots that have been literally designed to attack everyone on sight, and that need to be destroyed to pass. The points granted from saving people are hidden, so they can be more "genuine" of course, and are, ultimately, also part of the problem.

Because here's the fucking thing.

When the fuck is that ever going to happen.

When the fuck, is a superhero, after their 5 years of Hero training in high school, then entering the work force without a need for a decree in higher education, ever going to find themselves in an environment where they can use LETHAL FORCE on civilian targets? With no restraint or care for collateral damage?

And where they are ENCOURAGED to kill as many criminals as they can, and NOT collaborate with other heroes? Because that's another thing, you need to steal points from other people to pass, by culling the number of limited robots, much like heroes are paid by the arrest and by popularity.

You do understand how fucked up that starts to sound right? The other, the enemy, is reduced as a caricature Droid from star wars, there only to kill and destroy, and against whom your only TWO methods of defeat are outright destruction or sneak attacks on their off buttons.

And here's the cherry on the shit too, because, AGAIN, when is that EVER going to be the case?

Do you know how many heroes show up in the first villain attack in BNHA?

Five.

Two are engaging a purse snatcher, three are doing crowd control, the Slime Villain, who may I remind you was guilty of robbery at a convenience store before he got the hostage, gets THE NUMBER ONE HERO, as well as those same FIVE heroes involved, of which only BACKDRAFT is actually doing anything.

Now, imagine you are a hero school, and you produce 40 heroes a year, just like every other hero school out there. How many of those heroes will see active duty, if the rate of crimes demand FIVE heroes to react to ONE criminal?

And people will say "but EDS, this mentality is later rewarded when All Might retires and it all falls to shit," Except NOT REALLY, because that's an externally forced situation caused by, and I can't stress this enough, a hundreds of yeas old NEET boomer who read too many Doctor Doom comics as a kid and decided to become a supervillain, the riots, the open air warfare, is only caused by AFO forcing the hand and inciting popular unrest, which is an unrealistic thing to expect off any society.

In one of the movies, Class 1-A is sent to open an hero agency on a small island with barely a village on it. 20 Heroes. Until the movie truly picks up, the best they do is help kittens from trees, and Bakugou, the sort of person for whom the Entrance Exam was designed, is useless, left in his tent like Achilles, the perfect cowboy cop who peeked in highschool and didn't realize just how much paperwork and dead time his dream job actually entailed.

So that's the ACTUAL Issue with the entrance exam. It take no account for any other mean to beat the robots but brute force, it takes no account for collateral damage, or the sanctity of life of your opponents, and it tests nothing but how good at ending lives you are.

Which is a problem when you're picking future heroes.

[visualtaehyun]

Had some more notes while watching the rest of ep. 5 so this is an attempt to put them into one halfway coherent post before ep. 6 airs tomorrow and my brain will inevitably have moved on djshdsjh

This is gonna be highlighting word choice as well as a bit of meta. I'll be color-coding words referring to Day and Mork like this again for ease of understanding.

Disclaimer: not a native speaker, still learning 🙏

Day and August

The word choice in Thai is just as intentionally ambiguous as the subs make it out to be. Both Day and August use the word คู่ /khuu/ a lot which can be used for anything that comes in pairs, is matched against each other, is equal/even etc. After observing the two of them the entire episode, Mork very fittingly remarks that if Day wasn't talking about Badminton, he'd think Day was talking about his ex.

- คู่ของผมเอง /khuu kaawng pom eng/ -> Day doesn't even feel the need to specify what kind of partner, the subs added the word 'badminton' - เขาขายเป็นคู่ /khao khaai bpen khuu/ - นี่กูเป็นพาร์ทเนอมึงนะเว้ย /nee guu bpen partner mueng na woei/

- มึงไปหาคู่ใหม่เหอะ /mueng bpai haa khuu mai huh/ -> หาคู่ /haa khuu/ = find a partner - กูก็ไม่ได้อยากจะคู่ใครหรอก ถ้าไม่ใช่มึงน่ะ /guu gaaw mai dai yaak ja khuu khrai raawk, taa mai chai mueng na/ = I don't wanna pair with anyone if it's not you.

ทุกวันเนี้ย เวลาเล่นยังคิดถึงมึงอยู่เลย /thook wan niia, weh laa len yang khit thueng mueng yuu loei/ -> คิดถึง /khit thueng/ literally means 'to think about/of' in a yearning kind of way so it's often translated as 'to miss sb./sth.'

August holds Day's hand and asks Mork (??!) for permission and then Mork's face after letting go of Day's hand and walking behind them hoo boy

An observation: With August it's monochromes, just as the headbands he got for the both of them are black and white. With Mork it's blue and orange and pink and just- vivid colors! I love that Day is caught between them in terms of feelings but also in terms of colors and clothing and framing while Mork is caught in the middle in this shot here, observing, relegated to the background, an outsider. P'Aof is so 😩👌

Cars & Care

Mork is thinking about his sister's car and how he feels responsible for taking care of it now because it's all he has left of her after he couldn't take care of her. Meanwhile, Day is remembering the fight he had with his brother in this same car and how it doesn't matter if he's taking care of the car if he doesn't really care for his own brother. I'm certain both their perspectives here are gonna come to a head once Night and the mom show up again or once Mork fully opens up about Rung.

Mork with Day

เราก็ว่างอยู่อะ /rao gaaw waang yuu a/ -> another instance of 2nd person pronoun เรา

He calls Day คุณหนู /khun noo/ (=young master) and uses polite male ending particle ครับ /khrap/ in both these instances. The first use of ครับ /khrap/ here is more teasing and sarcastic, the latter is just one of many instances during their practice date where it makes him sound sweet, the way you might use it with a partner.

subbed as baby is the word ที่รัก /thee rak/ = literally beloved, a term of endearment like darling, honey, sweetheart - layin' it on thick to tease and flirt lol

When Mork holds Day's hand under the menu, he calls him เธอ /ter/ - an informal 2nd person pronoun that's used a lot in songs, poetry, literature etc. and so it has a bit of a romance trope connotation. Outside of that, it's also used between female friends and by teachers to refer to students, for example.

