#if i were to get the grade I deserved from the second part of the test i would get a 5. 5+2 is 7 and 7 divided by 2 is 3.5 which would be 4

[cringelordofchaos]

I

FUXKING

HATE

MY

LKFE

[attapullman]

Pretend | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You aren't sure what's worse: having to share a bed with the boy who was your first boyfriend who you haven't seen in years, or having to pretend he's your boyfriend when you wish he actually was.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: f!reader, light smut, 18+ only as always, unprotected pinv, fake dating trope, one bed trope, lots of switching between present and past tense whoops

A Note From Mo: It's Choose-a-Fic! Thank you to everyone who voted and has been part of my 500 Follower milestone! Hopefully you like the fic I wrote just for you (with a little extra one bed trope as a special thank you)! 😘

Coupe glasses tinkle and laughter rings out as the rehearsal dinner draws toward an end. Everyone’s had a little too much of the hotel’s signature white sangria. On your left, Isabel and Reuben are frozen in blissed smiles, the outdoor lights casting an ethereal glow. An idyllic night before the wedding.

You should be relaxed. You’ve had a little wine, the most delicious dinner, and tomorrow your college roommate is getting married at this stunning resort. But every time that big hand grazes your shoulder or his breath heats the skin of your cheek, you’re reminded none of this is real and you desperately wish it was.

The only difference between six-year-old Robert Floyd and the man standing in front of you is the broad shoulders. Those pink cheeks are just as prominent and his eyes are wide behind updated corrective frames. Sandy hair politely brushed off his face. Even his thin lips warp in that same warm smile that instantly relieves tension. The only significant difference is those shoulders that fill out the entire doorway as he checks his rooming assignment with Isabel.

From where you stand behind her, suitcase in tow, you feel your cheeks warm and your gaze drop. You haven’t seen him since the engagement party where you muttered, “it’s a small world after all” more than once. It seemed all too coincidental that your college roommate would be marrying a guy who just happens to be in the same Navy squadron as your first grade boyfriend. 

To be fair, you had “dated” Bobby Floyd for a total of a week before your parent’s divorce landed you on the opposite side of the country. There hadn’t even been a formal breakup. He’d simply been the guy you jokingly referred to as your “first love” at wine nights. Occasionally you remembered his collection of vintage Coke bottle caps. 

He was practically a figment of your imagination until Isabel introduced you to the man in the nicely ironed pale blue button down and you sputtered out that you already knew each other.

You’re so lost in how bizarre the coincidence of it all is that you zone out through Bob’s check-in and the next few guests that arrive. It’s not until her line of relatives has dwindled that she remembers you’re sat behind her, sorting out the favors for after the reception. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have given you your card earlier!” she apologizes as she flips back over her clipboard to find your room number. It’s all forgiven, you were waiting to finish up your bridesmaid duties before checking in. Get the work out so you can slip on your bathing suit and enjoy the amenities - pool, sun, and cabana boys - before dinner tonight.

She hands you a room card and walks you through the map of the hotel. You miss the second half while gathering up all your items, mentally trying to remember exactly how many rights before a left. Dinner is at seven and anything else surely she will remind you. With a kiss to her cheek, you head off to your room to begin the fun part of this destination wedding.

The property is stunning, all sun-washed sandstone and lush tropical plants. Deep blue terry cloth draped over the sun loungers you would live on all weekend. Some sun to compliment what should be a flawless wedding weekend. Maybe you’d get lucky and one of Reuben’s hot Navy friends would join you for some eye candy. You deserved a little one-weekend-in-paradise romance.

Suite 4. It’s a little deflating to remember that you’re in this big suite alone because all the other bridesmaids have dates. A least you have some privacy. The intricately carved door accepts your room key and you push the heavy wood open, ready to change and relax.

W-why was Bob in your villa?

Standing amongst the floor-to-ceiling windows draped with ochre that overlook the ocean, white oak furnishing topped with plush linen bedding, and a trailing pothos overtaking the wall, was Bob Floyd - right in the middle of changing his shirt. Equally wide eyes taking you in as he held the bunched heathered grey cotton right in front of his head, thumbs through the head hole, mouth open in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

What was he doing in here? This was your room. “Why are you in my room?”

Despite knowing he’s not in the wrong, his cheeks tinge a deep pink. Takes a moment to pop his head in the hole of his shirt and brush out the wrinkles. You cling to to the annoyance of him interrupting your afternoon instead of focusing on how toned he’s gotten as an adult.

“This is my room. Suite 4. See?” He holds up a card identical to yours, the glossy ‘4’ reflecting the sunlight. The same ‘4’ that looks back at you. 

Clearly there’s been some sort of mistake, someone at reception accidentally typing in the wrong number while going about their busy day or Isabel reading her meticulous list wrong. An easy fix. 

You bite your lip. “Oh. Maybe I grabbed the wrong card. I’ll go find Isabel and sort it out.”

“I’ll come with you, she might have handed me the wrong card. Probably supposed to be sharing a bed with Fanboy.” He’s impossibly sweet as always. 

You have no idea who or what a Fanboy is, but you accept his company back to reception, leaving your bag in the room purely because the bridesmaid dress alone weighs a half ton. The walk back there - with a few long turns - is a tad awkward as you both walk in silence, occasionally jerking your heads in the direction to turn.

Isabel has wandered away from reception, and is now soaking in one of the poolside bars with Reuben, their lovesick smiles contagious. She gives you the warmest smile when you approach, face splitting in two as she takes in your companion. “Hey, you two! You get settled in okay?”

God, this is awkward. Thankfully before you can muster the courage, Bob steps in. “I think there’s been a mix up with one of our rooms.”

Her eyebrows furrow as takes in what he said. Eyes flit to her lounger where her clipboard of rooming assignment lies within her tote. Reuben sips his frozen margarita in casual interest, not involved in the logistics.

“Which room are you in?” Even without her clipboard, Isabel is pretty sure she knows who is in what room. She spent months perfecting these details.

You hold up the glossy ‘4’, now slightly sticky with your sweat.

“Four? Hmm, I’m pretty sure that’s right. Was there a problem with the key? Both your keys?”

You give her a bewildered look. “One of us has the wrong key. We’re not sharing a room.”

“Why not? Your prude parents aren’t here to care if you share a room with your boyfriend.”

Every muscle in your body freezes. What is she talking about?

And while you’re paralyzed on the spot, Reuben looks like he’s about to throw up the margarita. Because he knows exactly what just happened. And not only is it his fault, but he does not have a solution.

Before you can question Isabel, the pilot is throwing his arm around your shoulders and grabbing Bob’s elbow, whisking you two away, calling out to his confused fiancée not to worry, he’s got it handled. The controlled hands of a fighter pilot steering you back in the way of Suite 4 while his face reads like he’s watching a plane crash.

Reuben won’t answer any of your questions, holding up a palm while you sputter out the who, what, where’s? of what is going on. Bob silently allows himself to be directed, confusion upon his brow, but patient enough to wait for an explanation. 

Once you’re privately within the confines of Suite 4, the soft scent of bergamot and sandalwood wrapped around your bodies, Reuben finally confesses his mistake.

“Isabel thinks you two are dating.”

You expect to see eyeballs on the floor from how violently they pop out of your head. What? Bob doesn’t look much better. You two have barely spoken in decades, let alone are in a relationship! Why in the hell would Isabel think that?

Reuben drags a hand down his face, wishing he was back in the pool drinking. “When Bob over here told me that you two dated way back, I casually mentioned it to Is. When she asked the other week if he’d be good sharing a room, I thought she meant Fanboy or Harvard.”

You skip over the fact that Bob has talked about you to other people to focus on the details. “She meant me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” By this point he’s rubbing the skin on the back of his neck raw, eyes wildly desperate. “Can you two share? It’s only two nights.”

Your eyes meet ocean blue as you both look at the single bed, then at each other. Bob intervenes calmly. “Why can’t you just tell her we need another room?”

Reuben crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. “We don’t have any other rooms. We booked the place out entirely. Short of Aunt Muriel keeling over, one of you would have to be at another hotel.”

“That’s fine,” you quip, grabbing your suitcase and ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“There’s nothing within a half hour drive. And you’re both in the wedding, that is not going to fly with Isabel.”

You’re tough, you can do hard things. Two nights at a gorgeous resort where you have to share a king-sized bed with the sweetest man on the planet? Could be so much worse. From a look at Bob’s face, he’s having the same realization.

And right as you’re about to tell Reuben that it’s not a big deal, he sends in the clincher. 

“You’re also gonna have to pretend you’re dating.”

“You’re joking.” Your tinny voice rings out in the room. You can do a lot of things - go to a wedding alone, sleep in the same bed as Bob - but you draw the line at pretending you’re dating someone you hadn’t seen until an engagement party six months ago. Nope, no way.

You look at Bob, standing with his hand resting low on his hip, watching this entire scene unfold. Giving him an expectant look, he smooths out his face and gives you a little nod. He’s on whatever team you’re on.

And just as you were about to tell Reuben to get lost, Isabel’s sweet face floods your mind’s eye. That happy smile she always greets you with, and her dismay that something had gone wrong with your room. Her perfectly planned out wedding weekend ruined by her misunderstanding a minor detail. She would insist that you have separate rooms, even if it interfered with plans, and she’d be upset - the smallest tinge of disappointment clouding her bridal smile.

Isn’t the job of a bridesmaid to make the bride not have disappointment?

And now, sitting here at the rehearsal dinner, warm conversation all around you, you can still hear yourself let out a large huff of breath and agree. “Alright, we can pretend for the weekend.”

It’s a decision you stand by, but doesn’t make the subtle way Bob has been playing your boyfriend the last 24 hours any easier. He plays devoted partner a little too well. Carrying your beach bag down to the water that afternoon when everyone wanted to sit by the pool, sweetly rubbing sunscreen into that spot on your back that you can never reach. Grabbing a drink for you when he went up to the bar. 

Your lonely wedding weekend is suddenly filled with this broad-shouldered Navy man who gives you a shy smile every time you make eye contact.

There wasn’t time to put in ground rules before Reuben threw you you to the wolves to socialize with the rest of the wedding party. When Isabel saw you, standing a healthy foot away from Bob and her sculpted eyebrow raised, it was the first test of this “relationship”. Your heart slamming in your chest as you slipped a hand around that thick bicep and rested your hot cheek against his shoulder. His own face fighting anxiety as he allowed you to set the pace. Isabel’s smile brightening as she beckoned you closer, instantly fawning over the two of you and the way Bob’s hand fits a little too nicely around your waist.

Thankfully the copious amount of relatives and friends constantly interrupting Isabel and Reuben prevented your friend investigating too close into this development in your love life. Happy to believe over some intentionally placed hands and the casual way he throws sweetheart in when asking if you want a drink.

“Now that I have you alone, why didn’t you tell me you were together? First loves reunited?!” Isabel drags you away to the other bridesmaids, Bob giving you a small wave as he joins the men. 

You shrug, making a show of looking at the hibiscus to avoid her eyes. Desperate for a believable lie. “I didn’t want to…uh, distract from your big day?”

She wraps you in a warm hug you don’t deserve. “Not distracting in the slightest. He’s the best, you’re so lucky!”

You throw a glance his way, watching his good-natured grin as Reuben’s groomsmen, mostly aviators he’s worked with over the years, joke and jostle on the other side of the lawn. It’s side glances like these that carry through the night; when he pulls your chair out for dinner, asks the waiter to refill your water, and offers you half of his dessert. When your eyes do meet, you drown in the twin oceans that twinkle back at you.

By the time you’re heading back to Suite 4 to share that big bed, you’re pretty sure you’re not pretending to like him anymore.

You’re regretting not putting up the pillow barrier Bob so kindly offered to set up. It seemed childish at the time - you didn’t need a divider to stay on your side of the bed - but now you’re lying here in your little cotton pajamas you did not expect anyone to see and you can hear him breathing and the room is a little too warm. Every sense is on high alert and a pillow barrier would give you an inkling of privacy.

In the silhouette of the moonlight peaking through the curtains, you watch the planes of Bob’s face as he peacefully sleeps beside you. If he’s good looking in the daytime, he’s breathtaking at night. Pale eyelashes against his cheeks, lips slightly pouted, hair mussed from changing sides. You wish you could smooth your fingers over the planes of his face, appreciate the sharpness of his jaw, the roundness of his cheeks.

Tomorrow you have to pretend all over again to be in love with him. A feeling that’s already starting to creep inside you. A whole day of his gentle touches and laughs against your cheek. He was the perfect boyfriend that week in grade school, and even more perfect as an adult. Holding his hand made you want to never let go…which promptly made you want to jump out of your skin. 

This was a tiny white lie to get through Sunday morning. That was it.

You keep replaying the last moment before you retired back to your hotel room for the night. The drunken group sitting around the fire pit, a bottle of tequila making its way around the circle. Not enough chairs so you ended up in Bob’s lap, body cradled in the firm comfort of his chest. 

He made it so natural, the way his hand ran up and down your arm when you shivered in the night chill. You knew he could feel the shock up your spine when you noticed how intently he watched you during your story of how Isabel found a rat in your dorm room. He made you feel like the only person out there by the fire pit. The only person on this island.

When even the tequila couldn’t keep you warm any longer, the group disbanded in favor of cozy beds and hot showers. And even when no one else was in sight he still kept his arm around your shoulder to share his warmth, the pinching heels you’d shed in his hand as he asked whether you wanted to shower first.

Lips accidentally brushing your ear when he said he liked your dress; it matched the bougainvillea.

While you hadn’t spent much time together since your parents moved you away too long ago to remember, you were continually floored by how thoughtful he was still. He remembered how Isabel didn’t like ice, and that a few members of his squadron had allergies. Giving up his water because the woman next to him was without. Not to mention how he seemed to go the extra mile with you. All the years of boyfriends before this and not a single one had ever noticed you picked the pine nuts out of your salad; your new fake boyfriend requesting a fresh one sans nuts.

And it was borderline torture watching him get ready for bed post shower. Face and chest red from the scalding water and slick hair pushed back, towel slung a little too low as he dug through his suitcase. You were still speechless as he offered to put up a pillow barrier or something if it would make you more comfortable, making sure you knew he respected your boundaries.

His eyes were so blue without his glasses…

Caution to the wind, you run a finger over his cheek, brushing away a rogue eyelash and promptly turn away from him. Only one more day and you would be free of wanting a man that wasn’t yours.

The Fitch wedding day was perfect. Wide smiles, bridal lace, stunning hydrangeas, and not a dry eye in the house when Isabel and Reuben officially became husband and wife. It was the storybook start to a happy ever after. 

The sunlight blessed ceremony was followed by a lantern-lit reception, dancing and drinking overtaking the sprawling beach-front lawn of the hotel. You stayed out until the evening ended, the wedding party laughing and overfilling glasses of champagne until the last lantern was blown out. 

You barely remembered your rooming/relationship situation until a warm hand was on your forearm, asking if you were ready to go back to the room. It’s entirely unfair how good he looks in his suit. All day you’ve admired it, from the moment he emerged from the bathroom asking for help with his bow tie to an hour ago, when the wedding party did one last rendezvous on the dance floor. 

Bob has an ease on the dance floor, clearly practiced, the hand on the small of your back gently guiding. A hand big and warm and more distracting than trying to remember your own footwork. The dark-haired woman he seems close with whooping out, “Look at those moves, Floyd!” every time you get close, her own date cheering along. 

You shake the memory from your brain as Bob walks you back to the room. Keep the pining to a minimum until you can get to the airport and not have to see him ever again. You’re doing this for Isabel, your own emotions have no place. Even as you watch him open the door to the room and welcome you inside, looking so perfectly boyfriend-shaped.

Your skin feels too hot, your head clouded by bubbles and loud poppers exploding into the sky. Shedding this satin dress and getting into a warm shower sounds like heaven, washing away the buzzing ill-content flooding your body since you joined the wedding group that morning hand-in-hand with Bob. But a broken zipper interrupts those plans.

“Bob?” He stills on his way to the bathroom, bow tie loose around his neck. You indicate to the stuck zipper you’re fiddling with, warmth flaring at the top of your cheeks at your predicament.

The tips of his ears flush as he walks to you, chest a breath away from your back, admiring the way the satin flows over your curves and dips. Takes a moment to gather your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the zipper. The skin of his pinky accidentally brushes your neck, twin breaths catching at the shock. 

Firm fingers guide the zipper onto the track. As they guide the cool metal down your back, the boiling point that has been simmering below the surface since yesterday afternoon comes to a head. The lace of your bra is visible. Now the silken band of your underwear. The air of the room is still, eagerly awaiting what happens next.

While his voice is shaky, his words are firm. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your head turns to the side, eyes catching his profile, too scared to look at him directly. 

“What are you pretending to do?”

His face falls into the crook of your neck, fingers tightening along the satin of your hips. “Pretending I’m doing our friends a favor. Pretending I’m not falling for you. Pretending every time I touch you it’s not the best part of my day.”

Your hand wraps around his, rough skin and satin beneath your fingers. Needing to tether yourself to reality to make sure this isn’t a champagne-fueled dream that he’s professing against your neck. 

“In that case, I don’t want to pretend anymore either.”

While you can’t see him, you can feel his realization against your skin. Brow furrowing, lips parting. The soft brush of his nose as he straightens up, uses his hands to turn you to him. Finally forced to look at each other amidst the information divulged.

You aren’t sure who leans in first, who braved the waters of uncharted territory. Time stills and speeds up as his face grows closer. The scent of sandalwood and bergamot that’s followed you all weekend replaced by the woodsy mint of his cologne you’ve treated yourself to when tucked into his side. Anyone outside can hear two hearts beating erratically, anxious and excited. 

His lips are warm and comforting, just like everything else about him. Pressing delicately against yours, taking his time and letting you set the pace. You’re torn between the shock of how divine he feels and the greedy need for more. Senses overwhelmed by him; you want to taste more, feel more, see more.

When he pulls away, a gentleman not wanting to overstep, you’re breathless.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” His confession is paired with pink cheeks and large hands playing with your fingers. 

You can’t help but to tease him, the banter from your childhood coming back. “Did it live up to expectations?”

“Way, way better.” Your smile is swallowed in his kiss, chins knocking as you trade off enthusiasm. A groan leaving Bob as you grab his hands and walk back to the bathroom. That hot shower still sounds amazing, but you need more of him.

The travertine tiles glow in the soft light as you watch your childhood love remove his suit, taking time to fold the pieces on the counter, letting you indulge in unbuttoning his crisp shirt as you share another sweet kiss. His own hands twisted in the dress barely clinging to your skin. The sounds that escape him as your hands explore his chest are purely sinful, meant only for your ears.

He barely lets you bask in his body, honed from years of Naval training, before he’s stripping the satin from your frame. You beg for another kiss, but he denies you. He can’t be distracted from watching every inch of skin being revealed. From letting his fingers follow the fabric as it pools at your feet. From kissing his way back up your body until your head falls back against the wall, fingers beckoning him to the shower.

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s more breath than words, but ignite the goose flesh along your skin as he adjusts the hot water and shower head to your liking.

Minutes or hours passed as you reacquainted under the steam. Your fingers tangled in wet strands of sandy hair, fingers slipping along any skin you can reach. His own hands tightly hugging your body, holding you close as he appreciates your nude form. Swallowing each other’s moans as his fingers dip between your folds and you run your palm along his shaft.

The universe has ceased to exist by the time Bob kisses you against the shower wall, fingers wrapping under your thighs to hoist you to his level. Loving the way you giggle as your arms wrap around his neck, trusting him wholeheartedly. Eyes trained at where he lines up with you, relishing the way your breath catches in anticipation. He kisses your forehead as a promise to take care of you, a promise you know he’ll keep.

Once he’s seated deep in you, the moment about connecting rather than getting off, he tilts your head up to check in with you. A kiss as his eyes search you for discomfort. The flames of his eyes burning the brightest blue. One final clench around him and he knows he needs to move; if not for his sake, for yours.

It’s the most glorious dream as he fills you completely, hips rocking into yours as sweaty foreheads meet.

When he brings you to orgasm, a steamy moment punctuated by your muffled screams against his shoulder, there’s nothing fake about the affection as he peppers you with praise. Or when he fills you with his own release a moment later, exhaling thank you, thank you, thank you.

A pillow barrier isn’t even discussed as you lay in his arms that night, cheek against bare chest. His arm trails down your arm like it had the night before, a mindless action you now recognize as meaningful to him as to you. Sated and content, as it should be.

You sit up a little to run your nose along his neck, producing a low groan from him. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“I was wondering, after that,” you gesture to the shower, cheeks heating, “does this mean we’re, uh, dating again?”

He smiles at your flush, cupping your face with one of his large hands. Presses the sweetest kiss to your lips.

“You know, we never had a break up. Technically we’ve been dating this whole time.”

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[mncxbe]

ANNE DONT MIND ME PLS you write so good and reading these drabbles made me want to request one of my own !!

imagine professor!dazai giving u an extra lesson after class 🤭 it's 12 from the list btw <3

CHIYO MY DEAR♡ i'm so happy you requested this one. hope you like it. I made Dazai a literature professor👀♡

12 — Professor!char giving you an extra lesson after class

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: lowkey unethical, sex toys, semi-public space, creampie

"Keep reading, bella, you're halfway there."

Your professor's voice carried a hint of mockery as he soothed your thigh with a hand, pushing the silicone toy deeper inside you. You winced at the sensation, shooting Dazai a desperate glance over your shoulder.

Osamu Dazai was the new literature professor at your college– some prodigy kid who finished his PHD by the age of 25 and whose novels sold like hot cakes and now everyone was singing him praise. Frankly, you weren't too impressed by his accomplishments, but he was the only professor in the whole faculty who actually encouraged you to write something different, out of the norm; so you did anything to stay on his good side.

Even if it meant helping him around the office and fucking him from time to time. Not that you'd complain, Dazai was incredibly good looking and knew how to please a woman.

So naturally, when your professor asked you to come to his office after class you expected a quick fuck, as usual.

But the smug bastard had you bent over his desk with your panties lowered mid-thigh and a vibrator shoved up your pussy, making you read the assignments your colleagues turned in while he made snide comments on the side.

"Was that supposed to be a metaphor? 'The mist of the summer evening' what's that supposed to mean? God, I swear these texts are getting worse and worse..."

"Ngh– 'samu please" you whined, shifting your hips "Can't we just do this later?" The ache between your legs was almost unbearable, you needed him inside you, not that stupid toy.

"Sorry, bella, I have to grade this paper by 6. The kid's coming to discuss it" he mused, watching your walls clench around the toy with keen eyes. God, your pussy was divine– his pants were tightening just by looking at you.

Reaching a hand towards you, Dazai touched your folds, gathering your slick and smearing it all over the inner part of your thighs. "My, my, you're dripping, dear. Better hurry up and finish reading if you want me to fuck you properly" His deft digits found your bundle of nerves and gave it teasing flicks.

Your mind was starting to get foggy, the sentences melting into a jumble of letters as you struggled to read the last paragraph out loud. It was painfully embarrassing, the way your body jolted up as he drew slow circles on your clit with his thumb, how desperate you were to have him inside you. All the while, Dazai was toying with you, playing with your pussy like it was his favourite toy.

The second you were done with your paper you let it fall on the desk next to you. "Done, I'm done." you huffed out, looking over your shoulder to see Dazai's teasing smile.

"Good job, bella. I think it's worth at least 60 points. I mean, it's a progress from the last assignment he turned in. What do you think?"

I think you should stop messing around and fuck me already– you wanted to say back but all that came out of your mouth was a breathy yes, sir. i'd say so too.

The man got up from his chair and slowly ran a hand through your hair. You could hear him unbuckle his belt and lower the zipper of his suit pants, your hips swaying in anticipation. "You're such a pretty girl" he hummed, removing the toy from your pussy with a wet pop and alligning himself at your entrance "And obedient too. I think you deserve a reward ah shiit—"

A broken whine slipped from his lips as he slammed himself inside you, the grip he had on your hips growing fiercer. Fuck, your cunt was basically sucking him in. You were so damn perfect he swore he could spend all day fucking you and it wouldn't be enough.

Your moans filled the tiny office, the smell of your arousal lingering in the air, fueling the man's need. His hips snapped against yours, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. "Y-you're so tight bella think 'm gonna– fuck i'm gonna cum soon"

"Me too me too 'samu" you mewled as the tight knot in the pit of your stomach snapped and you came around his cock, soaking it in your juices.

It wasn't a surprise you came so fast, he'd been edging you for hours and you were so sensitive. Even now as your walls pulsed around him, Dazai's fingers found your puffy clit and your body jolted up. "W-wait 'samu you can't I just–"

"Want you to cum again with me, donna. Can you do that for me?" he huffed out and your pussy fluttered at the sound of his breathy, whiny moans, pressure building up in your core again.

When the two of you reached your high again, his hips halted flush against yours, his milky cum shooting deep inside you. The man's breath was ragged and he hissed when he slightly pulled out, watching the sticky substance form a ring at the base of his cock as it dribbled out of your hole.

Something sparked inside him at that moment and he quickly flipped you over, caging you between his arms as he leaned over your frame. Droplets of sweat clung to the tips of his hair as he pressed his forehead against yours "Can we do it again?"

"But Dazai we just–" you wanted to protest but he cut you off with a deep thrust, making you choke out a moan.

"Don't care bella you don't understand what you do to me I can't get enough of you" he sighed, slowly, almost lovingly, rocking his hips against yours, his lips ghosting over your cheeks, jaw and down the expanse of your neck, making you shudder. You'd lie if you said that his confession didn't stir something inside you too.

Before you could answer, a knock on the door snapped both of you out of the intimate moment you were sharing. "Um... professor? You said I could come by at 6 so we can discuss my paper"

𐙚prompts closed

[bloompompom]

Safekeeping - Aftermath

the second part to safekeeping | read the first part here

After a proposition to lose your virginity to your brother’s best friend, it becomes difficult to move on once you’re away at college. Difficult for who? That's up for debate.

✧ content: ~9.4k word count. eren jaeger x female reader. modern/college au. upgraded from porn without plot to porn with feelings, older brother's friend trope, reader’s brother has a name, sappy af, mutual pining/getting together, oral sex (m!receiving), PIV sex, spit, praise, pussy job, alcohol use, explicit sexual content, explicit language, reader discretion advised. 18+ only. ✧ a/n: because they deserved a happy ending, didn't they?

You did it. Your first semester of college was officially over.

Actually, it ended roughly two weeks ago when your final grades were uploaded. Now, you were smack in the middle of winter break, left with no responsibilities other than lounging before your family’s fireplace. 

You were grateful, and it wasn’t just from the holiday spirit. You were overjoyed—and not to mention, relieved beyond belief—because college was everything you hoped it to be. It wasn’t exactly like the movies, of course, but it was damn near close. You got along well with your roommate, and for once in your life, your professors didn’t hold their grudges toward your brother against you because they didn’t have any.

And it just so happened that you were seeing someone. Something casual, no big deal.

