#but then refuse to help him with school by signing the thing that says they won't help him so he can be eligible for scholarships

[innytoes]

more sneek peeks for the foster care au please?

Just for you, have some Best Dad Ray Molina ft. Willex.

“I’m scared Alex’ parents are going to kick him out as soon as he graduates,” Willie finally spilled. “They heard him talking to me on FaceTime and since then they’ve been like, extra cold and awful. They only ever talk to him now to berate him or tell him to do something. So I’m going to get a job, and we can get a place together. Maybe I can go to school part-time.” Hot anger and cold dread warred inside Ray. Alex was such a good kid, funny and sarcastic and caring. The fact that his parents couldn’t see that, or didn’t care about that, just because he was gay, it made Ray so angry. “If Alex’ parents kick him out, he’s going to live here,” he said slowly, but with a firm certainty that let Willie know he was serious. Finally, Willie looked up from their sketchbook, eyes flickering over him as if to try and read his body language. He looked back, face as open and honest as he could make it, though he tried to keep the anger inside. “You are not giving up on college just because the Mercers are-” Don’t swear, don’t swear. “Bad parents. Please make sure Alex knows that.”

Ray: Language! Also Ray: The Mercers are homophobic assholes and shitty excuses for parents

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

since we agreed to be wingmen, may i please request some relationship HCs for my pretty boy, Sol? thank you, ILY ♡ i really appreciate you!!

Insatiable (Sol x MC/Reader - Relationship HCs)

Anon, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. <33

I'm feeding you all well tonight. >:]

TW: Couple mentions of being railed but that's about it.

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Insatiable: incapable of being satisfied : quenchless. had an insatiable desire for wealth.

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

Sol had dreamed of being with you for years.

So when, after spending a long time cultivating the perfect words and personality, he would strike.

When you sat on his lap in the library, he was taking his all to not get rock-hard right then and there. Frankly, he was on the verge of fainting from how flushed he felt.

He can't wait for when he can have you on him every day and not just on his lap.

Over the course of him slowly developing a friendship with you, along with sabotaging Crowe behind the scenes, he learns everything about you. He doesn't have to rummage through old files or photos, he has you! In the flesh!

And he will use all that info to his advantage.

Gets you gifts all the time, small things he claims to have 'reminded him of you'.

Eventually asks you out after he takes you to a place with your favourite food.

You oblige, of course. How can you not? He's a delusional maniac who needs emerge- been an awesome friend to you! Plus he's hot.

When in a relationship with you, he is probably gonna show up at your residence (with permission this time!!!).

Will help you study whenever you ask for it and is actually excellent at teaching things to you.

Alas some of you choose to do other forms of exploring during that time smh

Will hold your hand if you allow it (he refuses to do anyth- a lot of things without your consent) iykyk

When in private? This man is all over and sometimes even inside you.

He's nibbling, suckling, caressing, biting, holding, hugging, kissing, railing you as much as possible.

With consent, of course.

He'd never do anything while you were, say, asleep. That'd be so naughty of him.

And he's a good boy for you, is he not?

He'll bark for you.

Sol will also cook for you. You don't have a choice, he wants to do this for you (he's good at it as well). Although...you do sometimes get weirdly sleepy after dinner.

If you get harassed by someone? They're going fucking missing.

If someone hits on you? Dead.

Someone hits you? Tortured, dead, mutilated.

Sol's a petty guy.

But is it so wrong to want his angel all to himself?

Due to the fact he's huge that's what she said and strong af, he def is the type to pick you up and take you places if you're too lazy or sore to walk, or to get something off of a high shelf.

Is 110% made for domesticity, this guy will do all the housework, also gives 'Acts of Service' vibes. (Yes I know he's all 5 but so what)

He also blushes really easily, so teasing him is an awesome form of entertainment...just. Try not to do it on the day before an event or school day.

Will bury his face into yours as much as he can, your scent calms him down.

Also will sleep however and wherever you want, he was born to be yours and to oblige every word that comes out of your gorgeous little mouth. <333

[coco-loco-nut]

Iconic

pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

summary: you make it your life goal to embarrass Oscar and annoy him, keeping things fun in his life

masterlist

———————————

“He’s so cute,” a girl sighs in the McLaren fan zone.

“He really is,” you smile, leaning against the barrier.

“Oh my god, hi!” the girl gasps, recognizing you from your boyfriend’s Instagram. You haven’t had social media since you were cyber bullied in middle school, so you were a mystery to his fans. It also let you go to fan zone and have fun with them. You also run a fan page for Oscar on Instagram.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind that I am standing here?” you say, holding a folded poster in one of your hand and an arm full of friendship bracelets that Oscar helped you make.

“Not at all, oh my god. Sorry, it’s just that you are so iconic,” the girl says and you quirk your eyebrow.

“How so?”

“You don’t have social media which is iconic, but all the fans know how nice you are, and you are always hanging out with us here,” one of her friends say, you nod along.

“Of course I would be here, I gotta support Papaya boys,” you smile. “Wanna help me embarrass Osc?” you ask the group around you.

“It would legit be our honor,” the one laughs, you laugh with her.

“Here,” you take off some friendship bracelets and exchange them with the girls.

“You are the best WAG,” another girl says and you blush a little, dutifully putting on each bracelet.

“I really do try. I even run a fan account for Osc,” you laugh, not revealing more than that.

“No way, that’s actually icon behavior,” the first girl says and you grin.

“Want to see the sign?” you ask, excited to show your latest sign off. Oscar tried to look but you refused to even work on it until he left the hotel.

“Yes!” you are quick to unfold the sign. Your neat handwriting carefully placed each letter just large enough so Oscar could read it.

“Omg, I can’t wait to see his reaction,” one of the fans say, the area is brimming full now, ready for the drivers to come out in a couple minutes.

“Make sure you get pictures of his reaction, he’s so cute when he’s embarrassed,” you giggle, getting ready to hold the sign in front of you as Lando walk onto the stage, excited to see what you wrote this time. He reads it and laughs, turning towards where Oscar is entering. You watch his brows furrow as he reads it. Oscar- I want to eat you up like a pastry :). The Australian’s face turns bright red as he laughs and winks at you, trying to hide his awkward embarrassment at the pickup line. It wasn’t your best, but it was the perfect amount of cringe. Lando gives you a thumbs up from the stage.

“You were right, his face was priceless,” the fan says as you watch Oscar push back his mousy brown hair before putting the hat back on. You swear you might be drooling while watching him, but you catch his gaze falling on you too.

“I LOVE YOU OSCAR!” you yell as he waves goodbye to the fans, giving you a wink. You make sure all of your friendship bracelets are given away before thanking the fans for being cool about you chilling with them. You head back to the paddock, scanning your pass, and beelining to the McLaren motorhome.

“Y/n, can I have that sign?” Lando asks and you happily hand it over.

“As long as you don’t use it to steal my man, have at it,” you chuckle as the Brit hugs you in thanks before walking away.

“Eat me like a pastry?” Oscar gives you an amused smile. “You do know my parents watch that, right?” His favorite thing about you his your playfulness, you can be serious when needed, but your teasing and jests keep his life fun.

“Oh, I know, your mom helped me with that one, the fans loved it too,” you laugh. “You did look so hot up there,” you slightly exaggerate checking him out.

“Why don’t we go back to my drivers room and you show me how you’d like to eat me?” Oscar whispers in your ear, trying to seduce you, but you resist.

“Oh, I’d probably start with the thighs, best muscle to fat ratio in my opinion. Hm, now I’m kinda hungry, what is in hospitality?” you ask, moving towards the food area. Oscar wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you back towards him as he picks you up to carry you to his room.

“Nope, don’t start things you can’t finish,” he says, clearly a little hot and bothered.

“Osc, I’m not a cannibal, I don’t actually eat humans,” you tease, not giving up on what you started. Oscar clearly had a different interpretation, maybe the right one, maybe not.

“Shut up before I make you shut up,” Oscar growls in your ear, quickly turning you on and making you drop the joke.

“Yes, Mister Piastri,” you say, knowing it’s affect on him as he drags you into his room, locking the door behind him. Oscar was a couple minutes late to his meeting, Lando holding back giggles as Oscar walks into the room.

“I see the fans aren’t the only ones who love Y/n,” Lando whispers to Oscar, who shoots him a glare. Meanwhile, you scroll Instagram using your fan page, laughing as some of them post the pic of you and the sign, the comments calling on your to reveal yourself via the fan page. You make a post about it as well just to blend in, thirsting over Oscar as well. You can’t imagine if he ever finds out about the account.

“Good luck, Osc. Drive safe,” you kiss him before he puts his helmet on.

“I am always safe,” he gives you his usual awkward smile, you smile back as he puts his helmet on. He squeezes your hand before walking over to the car. You take a seat in the garage, the headphones unflattering as always.

Your stomach drops as there is a crash late in the race, but you are instantly relieved when you realize that Oscar made in through and no one was hurt. He ends up in P2 for the race and you join the team in celebrating at the podium.

“Thank you for being my number one fan, even when you run a secret fan account,” Oscar hugs you in his drivers room.

“How? What?” you play if off but he just laughs, pulling out his phone.