พี่ว่าถ้าเดย์ผ่านด่านบอสเป็นสเต็กแล้วเนี่ย พี่ว่าเนี้ย หวานเจี๊ยบ /phi waa taa Day phaan daan boss bpen steak laao niia, phi waa niia waan jiiap/ = I think if you made it past the boss level that is steak then this is a piece of cake.

That's not a literal translation but I had to because I can't believe they didn't seize the chance to substitute a slang expression/meme with a pun at least lol - หวานเจี๊ยบ /waan jiiap/ basically means very sweet but หวาน /waan/ can also mean easy.

Mork the sunflower

Mork asks why Day likes sunflowers (him) when there are so many pretty flowers out there (better men) - Day says it's the flower's (Mork's) refusal of darkness, instead always turning its face (Mork's!) to look at the sun. 🥺 Mork is that positivity for Day!!

When Mork offers to buy the sunflower for him, Day declines - he can't see it so he thinks he can't appreciate it (MORK) the way it (M O R K) deserves (Day: น่าจะมีความสุขกว่า /naa ja mee khwaam sook gwaa/ = It'd be happier). About liking August he also said- I should've told him sooner so I'd still get the chance to see his face.

I can't wait for how ep. 6 is gonna unfold, this show has me insane 🫠

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Hello! I love your fics of Larissa, so I would like to make a request, if you're not busy. Im kinda sick right now so I would like to see something with a sick reader who is teacher at Nevermore and Larissa taking care of her, fluff to fulfill my poor soul today 👉👈

I'm never too busy for Larissa requests. I hope you feel better soon 🖤

Coughs wracked your body. You whimpered, curling up into a ball under the mountain of blankets you’d dragged onto your bed. Your body was trembling, shivers rattling your bones. Your throat was screaming at you. You squeezed your eyes shut, cursing past you for being nice to the sick student in your class.

You must have managed to sleep for a while. You assumed no one would be coming to check on you, your notice of illness having been sent in and approved, a substitute found to cover your classes. Having said that, upon waking a cool hand was pressed to your forehead. You reached up to bat it away, trying to ignore how weak you felt.

A low chuckle came with the hand moving to lower your arm back to your side. You squinted up, your throbbing headache only slightly better. You relaxed recognising the familiar figure, only to begin coughing uncontrollably again.

Her cool hand gently cupped your cheek, turning your head towards her.

“Oh, my darling, you’re in a bad way.”

“Rissa,” you groaned, trying to push your wife away, “don’t wanna get you sick.”

“Nonsense, darling, I can’t leave you alone in this sorry state,” she replied, “how are you feeling?”

“Awful,” you replied

Her fingers carded through your tangled hair and your eyes slipped closed again. She knew exactly how much you loved it when she played with your hair. She was playing dirty. You didn’t have the strength to fight it.

“I brought you tea,” she said, “and soup. We need to get some fluids in you.”

You let her help you sit up, struggling to rise properly. She shoved the pillows usually reserved for her head behind your back, propping you up against the headboard. You whimpered when she got up, already missing her.

“It’s alright, love, I’m right here,” she said, sitting by your hip again.

She placed a bowl of soup in your lap, curling your fingers around an ice cold spoon. You hissed, dropping it. You knew if you were less sick she’d be rolling her eyes at your antics. As it stood, she only picked up the spoon, dipping it into the soup.

“Open up,” she commanded.

You did as you were told. She slipped the spoon in your mouth, something salty slipping down your throat. You let her feed you the soup, wincing with each swallow, sad your sick brain couldn’t take full advantage of the luxury. As she did she told you about her day. You let her words wash over you, more focused on her hands and her face. Those were things that were easy to focus on.

Eventually you pushed her hand away, unable to eat any more. She sighed, setting the bowl on your bedside table, her hand going back to your forehead. A soft pair of lips pressed where the hand had been. You hummed.

“You’re burning up,” she said.

“Mmhm,” you replied.

She disappeared again. Your eyes slid closed, weariness in every bone in your body. Something cold pressed against your skin. You groaned, relief swift and kind to you. The water left on your skin dripped down your neck, soaking into the pillow beneath you. It began to grow warm and you reached up for it. Cool hands batted yours away, removing the cold compress. Water sloshed nearby and it was replaced, cold once again.

“Do you think you’re up to drinking some tea?” Larissa asked, her voice soft, delicate, as if worried about breaking you.

“For you I’ll try,” you rasped out.

She brought the cup to your lips, the liquid lukewarm now, almost cold in your mouth. You forced down that first sip before gently pushing her hand away. She set the cup down, replacing your cold compress again. You shivered.

You reached out to her, grasping her arm. She was so solid, so warm. All you wanted to do was sleep.

“Rissa,” you said, voice scratchy.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Lie down with me?” you asked.

“Of course, love.”

She shifted, the bed dipping beside you. You pushed her pillows back towards her, doing your best to become horizontal again. She helped, hands sure as she guided you. Lying down was a relief for your pounding head.

Rolling over, you curled up against her body. Her arm slipped around your shoulders, holding you close. Placing your head on her chest you could hear her heartbeat, slow and steady. Her fingers ran through your hair again, lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You hummed, shuffling closer, sleep tugging at you.

Needless to say, a few days later she was coughing and shivering and you had to take care of her in return.