You meant that earnestly. The guy wasn’t much to write home about, and he definitely wasn’t the one. He was just… there. 

It was fun, though! It had to be, or else you wouldn’t keep going back to him. You felt a connection right away—it was why you slept with him in the first place—but after your semi-regular hookups, it just sort of fizzled. It was fine. He was fine. 

Anyway, he hadn’t tried to reach out since you left, even once. You wanted it to hurt only because it felt like it should, but you couldn’t find it in you. Talking to him sounded less than appealing, if you were being honest. You much preferred to spend the better half of your days catnapping around a house much warmer than your dorm. The only person you bestowed your precious attention on was Hitch, your grade school bestie who was also visiting home. But that was about to change. 

After breakfast, your brother Collin came knocking at your bedroom door, creaking it open with just his knuckles. 

You peered up from your phone when he asked, “Got any plans later?”

“No,” you replied. He was giving you this weird look. Then he closed the door. “What’s the about?”

“I’m going to a party tonight. Wanna come?”

You looked from side to side because he had to be talking to someone else.

“Don’t be dumb.” He leaned against the wall like he planned to be there for a minute. “You’re old enough now. I’m sure you’ve gone to plenty at school, anyway.” 

You weren’t buying into the whole brotherly love schtick. You deadpanned, “Mom and Dad said you have to bring me wherever you’re going, right?” 

Collin’s shoulders slumped in that ‘you caught me’ sort of way. “I told them it was an ugly sweater party as a cover-up, and they bought it a little too well—said I have to take you if I want to go. They’re worried about you, all cooped up inside and—”

“Okay, I get it!” You didn’t need to hear that your parents thought you were a loser. There was nothing wrong with wanting some peace and quiet during your vacation. 

To really sell the lie, you needed ugly sweaters. Neither of you had thought that far ahead, and you had to go thrifting after your parents began pestering you about it. On the drive to the store, you told Collin he had to pay for yours since he forced you out, and he spent the ride home complaining that he should have simply snuck out and saved the money. 

“But then you’d have to cover for me, and I’d have to see your sad, lost-puppy eyes as you stayed in for another night,” he jested. You thumped his forehead. 

Hours later, the two of you were back in the same seats. Collin parked the car, and the overhead light cut through the pitch-black neighborhood. He unbuckled, then immediately yanked his knit sweater over his forehead.

“I’m not planning on coming home tonight obviously. I’m staying at Jean’s. What about you?”

“Hitch’s,” you answered, peeling off your own sweater and throwing it into the backseat. “She didn’t want to come, but she offered to give me a ride to her place to stay the night. I doubt I’ll stay long.” 

You stepped out of the car together. The doors slammed shut, and the sound echoed off the houses. 

“Sounds good. Just be sure to let me know when you leave,” he said. 

Collin parked a block or so away. On the walk, you started to overthink things. If Jean would be there, would Eren be there, too? You wanted to say it had been a while since you last thought of him, but that would be another lie you’d have to tally for the night. 

“So,” you drawled.  “Is Jean going to be here?”

Collin snorted. “Duh. It’s his house.”

He didn’t mention that earlier. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Past your stomach, like it had splat on the pavement. 

As fate would have it, you did see him at the party. Eren. Not immediately, but it might as well have been.

You had only drunk roughly three-quarters of a beer when you saw Eren, and it wasn’t nearly enough to dull the weird twirly feeling pitting in your stomach. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but it was a confusing one, that was for sure.

It wasn’t that you regretted what you had done, not in the slightest, but that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous to see him. How couldn’t you be? This was the first time you’d been in the same room since you had naively bared it all for him, looking about as pathetic in bed as a newborn faun taking its first steps.  

At the very least, you expected to see Eren the morning after—you actually dreaded it. You stayed in your bed, laid on pins and needles, staring at your ceiling until you could no longer. And even then, the basement remained silent.

They eventually emerged from their hibernations once the afternoon rolled around. Eren was nowhere to be found, as if he was suddenly the earlier riser of the group. You supposed it was less awkward this way. 

In that emotional cauldron you were brewing, the one that was close to boiling over, you felt a dash of jealousy. It was strange and unexpected, but now that you saw Eren cozied up with some girl, her legs draped over his lap… the feeling was certainly there. 

You hated it. Especially after your eyes lingered for too long, resulting in very brief, very fleeting eye contact between you. It was over and done with so fast that you didn’t even get a good look at his face. Was he surprised? Indifferent? It was only a guess at this point. But you—well, you made it entirely clear that you were avoiding him, what with the speedy way you spun on your heels to flee. It was a dead giveaway as to how you were feeling, whatever it was. 

You tossed back the rest of your beer, then went scouring for what was next. Your best bet was what appeared to be a thrown-together hot chocolate bar. Not the best option but certainly not the worst. The slow cooker, still halfway full, sat warming on the counter. Surrounding it were loose bottles of cream liquors and peppermint schnapps, torn-open bags of marshmallows, and whipped cream if you were feeling fancy. Very on-theme for tonight’s holiday party. 

In an attempt to look busy—keep your gaze low, hands moving—you headed that direction. 

You fiddled with a stack of styrofoam cups and pretended you weren’t overwhelmingly flustered by this unbeknownst feeling. You didn’t do a great job at it. Or at least, Eren didn’t think so. And unlike you, he had already come to terms with his feelings, but only because it had hit him more or less like a freight train. 

So let’s go ahead and recap what the last semester was like for Eren, shall we?

Becoming a third-year freed Eren from the required dormitories and roommates. He spent the tail end of his summer moving into an off-campus apartment. It wasn’t much—exactly what one would imagine when asked to envision an apartment with a down payment suited for a student’s budget. One-bedroom, one-bathroom, but it was all to himself. 

No different than any other twenty-something, Eren was excited to be on his own. He could see it already: no one to answer to, no one to schedule his life around. And definitely no weird-ass habits he’d have to deal with from a roommate—one he, to this day, couldn’t believe he matched with based on the school’s dumb quiz. He just had to wait out the summer until his lease began, and then his life would officially start.

The vision derailed, of course, just two weeks before he was handed the keys to his (self-proclaimed) bachelor pad. The reason? It was easy enough to guess.

Eren could deny it as much as he wanted, but it wouldn’t change that after fantasizing about his friend’s little sister for days, he selfishly prioritized his needs over his friendship and took her virginity. And in a cruel turn of events, he wound up with feelings for her. It seemed a bit like karma, didn’t it? 

From the very second his eyes snapped open the next morning, he convinced himself it was nothing more than a hot dream—albeit one that left him rattled. But when he ambled upstairs, he found his half-drunk glass of water, untouched, exactly where he recalled leaving it. 

Days passed, and Eren waited for that dreadful pang of remorse to smack him upside the head for what he had done—what the two of you chose to do together. It never came. Somehow, that felt so much worse.

Now, he had a secret large enough that if it came to light, he’d end up with a black eye from his best friend. Not that it wouldn’t be well-deserved. Even he could acknowledge that. But he was far from guilt-ridden over it. The only thing he regretted was that he hadn’t spoken to you since. He never talked to you much to begin with—he didn’t even have your phone number—so it’d be weird of him to start now, right?

Eren didn’t know what was the right thing to do, so he defaulted to doing nothing. It didn’t feel like there was any right option, like he had already made too many wrongs to turn back now. 

His worst offense? To him, it was that he still thought of you when he was, for lack of better words, alone. But that was the only time!

That was how he justified it: he’d only allow his memories of you, though painfully limited, to seep to the forefront then and only then. It was a half-assed boundary at most, Eren knew as much, and it was so wrong of him. You trusted him, you told him that yourself, and here he was, shamefully fucking his fist to nothing more than a mirage because that was all you had left him.

He’d think of your sweet sounds. Those little, fluttering breaths would escape you as a shiver no matter where he touched you. Sensitive and soft and warm beneath his palms, he’d replay the moment you first tried to take him on your own. Lowering yourself onto him, Eren could see you shifting your hips as you learned how to take him, all of him, best. Past lulled and heavy eyelids, you were intent on getting yourself off, no matter what it took. And when you got there—fuck, he wished he could see it again. He wanted to feel it again, something his hand could never replicate. 

After, you never went away. That was when Eren knew he was in trouble. When you were no longer a perverted fantasy but still at his side when he’d close his eyes. No longer fucking but basking in the afterglow of it together. Your arm slung around his waist, your balmy cheek resting against his chest. Tangled sheets, kisses pressed to your forehead, bodies sheened and sticky with sweat—all of it. 

This went much deeper than merely offering a helping hand to someone in need before she left for college. Eren did the favor of scratching your back, but what you didn’t realize was that you had scratched his, too. The one itch he couldn’t reach. He still bore the scars of it. 

You had him in a chokehold, and you didn’t even know it. A very, very complicated chokehold at that. Eren couldn’t believe he had caught feelings for you, his best friend’s little sister! But now he was peeking at—no, who was he kidding? He was religiously checking your Instagram stories.

By the look of it, there was finally some action in that love life of yours. You were never explicit about it, sharing no more than a picture of his hand on your thigh or a strategically-snapped photo of your cocktail with the mystery man’s face reduced to a background blur. The subtle art of a soft launch. It told Eren enough. 

So when he noticed how your eyes sprung to the size of saucers when you saw him across the party, he was intrigued. Eren didn’t know when he’d bump into you next, but he often wondered how you’d react. And when you scurried off like a mouse, excitement sparked within him, even if it was at your expense. He needed to know then if you still thought about him—what he did to you, and you to him—despite being with someone else. 

He quickly decided there wasn’t any harm in approaching you to say—

“Hey.”

Eren interrupted you just as you attempted to serve yourself hot cocoa. You nearly dropped the ladle when you heard his voice over your shoulder.

You faltered as you piped back a ‘hi’ but smiled through it only because you realized he came looking for you. 

“Need some help?” He offered you a smile laced with pity. You followed his eyes to find yourself pouring hot chocolate onto your wrist. You didn’t feel the string of it until then.

You cursed but thanked him when he took your cup. Since it was apparent you needed his help, Eren started making your drink as you searched for some paper towels.

“What alcohol didya want?”

“I didn’t think that far ahead,” you admitted, nodding toward cocoa-coated hands. “Clearly.”

His mouth curled up at that but nothing more. He didn’t leave any time for your embarrassment to simmer before he replied, “Then I’ll fix you what I made myself.

By the time you were dry and the remnants of your mess were forgotten in the trash can, Eren had mixed your drink and extended it to you. You thanked him for it and took a sip. It was sweet on the tip of your tongue, enough to comfort the burn of liquor that tickled from your throat and down your stomach. 

You smiled at him, the kind that made your eyes crinkle. “Cream and peppermint liquor. Good choice.”

“I thought so,” Eren beamed briefly before adding, “Oh—almost forgot.”

He reached for the can of whipped cream, locking his eyes to yours as he angled the nozzle toward your face.

“Open up.”

His smirk was like a wordless language that only you understood. He told you he remembered it—in fact, he even still thought about it—and he wanted to know if you did, too.

You opened your mouth. 

A laugh bubbled through you before the cream even met your tongue. Eren’s laugh joined yours when half made it into your mouth. The rest landed on the corner of your lips, daring to spill down your chin. After you thumbed it into your mouth, Eren surprised you by dotting your nose with it, too. 

You weren’t stupid; you knew how this looked because it was exactly as it appeared. The action toed the border between playfulness and something more—something that wasn’t entirely uncharted, given your history, but just as forbidden. You would have cared more if anyone was paying you any mind. And if someone important—Collin, Jean… hopefully the list ended there—were to see, you were convinced you could wisely play it off as a joke. 

You never expected your next run-in with Eren to go like this. You hoped for it, the shameless flirting, but it was more likely that he’d avoid you like the plague. You convinced yourself of it. You moved on from that ephemeral night, began to see other people, and let your dead-end crush fade away. 

No, you didn’t expect this at all. And even if you had, you wouldn’t have imagined it quite like this, with every fiber of your being tightened and set ablaze. And when you laid a hand on Eren’s arm, catching yourself in a fit of giggles, it tightened in reflex, like he felt the burning, too. 

You hurdled through the pleasantries even though they weren’t necessary, considering Eren had sex with you off little more than a single conversation last time. In an act of modesty, you were sure, he didn’t directly ask if you were single but instead teased you about Fabio again—asked if you had met anyone that compared. 

You hadn’t. The guy you were ‘dating’ was far from your dream man, even to the extent that you had already considered how you’d end it when—if you ever heard from him again. 

But Eren didn’t need to know that. You rolled your eyes at the lame joke, offhandedly saying, “I’m sort of seeing someone.”

It piqued his interest, discernible by his raised brow. Either that, or he saw right through you. He leaned into you, close. You wanted to check if Collin was near, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away. 

“Oh, yeah?” He tilted his head and repeated, “‘Sort of.’ What does that mean?”

You sensed he wanted you to spell it out for him, the dirty details of it, but you hummed, “You know, hookups, the occasional dinner—not exclusive.” 

Whether or not he detected the hint at the end, your answer didn’t seem to suffice. “Is that what you want?”

You swirled your drink, took another sip, and suppressed your shiver. “I’m still figuring out what I want.”

The next thing you knew, Eren had snuck you upstairs. For obvious reasons, you had never been to Jean’s house; you had not a clue whose bedroom Eren had chosen for the two of you. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t distinguish much under the tawny lights strung around the room, but that was far from your first priority. What mattered more was that no one saw you slip away with Eren. It was no big deal that you were about to have sex with your brother’s best friend on their other best friend’s bed, right? 

Fuck it. Quite literally.

You shoved the thought to the back of your head much like the way Eren shoved you against the door as he kissed you. He kept one hand cupped around your face and used his other to lock the door behind you. The moment the click of it hit your ears, he pushed a hand between your legs. 

You weren’t going to talk about it, the rather large elephant lurking in the room. That Eren offered to take your virginity much like a business proposition, and you agreed to sex that was supposed to feel just as transactional. But the reality of it was that you hadn’t stopped thinking about that night ever since. Neither of you had, so you’d go on and pretend like it never ended. 

He palmed over the crotch of your jeans, teasing you before reaching for their button. You indirectly made him work for him, keeping him close with your arms looped around his neck—close enough that your noses were smushed together.

Eren struggled with the zipper next, less focused on it and more distracted by your teeth, gently tugging on his bottom lip. He groaned, and it spilled into your mouth like honey.

You broke the kiss, hands flinging to your sides to slip from your jeans. You bent at the waist, eyes fixed up at Eren, as you wiggled them down your legs. Noting the deep rise and fall of his shoulders, you felt a similar stutter in your own. 

He confessed he didn’t have a condom. You told him you were on birth control now, and that was enough for you both to continue—so long as he pulled out, you reminded. He agreed by hooking your leg around his waist. You swung the other to match, locking your ankles against his lower back, and let him carry you to the bed. 

Eren navigated to the bed with suspicious ease. He walked backward, lips still on yours, like he knew the room’s layout and where the bed was. You wanted to wince at the realization—that the likelihood this bedroom belonged to Jean had skyrocketed—but you forgot it just as fast when Eren sat on the edge of the mattress, pulling you down with him.

You straddled his lap with hands on either side of his face, your tongue in his mouth and against his own. He still tasted like peppermint schnapps. Burned like it, too.

He rucked up your shirt as his hands smoothed along your back. You’d think his fingers were made of matches, scorching trails whenever they roamed. You gasped when he dared low enough to grab your ass, pinching at the fat of it. Your thin underwear bunched in his grasp, dragging along your skin with him. 

Eren pinned you to him, working you over the front of his jeans. Back and forth, your hips on a swivel, he used you to get himself hard, only stopping to smear his palms on his jeans when you’d start to slip from his grasp. It didn’t take long before you felt him, stiff and nicely pressed between your legs. 

When you started to grind against him, demandingly and all on your own, the kiss went sloppy. Though the plush of your lips brushed together, it was less like making out and more like swapping breaths. Like a warm fog swirling around you, you grew dizzy off it. Eventually, one of you would have to come up for air.

You pulled away right as he sat back. You’d call it harmonious, but that would make it sound graceful. Each of you fumbled to get your shirt over your head, and it cascaded into a tangle of limbs and clumsy laughs. You reached for the hem of his T-shirt next. You’d hate to be the only one in your underwear.

You didn’t see them but felt the tight muscles of his chest. They didn’t give under your touch, even as you flattened a hand against him. He picked up on the hint, that you wanted him to lay back, and you moved together. He pushed himself further back on the bed, you following in a feline-like prowl above him, until he rested against the pillows. 

It was a new side to you—at least, one that Eren hadn’t seen yet—and he already craved more. You were no longer shy, not in the way he remembered, but entirely disinhibited with this, dare Eren say, beyond turned-on look on your face. Glassy eyes, kiss-swollen lips, and the cherry on top: that devilish smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. 

He could only gawk as you pressed your smile to his sternum, then a bit lower. Then even lower than that. Your lips skimmed over the smooth skin of his hip bone, tickling him, smacking him with the realization of how dangerously low you were. Every muscle in his body tightened, his cock throbbing to be touched. 

Only a tad bit desperate—he’d call it enthusiasm—Eren snaked his hand down to undo his belt. Once it was off, you helped him out of his jeans, working them and his boxers down his legs. You settled between. 

Eren was so kind to you the first time, so exceedingly gentle; the least you could do was give him the chance to see what you’d learned since. 

You placed a hand on the top of his thigh. Already, it flexed. You slid it higher, merely palming over his cock at your leisure—not his. He chewed on his inner lip in anticipation, fighting the impulse to rut against your hand. He wasn’t prepared to look that pathetic, even if he felt that way watching you wet your lips. He knew what was coming next, and if he had any air in his lungs, he would have whined at the sight. 

When you finally brought your mouth to the tip of his cock, he sucked in a breath. That was all it took, just a swipe of your tongue; you didn’t even have to take him past your lips. Wanting to pull another noise from him, you did it a second time, licking him from base to tip, agonizingly slow.

You knew what he wanted. You could see it plainly on his face: Just put it in your mouth already! Anything, please! But instead of flinging a hand to the back of your head, he gripped the sheets. He let you tease him despite that it wasn’t the time or place for it. Outside the door, there was far-off music. It was indistinct, buzzing behind heavy footsteps and creaking floorboards and laughter—the usual party rumblings. It was as ambient to Eren as white noise, no greater than a low drone. He could only concentrate on suppressing his desire to ruin you—as if he hadn’t done so already. But before he could do that, you needed to show him how much you could take.

So you did just that. Inch by inch. 

Eren’s abdominals clenched as more of him disappeared past your lips. Your mouth, wet and oh-so warm, was tight. Intentionally so as you wrapped your lips around him with hollowed cheeks. You found a comfortable, steady pace, bobbing your head over his length. You only paused to gather your saliva, allowing it to pool behind your front teeth. Unabashedly, Eren watched. 

It was a sight so incredibly pornographic yet one he found undeniably adorable. Your little expressions had him smitten—how you pursed and puckered your lips before finally spitting. It dribbled from your bottom lip in a lewd string connecting you to him. You let out an uncomfortable giggle, then snapped it with a swipe of your thumb.

He’d say you officially had him wrapped around your pinky finger now—as if he hadn’t been pretending that wasn’t already the case for months.

Up and down, your hand spread the saliva over his length with little resistance. After a moment, you returned your mouth to him, and the little rasp of a moan he let slip caught your attention. Through tear-damp lashes, you found his eyes keen on you, his jaw slightly slack in what you’d only describe as awe. 

The buttery lights warmed the side of his face, glinting like fire behind his eyes. You studied every part of his face, from the twitch of his brow when you’d lap your tongue along the underside of his shaft to how his nose would scrunch when you’d swirl around the tip. You wanted to learn exactly what made him feel good so you could do it over and over again, as he had with you.

Eren wrestled himself on whether he should let you continue or not. He didn’t want to stop you, dutifully attempting to take all of him without choking, it was just that he had a better idea in mind.

He sat up enough to guide you to his side with both hands. You could tell he was trying to be smug, but his voice sounded taken as he told you, “Looks like whoever you were with must have been a real amateur.” 

Eren had you perpendicular to him now but still bent over so you could keep on as you were. 

“Or just selfish,” he added. His hand stroked down your spine and over the curve of your ass. He reached between your legs and pushed your panties aside to make room for him. “Because this way, I can touch you, too.”

You moaned when his fingers traced over your slit. He used the pads of them to circle your clit and didn’t falter even as you wiggled back against his hand. With his free hand, he cupped your face, gently encouraging you to pick up from where you had left off. You were more than willing. 

He dipped a finger inside you. On impulse, he jerked deeper into your throat when he felt you flutter around the intrusion, as if he could feel it in his cock. Every whimper he’d coax from you sounded even sweeter when muffled.

“Not to mention, he must be a fucking idiot to miss out on this.” Eren’s voice was a murmur up until the end. Then it was a hiss. “Because I bet you look real pretty coming with your mouth full.” 

He spoke to you softly, the timbre of his voice a warm hum, yet his confidence was palpable. The back of your neck burned.

Though you clung to it like a shield, your strength began to waver. It was evident by the quiver in your thighs every time he’d slip from you, fingers dripping, to play with your clit. Every time, you followed it with another strangled whimper. Each was like a gift to Eren.

He had brought you to the brink of becoming undone. All the while, he watched contently, head drooped to his shoulder and everything. He felt the tiny huffs from your nose fan over his pelvis as you sputtered around his cock. Your arm would wobble, elbow threatening to give out, as you struggled to focus on him and your orgasm, impending and fogging your senses. You had forgotten how wonderful another person could make you feel, and this was just his fingers. 

Eren was a bit of an anomaly; it only took you a few encounters to conclude such. Not everyone was talented with their fingers or their tongues or their—the list could go on, really. But it was more than deftness alone. Eren actually wanted to make you come, and by the look of it, he was just as needy for it as you were. And you were right there, the heat of it winding in your stomach until your entire being gained a pulse of its own. 

You came with Eren’s cock in your mouth. It overtook you in a glow, burning you from the inside out in a series of little explosions. You dug your nails into his thigh. Your other hand, though shaky, was still around the base of him. You were hardly conscious of how you squeezed him, but he didn’t even feel it. He was more enraptured by the way your throat tightened around him as you choked through your orgasm.

Past the thick thrumming in your ears, you heard how much Eren enjoyed that lovely little mouth of yours—how much he enjoyed using it.

Thunder emitted low from his chest as he rolled his hips, meeting you halfway to ensure every bow of your head was punctuated by another squeak of the mattress and his tip bumped against the back of your throat. He was as delicate as could be while fucking your mouth, yet tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. They welled up and threatened to drip down your cheek, teasing him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It tumbled from Eren’s mouth in a ragged chant. His head was thrown back into the stack of pillows, but he fought to steal a glimpse of you before your knees buckled beneath you. “Look at you. You’re fucking perfect.”

Your heart skipped. 

You liked that you were the reason for his pleasure—the reason his cheeks bore a flush, and why he could no longer hold himself back. Seconds ago, you had set a scene just as vulgar, helplessly grinding against his hand in a chase for your own high. And now that he was just as swept up in it, he could no longer pretend he had dreamt only of fucking you gently.

There was no way Eren could finish before he had the chance to get started. He regrettably pulled out from your mouth with a spitty pop.

You were still panting when you traded positions. Eren laid you back on the bed, gazing down to trace over the features of your face. He petted the side of it when he said, “You did so good.”

He kissed every spot he touched. Your cheekbone, the lobe of your ear, then the dip below it. You felt each one at the base of your spine.

“Talk to me.” Eren nuzzled the words in the nook of your jaw, breathed them over your skin, sensitive and already tacky from your swelter. His tongue and teeth grazed down the column of your neck. “Tell me what you want.”

There wasn’t any air behind your voice, nothing to carry it when you tried to reply, “Take off my underwear. Please.”

You went to raise your hips for him, but your legs had long turned to mush. There was an unmistakable tremble to them as Eren shimmied off your underwear. You placed a leg on either side of him, spreading yourself and welcoming him between. His eyes, alert as a hawk’s, widened before falling exactly where one would predict. Then he swallowed hard. 

He was faced with the task of taking all of you in, as if it were even possible. You followed the tips of his fingers as he trailed them up your curves with a butterfly’s touch. He toyed with the strap of your bra, now wilted off your shoulder and dangling at your arms. With a quick tug, he had your breasts popped over the cups.

Eren licked his lips. “God, you’re—”

He eagerly crashed to your chest, right between your tits. He didn’t intend to cut himself off, but he decided it was probably for the best; he wasn’t sure what he was about to spout out, anyway. 

You were just as sensitive as he remembered, unable to keep still as his large hands squeezed at your breasts, kissing and nipping and licking every inch of the delicate skin. When his mouth was latched to one, flicking his tongue at your perked nipple, he’d continue playing with the other, rolling his thumb over it. 

As though you could possibly drift away, you anchored yourself to Eren. You raked a hand through his hair, fingering through the lank strands that escaped his tie and hung loose. Before you could screw it up any further, you flinched when you heard voices booming on the other side of the wall. Your entire body froze as you glanced over to the door. 

Either Eren didn’t hear it or if he was only pretending he didn’t. His hold on you was steadfast as he covered your body in kisses—that is, until the handle jiggled. He tore away then to follow your line of sight. 

You waited for something to happen. Anything. Like the knob to rattle again, or a pound that would shake the door. Maybe someone would kick it down—you didn’t know! But the only sound between you was the thumping of your heartbeat against Eren’s.

Whoever it was, they must have wanted the room for the very same reason you and Eren did because, after a minute passed, you believed they had left. The groan of the floorboards grew distant as another hot and bothered pair continued their search for a vacancy. 

You brought Eren back to you by lightly taking him by the forearm. You were unable to wrap your fingers around the entirety of it but managed to pull him in, anyway. At the same time, you dug your heels into the mattress and scooted closer to him.

“I want you,” you quietly confessed. You lifted your hips, angling them in an attempt to meet his cock. 

Eren needed to convince himself this was real—that you were real. You hardly gave him the time to before you hitched a leg around his waist. He collapsed over you, caging you between his forearms. His eyes had darkened, brows sitting lowly above them in that drunken, determined look of lust. 

He kissed you. The corner of your mouth first, then fully on your lips. Between your legs, you felt him brush against you, throbbing. His tongue parted your lips, slipping past them the moment he pushed inside you. 

It stole your breath. Though your mouth was agape, a tiny ‘o’ against his, not a sound left you. He slipped out of you, then filled you again. Your breath returned in the form of a moan. He did this a few more times, deeper with each tilt of his hips, fucking you languidly, just to see if you could take it before he bottomed out.

Eren straightened out. “You okay?”

You gazed up at him and watched his lips curve into a soft smile when you whispered, “More than.” 

Then you watched it melt away once you wiggled against him, encouraging him, asking for—no, taking more of him. As though he had been waiting on you, he finally pushed deeper until he was flush against you.

You realized Eren’s composure was an act because it much snapped like a rubber band. You caught his inhale, through his nose and sharp in your ear. His head dropped on his exhale, and you felt it vibrate through you. He thrust into you a few more times, adjusting to you, while tiny grunts played at your ears. 