“My private account follows you,” oscar laughs, and you just stare at him.

“That’s actually you? I thought it was a fan,” you quickly pull out your phone and request to follow his account, which he immediately accepts so that you can see all the cute posts he makes about you.

“Stop, Osc, you’re basically running a fan account for me,” you say, admiring his posts, including one from today of you holding the sign. You quickly type a comment that has the other drivers replying like crazy claiming that they found your secret account.

“You two decent?” Mark Weber’s voice says through the door, after a confirmation from Oscar, he lets himself in.

“Why wouldn’t we be decent, Mark?” you ask from the couch.

“I used to be a driver too, and after your fan zone sign nothing is off the table,” Mark shrugs causing you and Oscar to blush. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you great race, I will see you in a few days,” Mark tells Oscar before leaving the room again. You still aren’t sure how Oscar was able to bag the former F1 driver as his manager. Oscar yawns and you notice how tired he is, sleepy Oscar is your favorite version of Oscar.

“Alright, let’s get you back to the hotel, first loser,” you tease, helping him gather his things to leave.

“Hey,” he groans at the jab.

“You could be Lando NoWins, my love,” turning your jests onto his teammate.

“That is true,” Oscar yawns, holding your hand as he leads you to his chauffeured car.

“Osc, would you marry me if I was a worm?”

“Who said I’d marry you at all?”

“Alright, that’s it, I’m deleting your fan page,” you pull out your phone. Oscar basically tackles you in the back seat as he lunges for the phone.

“I take it back, I’ll marry you right now if you want,” Oscar pleads.

“Who said I wanted to marry you? Do I look like a worm?” you retort, putting your phone away. Oscar just sighs in defeat.

“God gives is strongest people his greatest challenges, I’m not strong enough for this,” he groans a few seconds later, the tiredness setting in.

“Sorry, baby, I promise you will get unlimited cuddles when we get back to the room,” you smile softly, holding his hand tight.

“I love you,” he whispers, his beautiful brown eyes gazing into your eyes.

“I love you too.”

[jellyfishrnice]

Yandere! Rich suitor idea

Hear me out-

The rich suitor that your parents have in mind for you to marry once you turn 30, the guy who's parents your parents are best friends and how they've been imagining their offspring getting married for decades! And how you absolutely can't stand your unofficial fiance!

Of course, he couldn't stand you either. All your lives grown up together with both your parents insinuating that you two will carry on their names. Each year you two would be sent off to some exotic vacation (your parents loosely supervising) and each year you both failed to hold a conversation without fighting. The pressure was always too much for you, you hated the idea of being tied down to some guy only your parents liked. And no matter how beautiful the boy was, he simply wasn't your type. He was too pretty, too spoiled, too prissy with his blonde hair tied in a ponytail and his stupid eyebrow piercing that made no sense considering his personality.

The guy you were supposed to marry felt the same, he couldn't understand what his parents saw in you. You were too wild, he couldn't imagine trying to carry on a family with how you barely even wanted to do school work. He didn't even consider ugly just so... Weird! With your weird, odd sense of fashion and refusal to think about your future , you were definitely not his type. You two hated each other.

Until the summer you two turned 21. The yearly vacation y'all took started off like any other. With both you dreading the sight of each other. But that changed very quickly once he saw you. This was the first year you two were alone, and maybe it was the fresh alcohol in your systems or the soft lights in whatever high class restaurant you were in, something clicked in your suitor's brain.

Turns out a year (or a couple) can really change the way you see someone. Whether he knew or not he started to admire the way you refused to comply with the strict set of rules set by the high class society you two lived in, and how you didn't care what anyone else thought of your peculiar way of self expression. It was admirable he had to admit.

And the night you two shared an accidental drunken kiss, it made the hair on his arms stand up, it made his face flush red(which he blamed on the liquor), and it made his heart pound in a way he never thought possible.

Every bone chilling reaction was forced out of him and it made his skin light on fire. After that night, he only wanted more to come out of your relationship.

But, the attraction was simply one sided.

You still only saw the same prissy boy. He still refused to look at things from more than one perspective, he still poked fun at your style of clothes, he still refused to say thank you to whatever person who was serving him!

He was everything you hated all wrapped up in one ball of a man.

And when he dropped the idea of getting married the next morning while you were still recovering from your hangover, you almost vomited.

-

"Ew! What the fuck are you talking about?!" You yelled while almost dropping the mug you had in your hand. The guy was just insulting you yesterday like he always does and now he's talking about marriage?

"You act as though marrying me is the worst thing possible." Andrew sighed while sipping on a glass of orange juice. He looked out the nearby window onto the private beach of the resort while leaning on the nearby wall. It didn't show but your response clearly hurt him just a bit.

"'Cuz it is." You groaned in frustration while sitting down on the living room couch. The guy you hate proposing is definitely not helping with your pounding headache.

You took a sip out of the mug of coffee and tried to rub away the ache from your temples. Why now of all times to propose? You two had at least 5 more years of freedom before yours and his parents would put their foot down and set a date for you two to sign the wedding papers.

"I mean- why not now? Its be better sooner than later, it would be like ripping off a bandaid-"

"Hell no." You sighed and set down your mug on the coffee table next to you and dropped your head onto a pillow. How were you going to deal with this?

"Anyway," you paused trying to gather your words, "don't you hate me? Why would you want to tie the knot so soon? I mean, you're an attractive guy right? Why don't you try out other options before having to-"

"I don't want other options."

You lifted your head and stared at Andrew for a second. The pink dusting his fair cheeks and avoidance of eye contact was all you needed to know.

You looked away from his face and stared at the wall behind him. Your head hurts even more than when you had woken up.

"I'm leaving."

"What?"

"I said I'm leaving." You hauled yourself off the couch and into your room. You could hear Andrews faint footsteps and even more of his questions but ignored it. You packed your backpack, only the necessities and a small bag of seashells. You were getting on the next plane and heading back home. Or wherever you could land first.

You were not staying here. You refused to marry. Not yet at least.

But as you try and open the door to leave, a large hand slams it shut before you can completely open it.

"Andrew. What the hell are you doing."

"You are not leaving." Andrew says while placing his other hand against the door, caging you.

You never realized how muscular Andrew was before this moment.

"Yes, I am. Now let go of the door-"

"No." He says in a much firmer tone.

It dawns on you that you're on a private beach with no one to hear you yell for help. You see one of his hands leave the door and for a second you think he's come back to his senses and stopped whatever crazy shit he was thinking- but instead he snaked his hand around your waist and lays his forehead on your shoulder.

"You're not leaving."

-

HEHEHEHE JUST A THOUGHT THOOO

Not proof read forgive me 😔

[hellfirenacht]

Anomaly Part 3

Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Tags: Anxious-ish!Reader but not shy, one sided pining, no use of y/n, fem!reader, one sided enemies to lovers, fem!reader

2.4k Words

Part 1, Part 2, Master List

Miles Cooper was still at school the following week, which meant that he was given no consequences for what had happened to you or for blaming Eddie. 

Eddie couldn’t even say he was surprised by this point. If Eddie really had been the one to trip you up, he was sure he’d get suspended or even expelled. It was so close to the end of the year and he could feel that Higgins was looking for any reason to keep him from walking across that stage to get his diploma. 

You hadn’t shown up on Monday. Not that it mattered to Eddie either way, you two didn’t even know each other. But you had cleared his name. That was the thought that kept buzzing around his brain like a mosquito that he just couldn’t swat. Despite the glares and the snide remarks, you had gone out of your way to make sure that he didn’t get in trouble for something he didn’t do, which is more than what he could say for a lot of people at this school.

He had to give you credit for that at least. Not many people outside of his small friend circle would stick up for him like that. 

With work and band practice, it was easy to forget about you until Wednesday when you showed up to English class with a thick white cast around your wrist and arm. Shit, your fall really had done a number on you. You were struggling with juggling your books and they fell off your desk with a clatter, and you thanked the girl next to you for helping you pick them up. 

Eddie would like to think he was above eavesdropping and gossip, but he’d be wrong. 

“What happened?” The girl- Sarah- asked. 

“I face planted on the bleachers at the pep rally.” you said, taking your seat again. “One minute I was trying to get down, and the next I’m getting elbowed and my arm hurt.” 

“I heard someone pushed you” 

Eddie heard that emphasis on someone and gripped his pencil, hearing the subtle sound of wood splintering against his thumb. This was not the time to make a scene. 

“No one pushed me. Miles elbowed me and I fell.” you said firmly. 

You were still defending him, Eddie wasn’t sure how to feel. 

“If you’re gonna spread rumors, could you do me a favor and make it sound more interesting?” You continued, “Like, start telling people that I dived off the bleachers to distract everyone that Miles shit himself.”

Eddie snorted loudly before he could stop himself. He slammed his hand pencil down on the table and covered his mouth. Dammit, why did you have to be funny?

Sarah laughed, much less obnoxiously and agreed before asking to sign your cast. You must be covered in signatures now, as you seemed to be friends with everyone. 

Everyone except him. 

Not that it mattered. 

It was nice and all that you saved him from getting in trouble, but it’s not like you two were ever going to be friends, no matter how funny you were. 