[musical-shit-show]

dancing is a dangerous game

Pairing: Dewey Finn x Reader

Inspiration: Prompts #2 (“apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”) from Prompt List 1 and #15 (“would you ever consider going on a date with me?”) from Prompt List 2 requested by @animetattoochick

Warnings: mentions of drinking, strong language, suggestive dialogue, anxiety, mutual pining

Word Count: 2,305

Author's Note: We’re back baby! Thank you so much to @animetattoochick for this request and so sorry for the delay. I’m working through my other requests now and have more time this coming month to catch up. And very fitting since it’s spooky season and I have some more BJ requests in the pipeline ;) As always, check out my Masterlist, About Me page, and Prompt Lists if you’d like to submit a request! Happy reading!

“Do you want to go? I feel like it’s getting a bit crowded in here and the door’s right there—”

“Are you drunk?” Dewey asked incredulously, “We just got here!”

You groaned, wishing you were more drunk than you were. Dewey had a natural charm that allowed him to get away with way too much, including convincing you to go out. This time, it was a birthday party for one of Ned’s friends, and the degrees of separation barely warranted you being there.

The party was in the back room of the Roadhouse, and you nodded at some familiar faces as you still tried to formulate an escape plan. You weren’t the biggest partier, and would much rather be hanging out with your best friend on his couch.

You didn’t know when you first became friends with Dewey. You occasionally moonlighted as a substitute teacher, and after a few instances of bumping into Ned, he introduced you to his girlfriend, Patty, and Dewey.

The rest was history.

And although he was one of the only people you could truly rely on, you still found yourself cursing him for pushing you out of your comfort zone.

“Come on, I thought you liked the Roadhouse,” he egged, noticing your arms crossed over your chest in protest, “And they’re actually taking requests tonight! Maybe they’ll play some of that pop bullshit you like.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, then lilted upwards in an indignant smile. Dewey was also a master of getting under your skin.

“Excuse me, Finn,” you responded, “Just because you listen to metal and classic rock 24/7 doesn’t make your music taste any more superior to mine.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart,” he joked, pressing the bottle of beer he was nursing to his lips.

You scanned the room, and relaxed your shoulders as you noticed some familiar faces. Dewey was always the more adventurous one, the one who lit up a room. You didn’t mind fading into the background.

“I’ll uh, go find Patty,” you said, and Dewey’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He really thought you’d put up more of a fight, “I’ll stay. For now. If you buy me a drink.”

He flashed a toothy smile, glad he could keep you around for a little while longer. “A fair trade. I’ll get right on it.” He gave a small salute, causing you to break into a grin of your own.

You made your way over to the other side of the bar to greet Patty, who was furrowing her brow at her phone. Never a good sign with her.

“Hey!”

“Hey, sorry, just finishing up this email,” she droned, rolling her eyes.

“Work?” She nodded wordlessly, and after a few silent moments, she locked her phone with a click and breathed a sigh of relief.

“I love my job, I love my job, I love my job…” she affirmed, rubbing her temples. You sat down at a stool next to her.

“Hey, well, at least it’s done, right?”

“Right, and I don’t have to think about the mayor’s schedule for another 48 hours, so I’m gonna get wasted,” you laughed at her directness as Ned sat on the other side of her, “You in?”

“Oh, uh, maybe?” you were still on the fence about staying too late, and the thought of a hangover did not sound enticing. “Dewey’s grabbing me a drink now, so—”

“Ugh, Dewey,” Patty said, earning an eye roll from Ned. You guessed he wasn’t thrilled about his best friend and girlfriend constantly warring, “When are you two going to hook up already, anyways?”

Your felt your face get hot with blush at the question. You and Dewey? The thought hadn’t crossed your mind. Not for a while, that is.

“What?”

“Oh my god, you’ve already hooked up, haven’t you?” she said, pulling you closer. You could feel sweat forming on the back of your neck, “Tell me everything.”

“Patty—”

“Ned, I swear to god—”

“No!” you said over their bickering, “I mean, sorry, no. Dewey and I, we’re not, I mean, we’re just friends.”

Patty looked at Ned, who quirked an eyebrow. Suddenly you felt very out of the loop.

“Does he know that?” she asked, a devious smirk spread across her face. You loved Patty, but sometimes her gossiping was beyond dangerous.

Before you could answer, Dewey arrived, a drink in each hand. “Jack and Coke, per usual,” he smiled, handing you the glass. You grabbed it, and immediately took a long swig.

“Whoa, killer, slow your roll,” he laughed. Patty and Ned both shifted on their stools. Dewey eyed the three of you suspiciously, “Why do I feel like I missed something?”

“Don’t worry about it, Dew,” Ned replied. For all of his nervous tendencies, he was pretty good at deflecting, “Wanna play some pool?”

You breathed a small sigh of relief as the two men headed towards the billiards tables, leaving you to finish off your drink and work quickly to order another.

***

“Why do you think me and Dewey hooked up?” you asked Patty, several hours and drinks later. Though you hadn’t crossed the threshold into full drunkenness, you were just tipsy enough to gain some courage.

She sighed, twirling the straw in her gin and tonic. “Because, my love, I see the way he looks at you,” she said, not an ounce of irony or sarcasm in her voice, “And don’t act like you don’t spend every waking moment together—”

“Because we’re friends!” you shot back defensively, “I mean, I’ve never even…I didn’t think he’d like me that way.”

Patty quirked an eyebrow. “Well, do you like him that way?”

A pit formed in your stomach almost instantly as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. The alcohol in your veins was making you particularly honest.

“I guess, I don’t know…yes. I think. It’s complicated, okay?” you finally spat out, your voice hushed in fear that someone else would hear you, “He’s my best friend, and I didn’t want to ruin what we have so…I never did anything about it.”