Keeping in mind your whereabouts, you expected this to be a quickie. But before you knew it, you were having the type of sex that wasn’t meant for a friend’s bed. It became pounding hips, so intense—so fucking good—that you heard Eren’s hand hit the headboard with a smack, gripping the top of it for support. It was erratic kisses. Ones that were messy and missed but would catch another part of the face, like the bow of your lip or dip in his chin; gasping and stealing damp breaths from one another in a bedroom growing headier by the second.

Lest he wished to come now and completely ruin everything, Eren had to pump the breaks. He sat back onto his calves and shoved a hand through his hair, sweeping it away from his face. His chest looked heavy, yet his arms remained sturdy as he cradled your hips. He fucked you slowly, mesmerized by the sight of him burying inside you—how well you took him—again and again. 

Flustered, you tried to remember how to breathe, but Eren made it difficult with his lazy eyes and an even lazier smile. 

You felt your whole body react when he placed a hand at the base of your neck. You were silk beneath his touch, from the dip between your chest, down to your navel. He traced along the side of your body and the swells of your breasts, then repeated it.

Eren had known you for years, but he didn’t know you—not like that. But he knew enough to say he liked you. And he was sure he’d only grow to like you more—a lot more.

He couldn’t wait to get there, to know everything there was to learn about you. Your birthday, your favorite food, what you liked to do on a rainy day—hell, he wanted to know what superpower you’d choose if presented with the option. He wanted every detail of it, and that had to mean something. 

Eren grabbed your hand. He held it against his face and kissed the inside of your wrist. 

“You’re so soft,” he told you, voice pitched low and spoken into your skin. 

The only coherent thought you had was how desperately you needed him again. You yanked him forward until his mouth was back on yours, where it belonged. Taking your open mouth as an invitation, he sucked your tongue lightly. You felt a frisson of heat beneath your skin, but it prickled like a chill.

“Eren. More,” you pleaded, your voice lost somewhere in his mouth. 

You twisted beneath him. Eren pulled out and watched as you rolled to your stomach, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. You could only glimpse over your shoulder, but it was enough to see that his eyes were trained on you.

Suddenly hot under his gaze, you rushed to add, “Only if you want to.”

Whether it was intentional or Eren was just seeing things, he swore you arched your back as you said it, ass in the air like it was an offering. 

Of course he wanted to. He wanted to so badly that he nearly couldn’t get the words out. From his mumbling, you could only make out, “You have no fucking idea.”

Eren had to kiss you then, everywhere that he could reach. Your lower back and then the valley of it next. He kissed a path between your legs. With his hands on your ass, he spread you, luring a squeal from you when he licked a stripe through your pussy. 

He stood tall on his knees, kicked your legs apart, and plunged inside you with a swift swing of his hips. You let out an indulgent moan, your hands clawing fists into the pillows. With the fingers digging into the dough of your sides, he worked you over his cock. 

“You feel so fucking good,” Eren panted, almost like a laugh, as if he was in disbelief. He wanted to say he had forgotten how wonderful you felt, almost like you were made for him, but how could he forget? He had only been longing for it. 

“Fuck,” you whined under your breath.

You didn’t see it, your head had dropped between your shoulders, but Eren smirked. 

“You like when I talk to you, don’t you?”

He watched how your back arched deeper before you answered, babbling, “Yes, yes—oh fuck, yes.”

There was little else on your mind other than how close you were to coming for the second time. Absolutely desperate for it, you bounced back against Eren’s thrusts. He cursed through gritted teeth, watching you sink back onto his cock. His hand snaked between your legs in search of your clit. He began rubbing tight circles that you felt in your toes. 

You squeaked out a small, breathless sound as your body tightened.

With a voice like gravel, Eren hummed, “There you go.”

He fucked you through it. His hips never lost their pacing, and the rhythm of his fingers was resolute even as you twitched below him. It wasn’t until you heard him grunt, “I can feel it—shit, I can feel you coming—you’re so tight,” that he began to strain.

With a cheek smushed into the sheets, your moans were choppy until they sputtered into one last sigh. You went slack in Eren’s grasp.

He slipped an arm beneath you before you could crumble to the bed, holding you close enough that he could feel your rabid pulse against his arm. Eren folded over you, lazily rutting into you. You felt his weight atop you, the words he etched into the nape of your neck when murmured, “I wanna be with you.”

Blame it on the orgasm, but for whatever reason, it didn’t register with you. Be with you—wasn’t that what was happening right now?

His hand scooped your chin, angling your face to kiss your temple.

“Come back to my place.” Eren ghosted his lips over your ear. “I wanna be with you tonight, like I should have the first time.” 

You could only assume the blood had left your head by now. Your eyes fluttered shut. You were as malleable as putty; you’d agree to just about anything at that moment—if you could. Hazy off all those feel-good hormones, you couldn’t manage a nod as your body rocked with his. After a few more jerks of his hips, he pulled out.

He didn’t come but flipped you onto your back. You slumped into the pillows willingly, your legs falling at your sides so Eren could nestle between. He didn’t enter you again but laid his cock against you, nice and slick for him, and spread you with it. He held himself there with a flattened palm and fucked between you. Wrecked and tortuously sensitive, the head of his cock bumping your clit had you spinning to the point of seeing stars.

Eren’s eyes snapped shut as he focused on your blissful purrs below him. He was already close; it only took another stutter of his hips before he threw his head back and came across your stomach, some of it spurting as high as your tits and neck. The muscles of his arms flexed, the veins of them chiseled and defined, as he held you there, soft and pliant for him.

He was still breathing hard when he stilled. He flexed his fingers, stretching out an ironclad grasp, as he sat back on his heels.

“Fuck, what a mess.” Eren croaked a chuckle. “Sorry.” 

He stood and poked around the room a bit before locating a tissue box on the dresser. It skipped through your mind to ask if this was Jean’s room, but you decided it was best you didn’t know. 

Eren gave you some tissues before taking his handful to wipe you clean. Despite your attempts at controlling it, you were visibly trembling. He must have noticed because he didn’t rush to dress but flopped beside you, even if he claimed it was because he was too hot to put his shirt back on. 

You lolled your head to the side to look at him. Dew painted the edges of his face, catching what little light was there and defining the structure. 

You shared a look, let it linger between you. It was unreadable. A face of shock—one you surely mirrored, and yet comfort lapped at you like tropical waves. The two emotions, together in stark contrast, could be summarized with a simple, ‘It’s you.’ 

Said once through a heavy sigh, like the realization that you were only startled by a friend around the corner.

Said twice with your jaw cartoonishly dropped to the floor when you realized who you had sex with again—the prickle of surprise when you rouse from your dream only to find them naked at your side.

Eren patted the top of your thigh before heaving himself upright. Time to go.

You quickly dressed and straightened out as much as possible, double-checking that no one’s clothes were on backward. Eren was fixing his hair in the mirror when he asked, “You ready to get out of here?”

“You were serious?” you questioned—nicely, of course. You figured it was only a heat-of-the-moment sort of deal.

He caught your eye in the reflection. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t serious.” 

It slipped from his tongue easily. It sounded natural, no different than fact, as he told you what he wanted—you. The words were weighty, dragging your woozy head back down to Earth. They sobered you up like a splash of ice water to the face. 

You didn’t have any desire to return to the party. There was no way either of you could continue on as though nothing happened. Someone would catch on. Besides that, you didn’t want to pretend any longer; you were much more interested in seeing where the rest of the night would take you—where Eren would take you. 

You plotted your exit well enough that Eren was waiting on your ride outside by the time you were sneaking out. You had texted Collin that you were leaving and took his lack of reply as a good sign. You gave Hitch a half-truth—told her you were going home with someone but didn’t specify who. 

Eren’s apartment was nice, neat. Still exceptionally new and hardly lived in. Then again, he didn’t fit the type to go full throttle into interior decorating. 

He immediately pointed out the bathroom because you had complained you felt gross during the drive. There, you rummaged around a bit before you found his face wash in the shower. You freshened up as much as you could, stealing a swig of mouthwash to rid the syrupy taste of liquor from your teeth. 

Eren knocked at the door. You spat into the sink, wiped your mouth, and peeked out.

“Thought you might want these,” Eren said, offering what appeared to be clothes much comfier than your own, folded and stacked in his hands. 

You thanked him, inspecting them once he left you to change. You decided on just the T-shirt; it covered enough. There was no use in hiding now, and it certainly wasn’t worth risking tripping over the legs of his sweatpants.

Though you were practically tip-toeing, Eren heard you the second you walked into the kitchen. He stepped out from behind the refrigerator door dressed in just a pair of shorts, no shirt. You held your breath when he smiled at you, ever so lopsidedly that you found it cute. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” he said like an admission, with a sheepish laugh and all. 

Your giggle was just as lighthearted, smiling when you replied, “I am, too.”

He neared you in a step with ardor sparkling through his eyes. With hands closed around your waist, he scooped you up and plopped you onto the counter. 

You yelped when its chill hit the backs of your thighs. You made yourself comfortable, sitting happily and with dangling feet, as you watched Eren cycle through what little preparation was necessary for a frozen pizza.

You’d seen him like this, exactly like this, just as you’d seen all of your brother’s friends lumber out from his bedroom at three in the afternoon on a Saturday. You never looked for too long; that was off-limits. But now, things were different. He was different—to you, at least. Now you could touch. 

You studied the sinewy muscles of his back, how they pulled taut when he reached into the freezer. Even under the fluorescent light of the kitchen, the crests of his shoulders shone like gold even though it was the middle of a sunless winter. 

Eren squinted to read the instructions on the back of the box. Your snickering was met with his side eye, and he followed it with a ‘don’t laugh’ as he tossed the box aside.

He snatched a bag of chips from the counter, and the two of you split them as an appetizer while the oven preheated. While the pizza baked, you played a game of twenty questions, just to pass the time. And when the timer blared, you ate your slices straight from the oven and asked each other questions with burnt tongues. 

You learned that Eren’s birthday was on March 30th and that his favorite food was a cheeseburger, hold the pickles—that part was important. When it rained, he preferred to either nap or go outside to watch the storm, no in between. And if he woke up one day to discover he had superhero-like powers, Eren would want to be able to teleport and travel the world, even if his clothes couldn’t come with him—yes, you asked. 

The questions continued into the bedroom because some answers, like the one to the superpower question, inspired lengthy conversations. You met Eren in his bed and curled against him, letting him spread the blanket over you. You were glad to have stuck with just the tee because you liked the feeling of his skin returning to yours, your legs intertwined with his.

It was Eren’s turn. It was the final question to end the game. You thought he’d contemplate it longer, as he had with his previous questions, but it only took a beat for him to ask, “Can I see the guy you’re dating?”

“Absolutely not!” You scoffed a laugh at his audacity, even sitting higher in your seat to balk at him. “Besides, that’s not how the game works.”

Still, his grin widened. “C’mon, please. It’s the least I deserve.”

He poked you playfully, causing you to giggle as you asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I need to size up my competition.”

You wanted to be just as bold and tell him there was no competition, none at all. But your reluctant, “Fine, here,” said enough as you settled back into the crook of his arm. 

You outstretched your phone before your face, far enough that Eren could see the screen, and scrolled to your dating app. You flitted through his profile because you didn’t want Eren to get a proper look, but he plucked the phone from your hand anyway. He glanced from you to the photo, then back to you once more.

“Seriously? This guy?” He tilted his head knowingly. “You know you can do better than that.”

Thinking you were clever, you sassed, “Oh, then are you suggesting you’re better?”

He flashed a cheeky smile. “Of course I am.”

You grabbed your phone from him with a roll of your eyes. “Whatever. He’s nice.” Eren pulled a face. “What?”

“It’s just the way you said it—‘he’s nice,’” he explained. “You don’t actually like him, do you?”

Eren was right. You didn’t want to admit it, though, not with the way he was eyeing you. But the truth sat heavy in your chest, and it consoled some of the weight to outrightly say, “No, not really. Not like I thought I did.”

You didn’t have the chance to set your phone aside before Eren snagged it again. Now aware of the guy’s name, he easily sorted through your contacts and found your messages with him. The unanswered text you last sent, well before winter break, stared back at you mockingly.

You felt a twinge of embarrassment waiting for Eren to comment on it, but whatever he was thinking, he kept the comment to himself.

It was undeniable that the guy must be a real prick for ignoring you. In turn, Eren determined he probably deserved what was coming: a message as short and sweet as ‘I think it’s best we don’t see each other again.’

Though you could have stopped him at any time, you still gasped, “Eren!” when he sent the text. It was meant as a scold but spilled from you as a laugh—as laughter, shaking your shoulders and making it a challenge to get your phone back.

A middle-of-the-night text like that could only mean one thing. You were sure he’d put the pieces together—that you had gotten with someone else—but you didn’t care. Now that he was out of the way, Eren ditched your phone next and captured the last bit of your attention.

His eyes were loyal to you, looking you straight in the face as he told you, “I like you. A lot.” He said it calmly, with a voice like a breeze. He brought a hand to your face and grazed it with the backs of his fingers. “Way more than I should, considering…”

Eren’s voice trailed off in a too-knowing way. He left it up to you to fill in the blank. No, blanks. Considering the only history between you was a two-night stand? Considering you lived three hours away? Or—how could you forget?—was it that you were the younger sister of his best friend? 

The correct answer? All of the above. 

Eren had more to say; you were sure of it. There was much—too much—left to be said. Tonight wasn’t the night for it.

You buried into the curve of his arm. Nose pressed against his neck, you breathed in the smell of his day, the salt on his skin from fucking. You lazed a hand on his chest. He was warm, live beneath your palm, his heartbeat like the patter of a tiny drum. 

You took the bait then, carelessly pitching him, “So, how’s this going to work?”

Eren heard the smile in your voice. His fingers found your chin, angling your face toward him. On it was that coy smile of yours, the one he remembered from that night. He kissed it, soft-lipped, as chaste as a mere taste.

“We’ll figure it out.”

[wndrhyuka]

after the exam.

the first part. sfw suggestive. prof!mingyu. not proofread. wc 2.7k

good evening, y/n,

midterm grades were just posted, which i hope you've had the chance to look at. much to my surprise, it did not go well. the class average was just that. average. but your score in particular was lower than i had expected.

as you know, my office hours run from 3-4pm on MWF. we can review any material that might’ve challenged you. i’ll have a copy of the exam on hand if and when you come by.

i’d like to see you succeed in this course before the semester ends, and to better prepare you for any courses to follow this one.

best,

kim mingyu.

"fuck." you sighed aloud to yourself. checking your emails before going to sleep was now a decision you had come to regret.

you sat on your uncomfortable bed in your dorm, legs crossed with your laptop on your thighs. blindingly bright screen displaying text that twisted your stomach. you supposed you deserved this.

before the exam, you promised your professor that you'd "definitely" see him in his office. you mostly said so because you felt confronted, but looking back, you weren't sure why you did that.

no one's office hours worked your your schedule. your mornings throughout the week were filled with back to back lectures and the second you were done with class, you were on the bus to your part-time job at a coffee shop near your university.

you remember chan offering to study with you when you gave him your number, but you figured he also had other exams to cram for and you didn't want to get in the way.

so you studied on your own. youtube videos, practice tests, worksheets, the textbook, your notes, and your returned homework. every single symbol and number seemed to mush together on your paper.

you had seen your score when it was posted, and with all that effort, you earned yourself a 48/100. that score might've made sense if you said fuck it and chose not to try on the exam, but that wasn't what you were trying for at all, and this email in your lap told you that your professor caught onto that too.

you didn't have the guts to respond to him. it reeked of disappointment and you couldn't bear to acknowledge that. you shut your laptop and put it on your desk before going to bed.

the next morning you stood outside your calc lecture, waiting for the students inside to finish up.

"hey," you hear someone approach you. it was chan. he stands beside you against the wall of the corridor.

"hey." you can't help the smile that grows on your lips.

"so... did you check your score for the midterm?"

your shoulders drop and you roll your eyes, "wish i didn't."

"i probably got a lower score than you." he replies.

"what'd you get?" your voice reeked of doubt.

"64."

you scoff and turn away from him, arms crossed against your chest, "you're such an ass."

"what?!" he laughs, leaning closer to you when you move away, "there's no way you got less than me. i couldn't answer half of those questions."

"keep rubbing it in, chan. it feels great," you can't help but laugh at your failure, though laughing about it did cheer you up, especially with chan.

"you gonna tell me your score?" chan continues to tease you as students flood the hallways, leaving their lectures.

"never." you wince and hide your face in your hands.

"oh, come onnn. i wanna know." he nudges your shoulder with his.

you shake your head behind your hands, hiding your giddy smile and feeling the heat emitting from your cheeks on your palms. probably from the embarrassment, or maybe because you liked chan.

"class is starting, you two." you hear a stern voice ahead of you.

dropping your hands, you lift your head to see who it was.

your professor. he eyes you both through his glasses, holding his bag in hand before entering the classroom and letting the door close behind him.

when the door shuts, you're left in the silence of the now empty hallway rendered speechless as you and chan turned to each other, sharing confused expressions.

looking back through the slim window of the door, you could see your professor setting his bag down on the desk in the corner, pulling out a stack of papers.

you sigh, somehow feeling defeated. "did we do something wrong?" you whisper to chan. the first time you'd been scolded was understandable, but you weren't sure you deserved his abruptness this time.

chan looks at his phone and checks the time. "we still have 5 minutes 'til he's supposed to start class." he scoffs as puts his phone back in his pocket, "c'mon."

he walks forward and opens the door to the class. you head inside, walking between the rows of students to find your usual seat. chan takes a seat next to you while you unpack.

"morning, everyone." mingyu speaks at the front of the class, “i posted the grades to your midterm yesterday afternoon. if you haven't seen them yet, you can look in your online gradebook." moody groans and whispers cast a blanket over the students as he makes his way toward his desk, picking up a large stack of papers.

"i'll pass them back now." he begins walking around the class, calling out names, finding the student, then returning their test. “i made some notes on your work. please read them. it might help you understand any mistakes you made.”

"chan." he calls. chan raises his hand.

when he places the exam on chan's desk, you peek over at it. as expected, "64/100" was written largely in red pen on the first page. chan scooted it over to you, allowing you to look at it.

your lips straightened into a line as you picked it up, already feeling dissatisfied with yourself. you flipped through the pages to find the questions you knew you got wrong. when you analyzed his work, it all made sense. he made it seem so much simpler than you thought it was.

"y/n." you hear you professor call from behind you. turning around in your chair, you raise your hand and see him make his way over.

as he drew nearer, you felt your heart beating faster in your chest. maybe you were anxious because you stood him up last week. or maybe it was because he had been curt with you and chan. even if neither were the case, there was still one fundamental cause for your unease. you found him incredibly attractive.

he looms over your left shoulder and sets your exam down, large build positioned behind you so closely that you felt the heat of his body on your back. the warm and woodsy scent of him filling your nose and threatening an upward curl at the corner of your lips. you bite down on them and attempt to shake your head out of the gutter while focusing on your breathing.

after handing back your exam, he bends down from his upright stance, "see me after class, please."

your breathing comes to an abrupt stop as the pressure of your teeth in your bottom lip increases tenfold. his voice was smooth as velvet. speaking just above a whisper, you felt chills run down your spine as his words reached your ears. the aroma falling from him wouldn’t help either. his cologne was intoxicating at this proximity. it made you dizzy, and you felt your eyelids become heavy for a moment.

before you can even exhale to respond, he walks away and returns to the front of the class. you turn toward chan to see if he caught that, but he was sitting with eyes glued to his phone in his lap. you thought about telling him what happened until you were interrupted.

"alright. let's get started." his voice commands the attention of the room. chan puts his phone away.

you look toward your professor who begins writing on the board. everyone around you picks up their pencils and begins taking note of his work, but you were frozen.

your mind was occupied. you were looking at the board but nothing was registering. focusing on the lesson seemed impossible after hearing his voice in your ear like that. you felt terrified, flustered, and some third emotion that you couldn't quite name, though it seemed to be the strongest.

the hour long lecture carries out, and you couldn't concentrate for one second. chan noticed your pencil clutched in your hand, but the page of your notebook empty.

"y/n," he whispers.

you jolt, waking from your trance, and face him.

"are you okay?" he quietly asks.

you smile and nod, chuckling awkwardly before slowly turning your head down towards your notebook. you rest the tip of your pencil against your notebook, but write nothing as your subconscious resumed its hold on you.

you sat there for the remainder of the period with your back straight, but your eyes slightly downward towards your notebook, more than distracted with several thoughts running through your head.

what would he say? would he shame your score? would he confront you about standing him up? did he ask anyone else to stay back? would he be passive aggressive like he had been with you and chan? the questions clouded every corner of your brain.

you were awoken again by the sudden rustling of papers and backpacks zipping around you, including chan's.

"y/n, are you sure you're okay?" he asks again, "you didn't write anything down."

"oh, yeah. i just..." you stare blankly at him. he stares back with concern in his brow. "i didn't feel like it today, i guess." you blurt.

"alright," he stands and swings his bag around his shoulder, "i have to head to my next class, but i'll see you here monday?"

"yeah!" you beam, trying not to cause worry.

"later," he smiles. adjusting his bag, he then makes his way to the door.

"wait, chan!" you exclaim.

he stops and turns around quickly with a quirked brow.

"could you, um, send me a picture of your notes, please?" you ask sheepishly.

he giggles, "sure thing. i'll text you tonight." he says with a cheeky smile before leaving.

after he's gone, you sigh deeply. looking around, you notice everyone had left the class. your professor remained at the board, erasing the board clean.

you put your things away and pick up your bag, cautiously walking up to him.

as you moved closer, you could spot what your eyes always used to fall on. his body. the muscles that never failed to peek through the cotton button ups he wore. biceps flexed while he swiped the eraser across the board. back muscles engaged as the words on the board disappeared.

"y/n." he utters, still facing the board.

your eyes widen, realizing you'd been standing behind him silently for a bit. he puts the eraser down, board now clear.

"thanks for seeing me." he looks downward to meet your gaze. "i just have a few things to ask you." he walks over to his desk to lean against it, looking all too familiar to the last time you were stuck with him after lecture.

you don't move in closer, only turning on your heels to face him. "yes?" your voice emits a much higher pitched reply than you wanted.

"did you get my email last night?" he asks, folding his arms against his chest.

"i did, yes."

"and you didn't reply?" he asks soberly.

shit.

"oh. well, i m-meant to. i should've. it was just... it was really late and-"

he chuckles outwardly at you, halting your nervous blabbering before it inevitably got worse. you turn your chin away from him, confused at his behavior.

"i'm just teasing you," he huffs after his laugh, "that's actually why i wanted to see you today."

you resist rolling your eyes and instead wear a smile. "i'm sorry, professor. i did intend to reply."

"don't worry about it. although, you might be worried about other things." he looks down and raises the knuckle of his finger up to his glasses and straightens them on to sit higher on his nose bridge, "your exam." you wanted to scream when he said the words. "was that the score you wanted?"

you chuckled so you wouldn't cry, "no, sir, not at all. i-i'm not sure what happened with me." you avoid his eyes.

"an issue with you?" he tilts his head slightly. "what makes you say that?"

"i don't know," you sigh, "i guess i was just extremely unprepared for this test."

"mm," he hums. "is that the score you think you deserved?"

you furrow your brows at that. "since when are exams graded on what the student deserves?" you scoff, "i don't think that really matters..."

"i do." he quickly comments. it almost sounded like he was challenging your sentiment, but you had nothing to say in return.

"let me ask you this, y/n. did you ever plan on coming to my office hours the week before the exam? you did ask me when they were."

there it was.

it felt like he had you in the jaws of a trap. though, you expected him to mention this at some point.

"i did want to see you, professor, but your hours didn't work with my schedule." you explained rather urgently.

his eyes dart down for a moment to think, "what about the TA's?"

"his don't work for me either." you answered, nervously chewing on the inside of your cheek watching his face react to your excuses.

he sat there silently for a moment, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb, appearing in deep thought. you didn't know what to do with yourself.

"the learning assistants for calc have limited hours too. i have back to back classes in the morning and i have work in the afternoons." you offer more excuses to fill the uneasy silence.

he meets your eyes again. "when do you get off?"

"sorry?"

"of work. when do you leave work?" he doubles down on his question.

"it depends?" you reply hesitantly. "if i'm lucky, i'll be done around 5pm. but i don't usually have much luck."

"i see," he murmurs as he looks into your eyes for a moment. "one more question for you."

you perk up to make yourself open to his question.

he straightens his posture against his desk and uncrosses his arms. "if you were presented with an opportunity to get the exam score you deserve, would you take it?"

your head tilts back slightly. "o-of course," you respond. you understood what he was saying but you couldn't help the confusion his statement brought. "i just wouldn't be sure why i deserved to be offered that opportunity, i guess." you chuckle.

"so that's a yes?" he presses.

"...yes." you pause. his ambiguity made you nervous to agree.

he got off his desk and was now standing in front of you. your eyes followed his as they rose far above your line of sight. "i know you're a smart girl, y/n. you just can't access the help you need. so i'd like to offer my help."

"that's very kind of you, professor, but i can't make it to your office hours or-"

"i want to reschedule them to a time that'll work for you." he cuts you off.

your words were caught in your throat again.

"you said you get off at 5?" he continues.

"i..." his assuredness threw you off. "it depends, sir." you spoke slowly. you wanted to answer him properly but you were too confounded with his overly polite suggestion. "sometimes i leave around 7, but i have no control over when my shift ends." just thinking about it all while he was so close to you made you stressed.

"if you were able to communicate with me exactly when your shift ends, i'd be happy to work around your availability to help you with this class."

"what do you... mean?" with mingyu looming over you, it was difficult to process what he was saying. even more so because his cologne was engulfing you in its cloud yet again.

"tell me when you're done with work and i can arrange to meet with you. does that sound good?"

"y-yes, but... how will i tell you?" you mumble, eyes blinking heavier than before.

"you're no good at responding to emails, are you?" he smiles playfully, "how about i give you my number instead."

[ultralightpoe]

Full House ll - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: Went from cute fluff to straight angst. Sorry?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (not Eddie and reader though), angst angst angst. A fight.

Word count: 10,009 (ohhhhhh boy)

Part l HERE

(THANK YOU FOR THE GIF @feodor-dostoevsky)

(Warning. This chapter contains hints of domestic violence and if any of my readers are going through that you deserve better. I love you all, also Motley will be showing signs of abuse this chapter. It's a long chapter that I'm really nervous about and I really hope you guys like it <3)

Enjoy!

Eddie had been in a pissy mood on Halloween morning of his second year as a senior, mostly because his friends that had graduated last year were all going out to awesome college parties and he was stuck redoing school. Embarrassed and alone. 

But he sucked it up, wearing his favorite leather jean combo as he walked into the halls of hell, keeping his head down while people passed by him in a flurry, excitement and laughter in the air. 