Class started and Eddie spent the rest of class doodling and barely paying attention to the teacher. This was usually how his school days went. Yeah, he had been trying harder in the past two years to graduate and pass his classes but some days his brain just refused to focus on anything important. 

The bell rang and Eddie took his sweet time getting his things together. Next period was his favorite- lunch. 

“Shit.” He heard you mumble as you tried to wrangle your books with one arm. He knew there was a rule about not being allowed to carry around a backpack but, shit, Eddie would have thought you’d get some help. Shouldn’t one of those many signatures be offering to carry your books? 

Obviously not, as you finally managed to tuck your notebook under your arm. You looked flustered, and hot in the face. Your brows were furrowed in concentration and you finally let out a loud groan as your papers went flying everywhere as students for the next class started coming in. 

It was pathetic, and Eddie couldn’t exactly leave you stranded. You cleared his name, so at least he could try and help you out right now. Maybe he’d even figure out what your problem with him was. 

“Here.” Eddie said and grabbed the papers closest to him and picked up your binder before you could stop him. 

Normally when Eddie looked at you, you’d turn your nose up at him and look away. This time, he found himself giving you direct eye contact. Your eyes were wide with surprise that he had stepped in to help, followed by more frustration. 

“Thanks.” you said shortly. 

“Need help getting to the lunch room?” Eddie asked. He’d wait for you to say no, to tell him to get out of your face, and he can walk away with a clear conscience that at least he tried. 

You were staring at him as if he were some sort of alien who had just asked you why the sky wasn’t orange. Yeah ok, he could take the hint. 

“Yes.” 

The word sounded choked out, as if the single syllable was a struggle to say. But you had said it, and Eddie was a man of his word, even though he hadn’t promised you anything. 

Eddie stacked your notebook and binder on top of his. You were still staring at him as if you couldn’t believe he was talking to you. Eddie couldn’t really believe it himself. 

He’d do this small favor for you as a thanks, and then you two could go back to ignoring each other. 

“Lead the way.” He said, offering up his best impression of his dad’s smile. If he was lucky (which Eddie never was) then maybe some of his dad’s Munson Magic might rub off on him enough so that you’d at least relax a little. 

You only nodded and led him out of the classroom. 

You didn’t like the cast and it’s off-putting stark white bandages. You wanted to choose a different color- maybe red or black or even that weird obnoxious toxic green that was offered to you. But your mom decided that white would be better because it would make it easier to sign, so white it was. 

Your parents at least took pity on you Monday, letting you stay home to wallow in embarrassment that you had broken your wrist and fractured your arm in front of all of your classmates. Tuesday they released you back to school, but you had instead skipped getting on the bus (because you could not drive one-handed) and played hooky at the local library. It’s not like anyone would care that someone your age was skipping school. 

Wednesday came, and you forced yourself onto the bus, the first time you had used it since moving to Hawkins. The ride was bumpy and long, and your walkman ran out of batteries halfway to school. 

It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. A few people came up and signed your cast, some asking what happened. You just told them the same thing, that Miles elbowed you and you fell. It wasn’t as exciting as the idea of the school Freak attacking you, but you weren’t about to get Eddie involved in something that he had nothing to do with. You were just going to ignore the fact that Eddie had been the reason you were heading in that direction anyway. 

English class rolled around, and you spent most of it poking the inside of your cast with your pencil, trying to scratch an itch that just wouldn’t go away. It was bad enough that you had fucked up your dominant arm, but this was actually Hell. 

When the bell rang, everyone else seemed to be in a huge rush to get out of the classroom. Everyone but Eddie. Obviously. Because of course the one person you were trying to avoid was now slinking around you. 

Your long weekend, you had done your best to try and not think about him. You could handle falling in front of everyone else in school, but with Eddie it was different. Your stomach twisted as you remembered how he had yelled as you fell next to him and how he had looked at you as you had ignored your stinging arm as you ran out of the gym to clear his name. 

It was bad enough he had heard you make a poor joke out of context, you weren’t going to throw him under the bus either. 

“Need help getting to the lunch room?”

Your face was already hot with the embarrassment of not being able to carry your own books. Your backpack had ripped the second you got off the bus, and you lost your math homework to a puddle. You hated that he was still here to begin with, was breaking your wrist already not enough pain and suffering? 

You were staring at him. Fuck- dammit- shit say something back-

“Yes.” 

The word almost got stuck in your throat. The only reason it came out was that as painful and embarrassing as this moment was, what Stacy would do to you if she found out you said no would be far worse. 

Eddie dropped your books on top of his, and gave you a smile that looked so forced that you couldn’t stand to look at him. Was this being done just out of pity? You’d run for the hills if he wasn’t holding you binder hostage. 

You led him through the hallway, and towards your locker. “I need to put some things up.” you said, and he followed you. 

The hallway was already mostly clear, and so no one seemed to pay you much mind. You weren’t sure what the rumor mill would churn out with Eddie carrying your books, but did it even matter? Two more months and you’d be out of this school and none of these people would matter. 

No one except the young man following behind you. 

Eddie dutifully held your books as you put them away. The door to your locker stopped you from seeing his face, which seemed like the perfect time to take the foot out of your mouth that had been there since the pep rally. 

“...I’m... uh... I’m sorry for what I said on Friday.” you started, pretending to rifle through a folder. “About you being in a cult. It was a stupid joke and I shouldn’t have said it.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment, and you felt your whole body tense up as you waited for him to say anything. 

“Yeah we uh.. We aren’t big on sacrificing in Hellfire.” he said carefully. “Had to stop that with the club budget cuts.” 

You had to bite the inside of your cheek and close your eyes tight to keep from laughing. You covered it up with a cough. “Yeah uh... sounds like that’d be a lot of paperwork.” 

You took a slow and deep breath before closing your locker to look at him. He was smiling at you, a far less forced one than before. It was almost the same smile he gave his friends when he didn’t know you were looking. 

It wasn’t much, but it didn’t stop the butterflies from exploding in your chest. You should see a doctor about that. 

“Oh yeah, tons.” Eddie said. “And with all the letters we get about our club being associated with the Devil it was just a bureaucratic headache.”

I know that if I could just talk to him one then I’d be fine. You had told yourself that every single day since these pesky little feelings emerged. Maybe you had been right. The two of you made your way to the cafeteria. 

“You’re just some nerds playing with dice.” you said, and realize that could be taken the wrong way. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve also... played board games.” 

God you were acting like a total airhead. Board games? Really? You were acting like your brain was broken rather than your wrist. 

You felt Eddie’s eyes on you, and saw how he also looked unsure about your answer. Whatever was going through his head, he brushed aside. 

“I should also thank you for clearing my name.” he said, changing the subject. “You came running out of the gym and saved my ass.” 

“I wasn’t going to let someone get in trouble just because I fell!” It was the most assured thing you had ever said to Eddie.

“Well, either way I’d say you’re my hero.” Eddie said. “I’m pretty sure if you hadn’t come running to my rescue I’d probably be expelled by now, and then who would be around to corrupt the youth of Hawkins?” 

Hero. Eddie called you his hero. You felt your body buzzing with an energy that you were not in a place to use. 

You two were in the cafeteria now, and you led Eddie over to where Stacy was sitting. Stacy, being the queen of subtlety that she was, was openly gawking at the sight of the two of you together. 

She was giving you a look, and that look said that the second that Eddie was out of earshot you would be giving her a play by play of every single second of this interaction. 

Eddie dropped your books on the table by Stacy.

“Hi, Eddie!” she said in a perky voice. You wanted to kick her, and shot her a warning look which she ignored. “Will you be dining with us today?” 

You wanted to rip your hair out. 

“As much as I would love to spend my lunch period with you two ladies, I’m afraid my freshmen wouldn’t survive out there in the wild without me.” Eddie gave a dramatic bow. 

“Thank you. For helping me.” you said stiffly. Being on the receiving end of Eddie’s theatrics was making your brain blow a fuse. 

Eddie gave you a nod and sauntered off to his usual table where he was immediately hounded by his friends for being seen with you. You wondered what they were thinking. Did you look weird next to Eddie? Were they judging you for not being part of their group?

“Stop drooling.” Stacy said. “Talk.”

I have never broken a bone and have done minimal googling.

Also these chapters are getting longer dammit. This is supposed to be the easy stuff to wright UGH. Also tell me if there's something you wanna see with this, because I'm winging it like I do with all my writing lol

Tag List: @eddiemunsonfuxks @kirsteng42 @strangereads @pedroschka @generoustrashpeach

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[pha55ed]

Is It Casual Now? || F2

type :: angst tw/cw :: suggestive/smut (paul) contains :: ollie, kimi, paul, arthur summary :: things that the boys do that make you question your entire relationship with them and yet they act like it was nothing - inspo: "casual" by chappell roan, literally the entire song - i know this song is for the girls but,,, shhh

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

Ollie Bearman | 03 Inviting you to all of his family events

Yet again, for the 4th time this month, you were leaving Ollie's house after having dinner with his family. That's not even counting the times you've gone out with his family to their beach house, their family events, and other places. You even dropped off his little brother to school at times when the family was busy. It was almost as if you were part of them.