For once, she shot you an empathetic look. Her and Dewey were reluctant roommates on the best of days, but even she was heartened by your babbling. “Well, no time but the present,” she said with a smirk.

Patty grabbed your shoulders to turn you ninety degrees, and you saw Dewey standing next to Ned, also a few beers in and clearly having a good time. You gulped, a slower pop song blaring in your ears as the weathered disco ball spun languidly.

“Move along now,” Patty taunted in your ear, “Ned and I have a little bet going about you two.”

“What?!”

“Just for fun,” she said, giving you a little nudge forward, “we have to entertain ourselves somehow, don’t we?”

You walked away from her, and before you had time to think, you heard yourself asking “Wanna dance?” to Dewey, who looked genuinely surprised by your proposition. Ned snuck off without a word, leaving the two of you alone.

A small smirk played on Dewey’s face as the two of you stepped towards the dance floor; there were several other couples dancing near you, and despite your liquid courage, you were praying you wouldn’t be the center of attention.

There was a brief moment of awkwardness as you placed your arms around his neck. It wasn’t like you and Dewey had never danced with each other before; he always had a way of dragging you to the dance floor when one of his favorite classics was played.

But now, you were acutely aware of the way his hands rested on your hips, and how your breath smelled like vodka, and the thin veil of sweat that was making his usually unruly hair stick to his forehead.

“Oh, come on,” he teased, his eyes flickering to your stance, “I think we can do better than the ‘leave room for Jesus’ bullshit, don’t you?” You laughed, realizing how far you were standing from him. It was as if you had been transported back to your 8th grade school dance.

Dewey grabbed one of your hands and laced his fingers with your own. You couldn’t help but let out a small gasp as he pulled your body flush to his, while his other palm gripped your waist tightly.

“That’s better,” he smiled, giving you another once over. Clearly the booze had made him more daring as well. You grinned back, doing your best to hide your newfound nerves.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know, I’m just having a good night,” he shrugged, the two of you swaying in sync as the song continued, “You should try it sometime.”

Your mouth fell open slightly at his jab, “Hey, I’m the one who asked you to dance, remember?” you fired back, “Or are you drunker than I thought?” He shook his head in denial. “Quick,” you mocked, removing your hand from his and flashing three digits, “How many fingers am I holding up?” Dewey barked a laugh, gently grabbing your hand again. You smiled nervously at the gesture, your heart beating faster in your chest.

“Why did you ask me, by the way?” his voice uncharacteristically soft, “Not that I mind, but you know I’m used to more headbanging while I dance.”

You smiled, glancing over at Patty and Ned. They were watching you intently, drinks in hand. Of course.

“Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together,” you tried to say nonchalantly, “Or more accurately, that we’ll sleep together. Or, have slept together. I don’t know—”

“Breathe,” Dewey stopped you, “It was Patty, wasn’t it?” You nodded sheepishly, and he shook his head in disbelief, “I swear that woman knows exactly how to drive me insane…I told her nothing is going on between us.” You couldn’t help but notice that his voice had a slight tinge of sadness.

Now was your chance. You said a silent prayer that your nerves wouldn’t get the best of you.

“I mean…it’s not that crazy of an idea, is it?” you probed, doing your best to not shift your eye contact away from Dewey’s brown ones, “We do spend a ton of time together…honestly thinking about it, I kinda get why everyone thinks we’ve…”

Dewey’s eyes widened in mild surprise as you trailed off, the implication clearly hanging in the air. He never would’ve thought he’d be the cautious one when it came to this topic.

“Yeah, sure,” he conceded, “But wouldn’t that, ya know…change things?”

He always had feelings for you, but he didn’t want to risk ruining your friendship. You were too important to him, and an amazing friend, so he had silently resigned himself to hold those feelings close to his chest.

You swallowed your fear and shoved it down your throat. “Of course,” you became acutely aware of your palms growing sweatier by the second and hoped he didn’t notice, “But is it bad that I don’t care? Maybe we could give it a try. It could be good. Really good, even.”

“Goddamn, what has gotten into you tonight?” he threw your own question back at you as you felt your face getting flush.

“Maybe I don’t want to be a wuss anymore,” you smiled, “You should take notes, Finn.” He barked a laugh at your teasing.

Your stomach flipped as a completely new expression came over Dewey’s face. Well, at least completely new to you; who knows how he looked at you when you weren’t paying attention.

But you could tell from the way he eyed you that something finally shifted. “So,” he said coyly, “Since I’m a gentleman, I’m just going to make sure I do this the right way: Would you ever consider going on a date with me?”

Before you could answer, he spun you around and dipped you playfully, a giggle bubbling out of you as the song came to a close.

“Duh, you idiot,” you laughed, heart swelling in your chest now that the pent-up feelings you held onto for years were finally released. How could you have missed what was right in front of you for so long? You were almost embarrassed that Patty had to spell it out for you.

“Or maybe we could skip the date and go back to your place instead?” Dewey couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow suggestively. He certainly didn’t wait to start the blatant flirting, and you weren’t exactly complaining.

Still, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “Why, so you can avoid Patty for the rest of the night?”

“…Maybe.”

“No.”

“Can you blame me? She’s a nightmare.”

“She’s fine, Dew,” you said as you both walked away from the dance floor, “And you have to admit, she clocked us pretty well.”

“I am not drunk enough to pay that woman a compliment,” he retorted, crossing his arms across his chest. You knew he was only partially kidding but still laughed anyways, “And she wasn’t right about everything. We haven’t hooked up. Again, we can definitely change that—”

“Don’t make me punch you, Finn,” you threatened, a playful smile dancing on your lips. You couldn’t believe how easily you both slipped into casual flirting; then again, you wondered if you had always been doing it without even realizing.

It was clear everyone else noticed, not that it mattered anymore.

“Kidding,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender, “Kind of.”