He had planned to just keep his head down and make it to class, no need to get into something with Harrington and his cronies. He had enough of their teasing and bullshit to get him by for the rest of the year. 

Normally it was fine since he had friends, but now he was alone. 

A body slamming into a locker pulls his attention to where someone in a rustic leather jacket was slamming one of the juniors into the wall of metal. The kid being assaulted was called Jeff, he was the only black kid in the grade and Eddie had seen him around a lot. The kid didn’t hang out with anyone and seemed lonely. 

Shit. 

The one slamming him was Billy Hargrove, a new kid that seemed to immediately become one of the cool ones. He spent most his classes not caring and any free time harassing everyone else. Eddie had his fair share of issues with him already. 

It would be a good idea to just walk away and let them handle this on their own, but Eddie could not do that. If there was one thing his dad taught him it was that he could take a punch and his Uncle Wayne always told him that you should always stand up for the weaker man. Even if Eddie wasn’t strong enough to beat Billy “steroids” Hargrove, he was strong enough to take a hit for someone else. 

A sigh falls through him as he makes his way over, tapping the shoulder of the assailant quickly, the second Billy has his eyes on him Eddie shoves him quickly. 

Billy reacts in an instant, hands clenching into his jacket, swinging Eddie around until it was his back being slammed into the lockers. A grunt passes his lips as he sends Jeff a quick look to escape while he can, the kid gives him a grateful smile as he snatches his backpack and dashes off. 

“If it isn’t the super senior!” Billy laughs bitterly, pulling Eddie forward and shoving him back into the lockers harshly. 

Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him. 

“What you doing here bud?! Trying to get your ass-“ Eddie loses some of his patience after the third hit into the lockers and hits Billy’s hands off of him, shoving him back enough that Billy nearly trips over his feet. 

Gasps fall from the crowd as Billy glares, staring wide eyed at him as he sneers. Eddie tries to play it cool, the anticipation of a fight howling beneath his skin as he preps himself. 

Before they can get into it Steve Harrington pops up, his back to Eddie as he watches Billy. “Not that I don't want to see how the freak handles business but the principal is on the way.” 

Billy casts one more glare, walking off quickly as Harrington turns to Eddie. 

“You stupid or some-“ 

“Yeah yeah. We get it Harrington. I’m a repeat senior.” Eddie snaps, rolling his shoulders to relieve some of the pain. “Why don’t you find a new joke?” 

“Sorry, I was just trying to make sure you were good.” Steve sighs, rubbing the back of his neck before moving to pick up what Eddie had dropped. 

“I don’t need help from you.” Eddie snaps, snatching the lunch box he had gotten from Uncle Wayne and walking off quickly. 

-

Eddie had spent the better part of that year dealing with Hargroves shit, the only thing that made him feel better was the fact that Steve Harrington seemed to be having his own issues with Billy. Then the summer between his second senior year and his third Billy Hargrove died. 

Eddie had avoided the pool that entire summer but he heard about it from Jeff the day the mall caught on fire. The next thing he knew Max was moving into the trailer near his and Wayne’s and everyone was bothering her and her mother about it all but they seemed like they didn’t want to talk about it. 

After he dealt with VECNA they all explained a little about what happened, and when El closed the gates and fixed the time warp she ended up bringing a couple people back. That’s how he came back. 

No one had seen Billy, so everyone assumed he didn’t come back. Even Barb had shown back up (though her memory was hazy on everything). 

Now, Billy Hargrove stood in the doorway of his home, catching Motley when she ran to him with an easy smile. “There’s my baby!” 

Eddie doesn’t know what to do, stuck between anger and shock, watching this play out before him as Ziggy grabs at his jaw. The little toddler leans to kiss his cheek, a wet open mouth kiss that normally makes Eddie laugh, but this time he just stands there. Waiting for the “just kidding!” Or someone to pinch him so he can wake up. 

“Sugar,” Billy starts, keeping Motley in his arms as he stares at Eddie. It takes him a moment to realize that when he says sugar he is talking to you. “Why is there a drug dealer holding my daughter?” 

- 

“I can explain-“ you start, watching Eddie angrily set up the crib in your shared room, jaw tensed and eyes heavy with anger. “Eds please.” 

“You don’t need to explain.” He snaps, turning quickly. “No actually. You do. What the fuck?”

“I met him a couple years back. Okay? It was a one night stand from a bar, he was new in town and I ended up getting pregnant. After that he said he wanted to stay together because of the baby and I didn’t want to parent alone so I said yes-“ 

“So you’d rather have parented with a racist jackass then?” He laughs bitterly. You draw back, eyes wide as he does so before he sees you get defensive. 

“I didn’t know about any of that. Okay? He was sweet with me for the most part-“ 

“For the most part?” 

“He had moments of anger, sometimes I got hit. But he always made up for it. And then I got pregnant again and I thought I was happy and then….” You trail off then, shaking a bit. “I left for a reason.” 

“He hit you? More than once?” Eddie bites out, hands on his hips. 

“It was fine-“ 

“No no no. It wasn’t fine. But the fact that you’re saying it was fine and you say he made up for it means that you didn’t leave because he hit you, you left for another reason.” He sees you get nervous under his gaze and he knows he’s figuring out. Anger coursed through him at the fact that Billy had ever laid a hand on you in the first place but it’s beginning to reach tenfold when he puts the pieces together. “He hit Motley?” 

“I-“

“You were okay with him hitting you, which makes me upset that you thought you deserved that, but the second he hit Motley you ran.” He fills in the blanks, watching as you crumble before his eyes with tears falling freely. 

“Ohmygod-“ you sob, covering your eyes. 

“And that’s why you’re so weird around Max because when you came out here you recognized her, right? And when we all shared the truth of what happened you recognized Billy in it? And you didn’t say anything because-“ 

“What was I supposed to say Eddie?! That I was dumb enough to fall for it?! That I slept with a racist abusive asshole one night drunk and then agreed to let him move in with me because I was scared even though I knew nothing about him?!” You snap, tears streaming down your face. “You guys would have thought the worst of me. You guys are going to think the worst of me- maybe I should just grab the girls and go get a hotel-“

“Hey hey hey.” He eases, reaching for you as you stand up to leave. His hands find your hips and he pulls you in for a hug. “No. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry-“ 

“I’m sorry. I’m over reacting and being a pain in the ass because I’m surprised is all.” He mumbles, kissing your head and keeping his nose pressed into your hair. “You are very brave for leaving him, yeah? And I’m so sorry that you had to go through that, you’re not stupid you were just played. You always think the best of people and you are so fucking brave for getting the girls out of there.” 

He lets you sob into his chest for a minute, rubbing your back in comfort as he holds you to him tightly. 

Eddie was gonna figure this out. He was gonna find a way to get Billy Hargrove out of his life for good. 

-

The morning was always filled with excitement, mostly on Motley's part. She loved getting ready for the day, for all the things she would do. She loved talking yours and Eddie’s ear off about the plans for the day. Then she would be crankier when she got home and she knew it was time for bed, but Eddie loved her in the mornings because he loved seeing her excitement. 

He wore his glasses in the morning, while he helped get them ready for the day since you both liked to tag team the morning and get the process done faster. This morning was his turn for Motley, who currently sat at the table blabbering on about how she was excited for secret santa while Eddie sat at the stove watching the pancakes bubble. 

“-and I keep thinking what if Vinny gets me? He will probably get me the dumbest thing ever and I would be so upset. But what if Troy gets me, oh I hope Troy gets my name- Daddy are you listening?” 

“I’m listening, pretty girl.” He smiles, looking over her shoulder where she sat coloring. “You hope Troy gets you. Cause you have a big ole crush on him.” 

“DO NOT!” She yells which makes him laugh and turn back to the pancakes. Before he knows it he feels a pair of arms wrap around him, with you kissing along his exposed back slowly while ge fights off the blush. 

“You cooking bacon without a shirt, handsome?” You smile and he tries not to laugh. 

“I can’t feel half the skin on my stomach anyways.” The scars made sure of that. “You want a piece of bacon?” 

“I’ll wait to eat with you and the girls. Did we get any yogurt on our last trip to the store?” You ask, moving to the fridge to check. Eddie takes a moment to admire you before looking to where Ziggy sits in her high chair, playing with a piece of paper that Motley gave her. 

“Morning metal head.” He coos, walking forward to kiss her head. She giggles and claps before Motley follows what Eddie did, kissing her sisters head. 

“Come here Daddy.” She smiles, and he bends down to let her kiss his forehead which makes her laugh. 

He sets them both up with plates, eating breakfast quickly before rushing to get a shirt on as you bring them both to the door to get them in shoes. When he gets back he finds Motley with her arms crossed and shaking her head. 

“What’s going on?” 

“She found out Steve is taking her to school.” You sigh, trying to grab her foot. 

“I want Papa to take me. He said he wanted to!” She snaps and Eddie watches you tense up, choosing to intervene here. 

“I got this, go grab her bag.” He smiles, switching spots with you. “Alright. No playing around. Metalheads put their shoes on when told.” 

“But daddy-“ 

“Ah.” He holds up a finger and she sighs before grabbing the left shoe and moving to put it on her right. “Wait. This is a good time to teach you left from right.” 

“I’ve got time.” She smiles , watching him. 

“Alright. This is left,” he holds out his left hand, the metal bracelet he always wears drawing Ziggys attention as she waddles closer. 

Motley holds out her right hand, repeating “left.” 

“No. That’s right.” 

“I’m right?” 

“No. That hand is right.” 

“Yeah daddy. I know I’m right.” She scoffs, staring at him like he’s insane. 

“No pretty girl. You’re opposite of me, like a mirror. So if this is my left hand you’re left hand would be….” He picks up her left hand, wiggling it a bit. 

“Oh. So this would be my right hand.” She mumbles, shaking her right hand. 

“Exactly. So if this is your left shoe it would go on…..” 

“MY LEFT FOOT!” She yells excitedly which makes him smile. 

“You got it! You rockstar!” He helps her tie it, letting her rest her foot on his thigh before switching the feet and tying the next shoe. 

“We ready to go?” You ask, coming around the corner and smiling. 

“Daddy taught me my left from right, Mommy!” She giggles, rushing to get her bag and holding your hand as you lead her out of the house with Eddie close behind, Ziggy in his arms trying to reach for the bandana on his head. 

“Hey Uncle Steve,” she calls, running up to him to hug him. “I know my left from right!” 

“You’re a genius kid!” He smiles. You pull her attention, kissing her forehead before kissing Steve’s cheek. Eddie follows, kissing Motley then snatching Steve and kissing his cheek which makes everyone laugh. Ziggy coos the second she sees Steve and he instantly makes grabby hands at her. 

“There she is, my pretty little angel.” He coos, bouncing her up and down as Motley climbs in his car between his two sons. Vinny glares while Jackson waves his grubby little hands. The kid was four and thought the best thing to eat was a crayon. 

“You know what gender the baby is yet?” You ask, watching Steve with Ziggy. 

“No. But Nancy is sure it’s another boy.” He sighs out. “And she wants to name one after her brother.” 

“Do we need another Mike?” Eddie laughs which makes Steve laugh as well. 

“That’s what I said!”

“Alright, I have to head off. Drop Ziggy off at daycare before work. Have a wonderful day boys.” You smile, grabbing Ziggy from Steve who sighs in disappointment, before kissing Eddie and heading off to your car. 

Steve turns to Eddie, a raised brow, he opens his mouth to start asking but Eddie holds up a hand. “Nuh uh. We don’t talk about within hearing age of Motley.”

“Why’s that?” Steve asks, squinting. “She get upset?”

“The opposite.”

“But the guys a massive dick!”

“And that’s her dad.”

“You’re her dad.”

“No, I’m the step dad.” Eddie sighs, something clenching in his gut. “I gotta get going. Thanks for dropping Motty off.”

- 

The thought that he was just the step dad stuck, it clung to him like a second skin, sticking like a shadow over the sun. He thought about it while he tucked the girls in, and when he woke them up. He worried over the thought of Billy fighting for custody and turning the girls against Eddie. 

He was just the step-dad. 

This is what he was thinking about as he changed the oil on one of the cars in the shop, a frown stuck to his face as music played in the background. It was Dylans, the other repairman that worked today, turn for the stereo and he was playing all the rock hits. Which included ‘rock you like a hurricane.’

And all Eddie could imagine was his girls having a dance party but instead of him being there it was Billy. Billy dancing with them to all the music and-

“HI DADDY!” Motley shouts, making Eddie gasp in shock, whipping his head to find her on all fours so she could see him under the car. 

“Hi pretty girl.” He smiles, using the cart to roll out from under the car and sit up, whipping the bandana off his hair as she whirls around the car to attack him, roaring like a tiger as she jumps on him. “What are you doing here?”

“School let out early today, they have their christmas party tomorrow and then winter break.” You explain, walking around the car with Ziggy on your hip, still wearing the cute diner uniform. “Motley wanted to come grab you for lunch.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiles, laughing when she slips a bit and he has to catch her before she hits the floor. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Pizza.”

“Pizza?!” He acts shocked, eyes wide as she begins laughing. “Well I don’t know about that…. I don’t really know if I like pizza.”

“You LOVE pizza.” She scoffs, jumping up and dashing to the radio to turn it down. “Does Dylan want pizza?”

“Why thank you for asking little lady.” Dylan smiles, wiping his hands on his suit. “I love pizza.”

“Hear that daddy? We have to go get pizza for Dylan.” Motley sasses, coming back over to snatch Eddie’s bigger hand between her own. “Get uppppp!”

She groans as she tries to lift him, and Eddie picks himself up so she thinks she was able to do it. “Jesus you are strong.”

“I pulled a secret santa today, and you’ll never guess who I got!”

“Troy?” 

“No.” She sighs, disappointed for just a moment before her face lights up again. “I got Samantha, she likes jump rope.”

“Yeah? Is that what we are gonna get her then?” He chuckles, moving to wash his hands as you go and put Ziggy in the car. 

“Well I don’t know. I don’t want my gift to be too basic and not surprising. But I want to make sure she actually likes it. And do you think-” Eddie lets her ramble, grabbing her hand and leading her to the car as she goes on and on about the ideas she has for gifts. 

-

The store was busy when Eddie took Motley Christmas shopping, holding her hand in his own as walked across the street and headed into the warmth. He had been more focused on making sure she wore a coat then grabbing a coat heavy enough for himself. 

The second she is in the store her eyes widen and she makes a mad dash to the kids aisle, Eddie right behind her trying to slow her down a bit. 

“Alright, take a look and see what you might like to get Samantha.” He huffs, breathing into his palms to warm up his face, ignoring the weird look he gets from a do-good mom passing by in her expensive shoes. 

He had gotten used to the looks by now, it’s not like he screamed father with his leather jacket and tattoos, but you always told him that he was a better father than any country club dad you had ever met. And he was constantly lecturing Motley that ‘it’s what’s on the inside that counts’ so how would this be different?

“How about this?” She asks, picking up a barbie car that makes Eddie’s eyes go wide. 

“Isn’t there a price limit on this thing?” He blurts, moving to check before she is completely gone and looking at something else. 

“Can I get a dollhouse?”

“For Samantha?”

“No, for me silly..” She laughs, like it was the most obvious thing.

“We are supposed to be shopping for your secret santa cheeseball.”

“Oh, right.” She sighs, moving back to the barbies. “How about for christmas?”

“Have you asked Santa?” Eddie smiles, and she shakes her head. “We’ll write a letter tonight, then.”

“Okay.” She giggles before pointing to a ken doll. “Hey daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Santa already answered my wish this year.” She mumbles which makes Eddie look at her curiously. “Last year I asked Santa to bring my dad back. And he did even better.”

Eddie’s heart practically shatters as he tries to smile at her, the vast empty feeling at her words killing him. Of course, what little girl didn’t want her dad on christmas, and she wanted Billy. 

-

Steve was suspicious of him the entire Christmas party, giving Eddie the side eye every chance he could while you sat not far off with Nancy gossiping amongst yourselves. 

Steve was room mother, and as much as Eddie made fun of him for it his friend was an amazing room mother. He had thrown the class’ holiday party at his house rather than that stuffy classroom so that the parents could come as well. His house, which was already insanely decorated for Christmas, had tons of ‘activity stations’ for the kids to do. Motley and Vinny were currently arguing over what color gumdrops they wanted to put on their gingerbread house. 

Charles, Samantha's dad as Eddie found out, had wavered off after talking to Steve and himself for the past hour and finally the two men were left alone. “Who knew parenthood would be just like highschool again?”

“You’re telling me.” Steve snickers. “I feel like-”

“King Steve again?” Eddie taunts, shaking his head. 

“Oh no no. You can’t make fun of me since you’re apart of the cool kid club this round.”

“No I’m not-”

“Oh yes you are. Please, everyone talks about you and Y/n. One, all the moms think you are attractive and so gentleman like for taking on the girls. Two. The dads are jealous of you cause you have this cool rock thing going on while still being a parent. Three, everyone loves Motley. She is the class princess. Everyone wants to play with her at christmas, if she shows up to their birthday party then their year is made. Admit it Munson, you’re raising a prom queen.”

“I don’t think I have much to do on that front, and it’s more to do with I’m your friend and you are the Room Mom.”

“Shh not so loud.” Steve mutters. “Nancy has been feeling a little guilty about being ‘less of a mom’ cause she spends all day at work. I tried telling her it was fine but she thinks it’s a bad look that her husband is room mom and not the actual mom.”

“I don’t think it’s a bad look. I think it shows that Vinny is being raised by two people who understand life a little better than other stuck up parents.” 

“Thanks pal.” Steve sighs, leading them away so Eddie can go up and check on where they put Ziggy to nap. Steve had been nice enough to set up a little crib in his room so she wouldn’t have to be dragged around the party. 

They catch up on everything, Steve complains that he think Jaxon might just be a freaky kid considering the amount of crayons and pencils he eats and how Nancy babies him. He complains that Mike is the worst uncle and never actually helps but always claims to do so. 

Eddie catches Steve up on the Billy situation, which had shocked the group to no end. 

“He’s been calling everyday, arguing that he should get visitation.” Eddie sighs, taking a swig from the beer Steve smuggled for them. 

“That’s bullshit. Tell him no.”

“Y/n is worried that he could fight and get full custody.”

“Why on earth-”

“Because she took the girls and ran. She did it for their safety but the court will never look at it like that.” Eddie sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “All they will see is Hawkins very own mall hero being abandoned as she runs to Hawkins very own freak.”

“Motley and Y/n don’t think of you as a freak.”

“Maybe not. But Motley adores Billy, and that leaves me on the sidelines.”

“That’s not fair.” Steve sighs but Eddie shrugs. 

“You know how long I hated Wayne for taking me from my dad? That man hit me and all I did for years was look up to him and try to be better. I pushed away anyone that actually cared. I know what she is going through right now, and I don’t want to be the one to ruin that love she has for her dad. Shit person or not.”

“Would you rather ruin her dad for her or have her heart broken when she is exposed to him on her own?”

“I think if he ever hurt her I would actually-”

“Kill him. I’m so in.” Steve finishes the sentence before there is a quick knock on the door. 

“Dad!” Vinny whines. “Where’s the gift?! We are doing secret santa!”

Steve sighs, moving to his dresser to grab the wrapped gift before handing it to his son. Eddie waits to follow Vinny, surprised when he turns to him rather than immediately running away. 

“Will Motley like this wrapping paper?”

“Yeah? I think she’d love it.” Eddie smiles, watching in shock as the kids dashes out. “He got Motley? Bet he hated that.”

“Nah, he was worried she might now like the barbie car.”

“Wasn’t there a price limit on this thing?” Eddie asks, raising a brow. 

“My kid is head over heels for your daughter Munson. Just be happy Troy didn’t get her. Little punk thinks he’s everything.” Steve scoffs, walking past Eddie and mumbling under his breath about Troy being a little shit. 

-

There was a new form of hell to Eddie, not having his girls under the same roof was that hell. After a very long argument it was agreed that Billy would get them for the night, they would have a fun time at the shitty motel room. 

So, after a long night of pacing back and forth, Billy finally dropped the girls off around noon, smoking easily as he carried Ziggy’s car seat in one hand. 

“Really? Right by her?” Eddie snaps, grabbing the handle carefully as Ziggy coos up at him. 

“Didn’t think you would be one to care, Munson.” Billy laughs, looking past him to where Motley stood with a grumpy look and her bag around her shoulder. “You used to make sure our class was coked out just fine.”

“Motty go inside.” Eddie sighs, moving to open the door for her, getting a little nervous when she glares and stomps in. “Has she eaten?”

Only when he turns back to ask Billy the jackass is already halfway in his car, sending a cocky smile in Eddie’s direction as he turns the speaker up loud. 

Now left alone with the two girls since you were at work Eddie shuffles inside to go find where Motley stomped off to, finding her in her room sitting on the floor and playing with a toy he didn’t recognize. 

“New barbie?” He smiles, watching her carefully. This was the first time she had ever gone with her dad and he didn't know what to expect, maybe he had been hoping for a hug or kiss. “She’s very pretty-”

“Papa got her for me.” She bites out, voice dripping with attitude. 

“Okay. You hungry? I can make you-”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” She screams, rushing to slam her door in his face, the tiffany poster she had on it staring back at him as he blinks in shock. There had been fits, a couple of screaming fits, she sometimes called him meanie head when he told her not to do something. But she had never before slammed a door in his face. 

Not really knowing what to do he decided to focus on bathing Ziggy first, making sure the smoke scent didn’t cling to her before setting her up to eat something. 

A couple hours later you came home, a nervous smile on your face as you looked at him only to realize he was upset. 

“What happened?” 

“She’s upset, won’t come out of her room.” He sighs. 

“Let me go check on her.” You mumble, kissing him before heading to her room and knocking softly. “Hey bugs? Why don’t you come out and say hi? Daddy can make something for dinner-“ 

“Eddie can fuck off!” She screams, which makes you freeze as Eddie’s heart drops and he leans his forehead on the wall. 

“Motley Marie-“

“NO!” She screams from the other side of the door and Eddie feels like he might throw up. 

“Maybe I should go to Wayne’s tonight?” He offers, shaking a bit as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I need to help him fix the replace his fridge anyways” 

“Eds, no.” You mumble, tears welling up in your eyes as you shuffle closer. “She’ll be fine in a bit. We just need to get her to eat and-“ 

“She’s not gonna come out to eat if I’m here. I’ll come back tomorrow to see if she’s feeling better. Okay?” He tries, rubbing your arms in a comforting manner. “Just one night, maybe she will eat and calm down” 

You shake your head, crying, but you both already know the answer. And Eddie already knows this might not work out for him. 

-

After packing an overnight bag and heading off he makes it to his Uncle Wayne’s and spends the night there, hoping Motley would feel better if he wasn’t there. 

He helps Wayne sort out the kitchen, both of them planning on switching the fridges out in the morning now that his is empty. So, later in the night, Eddie lays on the couch staring at the ceiling. 

He couldn’t fall asleep without you beside him and he’s used to seeing the hall light under the door so the girls could see if they needed to get to the bathroom or your room. 

He tossed and turned, doing his best not to get too upset at all of it before he began thinking about all the ways this could go wrong. 

He never wanted to hurt the girls, and as much as he loved them and loved you there was always that thing about “if you love someone set them free.” So, as much as he hated it, he figured maybe it was time for some breathing space. Let Motley learn about her biological dad for a bit, and he would take whatever he could get even if it was just a dinner a month. Anything to make sure she didn’t hate him forever. 

So, around 6am, when he finally managed to close his eyes and get some sleep he had decided that the best plan of action was to give his girls breathing room. 

-

When he woke up Wayne was already starting on the fridge, which made Eddie realize just how much he had slept in. Jumping up quickly to start helping, he didn’t think to call you. 

They spent the next few hours moving the fridges and getting the new one set up, making sure everything was working before hauling the old one to the junkyard. By the time they were done the sun was going down and Eddie was starving so Wayne offered to order a pizza. 

The only problem was your car was at the trailer when they got back, with you sitting on the hood smiling at him as Wayne pulled his truck up to park. 

“Hi Grandpa Wayne.” You called which made the older man smile and hop out quickly to give you a kiss before moving to say hi to the girls in the back seat. 

Eddie moves to hug you, kissing you deeply before you pull back and smile. “You didn’t call, and we called this morning but no answer so I figured you boys were busy.”

“Sorry. I slept a little late and we were fighting that damn fridge all day.” He smiles. 

“We were thinking about going and getting dinner tonight, thought we’d come pick up daddy.” You offer, holding his hand. He casts a quick look to where Motley is sitting in the backseat, laughing as Wayne pretends to steal her book. 

Breathing room. 

“I actually got more stuff to help Wayne with. That okay?”  He could see you visibly deplete, trying your best to keep smiling. 

“Of course that’s okay. Just don’t forget to call okay?” 

“I won’t.” 

“You wanna say bye to the girls?” 

“I….Not tonight.” He feels like he’s stabbed himself in the gut and twisted the knife, his throat tightening up with the urge to cry. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” You mumble. “And you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” 

“Right.” He smiles, leaning to kiss your cheek. When you kiss him one last time you move to Wayne, tearing up a bit. 

“Enjoy your handyman Wayne. But I expect him back tomorrow by dinner, got it grandpa?” 

Wayne, to his credit, smiles politely and nods. Mumbling something about making Eddie work overtime as you laugh, he hears Ziggy blubber sadly, probably upset that she’s in her car seat. 

He spots Motley when you open your door to get in, leaning against the window already staring at him. There is a glum look on her expression and Eddie feels that stab wound tighten. She hates him, she can’t even smile when she sees him anymore. Billy must have told her what a fuckimg freak he was. 

Instead of crawling into the hole he wants to, he merely raises a hand slowly to wave, attempting to seem like everything was fine. 

She raised her own hand, and Eddie thinks he’s mistaken when she presses it to the glass of the window as you drive off. 

“You okay?” Wayne asks, rubbing his boys shoulder. 

��Not really.” 

-

True to his word Eddie calls the next morning, only to be surprised when he hears Motleys voice answer. 

“Hello?” She asks. 

“Hey Mot…ley.” Eddie panics , thinking that she might now like her nicknames now. “I called for your ma.” 

“Oh.” She mumbles, obviously disappointed that it was him. “I can go get her……” 

“Not if she’s busy, okay? I can call back later.” He hears her set the phone down and scamper off, feet hitting the hardwood of the kitchen as she rushes to find you. A couple minutes goes by and he hears both your voices trickle back into hearing distance, probably from the downstairs hallway. 

“- dy Eddie. He just wanted to talk to you.” He hears Motley mumble, and that shooting pain was back. Eddie. She called him Eddie again. 

Panic claws at him as he hears your footsteps get closer and he hangs up quickly, wiping the tears from his eyes. 

-

After helping Wayne around the trailer he returns that evening, feeling lame and tired. Kicking his shoes off in the doorway, hearing your music downstairs which tells him you had probably started reading once putting the girls to bed. 

He planned to shower and then go see you, so he makes his way to the room, shucking his jacket off and tossing it on the bed in the dark. 