At first, you thought it was in a best-friend way, but as the months progressed you couldn't help but feel an increase in tension between you and Ollie. How he looked at you first when he heard a funny joke, how he brushed the hair behind your ears when you ate pasta, or how he'd rest his head on top of yours when you were both waiting for his family.

You hated to admit it, but you fell for him hard, and you were confident he had fallen for you too. Besides the small gestures, the way he treated you has been sweeter than he's ever treated anyone else, even his ex girlfriend.

He started to buy you clothes that coincidentally matched his, perfect to wear when you hangout with his entire extended family. The matching rings you both wore on your right hand's ring finger, almost as if it was a promise ring. The way he called you beautiful under his breath whenever he would pick you up.

The signs were all pointing to one idea: he likes you.

So you finally took the first step, since you knew Ollie has always been quite shy with his crushes. As he opened your car door for you to exit, you stared into his eyes. Despite being pitch black outside, his eyes were still shiny somehow. It's as if God purposely gave him the sweetest and softest eyes ever.

Without thinking, you gave him a swift peck on the lips, hoping that it was good enough: you've never really kissed anyone before. You left the kiss with a small smile while Ollie was left in shock. Hoping he would kiss you back, just like the movies you've seen, but instead he did the opposite.

"Uhm..." He says, raising his hand to whip his lips from your touch. The way his fingers pushed harshly against his lips, like he was disgusted from the small peck. Instantly your heart broke, feeling the panic rush through your veins of possibly ruining your friendship.

But, still, as if Ollie had the heart of a saint he noticed the panic in your eyes and how you flinched back from his movements. "I-I'm sorry, I don't feel the same way." He says softly.

You heard him clearly, his words repeating in your head on loop. But you couldn't process it clearly. How could he not feel the same way when he just dropped you off from dinner with his family? How could he not feel the same way when you two slept in his childhood bed together since he refused to let you sleep on the cold couch in the living room?? How the fuck could he not feel the same when he literally said, "I love you", while brushing your hair as you two got ready for his great-grandfather's FUNERAL together???

It didn't matter, you guess none of those weeks mattered to him either. You ran inside, hiding from him for weeks on end, unable to face the embarrassment and humiliation you felt.

bad ending! | good ending!

Kimi Antonelli | 04 Spending hours alone teaching your Italian

Something Kimi loved to do for you, without you even needing to ask, was care for you in so many ways. So when you expressed how you felt so left out since you didn't understand Italian, he had no hesitation to volunteer to become your personal tutor. This was a dream come true, since he's always been a secret crush of yours.

You saw this as an opportunity to get closer to him whilst gaining a new skill. But looking back on it, you most likely would have never said yes if you knew it would end with you crying your eyes out.

The private sessions started out innocent, just visiting his house and learning basic phrases. But as the weeks and months passed, it became deeper, more intimate. The way he would gently touch your knees together as you studied. The way he would playfully steal your pencil and draw small hearts with your initials together. The way he'd stare at your lips while you spoke Italian, only to say that he could never get tired of you speaking.

It didn't help that as the more intimate the sessions became, the more he insisted that you study in different places. Like him taking you to a fancy Italian restaurant so you could practice ordering in Italian, only for him to introduce you as his girlfriend to the waiter. Even pushing it further to gently hold your hand for a minute as you laughed at a joke he told.

Or when he insisted you should come to his best friend's birthday, so you could practice conversing in Italian with a bunch of different people. And while you chatted with others, he would "grade" your Italian, meaning he rested his hands on your waist the entire party as you spoke to others: clearly establishing you belonged to Kimi.

Or when he begged you to meet his family so you could practice even more, despite being completely fluent at this point. But you went along anyways, with his hand resting on your thigh throughout the entire dinner. His eyes and smile widening every time you spoke, as if he was so proud to be able to show you off to his parents.

Or worst of all, how you refused to call you anything but "amore". Your name was never spoken again by him, only "amore". And looking back at it, you felt so stupid. So stupid to smile so brightly when he called you it, as if you no longer claimed your real name since him.

But you knew that "amore" wasn't commonly used with romantic partners, but instead "tesoro" was. You never wanted to push him on the subject, just assuming he got used to calling you so early. It's not that you minded "amore", but you wanted to test the waters and possibly playfully tease him like how he does to you: oh how wrong you were.

"Kimi," you called for him softly as you rested in his bed whilst he was busy packing for his next trip. His head peaked up, but his eyes stayed focus on his packing. "Why do you always call me "amore" and not "tesoro?"

Instantly, he let out a light scoff, as if you've said something that was basic common sense. He shook his head, still smiling from your statement as he kept packing, not even bothering to answer your question.

"What's so funny?" You say, copying his smile, completely innocent to his actual reason for his smirk. You thought it would be a sweet reason, maybe that he got used to it so fast or that "tesoro" didn't suit you.

"(Y/N)," he says finally looking at you while wearing a smirk, "Tesoro" is for girlfriends only." His smile spoke so many words to you.

Confused, your eyebrows furrowed, "But, are we not girlfriend and boyfriend...?" You said which made Kimi's eyes copy yours, except he was even more confused than you.

"Pfft, what?!" He says, you thought his smile couldn't get wider, but it did as he let out a chuckle, "I'd never date you,"

Instantly, a bang was heard in your heart. It was a critical hit, fatal damage onto your mind. The whiplash you were feeling from just one sentence alone was so overwhelming. As if he couldn't read how hurt you were he pushed even further,.

"Why...?" He asked, looking at you with a slightly concerned face but his smirk stayed on his face, "You didn't think we were actually together, did you?"

bad ending! | good ending!

Paul Aron | 17 Multiple one night stands

Being Paul's teammate for this year was filled with so many fun memories. You were scared at first, worried that you wouldn't be able to get along with him since he seemed cold. But the more you two talked the more you found in common.

Slowly, those forced bonding sessions became natural: even pushing you both to hangout outside of F2. One of your favorite things to do was to follow him to the club and watch him DJ. It was a side passion he had, even jokingly saying it's his backup plan if driving ever goes wrong.

But after one night of partying and getting wasted, you woke up in his bed. Not too odd since you've crashed at his house before, except you were both naked and cuddling in your sleep. When you both woke up, for some reason, neither of you screamed or freaked out. Almost as if you've both been wanting this but never had to guts to admit it. Despite knowing it was against the rules for you to date, you both didn't care.

That one night stand turned into teammates-with-benefits extremely fast. It was awkward at first, having sex while sober was completely different from being shit-face wasted. But despite that, you still felt comfortable with Paul: something that men barely made you feel.

Those nights became so common that even Hi-Tech began to get suspicious of how close you both were, but you constantly shrugged it off as "team bonding". But it so much more than that, much much more.

Unlike other one night stands you've had, it was as if Paul was actually your boyfriend. Telling you how beautiful you looked instead of "sexy" or "hot". Giving you small kisses across your face as you both calmed down from an intense round. Leaving markings on your chest and stomach to create a smiley face as a joke because "who will see?". He even allowed you to do the same, because once again, "who will see?". Establishing how he wasn't doing this with anyone else, and you knew it was wrong, but you were so happy when he admitted that.

Yet again, you two were laying down together in his bed, breathes unsteady from what just happened. His hand was caressing your face gently, as if he cherished you like a gem. His eyes stared into yours, but it didn't feel awkward at all, as if he was reading your soul and you allowed him. The way his lips were stuck in a soft smile as he looked at you spoke thousands of words to you.

So you did something stupid, something that goes against friends-with-benefits 101: asking what you are.

Paul's face quickly dropped his gentle smile and he had a puzzled look on his face, as if you just asked him an impossible math problem. His hand retracted from your face, like you were a hot stove that he touched on accident. The entire mood of the room shifted from loving to tense.

He got out of his bed, putting on his navy blue boxers as he didn't even bother to look up at you as he spoke. "(Y/N), you know we can't date." He says nonchalantly as he put his shirt back on, hiding the scratches you left on his chest. "It's against our contract."

Ironic, since you're there in his bed, naked. Ironic since this is the 10th time in a week that he's texted you to come over. Super ironic, since he was just mumbling how he wouldn't mind letting you have his kids one day. Ironic.

And yet you still felt so stupid. Stupid for asking, stupid for assuming that the man who just kissed you and worshipped you would actually love you.

bad ending! | good ending!

Arthur Leclerc | 65 Refers to you as his girlfriend to scare away fangirls

Being part of the infamous Leclerc family meant a lot of things, such as having girls throw themselves at him every chance they got. Arthur couldn't go to a single event without leaving with at least 20 girls numbers, not even counting the amount of men he also pulled. So one day, as a joke, he asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend.

And you, as a joke, couldn't help but agree, loving the thought of being a fake WAG. The thought of the free gifts, being able to pull off the craziest prank ever, that'd be so fun and funny. So you agreed, agreeing to his stupid joke that ended up ruining your friendship.

It started out easy, giggling as you both bought overly corny and cheesy matching outfits. Getting a gold plated necklace with each other's initials on it, as if you were claiming each other. Even going as far to get ugly pillows with photos of each other on it, something you saw only the corniest couples do.