“How about this,” you proposed, reaching the bar again. Luckily none of your friends were around to grill you just yet, “You buy me another drink, we dance some more, and see where the night takes us?”

Dewey’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a deal.”

*****

Thanks for reading! Like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed :)

[2myl0ver]

it'll be okay. ☆ koga yudai

Genre ⋅ fluff/reverse comfort Wordcount ⋅ 304 TW ⋅ crying, teacher!K, k & reader are newly married Masterlist ⋅ here

Author’s note ⋅ i got a request for a K fic but never got a response back when i asked them what they wanted specifically so i just came up with this c:

Request ⋅ Can i request a K fanfic?? No pressure tho!!

© 2myl0ver Copyright 2023. Do not copy, repost, or translate without my permission. ♡︎ and ↻ are very much appreciated !

the previous night, kei had told you he was gonna be a substitute teacher for a 3rd grade class.

you thought this was a great opportunity for him so he could explore the nature of kids seeing as you were newly weds, but you could tell he was anxious.

he was quiet the whole night and was clinging onto you more than usual, he even started to shake his leg again.

it was now the day after, you woke up early to help kei prepare. making him breakfast and coffee, ironing his clothes for him and giving him a kiss goodbye.

now the day was coming to an end, the sky getting darker by the second. you had just finished making dinner and now you had nothing left to do but wait for kei.

soon, you hear the door open followed by his footsteps. kei sat down next to you on the couch with his head low.

calling his name out, he looked up at you and you saw how red his eyes were. "oh, love what happened..?"

"I- I couldn't do it. they wouldn't listen to me a-and I couldn't even break up a fight, I even accidentally made one of them cry while trying to make things fair in the classroom. how am I ever going to be a father?"

you placed your hands on his before speaking up, "kei.. it's okay. it was your first time! when it's time for the real thing, we'll be a team. I know you tried your best, even if things didn't work out how you wanted it to."

he looks up at you with hopeful eyes, looking hesitant to say something. without warning, he hugs you and cries silently into your neck. "I love you so much, i wouldn't know what to do without you.

[ynbabe]

Lockwood & Co. X Fem!Reader:- Incorrect quotes pt.2

Y/n: Die. Lucy: Please don't die! Y/n: DIE! Lucy: PLEASE DON'T DIE! George, confused: Why are they yelling at a plant? Anthony, watching while eating popcorn: They bought it cause I told them to stop fighting and Lucy wants Y/n to accept it as their kid. George: ... Anthony: Y/n wants to co-parent.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: You know guys, sometimes I feel like Lucy doesn't like me much. Anthony: "Like"? George: "much"? Y/n: George: Change that to 'at all' and we'll talk.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

George: Why did you kidnap Lucy!?!?! Anthony: Ah- um- well- the reason for that is, uhh... Y/n: Sometimes, we must work together towards a common goal. George: NOT TO KIDNAP PEOPLE FROM DEPRAC!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

*Everyone is playing a board game together* Anthony: I will put 'A' down to make 'A'. Y/n: I will add onto your 'A' to make 'AT'. Lucy: I will add onto your 'AT' to make 'RAT'. George: I will add onto your 'RAT' to make 'BIOSTRATAGRAPHIC'. Lucy: *flips the board*

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Lucy: What is it called when you kill a friend? George: Homicide. Anthony: Murder. Y/n: Homiecide.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Subs are so fun to play with. All you have to do is hint at what you might do, back them into a corner with a look, or grab their wrist in a certain way and they're a wide-eyed mess. Anthony, professional denier: What the fuck kind of Subway are you going to? Lucy, did not the dots yet: Substitute teachers deal with so much shit. George, brain cell haver: Guys.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

*In a horror movie situation* Anthony: I've got no service in my phone here. Lucy: Shoot, I don't have a phone. Y/n: Sorry guys, I just broke my phone with a rapier. George: Guys, my phone is a book.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit, and wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad. Lucy : That's deep. Y/n: That means that ketchup is a smoothie. Lucy : That's deeper. George: ...You guys are idiots.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n on the phone after going missing for a year: Hey, I'm gonna come there, kick Anthony’s door in, and let him know that I'm baaack. George: That ain’t the way we do things here. You may have to go in there and run a con, apologise, and do the smooth-talking. Y/n: Okay, you come in with me, you do the smooth-talking, let’s go. George: No, we can’t go in there and kick down the door, that's how I introduced the two of you. We need a plan. Y/n: Well who makes the plans? George: Me. Y/n: Okay, what's the plan? George: You are gonna come here, kick Anthony’s door in, and FUCKING APOLOGISE FOR DISAPPEARING, YOU PSYCHOPATH.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: What's the most efficient way to burn calories? Lucy: Exercise more Y/N: Set yourself on fire! George: There are two kinds of people.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: Everyone synchronise your watches. Lucy: I don't know how to do that. George: I don't wear a watch. Y/n: Time is a construct.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

George, trying to get them to stop fighting: You know, We give Lucy flowers when she's down. Y/n: Okay. *Later* Y/n, see's Lucy laughing: *Reminds her of all the bad things* *gives Lucy flowers* Lucy, hyperventilating: ??? Y/n: I don't know, I'm confused as well.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: I told Y/n to grab snacks for everyone. Lucy, looking through the options: Why did you grab fruit snacks? Are you five? Who even likes Fruit Snacks? *Anthony, Y/n, and George raise their hands*

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

George: You’re just being paranoid. Again. Y/n: When have I been paranoid? George: Um, when you first met Anthony you thought he was a murderer…? Y/n: No one falls in love with me without having problems, I thought he was trying to lull me into a false sense of security! George: And last week you were sure Lucy was in a fight club! Y/n: She keeps trying to fight me! COINCIDENCE?! George: YOU THREW DAGGERS AT HER WHEN YOU FIRST MET *Later, when Y/n’s theory is proven wrong* George: Do you have anything to say for yourself? Y/n: I still think Lucy is in a fight club.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony, about to do something stupid, points to George and Lucy: Distract them! I'll be right back! *leaves* Y/n, suggested the something: Okay! *five minutes later* Anthony: *returns and sees George and Lucy unconscious on the ground* What did you do? I said distract them, not knock them out! Y/n: There's just no pleasing you sometimes.