“Heyyy.” Someone whines, making him stop and look to the bed to see Motley climbing out from the blankets and pillows, eyes wide. “Watch it.” 

“Sorry kid,” he smiles, moving to grab the jacket. “Didn’t see ya there.” 

She giggles softly, moving to the middle of the bed and turning on the light before going back to her spot. He gives her a soft smile before moving to grab clothes and heading to the master bathroom only for her to call out. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” He asks, turning with wide eyes. 

“I’m sorry I was mean and hurt your feelings. I’m sorry I made you mad.” Tears well in her eyes as she says it which makes his chest clench. 

“Hey hey. I’m not mad.” He says softly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, she immediately crawls over and crawls into his lap. 

“You are! That’s why you didn’t want to come home!” She cries. “You hate me now.” 

“No no. Take a breath.” He tries to calm her down, rubbing her back in soft circles as she sucks in a deep breath. 

“I made you mad…”

“You didn’t make me mad, I just had to help Grandpa Wayne with some stuff. He’s old now. He needs help.” Eddie offers, still rubbing her back. She calms down a bit, face pressed into his chest as she slowly puts herself back to sleep. 

He carries her into her own room, making sure she’s nice and comfortable when he tucks her in before going back to the master bedroom to shower. 

When he comes back out he finds you waiting on the bed, a smile smile tugging st your lips. “Hey stud.” 

“Hi baby,” he whispers, moving to lay down. He gives you one kiss before laying down and shoving his face into the pillow quickly, desperate to sleep. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You ask, rubbing a hand on his back. 

“Nothing to talk about. I’m fine. Just wanted to give her space is all.” He sighs. 

“She loves you Eddie.” 

“I know.” He lies, closing his eyes to sleep 

-

Motley spent the next day at the Harrington household while Eddie and you went to shop for some last minute gifts you hadn’t gotten at the beginning of the month. 

With Christmas being only a week away now you were beginning to panic and Eddie was doing his best to ease your anxieties as you tried to think of what the girls would want. 

“I think we got everything.” You sigh out when you make it to the car, Eddie pushing the cart filled to the brim with bags as he rubs your back. There was something off about you today and he felt guilty that he hadn’t come home until late last night. 

“I think we did.” He moves away only to open the back of the van, beginning to pile all the bags in before he hears you gag and dash to the chunk of grass he parked near. 

“Shit- “ he snaps, tripping over himself as he tries to get to you to hold your hair. “You okay? Nervous about Christmas?” 

“Y-yeah…” you whine, rubbing the back of your hand under your nose to wipe the snot after you finish puking. “Over stressed myself is all.” 

He sighs, helping you up and getting you set up in the van before moving to finish his original task. 

He spends the rest of the day making sure you’re okay and wrapping the gifts. He tries to change his handwriting on the tags so Motley would think other people were signing them. Make her think she got a gift from Santa and the elves and one from Mrs. Claus before he took his coffee grounds and make a hoof print on the gift he had made from Rudolph. 

He hides them all in the basements laundry room, moving to wake you up when he’s done. 

-

Two days before Christmas Eve Motley and Ziggy go with Billy again, and Eddie makes himself scarce when they are dropped back off the next day, wanting to give Motley room to breathe in case she needs it. 

He hides in the basement, keeping his headphones in as he practices guitar, hearing the echo of stomping around upstairs. She had come home in another mood, that much he had figured out by the sounds of her yelling when she came in. 

The phone rings in the distance and Eddie ignores everything as he practices more riffs until your in front of him with a small smile. “That was Gareth. They wanted to rehearse? Asked if you could head over.” 

“Oh?” He asks, standing up. The perfect excuse to give Motley some space without hurting anyone’s feelings had just arrived and he was gonna take it. “I’ll head over now.” 

“Are you gonna be home for dinner?” You ask softly, face tense with worry and exhaustion. 

“We’ll probably practice too late.” He sighs, kissing you before moving to walk away. 

“Eds?” You call, making him look back at you as you stress. “Y-you’re okay…… right?” 

“I’m okay.” He lies. Really he feels pathetic, useless, a lame ass excuse for a stepdad. ……he feels like his father. 

She just needs space.  He thinks to himself, smiling at you. But deep down he already knows it’s not working. He loves his girls but if they don’t love him back then he is just dragging them down. 

And his heart breaks at the thought of the inevitable. 

I don’t wanna say bye.

As he passes the hallway to pack clothes for the night he sees that the Tiffany poster on Motleys door had been ripped down the middle, and he risks a peek in to find it the missing piece wadded in the trash along with her fleetwood poster she got around thanksgiving. 

Sighing in defeat he shuffles to grab his bag and head out. 

-

 The morning of Christmas Eve he wakes up to find that sometime in the night Motley had crawled into bed with you and Eddie, curled up between you two with tear streaks down her face. 

Nightmares, nasty little things. 

He kisses her cheek lightly before getting up to get ready for work. By the time he is putting on his boots he finds her yawning and sitting up. 

“Are you leaving?” 

“Only for a bit.” He tries to sound positive. “I’ll be back soon.” 

“Swear it?” She asks, eyes wide. 

“Triple swear it.” He smiles back, and something eases in him when a smile breaks out across her face, going from ear to ear. 

So he leans to kiss her cheek, taking the good mood while he can before heading to work and coming back home by 5. Only to find Billy’s Camaro in the driveway when he does come home. 

Walking into the house, tense and tired from the day, to find Billy sitting on the couch as you work in the kitchen. You send him a quick look and Eddie follows, rushing into the kitchen with you. 

“He invited himself for dinner.” You whisper. 

“Why?” 

“Because Motley told me I couldn’t come for Christmas morning.” Billy snaps from the doorway, leaning on it like he owned the place. “Which is really fucking weird considering that I’m her dad. I should be able to see her on Christmas. And I can only assume that you’re the one saying no Munson.” 

“Hadn’t even known that we had that discussion but sure. I’ll take the hit.” Eddie smiles. “Cause you are 1000% banned from this house on Christmas Day.” 

“You can’t separate me from my kids.” Billy snaps. 

“We’re not. You can have dinner with us tonight, but you can’t be here tomorrow.” There were far too many people coming tomorrow that Eddie did not want having to deal with Billy, and he didn’t want your day being ruined by this asshat. 

“I’d prefer the dinner to be a family occasion” Billy snipes. “And last I checked you weren’t.” 

“Eddie is family.” You snipe back, backing up when Billy glared at you. “This is our home. His home. He stays.” 

And before he knew it everyone was seated at the table, in the most uncomfortable dinner of his life. You were just pushing food around your plate, while Eddie was doing his best to stay cool. 

“How are your grades Motley?” Billy asks, turning a heavy look to her. 

“I’m one of the top in my class-“ 

“One of?” Billy interrupts. 

“They have top three. They all tie in that spot so the kids don’t lose self esteem in the competition.” Eddie explains, tapping a ring on the table in annoyance. 

“That’s bullshit. If her grades are the best then that needs to be said-“ 

“She’s doing fine. Her grades will help win a pizza party at the end of the year.” You snap, rubbing her cheek. 

“I just want to make sure I’m not raising a retard that turns into a super senior.” 

“What’s that mean?” Motley asks, wide eyed as Ziggy shoves some spaghetti in her mouth. 

“Oh baby, it’s noth-“ you begin but Eddie cuts you off, looking her gently. 

“It means I wasn’t good in school. I got held back from graduating for three years. That’s right. I was held back another year after you…. Well you know.” 

“You got something to say to me, jackass?” 

“Not really.” Eddie snipes, picking up his plate and heading to the kitchen before he loses his temper. Lucky him that Billy was set to follow. 

“So this is where Motley gets all that attitude huh?! Some shit for brain pathetic piece of shit starts raising my daughter, showing her shit music and telling her the world is all rainbows and sunshine. Right?!” 

“We’ll she’s 7. The world is supposed to be a little brighter-“ Eddie starts, watching as Billy grabs the front of his jacket and shoves him into the cabinets behind him. 

“You think you’re something, huh?! Well you’re nothing more than a trailer trash piece of shit!” Billy yells in his face, and Eddie remains bland. Not letting any motion on his face as he shrugs. 

Motley was going to hate him. 

This would never work because your kids needed to come first, and Eddie knew that. He would always put them first. If he stayed with you Motley would soon begin to resent you. 

He couldn’t let that happen. 

“No. I don’t think I’m anything more than a piece of shit. I’m quite good in that life.” He shrugs. “And it’s not shit music that she was listening to, it was her choice of music. Music she liked, and if she likes it then it’s not shit.” 

Billy laughs bitterly, then Eddie can do nothing but watch his hand pull back into a fist, getting him right in the face. 

Pain shoots through his face as his head hits the cupboard behind him hearing the wood crack at the impact. Motley screams out loud “DADDY!” And Eddie assumes she’s screaming for Billy to stop. 

He didn’t want to hit her dad in front of her, so he took it. Punch after punch from Billy before you jump on the man’s back, hitting him to get him off Eddie. 

Billy pushes you off quickly, making you tumble to the floor as Motley runs for you before you try and ease her back. Eddie can’t feel his face but he knows it’s swollen and bloody, spitting out the taste of iron as he swipes a hand under his nose, pain shooting through him when he does so. 

Motley is still screaming, over and over “DADDY DADDY!” And when Billy takes one aggressive step over to where she is in your arms Eddie finally loses it. 

He shoves at Billy’s back, drawing his attention back and taking one quick swing across Billy’s cheek. One of his rings slices his cheek as Billy’s head whips to the side. But Eddie doesn’t stop, too built up on protective rage. 

Ziggy is screaming in the background, Motley crying for her dad while you hold her back. Eddie takes a couple more hits, pushing Billy to the door so they wouldn’t have an audience. Only problem is the second Eddie pushes Billy out he finds a cop car already waiting, the cop hopping out and rushing to the scene. 

-

Christmas morning was spent inside a jail cell with a broken nose, Eddie laying on one of the benches staring up at the ceiling and trying not to think about how much his face hurt right now. 

One of the neighbors had heard yelling and called the cops, who had taken 15 minutes to respond. And since Eddie didn’t start hitting back until the end he could only assume that meant he had taken nearly 15 minutes of that beating. 

What a fucking coward. 

He had hit Billy in front of Motley. Oh my god her entire Christmas would be ruined right now. He was an absolute piece of shit. 

“Hey kid?” Someone calls, making Eddie try to open his unswollen eye and see. Hopper stood there in mundane clothes, sighing in disappointment. “Thought we agreed last time I arrested you that it would be the last time.” 

“What can I say?” He croaks out, dropping his head again. “I’m trailer trash. Always have been and always will be.” 

“Come on pity party.” Hopper sighs, unlocking the door. “You’ve been cleared. Witness statements.” 

So they had questioned you. Fuck. 

When he grabs his rings and jacket from the clerk he doesn’t bother putting them on, keeping everything in the bag including his chain and wallet. He puts the shoes on, groaning in pain when he bends over, before moving to see that Wayne had come to pick him up. 

“Uncle Wayne,” Eddie grunts, not bothering to smile due to the cut on his lip and cheek. 

Wayne doesn’t say anything, merely leads Eddie out, keeping a hand on his arm to help lead him to the car since he can only open one eye. 

When they are both jn Wayne lights a cigarette, handing it to his nephew. “Have some before we get there. Relax you a bit.” 

“Get where?”  

“Your house? It’s Christmas? We agreed I’d bring gifts for the girls and get a nice meal?” Wayne asks. 

“No. I’m not going there. Not like this and not after that.” Eddie snaps, tears falling from his eye as he thinks about it. That would just ruin Motleys Christmas even more. He couldn’t do that. 

“I just wanna sleep.” 

“Edward Wayne Munson.” 

“Wayne John Munson.” 

The sigh that falls from his uncles lips tells Eddie that he won. 

-

(A POV from you? Gasp!) 

After watching Eddie and Billy both get arrested you had to give a statement to the police, not like you could actually get a word out considering you were sobbing. 

Eddie was bleeding profusely and could barely open his eye when they dragged him to the car, Motley sobbing at your hip as they did so. The officer talking to you tried to calm you down, rubbing your back in a soothing motion that didn’t work and only stressed you out more. You begged them to let Eddie go but the officer said it was protocol and that you should call in the morning to give your statement. 

But you didn’t. You sat there with that cop until you calmed down and gave a proper statement, he said he would write a report and get it all sorted so you took Motley in. Getting both girls showered and ready for bed. After tucking them in, still crying, you found yourself moving to the kitchen to clean up the mess. Starting with the the broken glass that had fallen, then the dishes before you moved to scrub the floor, crying harder when you had to scrub Eddie’s blood. 

At some point Motley came out, rushing into your arms to keep sobbing so you took her back to yours and Eddie’s room to try and get her to sleep there. You put her in one of Eddie’s sweatshirts before laying with her and trying to calm her down. 

“He hurt daddy.” She sobs. 

“Honey, Eddie was just trying to-“ 

“No. Billy hurt Daddy.” She explains. “It’s my fault. I told him he couldn’t come over on Christmas!” 

There it was. You had wondered since Billy brought it up, you hadn’t said anything and Eddie hadn’t. So why had Motley? 

“Why would you do that Motley? That was an adult decision that you should have let me tell him. I don’t want you getting in trouble because-“ 

“He’s mean to daddy, I didn’t want him bullying daddy! Okay?!” She cries, swiping her cheeks. “But now Daddy hates me! He hates me mama!” 

“No. He doesn’t. He doesn’t hate you, okay?” 

“He does!” 

It took all but 30 minutes to lure Motley out of room after Eddie left for Wayne’s, promising her some chicken nuggets for dinner and that was it. 

She ate silently with you before bath time, then when you sat with her on the couch before her bedtime while Ziggy slept in her crib, you noticed her watching the door every 2 minutes. 

“What’s wrong?” You whisper, smoothing out her still damp hair. 

“Is daddy Eddie coming back for bedtime?” She asks, scratching her arm. “He always lays with me.” 

“He’s gonna be at Grandpa Wayne’s tonight. Helping him out with something. We will see him tomorrow, okay metalhead?” 

“Okay.” 

Only when you called the next morning there was no answer, Motley getting dressed beside you with a look of excitement on her face as it rang. 

“Is he there? Ask him when he’ll be home!” 

“He didn’t pick up ,baby, I’m sure they are busy. We will see him later okay? Maybe we can have dinner at the diner.” 

And that’s what she talked about for the rest of the day, you tried asking about her time at Billy’s but she simply shut the conversation down. By the time dinner time came about she was upset that Eddie hadn’t come back so you offered to go to Grandpa Wayne’s and pick them up. 

You had been there for about 5 minutes when the van pulled up and you could hear the gasps of excitement from Motley when Eddie hops out. 

Inviting him to dinner, only for Eddie to be nervous and say no. He looked upset, and you were beginning to panic deep down. 

Please don’t leave us. I love you. You wanted to say but you were pretty sure that would scare him off more. 

Who wanted the mother of two with the racist abusive ex? Right?

When you drove off without him Motley was just as upset. “Why didn’t he come mama?” 

“He had some more stuff to help with.” You answer, smiling at her through the mirror. 

“Why didn’t he say hi?” 

“He’s just not feeling good.” Lie lie lie. 

The next day you were doing laundry while Motley was dashing around upstairs and Ziggy was waddling around you. 

The sound of the phone ringing didn’t draw your attention since you were too busy trying to kick the washing machine into working. But when your daughter dashed down the stairs you looked at her. 

“PHONE!” 

“Who is it?”  You ask, laughing at her excitement as you snatch Ziggy up and follow her up the stairs. 

“Daddy Eddie. He just wants to talk to you though.” And you found yourself rushing to the phone, only when you got there it was just the dial tone. 

“Is he coming home? Can I do his hair when he gets back?” She asks hopefully. 

“Maybe later.” 

By the time you realized he was back Motley was on her own bed and the shower to your shared bathroom was running so you laid on the bed waiting for him to come out. 

When he did your heart beat out of your chest, nervous and in love. 

He laid down, face in the pillow as you let him know Motley loved him. 

All he could say was “I know” before falling asleep and you were heartbroken. 

He’s gonna leave. 

Two days before Christmas Eve when Motley is dropped off from Billys  he doesn’t say a word, merely tosses her bag at you as he slams his car door and drives off. 

Motley storms past you, pushing into the door as you carry Ziggy in, watching her in shock. “I HATE HIM AND I HATE YOU!” 

Eddie, who had been waiting in the kitchen, sulks downstairs to give her space and you feel a twist in your gut. “That’s not fair to Eddie, Mot.” 

“I’m not talking about Eddie. I’m talking about HIM!” She screams, stomping to her room and ripping the poster from her door. 

“Hey!” You snap, following her and trying to get her to stop as she tears down the Elvis and Fleetwood Mac poster. 

“I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM! It’s bullshit!” She screams, slamming the door. Only she slams it so hard it creaks open a little. Before you could make it worse the phone rings and you find yourself heading downstairs to tell Eddie about the call. 

The excitement on his face breaks your heart as you realize he is so desperate to get away from you. Jesus you trapped him didn’t you? 

By the time Motley comes out of her room she looks around for a minute, sitting at the table. “Where’s daddy?” 

“Band practice.” You smile. 

“When will he be back?” 

“Don’t worry about that. Just eat.” You felt bad about the short answer. But you were upset about the way she was acting and you were upset that she said she hated you. Not to mention the way she ripped the posters and the way Eddie seemed to run from you. 

You already dragged her away from Billy once, now she was going to lose another father because of your mess. You were a terrible mother. 

She hates me , and so does Eddie. 

“He will be here, okay? Daddy would never miss Christmas.” You smile, crying softly yourself. “Just wait and see. Daddy will be home.” 

She calmed down a bit at your promise, laying beside you. 

“I asked santa for dad back last year….” She mumbles. “And he gave me an even better one.” 

“Yeah, he did.” 

You don’t get a lick of sleep, waiting all night for the sound of the door to open. They had to have released Eddie, right? 

You overthink it all as you sneak all the gifts out to the tree, ones that Eddie wrapped while you were sick and see all the dedication he put into them which just makes your heart melt more. 

When the sun starts coming up you realize that maybe no officers were there to release him and they would in the morning during normal processing hours so you focus on starting the meal and getting the girls ready. 

Motley refuses to go near her presents, choosing to wait for Eddie. You’re okay with it, letting Ziggy open a gift since you know it will take her forever. 

You focus on cooking while Motley waits on the couch watching out the window. 

But then people start showing up for the early dinner and you begin to let that panic sink in. Steve shows up, his two sons dashing for Motley as Nancy waddles in behind them. They thought three dishes that they add to the table. Steve asks about the broken cabinet but before you explain Lucas and Mike show up with their own dishes. 

One after one they all show up and sook enough you break from the crowd to go in your room and call the station. 

“I’m looking for Edward Munson? He should have been released by now but-“ 

“He was released two hours ago.” The kid on the phone sighs. “Anything else.” 

You don’t respond, choosing to hang out and close your door so your guests don’t see you cry. 

He wasn’t coming, you had messed everything up like usual. God you were pathetic. 

Just as Billy would say, useless as hell. 

Shuffling to the bathroom to try and catch your breath, turning on the water and sitting under it as you try to ease the panic attack. 

The pink pregnancy test box stares back at you from the trash bin, the actual test on the counter where you had planned to surprise Eddie. 

God I can’t do anything right. 

Part lll HERE

(OHHHH I really hope this chapter didn't disappoint. Please please please no hate on it! If you want to see something specific such as a blurb or scene with Eddie and the girls feel free to request. -Ultralight)

Taglist::: (Let me know if you want removed)

@localemofreak @paradise-summertime @jenniquinn @eddiesxangel @mariamayhemrsmunson @venuslayla23-blog @cherrycolas-things @scout141 @thehuntresswolf @natie335 @alyisdead @animechick555 @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @mysticpeachobject @jackiosstuff @slytherinroyalty16

[stellamancer]

entreat (reader x yuta okkotsu)

notes: hellow hellow! this is actually my first time writing yuta ahaha. he's a sweet boy who deserves the world (like most of the rest of the cast). intially the idea for this fic was a bit different but, i think this is cute too.

this fic was a request written as part of the @/ficsforgaza initiative as a gift for @yutaleks. my requests are currently closed, but if you are interested please do check the ffg tumblr out! there are lots of writers participating!

contains: gn!reader, food (mentions of, eating and sharing), yuta okkotsu being a cutie patoot

Whenever Yuta travels for a mission, he always brings back souvenirs; boxes of ridiculously sugary sweets for Gojo, bags of interestingly flavored potato chips for Maki, eclectic and downright gimmicky foods for Panda and Toge and for you—

Yuta brings back things he wants to eat with you. 

It started with the first-ever souvenir he brought back for you, from the very first solo mission he received after being reinstated as a special grade. He'd given it to you to say thank you for your support because just saying it has never been an adequate expression of gratitude for Yuta. 

But he'd apologized too, as he handed you the box– cookies from Hokkaido using locally sourced butter and cream, the prefecture’s pride and joy. 

Yuta is maybe the only person you know who would say sorry when handing someone a gift. 

“Why?” you'd asked.

He looked embarrassed as he answered. “I didn't know what you would like, but I couldn't just not bring you anything so I… got something that I thought sounded good…” 

His face was the picture of guilt, like he had admitted to the most heinous crime in all of history– not knowing what you would have liked. 

“It's okay if you want to throw it away or give it to sensei! I won't get upset or mad!” 

You remember distinctly thinking that if Rika were still here, she would send you to the grave if you threw away Yuta’s gift. Instead of that, you started to open the box, peeling away the wrapping and the box top to reveal two neat little rows of individually packaged cookies. You’d plucked one out and offered it to Yuta. 

“You said you thought it sounded good right?” you had asked. 

Yuta only stared, obviously unsure of what to do. 

“Come on, take it.” 

He hesitated, clearly not wanting to partake in a gift meant for you and for a moment you both stood there, unmoving. 

“Come on, Yuta, please?” 

That had been enough to get him to give in. You remember being surprised that was all it took. He gingerly took the cookie from you, handling it like a treasure, and you’d grabbed one of your own, knowing there was no way Yuta would eat one if you didn't first.

You'd tucked the box under your arm to rip the packing open and with another thanks you popped the cookie in your mouth. 

Honestly speaking, it had been one of the best cookies you'd ever had; crisp, yet tender, with a subtle sweetness that was nothing short of addictive.

When you had finished it, you stared at Yuta intently. It took him a second to realize that you meant for him to eat his, too, and with both yet another apology and yet another thank you, he delicately tore open the package and ate the cookie. 

You watched as he chewed it thoughtfully, evaluating the flavor. And when he finished, you tilted your head to the side and asked, “So, did you like it?” 

You remember how he nodded and smiled, carefree and innocent– a look you had always felt suited Yuta best. 

In return, you’d offered him a smile of your own. “You don't need to go through the trouble of bringing me back anything, but if you do, bring stuff like this— that we can share.”

And Yuta did just that. 

Now, every time he comes back from a mission, he comes bearing souvenirs from all over Japan: chestnut daifuku from Nagano, gyoza senbei from Tochigi, Kobe pudding from Hyogo… the list goes on. Sometimes, it’s just one thing. And other times, he comes back with two or three, looking apologetic as he tells you that he just couldn't decide. 

You don't mind, though, you never do– in fact, you actually look forward to when he brings multiple. More to share means more time with Yuta.

And this time, this time is no exception, but….

“...this is an awful lot…” you say looking at the array of ten different boxes that Yuta’s brought back from his latest mission. 

“I'm sorry!” He apologizes automatically and then, just like always he adds. “It was so hard to choose… Everything sounded so good.”

He's not wrong. Every single thing he's brought back sounds absolutely delicious and catered specifically to your tastes. It kind of makes you wonder if he's been taking notes all this time, commiting the things you've liked to memory. 

“It's fine!” you insist. “I'm just not sure if we can finish all this together…” 

At least not all at once. The things that are individually wrapped should be fine, but there are a fair amount of things that are probably meant to be eaten in a single sitting. 

“...maybe we should see if the others want some too…” you murmur thoughtfully. It's been a while since all of you ate together, between missions and the like. It would be fun. 

Yuta makes a soft sound and you look toward him. He’s very obviously avoiding your gaze, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. You know him well enough to realize that means he's got something on his mind.

“What's up?” you ask. 

He doesn't say anything, not at first, but it's obvious he's debating whether or not to tell you. If you wait long enough, though, you think he'll say it. And sure enough, after a minute or two Yuta takes a deep breath and says, “I was actually hoping we could still just share everything just the two of us!” 

The words come out in a two-breath rush and you stare at him as the meaning of his words sink in. You did tell him to bring back things the two of you could share, it just never occurred to you that he thought that meant only the two of you. 

Yuta, on the other hand, looks mildly horrified, regret instantly visible, as if it was a mistake to voice his own desires, and so he adds. “But— but if you want to eat with everyone, that's fine! I can call Toge and Panda and–”

“Actually,” you interject and while you don't want to talk over Yuta you want him to know— need him to know that it's fine. It's fine for him to say what he wants, because not only will you always listen, you’ll—

“I take it back. I think we can eat this all ourselves. Just the two of us.”

You’ll never, ever refuse him. 

[remuslupingf]

Dustin, whose your friend?

E.M

Eddie Munson x shy!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: fluff, shy reader, anxious reader, nice eddie, clueless reader

Part II

You hadn’t been living in Hawkins long. Long enough for people to know to keep their distance. You were a shy person with only one friend in hawkins. Dustin henderson. The curly headed kid was nice and the only person who had welcomed you to Hawkins high. Despite being a freshman, he wasn’t scared to approach the new senior.

Dustin swore up and down that his friends in the hellfire club had been dying to meet you. He's been trying to convince you for months to sit with them at lunch and befriend some of the club. You’d told him excuse after excuse as to why you can’t sit with them. well. today he wasn’t having it.

“Hi guys! this is my friend i’ve been talking about! the one I always try to convince to eat with us.” Dustin says while dragging your arm, forcing you to sit beside him.

“Hi.” you say meekly while making eye contact with the club members around the table. Your eyes land on the boy at the head of the table. Eddie Munson. You quickly look down at your tray of food. His stare makes you nervous.

Eddie smiles to himself before saying “it’s nice to meet you, friend of Dustin.” The group laughs, the awkwardness fading.

The club goes back to making conversation like they were before you’d sat down. But Eddie kept sneaking glances at you. He's heard of you, the “new freak” as Jason liked to call you. If Jason didn’t like you, Eddie knew you were someone he wanted to know.

»»————-　★　————-««

He’d never approached you because you’d always seemed so upset at school. Like you wanted to be anywhere else. One time Eddie had seen you at the grocery store with your mother and little brother. You had the biggest smile on your face as you and your brother picked out some candy for your movie night. He saw your mother looking at her children with so much love.

Eddie knew then that you were someone he desperately wanted to be friends with. Just because you're shy doesn't mean you don't deserve to have any friends! Hey, he didn’t have any friends until 11th grade when he met Garrett.