It was so much fun, so fun to pretend to be a cheesy couple. So much so, that you even took it further than just buying little items and started to act as a couple. Arthur said, the fans would never believe you two were dating if there wasn't at least a pinch of PDA. So, as you both interlocked fingers for the first time, you both chuckled nervously, despite both of you having partners before, it felt different together. As if a secret underlying want has been fulfilled, but you both never spoke about it.

But hand holding wouldn't satisfy the fans, is what Arthur said, you needed to go even further. So Arthur took you on a few dates, which didn't feel too odd since you were close friends beforehand. But the scenery, the hand holding, and the forced acting made the "fake" date feel slightly more real. The way he called you stunning as he stared into your eyes whilst wearing the all black outfit you picked out for him, and you wearing the black dress he choose for you.

But dates wouldn't convince the fans fully, is what Arthur said, as he gently grabbed your face in the moonlight whilst taking a night ride on his boat. He stared into your eyes, as if he's been wanting this for ages, as if he's cherished you for decades. You didn't fight back, going along with this "acting" you both were committing to. So when his lips pressed onto yours, you couldn't help but smile into the kiss, which he quickly copied.

As you withdrew from the kiss, the moonlight reflecting into his hair and face, as if you two were in your own galaxy far from everyone else. The calm crashes of the cold water against the boat was the only sound for miles, if you didn't count how fast your heart was beating as you stared at him. As if he felt the same, he gently reached for your hand, his skin soft and warm, as he placed your palm on his chest: his heart rate was even quicker than yours.

As months passed, this silly "joke" became more and more real. As you casually kisses his cheek after he won a race. As he brushed your hair with his fingers as you fell asleep on his chest. As he gushed about you to interviewers that ever asked about his love life, instantly describing how beautiful you were, inside and out.

So, when you two sat alone on his boat again, staring out into the moonlight, your head resting on his shoulder, you sighed. A sigh of contentment, but also uncertainty. But Arthur knew you well, like the back of his hand, so he reached for your hand on instinct.

"Everything okay?" He asked, his touch still as warm and soft as the first time you first interlocked fingers.

"Arthur," You say with a slightly stern tone yet still filled with care. "What is,,, this." you ask him as you moved your head from his shoulder to sit upright to look at him.

He looked confused, as if he couldn't process what you asked. "What do you mean...?"

"This joke," You said, "This fake dating."

You were hoping he would instantly defend himself, possibly saying "fake?!" with an exaggerated tone of disbelief that you could view it that way. You wanted it to be like the romantic movies that you and Arthur always watched late at night. But instead, you two were the opposite.

"What about it?" He said, still confused, not understanding what you were implying at all. "Do you want to stop?"

"Yes," You say but then shook your head, "Well no, but not really??? I can't lie to you Arthur, you know that," You say, hesitating to continue, "But I, I really do like you."

As he heard that, his eyes widened as his body inched further away from you. It was like instinct, the opposite of what you wanted him to do in every possibly way. He shook his head and looked like he was in disbelief, even chuckling lightly to cope.

"(Y/N)," his sweet tone was gone, the way he said you name sounded condescending despite his smile. The same tone men use when a woman doesn't know how to play football or doesn't understand car mechanics, the stupid misogynistic tone you hated. "This is just for PR, you know that right?"

And instantly, you felt disappointment strike you like lightning, as you realized those months of "fake" dating were truly just that: fake dating. Those soft kisses on your lips as he held your hand down the streets of Monaco, all fake. Those matching outfits and necklaces you both wore 24/7, even in the shower and when you slept, fake. Those times he called you the love of his life to those interviewers which made your stomach do flips, fake.

You couldn't help the way that you eyes teared up, dropping down you face without your permission. As if Arthur suddenly did a complete 180, he backed up even further, as if he never had a empathic loving bone in his body. He was shocked, awkward, and frozen. Instead of even offering some comfort, he stood up and looked down at you with pity. He left you alone on the front of his ship, crying into the sleeves of his hoodie that he let you borrow.

bad ending! | good ending!

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

[miguelsslvt]

punk! miguel x innocent! reader

word count: 879

TW: nsfw, smoking, hair-pulling, corruption, swearing, creampie.

request: @sukioyakio ★

A/N: this isn't edited and is poorly made so i'm so sorry. also can i just say thank you so much for over 600 notes on my first drabble?? oh my gosh?? anyways, enjoy and welcome to the club! ^^

imagine punk! miguel being the 'bad rep' of the school. in the 3rd year of college, he took physics, chemistry and spanish language. he would smoke behind the science classrooms, refuse to wear clothes that he calls 'society norms' like a blazer or a button up, and instead wear a black leather jacket with pins like 'pink floyd', or 'anarchist' all around it. he would yell, slander and mock almost every teacher whenever he's in class (which is very rare).

most of the girls honestly adored him, apart from the odd popular girl or two finding him too 'annoying' or too 'muscly' for their liking. he didn't give two shits, he already knew his body count was probably higher then their grades.

but then there's you. sweet, innocent little y/n. where most college students spent their weekends partying, you spent it in your dorm room re-reading 'moby dick' for the 6th time. you took phsycology, english literature and spanish language. and if you were completely honest, the only reason you chose spanish language is because your boyfriend at the time (now ex) was spanish. god, did you regret picking it for him.

you noticed miguel, like every other person in the school would. but your first time was different. you were running late, extremely late for your first class of the day. damn you, alarm. that's when you noticed miguel, outside science block, groaning.

despite being late, you took a curious peek at what the man was groaning about.

'stupid fucking lighter..' he mumbled, trying to light his cigarette, but failing. you knew better then to interfere, to even speak to the most intimidating man in college. but, for some reason, you ended up giving him your lighter.

'thanks, you smoke? i can give you one for a trade.' miguel said, as you smiled so sweetly. you explained how you didn't smoke, or did anything like that, and that you only carried a lighter 'just in case of emergencies'.

that's when miguel's interest in you piqued. you were such a sweet, innocent girl, and that drove something in him. something that he didn't realise he wanted. he usually only went for girls with his taste and style, girls he'd meet at festivals or clubs and were either high as heck or sexy goths. but you, you were different.

soon enough, he realised you were only in his spanish language classes, and that you weren't the best at it. perfect. your weakness was miguel's strength.

that's how you ended up in this situation. bent over miguell's desk in his dorm, mumbling his name as hee proceeded to sbuse his way into your sweet cunt.

'you want to tutor me..? that would be so nice miguel!' you had said so excitedly, there was a spanish exam coming up and miguel so kindly offered to tutor you the friday night. and being so naive and quite desperate for the help, you happily accepted.

his room was filled with different posters and signs like his favourite bands, anarchistic posters, stickers saying things like 'fuck the government!'. his leather jacket was discarded somewhere on the messy floor, as his hands grasped your hips to push you even deeper onto his cock.

'm-miguel.. m-miguel please!' you whined, your mascara running down your face.

he just chuckled, as he pulled your hair lightly, moving you onto the bed as he laid you down on your back, as he started bullying into your pussy once again. he was so mean.

your light blue dress was somewhere on the floor, ripped to shreds. it was your favourite dress, but you had other things to think about at the moment.

'yeah.. you like that, cariño? you like being fucked like a slut? not used to being so used, are you?' miguel teased, as you just moaned in response. he hadn't realised that fucking a cute little angel could be this enticing. fuck, he could get used to this.

'i.. miguel! i-i've never-' 'shh.. i know, i know, a sweet girl like you hasn't ever been treated this way.. i'm sorry for being so rough, but i dunno.. the way you're tightening around me suggests you like the harshness..' he said, his hand wiping your mascara-smudged cheeks. your body was submitting to him in every way possible, and he felt like a starved predator being fed for the first time in years.

'i-is it normal to feel l-like this..?' you whimpered, eyes shut from the pleasure. 'yes.. yes my sweet girl it's very normal to feel like this.. let me give you all the pleasure you've missed out on.' miguel whispered in your ear, as he started thrusting faster and faster, pushing you over to the edge.

you let out a loud moan, your back arching as you came. the way you clenched onto him drove miguel over the edge too. his thrusts became erratic and sloppy, as he let out one more groan as he came deep inside you.

you were panting, your eyes still shut. he pulled out slowly, placing a sweet kiss on your temple. 'god you're so cute..' miguel whispered to you, as you just whimpered in response. he chuckled deeply.

god, he might just get addicted to such a good innocent little thing like you.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

[inbabylontheywept]

Kevin vs. Quantum Mechanics

This is an autobiographical piece. Names have been changed for anonymity, but it's otherwise left be. ---

The class's first suspicion of Kevin was that he had, somehow, cheated his way up to this course. He just seemed perpetually confused, and strangely antagonistic of the professor. The weirdest example of this was when he asked what an ion was (in a third year EE class?), and was informed that it referred to any positively or negatively charged particle. It would have been strange enough to ask, but his reply of "Either? That doesn't sound right" sealed him in as a well known character in the class of 19 people.