[loveinhawkins]

There’s perks to working a summer job where there’s seemingly no manager. Steve got an at most five minute interview with an overly smiley dude who said, “An independent workforce is very important to us,” and didn’t even check his references before telling Steve that he was hired.

So it’s down to him and Robin alone to open and close Scoops Ahoy. And the lack of any boss—not even a supervisor—is mostly great, means that no-one’s hovering over their shoulders droning on about ‘company policy’, means they can take their breaks as and when, and no-one’s tapping their foot with an eye on the clock.

But then there’s the times where it’s absolutely swamped with customers, and the statistical likelihood of having to serve an asshole skyrockets; and most assholes don’t tend to think of teenagers slinging ice-cream as being worthy of even the tiniest shred of respect.

“Are you wilfully this stupid, missy?” a douchebag snaps at Robin during the lunchtime rush, after she added chocolate sauce on his sundae instead of raspberry.

She remakes the order with a look that, if there was any justice in the world, would make him drop down dead on the spot. But instead, he just scoffs when she passes him the new sundae.

“Have a spectacular day,” Robin says acerbically, and if it was any other time, Steve would be ducking down behind the counter, pretending to check on stock levels so he can hide his laughter.

Except Robin’s also doing that thing where she blinks a lot, and Steve knows she’s fighting tears of frustration because he privately does something remarkably similar.

There’s a sinking feeling in his chest coupled with what’s becoming a steadily frequent flare of protectiveness. That one usually comes with the kids and The Upside Down—except Robin is a girl who’s round about his age, so he half-heartedly assumes it must be because he has a crush on her.

But he’s not even thinking about said crush at all when he gently bumps her towards the break room with his hip and says, “Take yours first, I’ve got this.”

For half a second, Robin’s eyes seem to shine in gratitude before she puts a hand over her heart and declares, dripping in sarcasm, “You’re a god among men, Harrington, I never believed what anyone said about you.”

“You’re wel—hey, what did they say about me?”

The door to the break room shuts, but not before he hears Robin let out a genuine snort of laughter. He smiles and pivots back to the register.

The line’s calmed down; Steve recognises a substitute teacher waiting to be served: Mrs Greeves, who’s been at Hawkins High since the sixties, at least. There’s no other adult in the shop, so it’s presumably her little granddaughter who’s running about the place, without so much as a glancing eye on her.

But Steve doesn’t have to worry about a potential lost child scenario, because a guy suddenly slips out of the booth he’d been sitting in, bending down to the kid’s eye level and subtly ensuring that she doesn’t hightail it out of there.

It takes a few seconds for Steve to recognise him; he’s still getting used to the whole phenomenon of seeing people without the high school setting behind them. Like, Robin used to be just a name from a class he can’t even recall, and now he knows her for her dry wit and love of cryptic crosswords.

And this Eddie Munson is sort of a different beast from the guy Steve saw stomping around the cafeteria tables.

He’s dressed pretty much the same, (Hellfire shirt sans the leather jacket must be the ‘summer look’, Steve reckons), but he’s quieter as he chats with the little girl, letting her try on one of his skull rings to distract from her obvious boredom. His grin is softer, too.

Mrs Greeves clears her throat, and Steve promptly puts on his vacant ‘delightful customer service’ smile.

“Afternoon, Mrs Greeves, what can I do you for?”

She orders a simple strawberry cone for the kid, Abigail, and two scoops of lemon and vanilla in a cup for herself—appropriate, Steve thinks, because her face looks like she’s sucking on a lemon half the time.

As he prepares the ice-cream, he’s quickly remembering why she’s on the list of substitute teachers that students dread, even if he’s only had the ‘pleasure’ of being in a class supervised by her once. He has vague memories of how she’d talk with other teachers in a scandalised stage whisper about students from ‘broken homes’—he’s pretty sure she’s still an austere teacher at the Sunday School, too.

“Abigail,” she says sharply, when Steve finishes the cone, and she finally seems to realise her granddaughter isn’t by her side, “what have I told you about—”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Eddie says hurriedly. Abigail hands him the ring back, very carefully dropping it into his palm, and he gives her a gentle smile. “I don’t mind—”

“—not talking to strangers?” Mrs Greeves finishes, as if Eddie hadn’t spoken.

“But,” Eddie says with tiny frown, “you know me, ma’am, I’m—”

“Let me be plain then, Mr Munson.” She finally turns to favour Eddie with a scathing look. “I meant that I don’t want my granddaughter around a corrupting influence.”

There’s an awful silence while Abigail collects the cone.

“Oh,” Eddie says, still crouched down by the booth. He sounds very small.

And Steve’s view of Mrs Greeves quickly turns from a general dislike to an icy hatred.

“And here’s yours,” he says, sliding the cup over.

She looks down. Her mouth goes all pinched in displeasure.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

“It’s your ice-cream,” Steve says, playing up a confused blink. “Is—is this not what you ordered? I’m terribly sorry for the—”

“Don’t be obtuse, Mr Harrington. These scoops are tiny; they barely fill the cup!”

Yup, Steve thinks with a savage satisfaction. They’re the size of a melon ball, and even that’s being generous.

“Mrs Greeves, I’m afraid it’s store policy. Nothing to do with—”

“What kind of policy could possibly justify—”

“Rudeness,” Steve says smoothly.