Eddie thought you were devastatingly beautiful, you had hair that rivaled his and eyes that were deep and light at the same time, like you saw and knew everything the world had to offer. He wanted to sit and stare at you and call you sweet things so you’d blush and smile at him. He wanted to be friends. Yes, anything with you was good as long as he could speak to you.

»»————-　★　————-««

Throughout lunch the club had been asking you questions about yourself, where you had moved from, have you ever played dnd, and things like that. You were so shy you kept your eyes on your food. You felt bad but you were outside of your comfort zone.

After lunch, you were dumping your tray in the trash when you felt someone behind you. You quickly move out of the way, set your tray down and walk to your locker to get your books for your next class.

“Hey! Wait up!" Eddie calls as he catches up to you.

You turn, shocked that he had wanted to talk to you. Did you do something wrong? Did he not want you to sit with them again? Does he feel like you're stealing Dustin from him? All these thoughts went through your anxious mind while he caught up to where you were standing.

“Hey, I just wanted to check that you were feeling okay? Did we make you uncomfortable? I'll yell at the guys if they did anything." Eddie says to you, bending, trying to catch your shy gaze.

"Oh… no, they didn’t say anything. I'm just a shy person. I'm sorry if I made it uncomfortable. I won't sit with you guys again.” you mumble, turning around to walk away.

“Wait a second,” Eddie says while reaching out for your arm. “You didn’t do anything, I swear. I just wanted to be the one to invite you back to sit with us tomorrow! but only if you want to! You don’t have to be friends with us just because Dustin is. we’d love to have you! no pressure though.” he says to you in a sweet, soft tone as to not make you scared of him. He knows he can be too much and freak people out.

You just stand there and gape at him. He's kidding right? you didn’t even contribute to the conversation! Maybe he really is in a cult and trying to recruit people. even if that person is a weird girl who has no friends and sits alone. why would he want her to join his cult-

“You can say no.” Eddie cut off your train of thought. “I won't be offended, I promise.” Eddie says, nervous that your silence means you’re scared of him.

“Um… sure. I'll see you tomorrow eddie.” you say, giving him a small smile and walking away. Why is your heart beating so fast? It has to be because you’ve never had a conversation with a boy other than Dustin, for longer than a minute. you were just nervous right? you hope that’s why you’re out of breath.

»»————-　★　————-««

“Baby! Dustin’s on the phone for you!” Your mother shouts up the stairs. You hop off your bed, wearing your comfy pajama pants that you had to cuff so they fit properly, and your chunky cardigan. You race downstairs and take the phone from your mother.

“Hey Dusty what’s up?” you ask, leaning against the wall while your eyes drift to what your moms making for dinner.

“Hey! i just wanted to tell you that you’re officially invited to sit with us at lunch until the end of time.” he says in a dramatic voice.

You huff out a laugh, “thanks, but Eddie already personally invited me.” you brag. only Dustin can bring out the smugness in you

“Okay Mrs. Popular! had no idea that he would do that, especially with how he can’t shut up about you.” Dustin says in a sing-song voice.

“WHAT.” you shout into the phone, making your mother drop the knife she was chopping onions with. “sorry.” you mumble to her, turning your attention back to dustin.

“Yeah, he won’t shut up about how pretty your hair was today or something. He wants to know what shampoo you use by the way, but says he can’t get as much volume as yours has.” Dustin laughs.

You’re mortified, he was looking at you? Noticing you? Talking about you? What was in the air today?

“What else has he been saying?” you speak into the phone, whispering so your mom doesn’t hear. she hears anyway, trying desperately to hear what your friend on the other end of the phone was saying.

“He said something about your perfume, I don't know. He was mostly rambling. I didn't catch much.” Dustin admits.

What the hell could Eddie Munson be thinking about you? thinking about you so much after one day of knowing him? You try to slow your heartbeat but you know the blush on your face is giving you away. You’d better go before you get so flustered that you wish for the ground to open up and swallow you.

“Sorry dusty I gotta go finish my english essay, i’ll see you tomorrow okay?” you tell him.

“Yeah! sure no problem! see you tomorrow!” he says and hangs up. You take a second to hook the phone on the wall, thinking about the conversation you just had. This is definitely too good to be true. right?

“So,” your mom says, smirking. “Who was that?”

“Oh! no one! just my friend dustin. I sat with him and his friends at lunch today.

“And, how’d it go?” Your mom asks, curiously. She knows you don’t have many friends, and how hard it is for you to open up.

“It went okay, they asked me if I'd like to sit with them again tomorrow. I think I'll say yes.” you smile sheepishly.

“That's great honey! I'm so happy for you! you’ll have to tell me all about it. And this mystery boy.” she laughs, seeing how red your face went.

“I gotta go finish my homework.” you say before racing back to your room. What the hell was going on today? You sit on your bed, looking in the mirror across your room. “Hopefully tomorrow I won't embarrass myself,” you say outloud to yourself.

»»————-　★　————-««

You did. You embarrassed the shit out of yourself. First, you tripped over your own feet when you saw Eddie walking to his locker this morning. Then you walked into the wall when he caught your eye in the hallway between classes. And to top it all off, you choked on your sandwich when he sent a wink your way after making a joke at Dustin’s expense. 

You had made a fool out of yourself and you hadn't even known him for 48 hours. You shared history class with him, and today when he walked in, he stood there glaring at your desk partner until they got the message and moved seats. He sat down  beside you with a grin on his face. 

“Good morning. How'd you sleep? Dream of me?” He asked with a cocky smirk that had you squeezing your thighs together.

“F-fine.” You stammered, nervous under his gaze. You were seriously starting to wonder if this was a prank. Why would he ask if you've dreamt about him? I mean you had but why would he want you to?

The period passed slowly, with him whispering jokes in your ear, doodling on your hand, and unashamedly flirting with you. Your face was beet red at the end of the hour and your palm hurt from how hard your nails had been biting into the flesh there. He knew he made you nervous. He had some kind of power over you. You were immune to his words and his honey sweet voice whispering in your ear. You needed today to be over.

»»————-　★　————-««

When the final bell had rang, you were at your locker packing up your things. Tring to remember which subjects you had homework for, so you can bring the right books home. You're putting your biology textbook in your bag when you feel a tap on your shoulder. 

Assuming it's Dustin, you say “Not today Dusty. I've had a stressful day, maybe this weekend we can work on it.”

“Work on what?” A voice who is not Dustin replies. You whirl around, coming face to face with Eddie. Just who she wanted to get away from.

“Oh! Um, me and Dustin have been working on an idea he had for a new dnd character. I was just helping him with the name and stuff.” You mumble, scuffing the toe of your boot on the linoleum floor. 

“That's cool! Hey, I was wondering if you wanted a ride home? I noticed that you walked home and wanted to offer my awesome driving services.” He smiles at you, with his big puppy dog eyes.

“I'm okay Eddie, but thank you.” You smile up at him, hoping he’ll start making his way to his van. What you weren't expecting was him to take your hand, and have the biggest pout you've ever seen.

“Why not? Do I make you uncomfortable? I've been flirting with you and making you blush like crazy. I don't know, maybe I'm reading things wrong but I think you like me. I know I like you.” This is the first time you've seen him nervous, like he expects to be rejected. You feel your heart seize. Maybe he wasn't sending mixed messages, you were. Of course he liked you. Any idiot could see that.

Eddie didn't make you uncomfortable at all! You were so shy that any form of attention made you nervous, no matter if you liked him or not. Of course you liked him! You'd be stupid not to.

“I'm sorry Eddie. I didn't realize that maybe I was being confusing. I do like you. It's weird. Yesterday we had never spoken, now I feel like I've known you forever. If you'll still have me, even after I've unknowingly been rejecting you all day, I'd like for you to drive me home.” you admit while smiling up at him, trying to convey what you feel with your eyes.

“Sweetheart, why didn't you just say that! Plus I like girls who play hard to get so it wasn't too bad.” He winks at you while putting his arm around your shoulders, guiding you to his van. 

He helps you up into the passenger side and jogs over to the drivers side and hops in. He smiles at you and starts the engine, pulling out of the parking lot. 

“Alright doll, before we start anything serious,” He says in a playful voice, “Why the hell did you let Henderson introduce you to dnd and not me? I'm the master babe, literally.” He wiggles his eyebrows making you laugh. 

»»————-　★　————-««

Your first date is spent at his kitchen table, him slowly explaining the rules to you while you take notes, hoping that on your second date you'll get to play with hellfire.

“I’ll go easy on you for your first campaign, but those other idiots…” He grins at you, withholding his sadistic campaign plan he has in store. 

[pinkthrone445]

-"You are my miracle"-

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:Soft, fluff, fluff, fluff, FLUFF

Warnings:I don't think so

Summary:The kids decide to put together a fake wedding for you and your girlfriend Melissa on Valentine's Day.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone, sorry for not writing something longer, but I thought the day deserved something sweet and cute.

Six months, six months it took Mel to get to know you completely and open up to you. It took her a year to finally accept that you were girlfriends. Six more months to move in together. And it took her just a minute at the right time to realize that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with you.

Melissa Schemmenti was a determined woman, she had tried a lot of things and she knew what she wanted and what she liked and what she didn't. Marriage was something she had tried before and she was pretty sure she didn't want to go through it again. That's why a couple of years ago she had broken up with Gary, she knew what she wanted to and he wasn't going to convince her of changing her mind.

A year after that, you arrived at school, a new transfer teacher, a new energy in the place, and a new love in the redhead's life. You came like a typhoon, dragging everything in your path, including her heart.

The redhead didn't expect to fall in love, she didn't want to, but it happened, it happened so fast that she didn't even notice it until you were already oficial girlfriends.

Mel felt something with you that she hadn't felt in a long time, comfort. Love is not about who turns your life upside down, love makes you feel comfortable, happy and at peace, and that's exactly how she felt with you. You never demanded more than she gave you, you respected the limits she had, you were sure and determined about what you wanted, you didn't let yourself be managed by others, you were perfect for her.

There were a lot of things that you and Mel had talked about from the beginning, not to marriage, but yes to children and moving in together, no to mommy king yes to costumes and role play, and a lot of stuff more. You wanted to get married but she didn't, so you adapted. She moved in with you even though she loved her home, compromising her part. Love was to give the best of both parts and that's what you did, neither of you gave 50-50, yours was to give one hundred percent each other.

This was the third Valentine's Day you spent together, you usually didn't do many things for that special day, you went home and did a movie marathon with your favorite snacks, but this day, something at school changed everything.

Mel taught a grade of third-graders, you taught second-graders, when kids are that young, their curiosity is through the roof, each thing they learned generated more questions and more curiosity, they wanted to know and experience everything that was possible as quickly as possible. They had recently found out what Valentine's Day meant, they had also found out that you and Mel were a couple, which made their imagination work and somehow convinced you and Mel to do a fake Valentine's Day wedding in the school gym.

The children planned everything and handed out invitations. Along with the art teachers, they had prepared dresses for you and decorated the gymnasium, with Gregory they grew flowers for the bouquet and with Barbara they chose songs to dance the waltz, they even chose bridesmaids and groomsmen.

You never thought you'd be nervous about a fake wedding, but this touched on something you'd kept deep inside. Seeing yourself in the mirror with that fake dress made of toilet paper and colored cutouts, made you think about what a real wedding with Mel would be like, you knew it was never going to happen and you would never insist on it, but it was nice to dream. Life with Melissa was perfect and you wouldn't risk it by insisting on something like that. Having her in your life was enough and nothing would get better than that, not even a piece of paper saying you were married. Right?

You sighed looking in the mirror while one of the teachers combed your hair

-"Everything fine?" - She asked and you nodded looking at the votes youe kids helped you write

-"Yes..."-You smiled and let her continue to comb your hair.

One of the little kids dressed very elegantly came to pick you up a few minutes later informing you that everything was ready at the gym. You carefully grabbed your bouquet and smiled at the sight of Gregory waiting for you outside in a smart suit made of cardstock.

When you got to the Gym Gates you sighed trying to ease your nerves, if this was just joking, why did you feel so nervous? None of this was real, once they finished all this theater, Melissa would still be your girlfriend and everything would be normal as before.

Gregory smiled and started walking down the aisle when the doors opened, the whole school was there, the children sitting neatly next to their teachers, the walls decorated in white, soft music in the background and at the end of the road, Melissa in a dress also made of paper, which made you laugh. Arriving at her side, Gregory handed her your hand and then took her corresponding place next to you, while next to Mel was Barbara. Mel stroked your hands gently and looked at your dress smiling as the officiant, Mr. Johnson, introduced the ceremony

-"You look beautiful... Is that designer's?" - she joked and you nodded laughing

-"Yes, The most experienced in the business, he has almost all his life of experience to show" - You joked laughing and Mel kissed your hand leaving a kiss marked with her red lipstick. Mel's hands were also sweating a little, was she nervous too?

After a while, they gave you time to read the vows you with the kids had prepared, after clearing your throat, you started reading the notes

-"Melissa... You make me happy like when I eat my favorite candy, you are beautiful like the cutest dog on the planet, I like how you smell like flowers, seeing you makes me as happy as when I found out that it was a snow day and I don't have to come to school and I can continue sleeping. Listening to you talk makes me want to dance with happiness like when I listen to baby shark...I wish I could spend my life with you almost as much as I wish I had the last dancing barbie doll. I will take care of you and I will always be ready to kiss your boboos when you fall playing in the park, I love you so much that I will lend you my favorite toys and give you part of my lunch. I promise to be well-behaved and not to fart in front of you and also chew with my mouth closed and brush my teeth before giving you a kiss on the cheek, I promise to do all that because I love you so much like I love my mom."-You finished reading the vows that the children gave you laughing, but when you looked up Melissa looked at you seriously which made you scared. Maybe this was too much, maybe Mel had regretted making this joke for the kids, maybe she was angry or uncomfortable. Before you could continue to overthink, the redhead put away the vows she had made with her students and sighed taking your hands and kneeling in front of you taking out the small paper ring she had in her pocket, you looked at her confused

-"(Y/N)... Will you be my wife" - Mel asked and you laughed watching her

-"Babe, that's why we are here at the altar... We are getting married..."-You whispered trying to goad her up but she didn't

-"I'm being serious... Would you marry me for real?" -she insisted again and you frowned

-"I don't understand" - You whispered and she smiled looking into your eyes

-"I said one time that would take a miracle to marry again... And you are my miracle... Seeing you like this makes me understand how lucky I am. You're the most gorgeous woman I know, you came into my life to improve it in every way, I know that I am not an easy person to get along with and you adapted to every part of my being, as if we were a complement to each other. The patience you have for me and the happiness you bring me is incomparable, I want to feel that every day for the rest of my days. I don't want to lose you just because I was afraid of getting hurt again or because I was a coward that didn't wanted to take the step and really commit to this relationship. I want you to be by my side like my wife for the rest of my days... What do you say? Would you marry me?"-she whispered smiling, the whole gym had fallen silent waiting for your answer, so quiet that you could hear your heavy breathing and your heartbeat. Mel was shocked when you knelt down in front of her to kiss her while you cried

-"I do! I wanna marry you" - You whispered over her lips making her smile and she carefully placed the paper ring on you

-"I'll get a better ring, I promise" - She whispered and you laughed kissing her again

-"This is perfect..."-You muttered, unable to help but grin from ear to ear

-"I think our vows were better than what she said..." - One of the kids commented out loud, making you laugh as the whole school applauded happy for you two .

[erinfern0]

no words were needed.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader

— gender-neutral nicknames, gender-neutral anatomy, only pronouns used are you, etc.

summary: you and simon were friends as long as you remember. maybe that was the reason why the two of you were so blind to the feeling hidden so deeply inside.

warnings: hurt/angst to comfort and fluff. cocky teasing, mention of abuse, swearing, smoking, terrible date, insecurities, self-doubt, jealousy, protective simon.

a/n: based on this lovely request, the only thing I decided to change is that i made the reader gender-neutral, not including any specific pronouns, just a little preference of mine.

You and Simon were always there for each other, since the day you two met. Not only because the two of you were neighbors — living just a couple of houses away from each other, but also because your parents were friends. Both of your fathers served in the military, and mothers always found time to chat and see each other when their husbands were away.

You always adored the tiny gentleman in him, he was like a brother to you, always finding ways to comfort you and help whenever you needed it. And you were there for him too, watching him exorcise or patching up all the little scruffs and wounds he had. You spent hours upon hours in your room just so he could escape from the rough household he had to grow up in.

Your house became his home, and he always felt like a brother to you, protecting you from possible dangers and people you'd rather not deal with. That was until high school, when you realized he's not the cute little boy he used to be. He turned a little colder, focusing on his grades and physique to appeal to his father's wishes.

Watching him lose himself broke your heart, especially after you realized you were catching feelings for him. You hid it well, trying not to get too close to him to not add burdens to his already high pile of them. You brought peace to his life that you didn't want to ruin.

No words were needed between the two of you to know exactly what you were thinking, well, most of the time. You always joked that you shared some braincells as you had the same type of humor and shared some interests.

He was slightly older than you, just a couple of months apart, and as soon as he turned 18, he started applying for the military. He worked his ass off, and you just supported him, reminding him how much he deserves to get in and how well he'll do as a soldier.

And you, too, had to work hard, studying for your exams. Ever since you turned 18 too, you felt the pressure of being an actual adult, having to apply for colleges and part-time jobs to not feel like a parasite to your parents.

Now, you were sitting in your room by your desk, spreading notes all over it and highlighting the most important parts when you heard footsteps coming upstairs. Not anyone from your family members. They belonged to Simon. Your heart rushed for a split second before he entered your room, hood covering most of his head and face.

“Learn to knock, Riley.” you turned towards him and smiled lightly. “I could have been naked, you know?”

“Wouldn't complain.” he chuckled as he walked to your desk and wrapped his arms around you from behind. Simon earned himself a light smack to his forearm for his comment. His head fell on your shoulder, watching you write over one of the pages. “Still studyin'?”

You groaned in frustration, head falling back against his body as he just laughed and ruffled your hair. Then, he just patted your shoulders and pulled away from the hug to sit on your parapet.

Closing your textbook and spinning around in your chair, you watched him lean against the wall and grab a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “So, um… How was your date?”

His question caught you off guard, stopping you in your movements and just staring at the ceiling, thinking about the answer. Telling him the whole truth might be hurtful, not only for him and you but also to him and you'd never risk that.

Well, the only reason you even agreed to go was because he was slightly similar to Simon, a tall blonde gym rat who likes books and video games. You were naive thinking that he'll ever replace Simon. By the end of the date, you decided to tell him the truth, that you already had feelings for another man, and you are sorry for possibly leading him.

He turned out to be less sweet than you believed him to be, immediately getting mad at you for, as he phrased it: 'wasting his time'. This made you think so hard, how could you be anyone's type if the only person you truly want is your best friend?

“It was fine until it wasn't.” you claimed, immediately regretting your words as soon as you looked at Simon.

The hood was gone, leaving you to see the expression on his face. The frown of his brows and that spark in his eye made a chill run down your spine. Concern? Worry? Anger? You couldn't tell, but it wasn't anything nice.

“What did that prick do, huh?” he asked and looked at you while blowing out some smoke towards the opened window. That's when the light hit his face, showing you the bruise forming on his cheekbone.

“Again?” you whispered breathlessly, getting up from your seat to appear in front of him seconds later. Your fingers caught his chin, turning his face so you could see it better.

“Don't switch the topic on me.” he groaned with annoyance, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist to pull your hand away from him. Seeing your face so upset, analyzing every little scratch on his face, especially the purple mark splashed on his side, he just sighed, shaking his head.

“Answer for an answer?” you asked, recalling a little rule the two of you had since your early childhood. His tongue brushed over his teeth as his mouth was closed, just accepting his fate.

“I asked first.” he barked, forcing a smirk on his chopped lips. His legs part, inviting you a little closer, and allowing you to wrap your arms around his torso. One of Simon's arms rested on your shoulder while the other held his cigarette away from you. “Plus, you already know the answer to your question so...”

“It wasn't that bad, it's just… We weren't a match, that's it.” you started, watching him raise his eyebrow in disbelief, knowing you too well to just believe it was the only reason. “God, you're annoying.” you huff and roll your eyes.

“Proud of it, too.” he shrugged his shoulders, leaning against the window to watch you squirm and collect your thoughts. That's what you thought he was doing, but actually, Simon's eyes were just wandering over your face to admire you, even if for just a couple of seconds.

Every little detail of your face was mapped in his head, knowing every curve and blemish, every beauty mark or scar that you had. He adored every part of you, especially your eyes that looked so lost in thought, so easy for him to get away with his actions.

“He was nice, we went for a walk in the park nearby. Then I just realized he… Wasn't exactly the person I was looking for, and I told him that.“ you met his gaze, dark browns hazed with nicotine, eyelids heavier than usual. His pupils were blown out, twitching as he looked into your own eyes. “I think I wasn't too gentle with it, he got so upset.”

Your gasp made his body stiffen in alert, the hand that rested on your shoulder gently squeezing it to encourage you to speak. His expression was puzzled, as if he was shifting between different emotions, analyzing the way your eyes fluttered. Of course, he didn't miss the water collecting in the corners of your eyes.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice low and quieter than before, as if you were a deer caught in the headlights. A dainty, sweet little fawn that he wished he could take care of better. His expression softened, the clench in his jaw relaxing under your touch,

“Not upset like that.” you assured, pulling away to rest your hands on his sides, gripping the material of his hoodie. The material is soft and smells so comfortable. The mix of his cologne and cigarettes, despite how much you hated him smoking, the scent always warmed your heart.

“He said something, didn't he?” he asked, teeth clenching as you nodded your head. “Take your time.” as he soothed your hair, the cigarette was thrown into the ashtray you got for him. His now free hand reached to your forearm, drawing calming shapes on your skin, causing goosebumps.

“Well, he just said that I'm wasting his time, how much he regretted seeing me that day because I turned out to be an 'indecisive little baby'. He…” you let out a shaky breath, trying so hard not to show him how much the guy's words hurt you. “He said I was unattractive and boring anyway. He just left me there.”

“Why didn't you call?” he asked, his jaw clenching again, and you felt the muscles of his back tensing under your fingertips. He shifted uncontrollably, trying to stay calm for you. “He'd have to look for his teeth in the fuckin' ground.”

You shook your head, trying to push away the image of Simon covered in the guy's blood, panting heavily with anger. Knowing how much he cared made you feel even worse for telling him all of this.

Simon's mind was somewhere else. Yes, of course, he'd beat the living shit out of your awful date, but what mattered more, the most, was you.

“You told me not to go, and I didn't listen.” you reminded him, biting your inner cheek to keep your composure. “You were right about him from the start, I just… Didn't want to bother you.”

“You'd never bother me, doll.” he assured, leaning closer to you. His face was mere inches away from yours, eyes scanning from your brows to your lips, stopping there for a second before he got right back to your eyes. “All he said was pure bullshit, I hope you know that.”

Your lack of response, and the nervous swallow you did, made his heart sink in realization. Of course, you'd listen to the man who was so direct rather than your friend who admired you in silence. You couldn't see yourself from his perspective.

You couldn't see how much he looked up to you, your soft and kind nature, how much he adored your voice when you rambled about school, friends, and your hobbies. Likewise, you didn't see your body like he did, as pure perfection. Furthermore, you didn't deserve to hear so many lies from such an insecure little fucker who got upset he wouldn't fuck you, as Simon thought.

The room was awfully quiet, as you closed your eyes to stop yourself from crying. He could see it, and it made him even more mad, not at you. At himself. How could he be so blind?

Now, sitting so close to you, thinking over all the ways he could show you how wrong the guy was, it hit him. He felt it before, the way his heart sped up thinking about you. How you were the first thing he thought in the morning after he woke up and the last thing before he went to bed. You were always on his mind, a fever dream of your touch, words, and smile wandering every time he needed comfort.

That's so obvious. He was stupid to believe the reason he was so mad when you mentioned your date was just because he had a bad feeling about him. He just wanted it to be him. All those years, he was just so blind.

Simon loved you like a madman, worshipping the ground you walk on and feeling lucky he could breathe the same air as you. He craved your comforting touch, you were the reason he liked to be touched in the first place, always pulling away from hugs too soon before he met you.

He swallowed harshly, shifting in his seat again, pulling you closer as he cupped your face. His thumbs caressed your cheeks, moving up to wipe a couple of tears that ran down your face.

"Look at me, please." his voice cracked, eyelids fluttering as his mouth felt incredibly dry. Licking his lips, he smiled softly as he saw you slowly open your eyes, looking at him with such a questionable mix of emotions. "You deserve way better than that dumb fuck." he spat out, holding back from saying 'I'd treat you better.'

"He was right, Si. I agreed to go even if I knew I didn't want any of it, I didn't want him." you whispered shakily, your hands resting atop his, Despite your state, you melted under his touch, hoping it'd last forever.

"Even if you knew that, he should be lucky you gave him a chance." his comment made the two of you chuckle softly, catching each other's gaze. You felt lost in his eyes, the dreamy brown making your legs feel weak like cotton. "Who did you want then?"

'You were the one I wanted.' you thought to yourself, immediately scolding yourself for even thinking that. His hands caressing your face felt warm, they felt like the comfort you so desperately needed.

You felt your cheeks get warmer as he got closer, and for a split second, you thought he heard your inner voice. Despite your worries, Simon didn't look away or leave, he just stared into your eyes as if they were the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

"He's a fool for losing you, sweetheart." his voice echoed in your head, making you feel giddy at the raspy sound of the nickname he gave you. He never called you that before. It slipped so easily off his tongue, sounding so perfect.

Seconds later, you felt courageous. 'Now or never.' the little voice inside your head whispered, taking over your body and inching closer to him. Lips almost touching as you clung to his hoodie, trying to pull him towards you.

Simon was faster, his lips hungrily latching onto yours in a rushed, messy manner. It felt like he waited for this moment all his life, fingers holding your face as close to him as possible. His body slid off the windowsill, standing on his feet and pulling your bodies against each other.

One of your hands rested on his chest, grasping the soft material with your shaky fingers, the other running up his body to find its' place in his hair, tugging on the ends. Your action caused him to groan, deepening the kiss with the way you tilted your head, allowing the two of you to lose yourselves.

It was fast, messy, and greedy. The way he turned you around so you'd lean against the wall, letting him cage you in his embrace made you gasp into his mouth. Simon felt himself growing breathless, but it didn't matter.

That's when you felt it. You felt his love in such a different way than before. It was strong, storming into you like a hurricane to leave your mind a hazed mess. All you could think about was the fast beating of his heartbeat under your fingertips, the way he melted into your body as the kisses slowed down, turning into short pecks.

A string of saliva connected the two of you as you pulled away, catching your breaths. Foreheads touching, Simon's thumb rubbing your swollen lower lip, feeling the mix of spit under the pad of his finger.

You felt heavenly, tears almost spilling again as you realized that your crush on him wasn't just a crush. It was hard for you to admit your love to him, but now you could hear the mean voices in your head go away with the way he held you so close to him.