The real tipping point in our perception of him during a lecture where the professor mentioned practical uses for a neutron beam, and Kevin asked if a beam could be made out of some other neutral material. When asked "Like what?", he replied "An atom with all of its electrons removed." When we pointed out that the protons would make that abomination extremely positively charged, he just replied with "So what if we removed those too?" and then was baffled when we informed him that would just be neutrons.

That's high school level chemistry. Not knowing it was so incredibly strange that I felt like something was off, so I asked him if he'd like to grab lunch. He accepted, we chatted, and I finally began to get a sense of his origin story.

See, Kevin wasn't a junior/senior electrical engineer like the rest of us. Kevin was, in fact, three notable things: A business major, a sophomore, and a hardcore Catholic. All three of those are essential to understanding his scenario.

What had begun all of this was actually a conflict with Kevin and his roommate. Kevin frequently had his fundamental belief in Absolute Good, Absolute Bad, and Absolute Anything pushed back on by his roommate, who was in STEM. Said roommate kept invoking quantum mechanics as his proof against Absolute Knowledge. Kevin was tired of having something that he didn't understand thrown at his convictions, so he decided to take a quantum course to settle things once and for all.

Despite not having any of the pre-reqs.

He'd actually tried to take quantum for physicists first, but the school's physics department wouldn't let him. It's actually pretty strictly regulated, because it is a mandatory class for physics majors. However, because quantum is not mandatory for electrical engineers, there aren't really any built in requirements for the class. It's just assumed that nobody would actually try to take it until their third year because doing so would the be the mental equivalent to slamming your nuts in the car door. Just, pure suffering for no good reason.

Apparently, the counselors had tried to talk him out of it, but if Kevin was one thing, it was stubborn. He'd actually had to sign some papers basically saying "I was warned that this is incredibly stupid, but I refused to listen" in order to take the class.

He was actually pretty nice, if currently unaware of how bad he'd just fucked up. I paid for the lunch, wished him the best, and reported back to the class discord. We'd all been curious about this guy's story, but now that I had the truth, I could share it with the world.

Feelings were mixed. Some people thought he was going to drop out any minute now. Others thought that he wouldn't, be also that convincing him to drop now, while he still could, was the only ethical thing. Others figured that a policy of non-interference was best: The counselors couldn't dissuade him, and if we tried to do the same, he'd probably just think it was STEM elitism trying to guard its little clubhouse. He'd figure out how hard things were, or he'd fail. Either way, it would help him learn more about the world.

We wound up taking the approach of non-interference. If nothing else, understanding his origins gave us more patience when he asked bizarre questions. He wasn't trying to waste our time, he was just trying to cram three years of pre-reqs into a one semester course. He did get a little bit combative sometimes, and we could tell that he was really wracking his brain to try and find some sort of contradiction or error that he could use to bring the whole thing down, but he never could.

First test came by, and he bombed it. Completely unprepared. He'd taken Calc I, but he didn't know how to do integrals yet (that was Calc II). Worse, he was far past the drop date. I imagine most people in his shoes would've stopped struggling. They'd realize they were fucked and just let themselves fail, at least salvaging their other classes grades in the process. Why waste resources on an unwinnable battle?

Kevin never asked questions like that. If he was stupid enough to try it, he was stupid enough to finish it. God bless him.

He invited me to lunch after the test and said that the class was more fascinating than he'd ever imagined, but he didn't know if he'd be able to pass it. He asked if I could help, and I said...maybe. I brought the request to the discord, and from the eight people there I got three volunteers who admired this dork's tenacity. He was in over his head, miles beneath the surface, but his fighting spirit was fucking glorious. If he was willing to go down swinging, we were willing to bust our asses trying to get him caught up.

Some of the stuff was just extra homework we gave to the guy. We told him he needed to learn integrals, stat. We sent him some copies of basic software that can be used to teach the basics of linear circuit equations, and he practiced that game like it was HALO. Just, hours sunk into it. Absolutely godlike.

He was still scrabbling for air at just the surface level of the class, but he'd gone from abysmal failure to lingering on the boundary between life and death. Other people in the class started to learn about Kevin's origin story, and our little circle of four volunteer tutors grew to six. Every day, he had someone trying to help him either catch up in some way, or finish that week's homework. He'd gone from being seen as a nuisance that wasted class time to the underdog mascot.

He was getting twelve hours of personal tutoring a week, on top of three hours of classes, on top of six hours of office hours, on top of the coursework. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that this kid was doing 40 hours a week just trying to pass this one single class.

Second test comes around and he gets a 60. He's ecstatic. We're ecstatic. Kid's too young to take out drinking so we just order a pizza and cheer like he just won gold at the Olympics.

After that second test, things hit another tipping point. With so much catch-up under his belt, he was able to focus a lot more on the actual material for the class. A borderline cinematic moment happened when I was trying to get ahead on the homework so that I could put more hours in on my senior project. Nobody else had finished it yet because it wasn't due for another week, so the specifics of the problem I was working on were still a mystery. I went to the professor's office hours and get some pointers, but he wasn't willing to give good hints when the HW wasn't due for another week or so. He said I still had time to think about it, which was true, but I wanted to be able to think about other things. Kevin had watched the whole conversation, waiting for his turn to ask the professor more simple questions, but when I left I got a text from him telling me to hop on zoom.

Kevin had finished it earlier, because Kevin started all of his homework the moment it was assigned. He needed to, in order to make sure that he could get it done on time. He'd finished it the day before, and was able to walk me through it.

From student, to teacher. I'm not exaggerating when I say that he probably saved me eight hours on that assignment. I could've kissed him.

A month or two later, we took the final. As soon as we were done, we six asked Kevin how he did. He was nervous, there was so much new material for him in this class that his retention hadn't been great. Us six were also a little stressed: We were going to pass the class, but the final was hard.

We waited for the results.

And waited. And waited.

Finally, the scores were posted as a table, curve included. From our class of 19 people, 4 withdrew within the deadline, 4 failed, 1 got a C, 8 got B's, and 2 got A's. We could see that the curve for a C was set at 59.2% overall.

We called Kevin. He was crying. End score, 59.2%. Teacher curved the C exactly to his score.

It was a week into winter break so we couldn't gather the forces around for a party like last time, but we were all losing our shit. Kevin was losing his shit. He couldn't believe how stupid he was to try this course, he couldn't believe that six people busted their ass just to make sure he didn't die, and he couldn't believe that the professor basically just passed him out of sheer effort alone.

He said it was the stupidest thing he'd ever done, and while I doubt that, it was outrageously stupid. And yet, I've never been so invested in a fellow student before. I'm prouder of Kevin's C than I am of my own B. I was walking on sunshine for weeks after that. In theory, my senior project was building a functioning washing machine, but in practice, in my heart, it was helping Kevin pass Intro to Quantum for Electrical Engineers.

(And as an epilogue: No, he did not renounce Catholicism and become an atheist like his roommate had hoped. He did walk out changed. I think that being that wrong about something, and realizing it, was a pivotal moment for him. It's hard to be dogmatic once you realize that a lifetime of being wrong feels exactly like a lifetime of being right, right up until the last two seconds of it.)

[amxrany]

!! CHAPTER 7 / DIASOMNIA ARC SPOILERS !!

Ok we're at the final segment now (Azul's Dream):

Once reaching Azul's Dream, Jade proceeds to throw up on Floyd out of seasickness (Jade compares the dream hopping to flying lmao) and the game cuts it out too 😂. But anyways the tweels are surprised that the dream is taking place in Coral Sea, as they thought he preferred to stay in the land; but he may have conquered the sea in this one

The group looks around a bit more and find themselves in the middle of a game called "Coral Rush", it's similar to Magift in gameplay and also has school-level and professional teams. Idia immediately wants out because it's sports, and those who play are narcissistic machos AND THAT'S WHEN LEONA COMES UP WHILE HE SAYS THAT LIKE OKAY GAYASS MF????

That's when we spot Azul in the field, he's playing for Golden Tridents and he's actually good at the game and quite popular. Idia's just shocked because Azul??? Playing sports???? While Floyd just laughs and Jade grins. Azul's team does win the game and he has fangirls fighting over him and stuff.