Eddie’s head jerks up at that, his mouth slightly agape.

“Mr Harrington,” Mrs Greeves says, her face turning puce, “I would like to see your manager.”

“The manager,” Steve says flatly. “Okay, sure. I’ll go get him.”

What he does next, compared to everything else that’s happened in his life thus far, isn’t all that stupid.

Well. Maybe a little.

It’s worth it though, to see the way Eddie Munson’s eyes widen at the sight.

Making sure to have zero expression throughout, Steve mimes walking downstairs, throws off his hat while crouched behind the counter, then re-emerges with a quick ruffle of his hair.

“How can I help you?” he asks, like they’ve only just met.

The cup of minuscule ice-cream is soon up-ended as Mrs Greeves storms out, barking over her shoulder, “Abigail, come here!”

Eddie stands to let the kid out of the way, who seems blissfully ignorant with her cone. Steve’s sure he hears him mutter under his breath, “Jesus, she’s not a dog.”

“I’ll be reporting you, Steve Harrington, make no mistake!”

Yeah, good fucking luck. I sure as hell don’t know who really runs this place.

“Uh-huh,” Steve says. “Looking forward to it. Harrington with two ‘r’s one ‘n’, ma’am.”

“Shit, Harrington,” Eddie drawls. He’s leaning next to the booth, hip cocked, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’d seen it himself, Steve might’ve been convinced that the Eddie from a moment ago was a different person. “That was not worth getting fired over.”

“I’m not getting fired,” Steve says—although honestly, if that had been a real threat, he thinks his actions would probably have been the same. Huh. “I meant it, dude, there’s no manager here.”

Eddie nods slightly, looks up at the Scoops Ahoy sign and grins. “So you and Buckley are the skeleton crew on this ship.”

“Uh, I guess?”

Come on, man, Steve thinks, as Eddie keeps up the wide grin like it’s a shield. This isn’t the high school cafeteria; I’m not about to hit your lunch tray or whatever.

Out loud, he calls into the back, “Hey, Robin, the chocolate’s low. I’m just gonna put in a new batch if you want some of the old stuff.”

The sliding doors open.

Robin sighs as if she’s just had a very relaxing facial, but she’s actually holding a folded newspaper with the cryptic crossword all finished.

“I am so chilled out,” she says, with a delivery that could rival Eddie Munson’s trademark dramatics.

“You’re so weird,” Steve says mildly while making up a cup with the leftover chocolate ice-cream.

“You’ve just got no taste, Harrington.” She waggles the crossword at him. “You should give ‘em a try.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “I’m no good at that code-breaking stuff.” He passes her the cup, goes to start assembling his own and pauses. “Hey, Munson, you want some?”

“Oh, uh, I’m good,” Eddie says, sounding suddenly wrong-footed. “Sorry, I’m just, uh, killing time before my movie starts. The other stores said if I wasn’t buying anything I should get out, so…”

“So you’ve come to our oceanic sanctum,” Robin deadpans.

Steve rolls his eyes. “You know, just ‘cause you do crosswords doesn’t mean you have to turn into a dictionary. Ow.” He doesn’t quite duck in time to avoid the newspaper smacking him in the face. He turns to address Eddie again, who appears to be fighting back laughter. “What’re you gonna see, Munson?”

Eddie’s eyes glance away for a second. “Something very scary and befitting of my stature, Harrington.”

Robin, who’s made a habit of memorising the mall’s movie schedules, checks her watch and narrows her eyes. “Return to Oz?”

Eddie’s cheeks start to glow. “Fuck off, Buckley, I’ve never liked you.”

“You’re such a liar, I’ve heard your applause at band practice—”

“Okay, but,” Steve cuts in, jumping up onto the counter with one hand. “I thought the whole point was Oz was a dream. How can she return to—?”

“Christ, I don’t know, Harrington,” Eddie says. “I didn’t pick it for critical analysis; the poster had a dude with a pumpkin head on it, and I thought it looked cool.”

“Oh, I saw that,” Robin says. “Made me think of when all those pumpkins went bad. Like, imagine if they had faces.”

Unthinkingly, Steve says around his ice-cream spoon, “No way, I’m not dealing with that, too.”

“Excusez-moi?” Robin says.

“Hmm?” Steve says innocently.

“Hey, you missed quite a show earlier on, Buckley,” Eddie says. “Reckon Harrington deserves a tally in the ‘you rule’ column.”

Steve glares at Robin. “I told you to keep that outta view of the customers.”

“Ah, but I’m not buying anything,” Eddie points out, “ergo, not a customer.”

“Ergo,” Steve mimics.

“That board is strictly for romantic successes,” Robin says.

Eddie snorts. “Aw, that’s hardly fair. I think it should have more… rounded criteria.”

Robin’s eyes narrow again. “Eddie Munson, you’ve never complimented a jock in your life, don’t start now.”

“Hey,” Steve says, overselling a ‘wounded’ expression. “I’m more than that, y’know. I contain multitudes.”

“Sure,” Eddie says, smiling. “Folks, we’ve got Hawkins’s own Whitman right here.”

Steve flips him off and, on a whim, decides to channel his inner Dustin.

“Maybe I just see the world more clearly than you two ‘cause I’m free of societal constraints.”

“You’re working in a mall,” Robin says.

“High school societal contraints. I am unshackled and ergo, free.”

“Damn,” Eddie says, patting down his pockets for an imaginary pen, “I should use that.”

“Stop inflating Harrington’s ego and go catch your totally scary movie,” Robin says.

Eddie checks his own watch. “Oh, shit. Um.” And Steve thinks that it almost looks like he’s reluctant to leave. “Time flies, I guess. Better go ashore.” He catches Steve’s eye, gives a tiny little salute as he leaves. “May your summer continue to be mundane and manager-less.”