And for the first time in a while, Simon felt at peace, knowing he was right where he belonged. You were the light he was chasing in the dark tunnel of his life and now he could just have you. He felt your arms wrapped around him so tightly, he couldn't focus on anything else. He felt stronger than ever, cared for, loved.

No words were needed between the two of you as you just stood there, bodies tangled, and leaned against the wall to keep the two of you from falling to the floor from how shaky your legs were.

No words were needed for the two of you to admire the moment of quiet, peaceful breaths syncing with each other.

No words were needed for the two of you to admit how blind you were, not noticing or not admitting your feelings for each other.

No words were needed to express the love you felt for each other, just as it's always been.

masterlist | request info

[iouinotes]

Good gone bad | Coriolanus Snow

pairing: young!Coriolanus Snow x female!reader

movie: Hunger Games: The ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

warnings: dark!character, smut

word count: 3,8k

summary: You are childhood friends and very close with him. When his behaviour starts to change for the worse, you try your best to hold on to his real-self.

a/n: I adored Snow the first half an hour, because he was a gentleman and cared so much! Then his character became dark, obsessive and murderous and it really was a game changer...but I definitely want to read the book, so I can describe his character in my following stories better!

part 2 here

"I will call my new discovery just like you, Mr. Snow. The best student and the future of this world. No one will stand in your way, when the blizzard blows over the people. And because it will work so well for your little infatuation, it will function for every other naive creature too."

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

"Coryo!" I shot his name across the hallway, when I see his blonde locks, ignoring the looks from my classmates around me. At the sound of my voice, his head turns in my direction and I run faster towards his figure. As soon as I catch up with him, I meet his curious eyes and look further down to his smiling lips.

"Good morning to you too. Let me guess, you have something really important to announce or are just very happy to see me." Holding the door open for me, I try to catch my breath, wanting to ignore the lovely tone of his voice and the way he looks so outstanding beautiful.

"Well, both, but I heard some gossip about the upcoming ceremony tomorrow. Details who is gonna get the scholarship." Now, while entering the room, I have his full attention.

When I heard about the changes, that were made I immediately searched for him, clearly knowing how much he was ready to sacrifice for this academic possibility.

As he stops walking and places his hands on my shoulders, stopping me in my foodsteps and searching my gaze, I feel my pounding heart.

God forbid this man to look at me this way.

As I try to avoid his intense glare, his hands gently move to my cheeks to focus my eyes on him. I feel myself blushing, fiddling with the rings, that are attached to my fingers.

"No time for jokes, please. What do you know?" I clear my voice, trying to ignore our close gap or the way his curls lay on his forehead and how his skin shines beautifully in the light- No, wait. Not good. We're just friends. I don´t like him that way. Nope.

"I- uh, so please don´t freak out on me, but rumor says it's not up to the student with the best grades to get the scholarship..." I watch his posture straighten, see the how his facial expression turns blank and the irritated change in his mood. And I promise you, it´s not good.

When he lets go of me to strike forward, I try to hold him back. "Wait- you are angry and disappointed, so talk to me first before you let your emotions out on the others, okay?" I catch his left hand and hear his upset breathing.

"It's just- you know, more than anyone, that I deserve this scholarship the most! And now the only possibility to help my family and to become successful are at risks, because someone decided to change the rules? God, I worked my ass off to be the one they choose and now I'll probably get laughed at, cause I didnt get it!" I nod, trying to calm him down by listening to his outburst.

"You do deserve it, I know that. But you still have the chance to stand out more than the others. You are intelligent and brave, very ambitious and you care a lot. Not only for your family and friends, but for everyone. You are the best candidate and if they don´t choose you, then it is the wrong decision. Because they need someone like you. Just like I need you, believe me." I hold his hand close to my heart, trying to convince him of his abilities and his good heart, to show him that he deserves every recognition he gets.

And it works, because he relaxes slightly and after another second passes, I feel myself being embraced in a tight hug. His hand holds the back of my head and I hear his quiet "thank you".

"Always, blue. I am here for you." His lips linger for a second on my forehead, the kiss leaves me feeling warm and in love.

Even if I try to deny it.

"It's been a while, since you called me that nickname." I look in his eyes, when he pulls back. Admiring the shining blue that follows my dreams.

I only smile at him, shrugging when we have a normal distance between us, that helps me to concentrate again.

"It slipped out, I guess. But you are right, the last time I called you that, we were in primary school. How fast the time goes." Nodding we gently smile at each other and I clear my throat, when I get more and more enchanted to him.

We have known each other for so long, but nothing has changed about us.

Expect my feelings for him. They seem to never go away.

So, when I step forward and his eyes follow me, I start to walk to class again.

"Come on, we're being late. The greatest student of all time does not come late." He shakes his head, smiling at me and when I feel for a moment that something is different between us, I brush it off.

When he's finally catching up with me, I order my thoughts.

Don't fall in love with him.

Pretend, you didnt fall in love with him.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

I am good at pretending, really. It normally helps me to focus on the important things in my life, for example school, my grades, studying and getting accepted by a college. Did I mention, my academic success needs to be excellent?

But now, the only thing I can concentrate on is him. And I can hardly pretend, not for much longer, that I am not in love with him.

Because his life is in danger, now that the Hunger Games have started and he is the mentor of the tribute of district 12, a girl named Lucy Gray, everything is different.

He is different.

I know him long enough, that I see how much he cares for her. And because I'm good at pretending, I can see right through his actions.

He maybe likes the girl, but even though he tries to hide it, he cares more that he is the victor in the end.

And that is something that I find quite odd. I mean, he always wants to win, wants to be the best and on top or ahead of everyone. But he was always fair, human and supportive.

But his behavior changed as the days passed. Of course, it's obvious that the violence and torment that the game brings with changes you. More for the worse, than the better.

But it's not only the pressure he is under or the tension that he feels, because he needs the girl to win. It's something different and I notice that none of this is doing him any good. Especially for his heart.

Because he is being distant, he talks less, smiles less, is acting like a person I don´t even know anymore.

And it scares me, it hurts to see him losing himself in the process of being successful.

The last time we talked, he said something to me that left me awake all night, thinking about the decisions and sacrifices he has to make to achieve his goal.

He said: "I will become president and when I am on top, the world will be as cold as the snow in the winter. Nobody will oppose me."

It scared me. He scared me.

And maybe it was the change of his behavior or the cold look in his eyes, with which he looked at everyone or maybe it was because I started to fear him, that I distanced myself from him.

And even though I thought, he wouldnt notice, he did.

And it made everything complicated.

He tried to approach me, talking and joking like we always did, but it wasnt the same. Because he wasnt the same. Even though the color of his eyes was still as bright as the sun, the way he looked at me hid something that was as dark as the night.

I didnt know how I felt anymore.

Because when fear is equal to love, do I fear him then?

I guess I did and it made me sick in the stomach. He lied, he betrayed, he murdered, he did things, I would hate anyone for.

He did things for that I started to hate myself, because I couldnt hate him. Not when he really was the victim in this cruel world, even when he presented himself as the victor.

But for me, he didnt win. Because he rather lost something.

My trust for him.

And that made him angry, so much that he started to manipulate his way into my life again, when I decided that I didn't want anything to do with him anymore.

At first it would be small things. He continued opening the door for me, even though I didnt walk to class with him anymore.

He always saved me a seat next to him, although I decided to sit somewhere else. Then he started bribing the teachers, so that I had to do my assignments with him, he started showing up by almost every place I would go to.

He would give me roses that I wouldn't accept or visited me at work, always with a smile on his face. But I could tell it wasn't real.

He wasn't his real-self after all. He pretended to be someone else and I couldnt trust this new version of him.

He cut his hair short, nowadays wears expensive and neat clothes, always speaks in a formal voice and does polite gestures.

Small smiles, fake laughs, adoring looks which he uses to hide his real intentions behind a facade.

He enchanted the whole world.

But his magic didn't work on me and he became more and more aware of it as the days went by and I continued to ignore him.

And then, on one evening he visited my dorm and before I could close the door, he stood in my apartment and said something, I will forever keep in mind. His presence began to feel like a short movie, captivating me with each encounter.

"I know that you don't like the way things are now. But I am doing this to maintain peace, to keep the people in the place they belong. And I want you to know, that you just need to understand my actions and start to trust me again."

As he spoke, he started to walk towards me, looking me in the eyes, trying to convince me. I had no way out, all I could do was to back up until I hit the wall and he was standing right in front of me. Starring at me, like I needed to be on his side.

I tried to avoid his gaze and the deep blue that somehow always successfully convinced me. Until now.

"Please look at me, I´m telling you the truth. You know me, I´m still the same guy. Why don´t you believe me?" His hands brush my cheeks, roughly holding my face in his hands to keep my eyes on him.

It wasnt new to me that he loved to manipulate. I overheard some of his lies, the hidden betrayal of his own best friend and I couldnt be sure, that he wouldnt do the same to me too.

The only thing I knew was that his striving for power was taking over his being and I seemed powerless to do anything against it.

"I can´t trust you anymore, Coryo. You are acting different and all the things you did-" his face gets closer to me and my heartbeat becomes faster the less distance there is between our faces.

I can´t deny it.

He looks so beautiful.

Even though I want to talk, he leaves me speechless. As if the cold blue of his eyes froze me into a stature, that can only listen to him.

"Everything I did was for you. I know you love me, always have and always will. But you don't admit it to yourself, you don't want to admit it. I know how you feel for me, sweetheart and you have no reason to stop loving me now."

His words are like magic, his eyes like a hallucination, that everything is fine. His hands so warm and familiar that it's hard for me to remember the bad things he did.

That he's trying so hard to make me forget about.

His fingers move around my neck, his body comes closer to me until we touch, until I can only see him and only he matters.

His face is so close to mine and my eyes flutter - out of fear or anticipation, I don´t really know - until I feel his breathing on my ear.

"If you just let me make you remember the old time. Everything we did, the fun we had, how much we trusted each other. How much I still care and appreciate you. Stop thinking and let yourself feel."

His lips touch my skin and I have to suppress a whimper. I can breathe in his scent, his hands around me confuse my thoughts. My dreams from back then, imagining being able to have him, love him and touch him - they make me insecure about my decisions.

I wanted him for such a long time, that it now seems impossible for me to actually call him mine.

But coming to my senses, realising he is no longer the sweet gentleman I fell in love with, I want to stop him, by holding my hands out to push him back. However his hands react quickly and enclose mine with a firm grip to press them against the wall.

"No, listen to me. I never told you, but I heard you dreaming about me once. You whispered my name, like your heart longed for me, in a way you would never be able to truly understand your feelings for me. Like I am the god you pray for and I promise you, if you would just let me, I would fulfill your every wish. Because, together, you and me, we can become holy in our own, untouchable way. "

When I try to shake my head, his hands change so that one of them is holding both of my hands and the other one is grabbing my face.

"Don´t fight against me, darling. It wont work. You know it, I always win."

And as his hands hold my chin and I can hear my loud heartbeat, his lips meet mine in a wild kiss, clearly showing me the control he has over me.

And it's addicting, but so so dangerous.

His lips are soft against my own and he roughly kisses me, like he's the devil trying to steal my soul.

His body feels warm against my own and I'm weak for a moment, gently kissing him back, enjoying the way he smiles at my reaction.

His kisses becomes more heated, his hands are roaming over my nightgown and his fingers caress the exposed skin. Everything feels too good to be true.

But I can´t let myself enjoy this, I need to focus.

"No- Coryo. We cant-" I try to studder, breaking the kiss and hating the way he makes me feel. Because I feel so good, like only he can make me feel this way.

When I interrupt our kiss and while I try to assert myself against him, I notice his anger becoming more and more obvious.

"What I do is only to make you happy, why dont you understand? I want to see you happy and because of that, I have to do certain things. Just like now." His intense gaze is focused on me.

Without being able to do anything, I suddenly feel a liquid on my skin, that first makes me shiver because of the cold, but in the next second, I feel as hot as if I was standing in the desert and would be dying of thirst.

His touch begins to feel like the only solution and I want more. So, I lean into his touch and literally melt against his body as his lips brush mine.

"Fascinating, as Dr. Gaul said. It becomes one with the skin and intoxicates the senses." He whispers, but I can't figure out what he means by that. The only thing I can concentrate on is him. Why was I here again?

"You need me. You said it yourself, I'm here to remind you." His voice is quiet and I feel my thoughts dissolving. Only the sight of him remains in my head.

His look, those beautiful blue eyes, they distract me and I can´t ignore the desire that his lips are about to meet mine again. We're just centimeters apart and even if I try to stop it, my emotions change. I stop thinking about all the things he did.

Instead, all I can think about is his touch, his lips. And now that I know the ghost of his touch, I wouldn't want anything else.

So, I lean myself forward and kiss him.

It feels like my insides burns with desire, something that is so indescribable, that I don't even know, if I'm capable of feeling this love for too long.

My hands move to his shoulders and to his head, but my control is quickly suppressed as he pushes me back against the wall. So that I almost can't move.

His fingers lift my chin up, I see him grinning smugly at me in triumph.

"Good girl, you only need to listen to me. No one else." And I want to believe him so much, that I suddenly want to forget my doubts.

So, I let him make me forget. His hands roam my body, freeing me from my clothes and holding me where he wants me.

And I let him because I remember that I always wanted him to have his way with me. And when I look at his face, I no longer differentiate. For me, only my Coryo exists.

I close my eyes and lose myself in these sensations, the heat of his words and his actions.

His lips are soft, his kisses leave me with an unknown want and I can't do anything other than just take everything he gives me.

When he strips me out of my pants and unbottons my blouse, he lifts me up against the wall. His hips are pressed against my waist and his kisses travel from my lips down to my chest.

"Everything I do is for you." His words sound familiar.

"You will never doubt me again, I promise you. I'll make sure of that. From now on, you will feel this good forever. Because of me, you hear me? Only because of me, always me." His words cover me like a veil, but I'm unable to process them. My head is so empty and just like he said, I only feel.

I've never not thought about nothing and even if it should unnerve me, I can't even remember to be bothered about it.

As my hands try to move further down to his back and my nails leave marks on his back, his hand squeezes my neck like a warning.

"I am in control, you do as I say. Now take off my pants, so I can fuck you until you believe in me again." I can't think straight, when his hands are undressing me, cupping my breasts and turning me on in a way, I only want to be here with him.

As soon as my hands undress him and his pants are pulled down, he tears my panties apart, meeting my lips in a wanting kiss.

I feel one of his fingers slipping through my wet folds, pumping roughly two fingers inside me. My mouth opens and moans escape me, while I hold myself onto his shoulders.

"You needed to play hard to get, huh? Look who is at my mercy now." My body is still pressed against the wall and as my eyes close on their own, I suddenly feel his tip at my entrance.

And when I want to protest, he places his hand on my mouth to keep me quiet.

"No talking back to me. If you don't listen, I will make you." He pushes himself into me and I feel every vein as his hands direct mine against the wall behind me.

When he starts fucking me, I'm sure I'll pass out.

"C-cant take- too big, please" I dont even know how to speak properly anymore. His hands hold me tight and his thrusts are so brutal, that I barely have enough concentration to breathe.

"What did you say? You want to please me? Then shut your mouth and let me use you." With every harsh thrust, I feel my muscles become more and more relaxed and only he is holding me up now. I can't concentrate on anything else other than him inside me.

My thoughts begin to only focus on being good for him.

I feel like my soul is leaving my body. All I can hear is the dull clapping of our bodies, my loud moans and his heavy breathing.

As he buries his head in the crook of my neck, I softly whimper his name.

I feel how he tenses, when he react to me calling his nickname. His eyes shift to me and suddenly he lets go of my arms and I put them around his shoulders without hesitation. The position now is much more intimate and I scratch his back as his thrusts become even deeper and harder.

I hear his heavy breathing and feel his arms wrap around mine too.

"Tell me you want me." His voice is menacingly quiet. When I don't answer, too focused on his hips thrusting into me, he lets go of the wall and lays me on my bed.

"Fine, I will make you say it then." He sits down and pulls me onto his lap with my back to him, sliding his cock into me again. I moan so loudly, that I notice him grinning contentedly against my shoulder.

"You like that? Good, everyone will know how me you like me, when I'm done with you." His hand directs me so his chest touches my back and one of his hands moves to wrap around my neck.

"You will get used to doing what I want and you will do it, because you want to. You hear me? You won't stay away from me anymore, you belong to me. Everything you do is for me and only me." My thoughts are so confused, I can't think straight anymore. All I know is that I have never felt so good and that he is the reason for my pleasure.

"But I fucked you dumb so it seems. Pretty, little thing. You are like my personal doll, that I can use as I please. This turns me on even more than I would have thought." He pushes me further down on him, making me bounce until that one special spot in me is abused over and over again. And all I can utter are useless words and loud moans.

"B-blue" I hear him chuckle darkly in response.

I'm no longer certain, that I'm even laying in the arms of the person I once loved so much.

"You should have let me fucked you much sooner. It would have destroyed any resistance you had towards me. Just like now and just like I wanted." His voice whispers in my ear and my head leans against his shoulders, my mouth opens and I feel every inch of him inside me.

His hand strokes the skin, where my heart lays and I feel his lips brush against my ear.

"If this heart ever beats for anyone else other than me, everyone in this world will die and I won't be afraid to tell you that it is entirely your fault."

I collapse in his arms, when I come, going completely limp and vulnerable, unable to move. This time I only seem to be physically present.

His arms wrap around me and he let me sink onto him again, then I hear his voice whispering promises into the dark room.

"You cant ever escape me. I will always find you and I will always get you."

[yukisdomain]

People need to learn how to differentiate between a good character and, well, whatever the hell feels convenient for them at the time (character that is a good person, hot etc).

Yuuta Okkotsu is not a good character. When I said how I wanted him to lose someone asked what he's done to me and some other people to wish that. And the answer is nothing, that is the problem.

A character that just gets a random power up/learns about their powers and then proceeds to use them without any training, the only development they have is from awkward and confused to "badass" in span of like 3 seconds because they are angry, and then the only times they appear afterwards is to do a quick job because someone else can't, is not a well rounded and good character. So yes, Yuuta losing would actually force his character to develop in some way if he were to stay alive and have some progress in the story while his personality would gain some more substance.

Also, a good character doesn't mean a character that you like. Mahito was an excellent character. Did i like him? No. But he felt real, pushed the plot onwards and gave meaning to every scene he was in. That's why that part of the story felt so satisfying inspite of negative emotions I felt towards him from time to time.

And you know who else is a good character? Yuuji Itadori.

Not only does he have a character development unlike Yuuta, it seems to me he's already gone through one and is going through another one during the current events in the manga.

His first character development was actually a negative one. And yes, negative development is still a development.

He went from: someone/random kid sentenced to an execution > no one/cog > only one (who unsettles Sukuna and, possibly, who can kill him).

Whether you want to see it as one long development or two separate ones is up to you, but Yuuji is constantly growing. Growth doesn't only refer to that of a physical kind, but mental and emotional growth too.

But if you want to speak physical growth, okay. I'm too lazy to calculate exactly how long it has passed, but it couldn't be more than 4 (maaaybe 5) months since he learned about the world of jujutsu sorcerers and curses. Less than half a year. And yet:

-He's on a level of a grade one sorcerer. Do I need to remind you that the 2nd year students, emphasis on 2nd, meaning they had at least 1 whole year to train, aren't on his level (except Maki and Yuuta).

- He's learned reverse curse technique in a month. Geto, a fucking special grade, didn't know how to do it. And he had more time to practice too.

- took on four special grades (Hanami, Mahito, Eso, Kechizu); no he wasn't alone, but students have been killed by less

- speaking of his battle with Hanami, he learned how to do a black flash during it and seems to have some level of command over it, inspite of black flash being known as a spur of the moment thing. Were Todo willing to show him how to do a simple domain, he would have probably learned that too

I need to add this as well:

- Went through severe trauma, lost people, killed people when Sukuna took control over his nody, and still hasn't given up

- Oh, also has experienced being killed (detention centre anybody?); somehow that always flies over people's heads

Conclusion:

Yuuji is one of the best protagonists I've read about. GIVE 👏 HIM 👏 THE👏 RESPECT👏 HE👏 DESERVES

[asolitaryrose3]

Are you jealous?

Melissa schemmenti x fem!reader

Summary: Reader is shy and feels like Melissa is too far out of their league, but with enough nagging from Ava, and the presence of Gary, they finally tell Melissa how they feel.

Warnings: fluff, minor angst, jealous reader, comfort, Gary (for the plot only), my failed attempt at humour, Ava and readers are besties, Most of this was wrote at 3am, first time posting my fics on here, I’m trying my best.

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“I think you should tell her” Ava suggested, “why, so she can laugh in my face and ruin the perfectly good relationship we have? Yeah, No thanks.” You joked slumping further into your chair.

When you had joined Abbott you had instantly fell in love with the people there, janine, although she could sometimes be annoying at times, you know she means well by it all. Jacob was like a brother to you, he was nerdy and sometimes ruined a joke or two, but for the most part he was caring. Gregory took some time to open to you, but when he finally did, he was surprisingly funny and good to be around. Barbara was one of the kindest people you had met in your life, you saw how she mothers the younger teachers, Janine mostly, and it was sweet and admittedly wholesome to be around.

Melissa was at first cold and icy toward you, which you later learned that was normal for her, but eventually she warmed up to you. After some time she started to bring in cannolis from your favourite bakery, more recently though she started to even bring in home cooked lunches for you. She was sweet and you admired her, but eventually you realised after a while, that you had developed a crush on her. You knew she wouldn’t like you like that though, You were quiet and awkward, while she was strong and confident, not to mention gorgeous, and so you figured a woman like her, a woman who deserves the best, wouldn’t settle for a person like you. But that was fine, if friendship was all you could have, you were fine with that but, a date or two would be nice though.

Ava was your best friend at Abbott and the only person that knew about your little crush on the second grade teacher. When you first met Ava she thought you were like Jacob or janine, more on the awkward side, but when she ran into you one night clubbing, she found that you weren’t at all like you were at school.

That was why you were currently sat in Ava’s office sulking in the chair across from her desk. “But what if she feels the same though? I mean, your hot, so I don’t see why she wouldn’t” Ava said putting her feet onto her desk. “How could Melissa Schemmenti like me?” You questioned. “Oh come on? What are you gonna wait till someone else swipes her up? Girl c’mon live a little, you can’t avoid her forever” Ava asked, her face now serious. “Cause have you seen that vending machine guy? he’s been makin’ moves on your lady” she continued. “He has?” You turned to her with wide eyes, normally you would be in the break room at lunch but since your realisation you’ve been staying in your classroom as of late, not that you don’t want to be near Melissa, but you thought that if you distanced yourself, your feelings would eventually go away.

“But what if she doesn’t feel the same?” You questioned, concern filling your face. “But what if she does though?” Ava countered, The bell rang as she finished. Letting out a sigh you finally agreed with Ava, “alright, we’ll I’ve got to go get my kids from the gym” You pushed yourself up from your chair and walked out of your friends office.

*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*·.·*

The next period ran over quicker than you thought it would. You were dreading going to lunch. You knew Melissa would never like you and yet after talking to Ava you somehow gained this false hope that if you asked Melissa out before Gary did, then maybe, you had a chance.

Finally, after many minutes of persuasion you went into the break room, you only saw Barbara at first, but then you saw…him. You had forgot Gary stocked the vending machine today, you saw the questioning look sent your way from Barbara, you walked straight over to the counter and grabbed your cup out of the cupboard and started to make a coffee, as you waited for the drink to finish you began overthinking everything, you knew you should have never thought you had a chance, it was obvious that Gary liked Melissa and of course she would like him back, he was good looking and he was sweet and thoughtful. Barbara had said it herself a while back, even she saw that they would be perfect together, and how could Barbara Howard be wrong?

The beep of the machine in front of you rang through your ears as you broke out of your thoughts. Grabbing the cup you tried to get out of the room as fast as you could. Opening the door you almost bumped into someone, it was Melissa.

“hey hon, slow down, your gonna trip over someone-” The second grade teacher hushed, “hon, are you alright?” She continued. The care in her voice sent a pang of pain to your heart, you didn’t want to avoid her anymore, but you knew it was for the best. “Yeah Mel, I’m fine” you rushed past her, practically running to your classroom.

You slammed the door behind you and slumped down in your chair. You threw your head back and let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Not long after, you heard a knock on your door and you groaned at having to talk to someone when you were on the verge of tears.

“Go away Ava” you murmured, with your eyes closed. You heard the door open and you began to speak again “Ava I’m not in the mood-” when you opened your eyes you had realised your mistake. “Oh- Um, hey Mel, sorry I thought you were Ava coming to talk about one of the student’s dad or whatever” you half laughed trying to seem alright in front of the redhead. Mel perched herself on the side of your desk, crossing her arms. “care to tell me why you haven’t been coming to lunch?” She questioned with a raised brow. “I- I’m just catching up on marking”

You weren’t necessarily lying when you said that. Most off your time was actually spent grading papers, while the rest was spent either sleeping or wallowing in your own self pity. “For two weeks straight?” She frowned at your petty excuse. “Tell me what’s wrong Hon, please” she pleaded with you, but you couldn’t look at her, “why do you care, shouldn’t you be with Gary” the words left your tongue like venom, the very Mention of the man made your fist clench and your heart ache. “Why would I be with Gary?” She questioned, confused at the relevance he had in all of this. “I don’t know, maybe because you always are.” You mumbled, jealousy taking over your words. “Oh c’mon that’s not true and you know it” She reasoned. “Oh please, every time he’s here, you only talk to him.” You retorted.

Melissa grew silent after that, as she re shifted her focus to your face. You felt you face flush beat red under her unrelenting gaze. After a while, her furrowed brow raised as a smirk grew on her face. Melissa stood from her seated position on the side of your desk and sauntered her way toward you. As she stopped in front of you, she lent down and grabbed both of the arms on the chair. With her arms trapping you and her legs either sides of your now closed knees, you were practically unable to move.

“Are you jealous, hun?” She asked, the humour in her voice evident. “I-uh…No, why would I be?” You stuttered out, knowing you did not seem convincing at all, as you looked down and away from the woman. You felt one of her hands grasp your chin in her hand and forced you to look her in the eyes, “I want your eyes on me, sweetheart” she practically growled, “now, are you jealous of Gary?” She asked again, her voice significantly lower than before. You contemplated on lying to her again, but as you stared into her piecing eyes, you felt you brain go foggy from her close proximity.

“Well, I- uh…maybe, yes” you mumbled as you stared at her with an anxious look, “I- I like you Melissa, like really like you” Melissa’s eyes softened, as she smiled. “That’s good to know” she chuckled. Suddenly you felt Melissa’s lips meet yours, you froze at the sudden action but melted in to her soft touch shortly after. You whined as she pulled away with a smirk. “I like you too by the way” she laughed again at seeing the adoring look on your features. “Wait but I thought you liked Gary?” You questioned. “Oh please, sure he’s nice, but you? Your amazing hun, I’ve practically liked you ever since you got here” Melissa smiled sweetly at you. “I’ve like you since you got here too” you grinned back at her.