Yuu gets shoved by one of his fangirls but Azul sees it and helps them up. The group takes this as a chance to talk to him so Jade pretends to be a fan by making Azul sign Idia in his tablet form 😭😭😭. Jade asks Azul if he recoginzes them and he says he does, from elementary, and then they do this secret handshake thing that even Idia and Jamil were weirded out with. When Azul asked what school does the twins go to, and when they mentioned NRC, he was surprised

But Azul has to leave now, howver he invites the group to the celebration party at his mother's restaurant "La Grotta". So now the group is theorizing on what to do, the Tweels think that Azul's dream managed to erase his past, in which his UM couldn't manifest because it came from the negative emotions he felt during that time. Grim was about to ask if they were referring to when Azul was chubby, but Yuu stopped him there

The tweels aren't happy about the fact that they have no choice but to make Azul remember those ainful memories. Idia also adds that Azul must have such an imagination to be able to change not only his past, but also his current environment; he also has a bad feeling about the whole thing

Now the group's in La Grotta, the restaurant owned by Azul's mother

The mermaids don't look too happy about the humans, but Azul reassures that tey are his guests; and it turns out that the humans have to wear the anemone in their head as it's part of the "dress code" in the restaurant. The tweels now think that something's up, and the mermaids are now interested in the human group due to their "ornament"

The mermaids asks the group if they can teach them any dances from the surface. Everyone refuses but Grim wanted to show off his dance skills from Vil during Chapter 5 and drags the other first years with him 😭

But because they're in water, they end up struggling and falling to the ground, causing the mermaids to laugh at them. That's when Azul reveals his true intentions, he just invited them to make fun of them. The tweels knew something was up from the get go, and that's when Floyd asks which side he and Jade falls on; and Azul said if they stay with him, they can join his team in Coral Rush. So the tweels pretend to be on his side, and wreck the restaurant in the process

Azul gets mad and pulls a Draco Malfoy of calling his dad, who's a lawyer, to sue them 😭😭😭. He also sends in guards in which the tweels defeat, Floyd then calls Azul lame while Jade calls him boring, that triggers the memories to come back to Azul. This causes the darkness to appear and take Azul deeper, his "team mates" try to help him but he gets swallowed in

Ortho yells at the Tweels to go and follow him, but they don't because apparently they have a rule where everyone looks out for themselves, so they assume he's fine. But then Yuu and Grim end up getting swallowed in the darkness that they had no choice but to jump in as well.

Everyone's in Octavinelle now, it's basically a "What happens if Octavinelle got its way" back in Book 3 where he managed to burn the photo and get Ramshackle. Azul also managed to get ahold of Riddle and Leona's UM and plans to take over the school. The tweels don't like what they're seeing and said they it'll get pretty boring if Azul just gets his way. Of course there's only one thing to do: Beat Azul's ass 💀

So now they're recounting the events of Book 3 and try to sneak into Azul's office to get rid of the contracts but surprisingly, all the contracts are gone. They think that Azul must have predicted something like this so he moved all the contracts to a safer spot. So they're coming up with a plan of having the twins pose as their fakes. For Floyd, he has Jamil and Ortho while the rest join Jade. Thus, the plan is set.

Jamil lures Dream! Floyd away by telling him that there's a basketball today, and the opponent's team has a player who's REALLY good. They go to the gym and Dream! Floyd proceeds to get ambushed by the real Floyd. Dream! Floyd becomes a shadow thus the fight commences, in which the real Floyd won.

Now we're going to Jade's team, so the idea was that Jade pretty much raids his stash of rare plants and have Yuu and Grim lure Dream! Jade with it. It surprisingly works, the real Jade wait in the forest and once the fake came in, had Silver and Sebek restrain him. Then Jade uses his UM on the fake to find out where the contracts are hidden

It was literally hidden under Azul's bed 💀, but only Azul can get the case to open . After convincing Ortho not to use his beam and kill everyone by accident, Floyd suggests a plan to have the real Azul open it. So they do just that, but the moment Azul found out the twins betrayed him, so he sends out his anemones to use as shields even Idia's dream self got involved in it

A fight begins, and Floyd gives Yuu the suitcase in the middle of it. When Azul used King's Roar, Floyd uses Bind of the Heart to redirect the magic to Yuu and have them throw the suitcase at it, dissolving the contracts once again. This causes Azul to have another meltdown, the darkness reappears and engulfs Azul, but Jade and Floyd come to his rescue. However, they had to let him go on Silver's orders because he has to face his inner demons alone. The twins wish him luck before they let him go

Azul meets his overblot self and feels sorry for how pathetic he is, the fight commences. He defeats the phantom and comes back to the very first dream where he was a star player. He tells everyone to celebrate by signing his contract and now they're stuck with it. He eliminates all the shadows before the rest of the group comes running in

Ortho shows Azul the video and now he's worried about Mostro Lounge's lost income and the food that's chilling in the freezer 😭. Ortho reassures him that nothing happened to the food cuz time is frozen, But Jade supplies it with "the customers are still sleeping tho". The twins and Jamil stay behind as Azul will now tag along with the rest to move onto the next dream

Finally I'm done with this, for those wondering where I get the info for these posts, they're from @/Laurent_bucchi and @/acesuuu on X/twitter so gotta give the credits to them because holy fuck this took forever.

But anyways hope you all have a good day!

Previous: Jade's Dream

[girlfriendstan]

Hii, so I was thinking about enemies to lovers with gyuvin, where you just don't like each other and are always bickering. But one time it turns a bit sexual because he said you wouldn't be able to take him. So you decide to prove him wrong, but it backfires because you can't handle him and he just makes fun of you (a lot of dirtytalk). Thank you, I really liked your gyuvin fics so far! They are really good!

you expect a lot of things when you end up at kim gyuvin’s house for a school project: a huge headache, at least 3 arguments on how to execute a project, and zero work done.

what you don’t expect, though? his tongue running through your folds, and your mind running away from the mere possibility that deep down, a sick part of you is enjoying being at his disposal.

“told you you couldn’t take this,” he briefly lifts his head away from the center of your thighs to show off a grin you wish you could wipe off. you wince at the sight of his lips coated in your juices and crucify yourself for being even a bit aroused by someone you consider an utter bastard.

“i haven’t come yet. don’t get ahead of yourself,” you manage to retort, deliberately avoiding eye contact. after all, you’re a hater, not a liar, and it would be a lie to say that his mid-oral sex visuals don’t make you feel things.

as soon as you finish that sentence, he buries his impossibly tiny head into your core with a new sense of hunger. you thank your lucky stars that he had the decency to keep your call on mute, because the sounds he makes while eating your pussy feel intentional, but you still can’t help but feel like you’re both at the risk of being found out.

if you hate the mere thought of that, gyuvin seems to love it as he goes down harder on you. refusing to make any more sounds and give him that satisfaction, you react in the form of tugging at his hair instead whenever he hits the right spots.

gyuvin lets his index finger graze your clit, while his nose is all but buried in your folds. “why can’t you run your mouth now, huh?” he taunts you again, putting a halt to his devouring. you think you’re free, that you put up a good fight that you’ve won since he did all that and still didn’t get an orgasm out of you, but he pulls out his throbbing hard-on from the grey sweatpants you’ve always been wanting off, and you wish you could melt into his bed and disappear.

“why the long face, babe? you said you could take anything i’d give you,” gyuvin says, stroking experimentally at his cock, signaling what you should be anticipating next. “aren’t you obsessed with winning against me? you can’t exactly do that when you’re scared,” a significantly obnoxious thrust into his hand “of this.”

when gyuvin’s balls deep inside you, all you can do is throw an arm to cover your face and act like you’re not having the best sex of your life. every thrust is harder than the last one, and he’s just so, so big there’s no inch inside you that doesn’t feel his length and girth. save for a couple of accidental moans he’s definitely taking note of, you stay quiet as he fucks you. you act like it’s a form of refusal to his cockiness, when all you do is comply and take what he gives you almost pathetically.

“you win,” gyuvin says as he places his cock in your mouth just in time for him to come inside it. “i didn’t know you could be such a good girl, though, just taking anything i’d give you like a pliant slut.” more drops of cum find their way on your lips. “there’s always more i can make you take, though.” gyuvin’s hands all over you feel like a dangerous sign, and you can feel him start to prop you up in the spirit of simply taking more from him, but at least you don’t need to put up a fight anymore.

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part One / Part Two / Part Three PART FOUR YOU ARE HERE Part five 

As always I own my entire soul to  @chalkysgarbagefire

Steve didn't show up to lunch that Monday. 

This was a problem, because Gareth and Eddie had carefully prepared the entirety of Hellfire to help make Steve play a D&D one-shot. 

(Well, mostly Eddie--and he'd left out the parts about how the entire goal was to acclimate Harrington to hugs and high fives. 

Gareth assumed that was a more careful conversation they'd all have later, outside of school grounds.) 

"Eds, if you jiggle your legs any harder the table is going to take flight." Gareth complained, scooting away before he got jabbed in the gut. 

"Where is he!?" Eddie muttered, glancing at his watch for what had to be the twenty-fifth time. “Are we sure he showed up to class this morning?" 

Stewart, the only person to share a class with Harrington, gave their leader an exasperated look. "Yes, I’m sure." 

He flicked his spoon, pointing it towards Eddie. "And yes he looked fine, yes, everything seemed normal, no I don't know why he's not here and no, no one fucking abducted him, or threatened him, or any of the other crazy excuses you keep coming up with!” 

Eddie’s frown deepened as Gareth and Grant traded concerned glances. 

"Maybe he just didn't want to sit with us today." Jeff remarked, approaching the topic with the same care a technician had when approaching a live bomb. 

Gareth thought it was a smart move, considering Eddie looked like he was about to rocket into the ceiling. 

"He's sat with us everyday, why would he change now?"  Eddie argued. 

"Maybe there's a basketball thing happening. Or he's saying hi to his jock buddies." Gareth tried, using the same cautious tone Jeff had. 

"We’re his friends!" Eddie snapped, looking two seconds away from losing his shit entirely.

 Almost unconsciously, Gareth and Jeff both raised a hand almost to try and help calm him.

Like he was a wild horse and they were the preteen girls in the movies determined to establish a bond before he killed their grandpa or some shit. 