“You’re a poet, Munson,” Steve says, even though Eddie’s already out the door.

“So what was the show I missed?” Robin says. “I couldn’t hear anything back there.”

“Nothing that exciting.”

Steve tells her, and even though a smile tugs at her mouth as he re-enacts his mime, for some reason her eyes are kinda sad for most of it.

“Good job, Popeye,” she says thoughtfully—and though it directly contradicts her own words, she marks up a singular ‘you rule’ tally for the rest of her shift before wiping it off.

Eddie doesn’t re-appear after the movie—not that Steve’s keeping track of time, or anything—but at least they don’t have anymore nightmares for customers. As Steve mops, he thinks about how Dustin’s return from Camp Something Something is approaching—and the fact that he’s circled the date with a goofy smiley face is between him and his bedroom calendar.

He smiles to himself while clocking out of the now ghostly mall, recalling Eddie’s parting words.

The thought of a mundane, manager-less summer stretching before him sounds pretty damn good.

[kandyshoppe]

I love babies, so we’re talking about Kindergarten AU for BNHA! Cause I can! (Quirkless)

Aizawa and Mic are the two main teachers for Alpha Kindergarten, Toshinori is their usual substitute . Aizawa is the more quiet and calm teacher, happily cuddling and colouring with the more shy and less active kids while Hizashi runs around, and goes crazy. They make a good team.

Toshinori technically retained, but he loves kids so much he comes in every Wednesday and Thursday, he may not be able to run around like he used to, but he’s still a great playmate, and the BEST at playing pretend! Bakugo and Izuku always beg him to play hero’s with them, or beg for superhero stories.

Speaking of Bakugo and Izuku, they are best frenamies, atleast one fight a day between them, but the next day it’s like it didn’t happen. Most fights don’t get bad, just some yelling, crying and some time apart to cool off, but there is the odd physical fight. Never any serious injury, yet…

During their time separate they’re sent to play with the others. Bakugo usually ends up with Kirishima, Denki, Sero and Mina playing trucks, and Deku plays house with Ochako, Froppy and Idia. They always end up back together playing hero’s though, saving the small family from a car crash.

Toshinori always checks over everyone after the hero’s save the day to make sure everyone is safe and not hurt. Including the other drivers (Mina, Sero, Denki and Kirishima)

Shortly after the rescue, Sero gets tired and snuggles up with Aizawa for a nap along side Shoji and Koda. Those two are the two snuggle bugs, always wanting hugs, to be carried, and following the teachers like little ducklings. Though Shoji sometimes gets dragged off by tokoyami and Ojiro for some playtime, Koda refuses to go too far from the teachers. Jiro was able to get him to come play some music with her a few times, but he always ends up back by one of the teachers with his arms held up for uppies!

Jiro usually can get Koda with piano or softer music, always letting him use the maracas even though they are EVERYONES favorite. Momo is the only other one okay sharing the maracas with Koda as everyone else snatches them (cause they’re five, and that’s what kids do). Momo has actually yelled at Shouto for snatching the maracas and made him give them back to Koda.

Shouto is working on his snatching habit, as he’s the baby in his family, he’s a bit spoiled. He’s getting better at sharing everyday though, and is thankfully out of his MINE phase! Aizawa and Hizashi are both so greatful for that! Aoyama sadly isn’t out of his mine phase…

Aoyama atleast doesn’t go for everything, just shiny things. He and Tokoyami both are the little sparkle lovers, once covering them both in glitter and sequins when Hizashi and Aizawa were splitting up a fight between Bakugo and Izuku. They never made the mistake of leaving the art and crafts in reach. Aoyama had glitter trailing him for over a week. His parents felt so bad though, the ended up sending MORE glitter and sparkles to make up for what Aoyama used.

Toshinori was very confused when he got put in arts and crafts duty for two days in a row.

[bonetrousledbones]

This isn't a bad undertale opinion but I think mullets are bad and ugly forever "but what about the modern version of the mullet-" THAT ISN'T A MULLET, THAT IS SOMEONE WHO NEEDS TO GET THE SIDES OF THEIR HEAD SHAVED AGAIN TO TOUCH UP THE MULLET. It's not a mullet in the same way that when my own stupid specific multi-length haircut isn't RIGHT when it's overgrown so I need to get it cut. The overgrown mullet is something else entirely, like a wolf cut.

IF YOU DON'T HAVE THE SIDES SHAVED IT ISN'T A MULLET, IF THE TOP IS THE SAME LENGTH AS THE BACK, THAT ISN'T A MULLET (it's a failed mohawk). If my haircut was used by someone else but they got rid of the bangs, that's not the same haircut, if someone took my haircut but shortened the side pieces until they were nearly the same length as the back stuff, then that's a different haircut, or if they grew out the back so it was nearly the same length as the front long bits then it's NOT THE SAME.

If you look up mullet right now you'll see people with medium-short length hair who've combed it back and are claiming it's a mullet!

This is not a mullet, this is short hair combed back

This is not a mullet, it's a wolf cut.

Not a mullet, this is just short hair.

F- you didn't even fucking try this is just HAIR WITH BANGS!!!!

THIS!!!! IS A MULLET!!!!!! Short on top, long on the back, shaved on the sides! THAT'S A MULLET

I can't believe I am out here fighting for the integrity of the definition of the MULLET when it's ACTUALLY MY ENEMY but here I fucking am gnbdsjkgbskgbsdk My 7th grade substitute English teacher didn't wear a traditional mullet in 2009 just for people to make up new hairstyles and lie and say they're mullets.

completely understandable thing to have an opinion on but this is so funny to me specifically because i think my graduating class had at least 4 mullets in it