“I was thinking, how bout this weekend you could come over to mine and we can have dinner?” She asked, sounding very small as she spoke. You smiled at her hoping to comfort her, “I would love to Mel." She rose to a standing position, she kissed the top of your head as she did so. “I’ll see you later, hun” You watched as she left and you smiled to yourself at the feeling of lips that still lingered on both the top of your head and your own lips. You spun in your chair at the thought of dinner with Melissa.

Once you turned to the direction of the door, you saw Ava’s head appear from around the doorframe. As she walked in to the room you the look she was giving you, “tell me everything” she gasped with shared excitement.

[exaltedfuzz]

Hi! Do you have some personal HCs regarding how Lana dealt with the grief of losing her parents? She'd known them her whole life compared to Ema, and I love to think about (read: make myself sad about) how she managed to balance that and trying to do the best by her only remaining family.

Hello! Honestly, if a question contains “do you have some personal HCs regarding [...] Lana”, the answer is almost definitely yes, and this is no exception! Thanks for the ask. I’ve got a couple scripts in early stages around this very topic, so I don’t want to spoil too many of my thoughts in case I ever want to make a comic about them, or something. (Honestly, I should just write fanfic at this point… I have a rough piece of prose writing in the works that I'll attach part of under the cut... A little teaser.)

Around the time Lana would have had to start taking care of Ema, I think I’ve settled on it being most likely between 16 and 18, since I think if she hadn’t had to stay put for Ema, she’d have moved away to go to uni. So she’d be in a pretty tense time in her life anyway, with exams coming up, and whatever teenage stuff she was dealing with. I imagine that when she got the call saying that her parents were dead, she didn’t have much time to grieve alone before Ema was asking what was wrong, and her focus had to very quickly switch right onto making sure that her sister was ok. In general, I think the thing with Lana is that she’s massively self sacrificial, so her coping mechanism became doing the best possible job she could for Ema, and in that, there wouldn’t be much time for grief between making sure Ema was fed, making sure she was getting good grades so she’d manage to get onto a law course (so she could earn good money to put Ema through college), making sure she could drive, so they could shop and get places…

Here she is...

I think one of the biggest struggles in the early days was learning how to drive. She would have probably been about to start lessons, or just started, (if we assume she was 16 or so) and her parents just died in a car crash. But she’d just have to get on with it, because it was necessary. (She doesn’t have the best record with cars, does she?)

Since Ema says she “used to be so gentle, always smiling”, I think that this was the image of her that Ema experienced most often, so it’s safe to say that she was really patient with her. Ema was probably the only thing that kept her going at a lot of different points in her life.

I expect there would have been some really rough moments though, once Ema was off to sleep and she was alone in a house much too big for a teenage girl and a baby. I like to think that they at least got to inherit a house. (They deserve a little bit of a break, don't they?)

Here's a doodle of her in the first few seconds of having to acknowledge the fact that she's on her own. This is based on a line from the thing under the cut.

And, as promised, here's a little bit of writing. Rough and underdeveloped, I think, but hopefully enjoyable.

The landline didn’t usually go. If it was important, her parents would call her cell. But it did go. Three times, consecutively. She could recall it all. Ema, sitting up at the table with her, eating her pot of yoghurt and drawing in the back of Lana’s notebook. Lana’s textbook laid out in front of her - this was the one thing she didn’t remember. It was physics, that much she knew, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care about whatever was on that page after the rest of what she learned that night. She was smiling, Ema was too. She couldn’t keep her sticky little hands off of Lana’s pens and pencils. It was achingly normal. So familiar. Her parents would have a conference, or a party, or a theatre trip planned, and she was old enough to look after Ema, so she did. She was good with her.

So when they told her to not wait up, to make sure Ema got a little snack if she was hungry, to call them if she needed anything, it was normal. Another night in, another night of making sure Ema didn’t get too curious about what all the fun things under the sink were, another night of studying, another quiet night. She liked them. Sure, it was hard to be saddled with looking after the most curious baby to ever have little hands to grab with, and it was hard to not feel like she was missing out whenever her friends would go out, while she was here, eating carrot sticks and cucumber to try to encourage Ema to follow suit - those days still tasted like hummus in her mind. But it was a labour of love, and Lana was happy to sacrifice her time for her baby sister.

She tried not to be bitter. She didn’t want to be, because Ema was such a joy. But when she’d sit up at the table, nose in her books as always, and she’d hear all the fawning over the youngest Skye, she did feel left out. When Ema was born, Lana stopped getting so many little treats. Her parents used to take her out with them to these excursions. It was a lot of fun to get to talk to the scientists who worked with her mum, she loved seeing the crappy plays that the amateur dramatic society put on, she’d always end up getting sweets and snacks when her dad took her to the shops, and it just kind of stopped when Ema was born. It was a hard time for Lana, but she couldn’t resent Ema. She had a silly smile, and little hands which wanted nothing more than to squeeze Lana’s fingers, and poke around at her face. Holding Ema in her arms while she conducted her first scientific experiments on the elastic potential of Lana’s nose almost made her cry.

She told her parents then that she wasn’t ever going to let anyone hurt Ema, and she’d done her best to make good on that promise until her life was once again torn out from under her feet with the SL-9 incident, and she found herself constantly hurting Ema all on her own in her self absorption. She never forgave herself for that. Ema did, though. She was always so excited to come and see her on the other side of that visitation room, and she still told her everything, like Lana made sure she knew she could. Her eyes looked sad, though. Lana had watched those eyes as they changed from barely betraying any conscious thought, to when they quirked half closed with Ema’s newfound sarcastic smirk. Lana wasn’t quite sure she liked that. Her baby sister was older than she was that night by now, and she definitely didn’t seem like she could handle looking after a kid. What must Lana have looked like?

She knew what she felt like, that’s for sure. Of course, she stood up, with a sigh, on the third repetition of that irritating ringing, and held up the phone to her ear. She was so ready to tell whoever was on the other side that they didn’t need double glazed windows.

“Hello?”

“Is this the Skye residence?”

It was cold. Maybe they did need double glazed windows. Lana hesitated before she responded.

“Ah, yes?”

“Am I speaking to Miss Lana Skye?”

“...Who is this?”

There was too much blood rushing through Lana’s head for her to really hear what the response was.

“Sorry, could you repeat that last bit?”

“There’s been an incident involving a Mr. and Dr. Skye.”

She didn’t care about the rest of whatever he said. Something about investigation being open, something about intensive care, something about an escort car to the hospital being arranged. She could not speak, and her eyes failed. She leant forward, one hand white knuckled around the phone, the other now beginning to bleed with how Lana was chewing at her thumbnail. Ema was still babbling on the other side of the kitchen-diner. She never wished Ema would shut up, but she didn’t want to hear her making these silly noises as if their lives weren’t about to become impossible.

Lana was about to put Ema to bed. It was late. She didn’t remember the time. It was easier that way. She was supposed to be giving a presentation tomorrow at school, and she wanted to be sharp and awake for it. She wasn’t really planning on staying up much longer herself. Certainly not to wait for her parents to get back. She supposed they never would, now. She recognised the way this officer spoke from all the stupid cop shows she watched. She didn’t need it spelled out for her. She mumbled out a thanks, and hung up.

She always hated crying. She couldn’t stand it. The way her breath sounded as it shuddered out of her made her feel weak, and she wasn’t weak. She couldn’t ever afford to be, and that was all she could think of. Lana didn’t notice Ema getting out of the chair and unsteadily walking over to her, and her little grasping hands reaching for the hem of her jumper managed to ground her again. She looked over her shoulder at her sister. Eyes so wide and full of questions, all of which Lana realised, in that moment, she would have to answer. She must have scared her with the way her eyebrows furrowed and the way she grit her teeth, because Ema pulled a little sad face at her.

“Why are you crying?”

Ema wasn’t really that helpful sometimes. Lana swallowed, and looked for an answer. She tilted her head up, closed her eyes, and covered them with her hand, before breathing.

All she could manage to choke out was confirmation: “I’m very upset.”

What a useless statement.

Ema wasn’t ever satisfied with one answer. She just kept asking why. Lana knew that you had to be honest with kids when they had complex questions, so she picked Ema up in her skinny arms and held her while she explained. Usually, she was delighted to explain everything about the world to her sister, but this was hard. Not as hard as seeing Ema’s little pout as she tried to comprehend, though.

As she sat in the escort car on her way to the hospital, as if their presence would miraculously bring their parents to life, she kept holding Ema. She kissed the top of her head and tried not to cry on her soft hair. Her stomach turned as she thought about what the last thing her mum had said to her was. It had escaped her mind until now, and she wished she could let it escape her mind forever.

"No boyfriends over, alright? Be good. Love you. See you in the morning."

She supposed she'd never get to tell them now that there never would be any boyfriends. It was selfish of her to care about something so trivial, so she tried her best to push it to the side. Ema never had to know, either. It wasn't important.

She didn't end up giving her presentation. Or going to school, for the next few days. Ema was at home, so Lana was at home.

[anzulvr]

May I request how would Karma react when Asano is interested in Karma's s/o? Like here's the story, Asano and reader have been classmates and really good friends but the reader had to be transfered to E-class cause she beat someone up while trying to protect the other student and things like that, and Asano still being interested in reader even if they started dating Karma. Now how would Karma react when he finds it out??

Karma x Reader where Asano has a one sided crush!

(the first part is more explaining the backstory and then the second half of ur main request!!)

Omg I’m gonna cry I wrote this once and it didn’t save😭😭

TYSM for requesting!! I can’t tell you how fun this was this is like my favorite request I’ve ever gotten

First half ♡ the basis of your friendship with Asano!

Your thoughts on Kunugigaokas academic hierarchy had always aligned with Karmas rather than Asano’s, people were so much more than grades and the popularity came with it.

Asano saw you both in two different lights even if you clashed in opinions with him. You were too kind for your own good and were just seeing the best in people while Karma was, simply put, immature and impulsive in his eyes.

Even if you agreed with Karma on this one you were nothing alike, you couldn’t be.

Whenever you’d hear The Big 5 talk badly of any lower class student you’d tell them to quit it, the rest of the group would call you a buzz kill and reply with something along the lines of “People like them don’t deserve respect”.

(The big 5 is Asano and his main friend group and at the time yours too. They’re more like minions or henchmen to him but ya know)

This was the one type of occasion Asano would tell them to shut it.

“[Name] is right, don’t be so immature Seo, even if Eclass does deserve it.”

“Oh cmon you can’t seriously be taking [Name]’s side right no-“

“Didnt i tell you to shut up.”

“… ”

His favoritism towards you was very obvious (not that he was trying to be).

There were rumors going around saying you were dating and whatnot. His fan club was filled to the brim of pissed off girls who would kill to be in your place.

You’d been classmates with Karma before either of you were bumped down to end class but you were nothing more than desk mates, since he’d always ditch class early and never really talked to anyone other than Nagisa at the time.

Asano had advised you more than once to stay away from Karma, he’d tell you what were practically horror stories about Karmas insane fights and slightly (?) Criminal record.

Safe to say it kinda worked, you were intimidated.

“Really? ? He’s the reason Ren had a black eye last week??”

“Yeah, I’ve told you before- Akabane is more than insane.”

When you learned about further accounts from people other than Asano you’d realized Karma had only been standing up for people who’d been bullied. Your perspective on it all shifted. You had gained respect and admiration for Karma. What he was doing was kind in its own way and pretty chivalrous of him.

Even though you and Asano didn’t agree on much your friendship wasn’t something either of you we’re willing to throw away you’d been inseparable for years now, there wasn’t anything that could come between you, or so you thought.

When you got transferred to End Class for defending Hinano from an A class bully, Asano was surprised- he didn’t realize you’d be willing to take a hit to your record for something like this.

(I should add his fan club was over the moon when you got suspended they threw a little celebratory get together.)

Asano still texted you once in a while. It wasn’t the same as hanging out all the time like you used to.

Asano was having a dilemma, he liked hanging out with you but he told himself he couldn’t. He had an image to uphold for everyone in the main campus (and for himself in a way).

His text’s would be things like:

“Do good on the upcoming exams and they’ll want you right back in the main building. Goodluck!”

“Remember to study for next week [name]! unless you’d rather stay in end class.”

♡

— second half:

When Karma first met you he thought you were dating Asano and so did the rest of E class. You had to make it clear Asano and you are nothing more than friends, if you could even call him a friend anymore.

When they find out the reason you got suspended was the same as Karmas they opened up, It was hard having the entire school and faculty against them so it was nice seeing you give up on your main campus status like that in order to help someone else.

This was what first got Karma interested in getting to know you, you weren’t the type to get into fights yet you still did for someone else’s sake. You had maintained a perfect record all throughout school up until now.

Once you start dating, you literally mean the world to him because he feels like you’re the only person he can be completely open with.

WHEN ASANO FINDS OUT YOURE DATING he’s appalled.

Asano: Okay I just heard the craziest rumor you’re dating the Eclass psycho?? Text back asap

[name] : it’s true wdym

Asano: ??? Is he threatening you???

[name]: No??😭

(Omg wtf did I just enter my text fic era(the answer is no))

He genuinely thinks you’re trolling until he accidentally sees you hanging out together somewhere.

when Karma finds out Asano likes you even though you’re very much taken he’s very annoyed but he very quickly turns the annoyance into smugness when realizes he has the upper hand in the situation.

Okay his rival likes you, and HES dating you?? That’s literally the biggest win. It’s Jackpot.

100% rubs it in Asanos face during argument he has with him. He does it casually so Asano doesn’t see it as annoying or stupid but more truthful and hurtful.

“Try not to fail the exams this time around, I know it’s difficult for people as cocky as you to put effort in.”

“Oh don’t worry about my scores Asano, [name]’s helping me study so I’m sure I’ll do great!”

He’s doesn’t usually initiate PDA but the second Asano is in sight Karma will be draped all over you.

He doesn’t really like you talking to Asano because he doesn’t trust Asano to not be a douche but he won’t outright tell you not to because he doesn’t want to sound controlling or needy to you.

If he sees Asano texted you he’ll reply with a selfie of himself

“We’re busy right now☺️.”

Asano is more confused than anything, why would anyone want to go out with that guy out of everyone in the world.

They’ve definitely argued about it

“They only reason [Name] is dating you is out of pity I don’t know why you flaunt it around every chance you get.”

“How would you know? Does she tell you? Oh right you guys barely talk nowadays.”

It won’t escalate to a full on fist fight unless Asano actually tries flirting with you (which I don’t know if he’d be dumb or cocky enough to do 😭)

Like the second something out of line comes out of that dudes mouth Karma is swinging.

Karma makes sure to prove to you he can one up Asano on anything.

Oh Asano got all A’s on his report card? Karma asked Korosensei to make sure the + was added next to his.

Asano can cook really well? Call Karma Gordon Ramsey because he’s now a culinary professional.

Asano made it on the cover of Kunugigaokas student paper?

Karma literally just tutored a bunch of near failing students and helped them achieve perfect scores getting him front cover on next week’s paper. (He stopped right after he secured the spot on the paper he wasn’t about to actually help people like that for FREE 😭.)

♡ ♡ (that one audio just played in my head while writing this “damn… someone took my bitch..😔”)

[amywritesthings]

something in the movies. / a gojo satoru holiday one shot

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader ( jujutsu kaisen ) word count: 2.2k / rated mature summary: A romcom marathon for the holidays (and his birthday) with your colleague, Gojo Satoru, hits a little too close to home with your own accidental romcom moment.

tags: hidden inventory arc spoilers, colleagues in denial, childhood friends to lovers, holiday movie marathon, sexual tension, romance, fluff with a little sluttiness, fade to black, gojo get smooches for his birthday because he deserves it credit: dividers by @saradika

welcome to the fifth day of the twelve days of amymas 2023 !!

When Gojo Satoru suggests stopping by your apartment for a day-long movie marathon extravaganza, you expect the usuals:

Something pitifully 1980’s with much too goofy graphic violence;

Thrillers with a twist that's solvable by act one, though Gojo insists this one will stump you;

A science fiction exploration flick that’s a little outdated but fun nonetheless.

Yet when he’s standing outside of your apartment door, his hands are full of—

“Holiday movies?”

You squint and turn your chin to observe the titles as he proudly holds them out to you to take.

Every cover is an endless array of snowy backgrounds and people dressed in all sorts of ugly sweaters, with no distinction in sight.

(He always did take his December birthday very seriously, even when you were just kids at Jujutsu High.)

“Not just holiday movies.”

Gojo corrects your assumption, stepping into your apartment without a formal invitation.

He kicks off his black shoes at your door with a smirk.

“Shitty romantic comedies."

"I've never heard of any of these," you mumble when you pluck the DVDs from his hands.

"How could you? They're only available in a discount bin, so they're guaranteed hidden gems. These babies never made it to the big screen. ”

You watch him making himself at home, navigating your apartment like he owns the place.

The world's greatest sorcerer never cares to be polite, not when this song and dance has played on repeat for ten years.

Pretending he lives here, as opposed to being a frequent guest second to your mutual friend Nanami, is just part of the norm when school is in recess.

(But you’re not dating.)

You can’t date a colleague, not really.

Although Principal Yaga wouldn’t particularly care if you did, fraternizing with someone you work with — someone you've grown up with, someone you've bled with — isn’t a leap you’re willing to make.

Besides, you’ve lived long enough as a first-grade sorcerer to know Jujutsu Society has a habit of fucking up good things, both intentionally and accidentally — so you don’t. 

Which, in turns, leads you both to a hairy situation where you’re both spending all of your free time away from the halls of Jujutsu High to do…

Well, this.  

Whatever this is.

“So you bought a bunch of… Hallmark movie DVDs?” you clarify.

“Yep.”

“And you want to binge… shitty Hallmark movies?”

“That’s hilarious. You say that like there are good ones.”

Gojo flops down on his favorite side of your couch.

He stretches his long legs out on the extended cushion, one ankle crossed over the other.

“Besides, what else are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, following him around the mouth of the hallway that spills into the small living room. “Maybe watch good holiday movies?”

His thumb catches the bottom of his black blindfold.

You never have to see his full face to know what type of mood he’s in, or how he’s looking at you: Gojo radiates his emotions like a neon shop sign whenever he’s around you.

Satoru pulls the fabric of the blindfold outward, teasing the reveal of his sparkling blue eyes.

(You’re not immune to their immense power. No one is.)

They’re not a flame to a wayward moth, but a fucking beacon.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never taken the time to binge these before.” He snaps the blindfold back in place. “They’re a riot.”

You shake your head.

“Not really in my wheelhouse, Gojo.”

“Well—”

Satoru slaps his hands against his thighs and uncrosses his ankles to stand, despite only just sitting down.

You’ve never seen a grown man so restless.

“—get ready for this stuff to knock your socks off, because I’m about to enlighten you on the true meaning of ‘tis the spirit.”

“You mean ‘tis the season?”

“Same thing.”

He fidgets with your ancient Blu-ray player you haven’t quite shelved yet as you make your way into the kitchenette connected to the living room. 

You know what he wants before you can ask — a White Russian mocktail to match your alcoholic one.

(But you're not dating.)

You mix the ingredients together, eyes following as he drops back onto your couch, long arm extended over the back.

Butterflies flutter when he pulls the blindfold off, pocketing it for later, and fixes a pair of black sunglasses over his eyes.

His hand then smooths over his white hair, curving at his freshly-buzzed undercut, and he settles in for the night.

Comfortable. 

An oasis of calm in the ever-present Jujutsu storm.

(But you’re not dating.)

And he’s right.

The movies? Fucking terrible.

Gojo doubles over when he laughs. You have to wipe your tears from laughing just as hard.

You find the back of your head dropping to the couch when you laugh, landing unintentionally into his open palm.

Satoru cradles your head safely in his hand to keep it from hitting the back of the furniture.

Two sappy romantic comedies and three drinks later—

You find yourself inching closer to the middle cushion of your couch acting as a zone of neutrality between you.

He isn’t much better, constantly fidgeting on his end. The white-haired man lets a long leg dangle over the arm of the couch, his torso scrunched in an awkward half-lay towards the middle.

With each peanut-gallery commentary and scathing review of unbelievable scenarios, you both find yourselves nearly shoulder-to-shoulder.

He’s sober as can be, and you’re warm from the alcohol’s influence.

Still, it’s only a mere dusting of tipsy — you can stomach a lot of liquor in comparison to most.

And you get lost in it.

This — the comfort, the familiarity, the way the main characters of this shitty Hallmark movie are holding one another.

The Christmas Prince is confessing his love to the small-town girl that wrecked all of his plans under the cover of a gazebo while snow falls around them. He admits he was in denial about her this whole time, the big dipper in his little dipper sky— 

“Oh my god, look at you.”

You turn your face to Satoru at the record-scratch jest.

He smiles down at you, bordering a shit-eating grin.

Close.

A stone throw away.

Blinking twice, you begin wiping at your face assuming something got stuck on it. 

“What? What about me?”

“You’re swooning—” Gojo points to the screen. “—over that.”

Your jaw drops, and he starts laughing — full bellied and joyous.

“I— Shut up, I am not!” you sputter pathetically in response.

“Are too! I see you! Starry-eyed over some bad pick-up lines.”

Gojo's head tilts, snow-white brow quirked high.

“Don’t tell me this cheesy stuff actually works on you.”

You gesture with a hand to the television to protest. “He’s saying she’s his big dipper! It’s cute!”

Gojo snorts, seemingly disinterested, but he reaches forward.

Suddenly you feel his thumb run along the high point of your cheek. 

All motor functions in your body cease to exist. 

“Please, I can do way better,” the white-haired man says. “This guy isn’t even trying to act.”

All you can do is stare, flushed with uncertainty.

(When did it become a competition to woo you?)

Gojo slides his thigh off of the couch’s arm to sit up, leaning in.

Danger.

Neon signs.

You need your white flag, but you’re too curious about where this may lead.

“First of all, he’s cornering her like she’s a hostage. That’s kind of creepy. He’s all about ‘you’re my big dipper’, but what does that even mean? They haven’t mentioned any stupid stars once in this movie.” 

He drags his thumb once more with a breathy chuckle. 

“Dumbass doesn’t even hold her face right. Why’s his thumb all the way on her cheek? You gotta scoot your hand up a little so you can — there.”

Oh.

The movie becomes white noise to your own predicament when Gojo glides his palm across your cheek.

His thumb, once stroking your face, dips to your mouth.

He runs it timidly along your bottom lip—

Then softly tugs it down, and you're not sure if it's you who gasped or if you imagined the sound.

“Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?”

Satoru murmurs, voice an octave lower, keeping the conversation in the space between you. 

The way the question veers this situation away from silly pick-up line mockery to something more — something real — has your body tensing.

You should shut this down.

You should laugh it off.

Your voice is barely audible when you protest his name.

“Gojo, don't fuck with—”

“I’m not fucking with you,” he interrupts, as if he anticipated you to protest. “I’m not. I'm genuinely asking.”

"Where is this coming from?" you ask.

"Just wanted to know, that's all," he mumbles in return. "Have they?"

“...people have."

You reply after a beat, purposefully watching his mouth as his tongue runs along the seam of his lips.

“In fact, I’m pretty sure you have. Before."

"Yeah?"

"Multiple times.”

“Yeah?”

“When we were kids.”

“Ha—" The mention brings a passing glow to his face. "And I totally meant it back then, too.”

He must notice the way your eyes grow wider.

“What? I didn’t have a filter when we were kids,” he says with a snort, seemingly mesmerized by the way your lip moves under his thumb. “I was too busy to lie. Still am — busy, I mean. But you stuck around.”

You look at him curiously, trying to understand where he’s going with this.

I was busy.

Sure — trying to be the best with Geto, to avoid getting corralled by Yaga, to beg Ieiri to meddle in the incessant hijinks.

In Jujutsu High, you were a year behind him with Nanami Kento and Haibara Yu. 

Quickly it only became Nanami Kento.

And, with so few young sorcerers in the world, it was crucial to befriend. To trust.

Geto defecting, Haibara dying, Utahime opting to teach in Kyoto, Shoko becoming a medical professional, Nanami choosing the real world over the land of curses—

It just left you, and it left Gojo Satoru.

For ten whole years, it’s only been the two of you — dismantling the old ways and ushering in a new wave of sorcerers who, hopefully, do not have to be in so much pain.

Your brows knit. “Satoru, where is this coming from?”

Talk to me, you want to say.

Calling him by his first name conveys enough.

“Bad Christmas movies, I guess,” he breathes, leaning a fraction closer.

The short puffs of his breath tickle the lower half of your face.

“Premonitions. Reflections. The holiday spirit.”

“That moved by a Hallmark monologue, huh?” you try to tease, and his lips do quirk upwards with amusement at your jab. "And you said that guy’s speech was bad."

“It was terrible, to be fair,” he replies, “but it did give me ideas, so thanks Christmas Princess 7: Deck the Royal Halls.”

You snort to laugh, but before you can, he’s pulling your chin up and over.

Soft lips press to yours, and the world ceases.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you press a second kiss to his lips.

He briefly grunts, pushing you back until you're flush with the length of the couch.

Gojo cages himself over you, hovering with a long leg dangling awkwardly off of the couch so as not to crush you.

Third, fourth, fifth — you lose track of how many greedy kisses happen.

They grow longer, deeper, and soon his tongue is flicking over your lips to ask for access.

You easily open your mouth to moan into the kiss, and you feel him shiver above from the noise.

His hand crawls up your hip, seeking the hem of your shirt — seeking the warmth of your bare skin under his large hands.

You let him.

You'll let him do whatever he wants so long as he keeps going.

His glasses begin sliding down the bridge of his nose from the sheer passion of his kisses, awkwardly pulling you out of the moment when they nudge against your face.

You laugh and Gojo pants above you, blue eyes alight with a fiery desire.

There is an overwhelming ease to this, like you’ve waited your whole lives to try —

To enjoy.

To indulge.

To live.

"Happy birthday, by the way," you pant, and Satoru grins wicked and wide.

"Thought maybe you forgot."

"How could I forget? You're only very loud about your birthday every year," you joke right back, swallowing to coat your dry throat. "Did you wanna do something for it?"

He stares down at you over the falling sunglasses, blue eyes sparkling. "Was a shitty romcom marathon not my gift? Because that's kinda all I wanted."

Butterflies invade your stomach.

"Yeah?" you breathe.

He nods. "Yeah."

A moment of heavy air and anticipation passes over you both. He still pins you to your couch, hovering. His hands never left your sides, shirt scrunched under his wrists.

“I wanted to see how that movie ended, by the way,” you add.

That makes him bark with a laugh.

“I can act the rest out for you if you let me stay.”

He’s only stayed the night a few times, each ending with never happening again.

Yet history is doomed to repeat itself.

You’ve both learned that by now.

Still? It's technically his birthday.

“Fine,” you relent with an amused exhale. “Stay.”

(But you’re not dating.)

.