This was what happened when one deviated from a predetermined Munson-made plan. Not that Steve had known that of course, but then, he wasn’t exactly catching the fallout, was he?

‘I am making Harrington buy lunch after this.’ Gareth thought, as Eddie returned to bouncing both his legs almost frantically. ‘From someplace expensive.’ 

"Maybe Hargrove ate him."  Grant suggested, as if the very thought of Billy Hargrove wouldn’t set Eddie off on a rampage. 

"I could see it." Stewart agreed. "Dude has cannibal vibes." 

"Not. Helping." Jeff hissed, his palm still in the air and hovering vaguely over Eddie’s shoulder. 

Sure enough, Eddie’s entire body tensed at the mere mention of Hawkin High’s new King. "That’s it. We’re going to find him.” 

“Have fun.” Tiff said, waving him off. 

Eddie glared. “We’re all going.” He practically spat.

With a put upon sigh, Tiff set her food down. "You really want to spend the rest of our lunch period stalking around the hallways looking for Harrington?" 

Eddie gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles went white. 

"Yes Tiff, I do." He said, a manic gleam in his eyes. 

He shoved up from the table, striking the kind of pose he often used during his rants. “This is a break in a pattern of behavior. A veer from an established path! This is the very first sign in every horror movie that something is wrong!” 

He went to put his foot up on the edge of the table, like a pirate captain looking to the seas ahead, but instead missed it entirely and fell forward. 

Eddie flailed for a moment, before managing to catch himself on the edge of the table. Instantly he began acting like he’d intended to fall like that from the start. 

“I refuse to let any of us behave like idiotic, stupid, horror movie characters.” He finished dramatically, hair hanging in his face. 

“You’ve been watching that Sherlock Holmes show again, haven’t you?.” Jeff asked him flatly. 

“Among other things.” Gareth muttered, because as usual, he was the one who’d been watching said shows and movies with Eddie.

Not that it bothered him any, just that it meant he got to watch his best friend adopt new behaviors in real time. 

Eddie flew back up, flinging his hair out of his face with a dramatic toss of his head. 

“Come on my Watson’s! Let’s go find Harrington. I have a one-shot to pitch dammit!” Eddie outright yelled, flinging his arm skyward once again. 

He got several startled glances in the cafeteria for it, but as used to Eddie as they all were, no one bothered to say anything to him. 

“Why the fuck would we all be Watson?” Stewart muttered as he stood. 

“I agree. Obviously, I’d be Watson.” Gareth said, also getting to his feet. “You’d be Mrs. Hudson.” 

“Oh fuck you, I would at least be the other crazy smart dude.” 

“Mycroft or Moriarty?”

“Mycroft.” Grant and Jeff chanted as one, the both of them putting their food away. 

“Not one of you is any Sherlock Holmes character. Except maybe the dog.” Tiff cut in with an eye roll as she finally gave in and stood herself. "Now come on, let's go take Eddie for a walk." 

Said metalhead flipped her the bird, but otherwise didn't protest. 

(Probably because this wasn't the first time they'd had to do laps with Eddie.) 

xXx

"Maybe he just went home." Gareth said reasonably some fifteen or so minutes later. 

They'd made their way through the school, Eddie obnoxiously bursting through all the bathroom doors to loudly (and embarrassingly) yell for Steve.

They hadn't seen hide nor perfectly shaped hair of their wayward jock, and none of them were looking forward to trapezing around the outside of the school to hunt for him.

Thankfully, they didn't have to. 

"Wait.” Tiffany asked, as they passed by the small little hallway leading to the art and photography rooms. “Is that Steve?"

Immediately all heads turned towards the direction she had pointed in. 

"I think so?" Jeff guessed, eyeing the guy standing in the hallway down from them. 

Gareth squinted, trying to get a better look. "Looks like." He agreed. "Also looks like Tiff was right, he is hanging out with other people." 

Eddie tensed at that. A true feat, Gareth thought, because he was already wound so tight he looked in danger of snapping in half. 

 "Fucking useless." Tiff muttered. 

Louder, she said; "Let's try that again. Isn't that our idiot jock with his ex-girlfriend and the guy she supposedly cheated on him with?" 

The lot of them watched as Steve stood in one of his classic defensive positions (arms tucked into his sides, back rigid and chin down, like he was about to perform some kind of football tackle.) 

Nancy Wheeler faced him, her own chin raised and her arms crossed like she was about to give the lecture of a lifetime. 

In between them stood Jonathan Byers, though he was angled more towards his girlfriend than Steve. The guy practically radiated discomfort but seemed to be managing. 

Even if his shoulders were practically above his ears.  

It didn't exactly look like a two on one situation, but then it didn't not look like it either. 

"Shit." Gareth said, which summed up the situation rather nicely. 

"Should we go save him?" Grant asked, concerned. 

Not one person moved.

 Instead, all eyes went to their fearless leader--who was uncharacteristically silent. 

Gareth took in the narrowed, frantic-turned-furious look upon his friend's face and wondered vaguely if he was going to have to stop a murder today.

Possibly two, depending on Byer’s involvement. 

"Defensive position boys!" Tiffany called out, breaking the spell with sheer volume as she made the decision for them. "Eddie, you with us or not?" 

Brave words for her, considering Gareth knew damn well that Tiff was often more bark than bite. 

Thankfully, it worked. 

"Right!" Eddie barked, jerking in place as he came back to himself. "Our Stevie needs us, men and Tiff!" 

He pointed forwards, like a war general leading a charge. "Hellfire, move out!" 

Fanning out into a triangle behind their club president, the lot of them followed as Eddie marched forward. 

"You know I didn't mean it like that." Nancy was saying, and even though Gareth didn't know her he could tell she was frustrated. 

 "You have people you can talk to. You have m--" she cut herself off when Eddie strode up next to Steve. 

Then blinked rapidly, reminding Gareth of a startled cocker spaniel when the rest of Hellfire fanned out around Harrington like wolves guarding their young. 

(Or brightly colored and very angry ducks, but wolves sounded cooler. 

Plus the last time he'd said something like this aloud; Grant had loudly informed him it was actually Muskox that made protective circles, Stewart brought up that triceratops were cooler, Jeff decided they should be bees and Tiffany had gone off on a tangent about badly done animal behavioral studies.) 

"I daresay I agree!" Eddie said, taking a dramatic leap forward and startling Steve and Byers both. 

That alone was a cause to worry--Gareth couldn't recall a single time Steve wasn't hyper-aware of his surroundings enough to get properly lost in it. 

At least lost enough that he missed an entire group of people approaching. 

"Steve is more than welcome to talk to people! His people." Eddie leaned forward a touch, the smirk on his face the one he used when he was playing up his role as the town's satanist cult leader. 

To her credit, Nancy recovered remarkably fast. "I take it you believe that's you?" 

Eddie reared back, like a cobra rising to strike. "Why Nancy Wheeler, Stevie here is an adult and can choose who he wants to talk to.”

He turned, one hand over his heart and the other held out to Steve. " Ain’t that right, big boy?”

Nancy and Byers both just stared. 

Gareth couldn’t blame them, he was staring too. 

Apparently deciding Eddie was too ridiculous to deal with, Nancy returned instead to talking to Steve--who, Gareth noted with more than his fair share of pride, looked a bit more grounded now that Hellfire had arrived. 

“I understand that we’re in a weird place right now, but you have to  know I still care about you, right?” Nancy bit her lip, clearly unhappy to have an audience but plowing ahead anyway. 

"I'm fine, Nance.” Steve told her, voice steady, but growing flat. 

 He was shutting down--shutting her out, if not everyone out. Gareth knew, if only because he’d watched Harrington do it to them more than once. 

(Knew because he himself had shut downs just like this. Eddie and Nancy were the kind of people who got loud in their anger, demanding people see and face them. 

Gareth on the other hand, even with his more explosive temper, often ended up more like Steve when faced with breakdowns with people he cared about. He didn’t want to hurt them. To say the wrong thing, to lash out when someone was just trying to help.

It was safer to shut up, back away and put some distance between yourself and whoever had pissed you off.) 

Either Nancy wasn’t aware of that or was too deep into her own emotions to see it, because she took a half step forward. “I know you’re not fine. I know you, Steve.” 

“Not anymore you don’t.” Steve responded, and Gareth wondered if he realized he was leaning away from her--and towards Eddie. 

Considering the way Wheeler’s eyes bounced between them, he knew she definitely had. 

Quite possible Byers too, from how he had to stop himself from pulling Nancy away. 

“I’ve been working hard to become someone else.” Steve added. “So you don’t have to feel responsible for me. I’m not your problem anymore.”  He spoke without malice, just with the pure emptiness of someone who completely believed everything he said. 

“Steve-” Nancy protested, but Eddie cut her off. 

"You heard him." He said, peacocking his little social win in a way only Eddie could. "Now if you don't mind, I have extremely important things to discuss and you have cut drastically into my time." 

He flicked his fingers in a shoo gesture, one that made Nancy's eyes spark in a way that quite frankly, terrified Gareth. 

"Fine." She grit out through clenched teeth. "You know I’m always available to talk, Steve." 

She strode off, passing Steve and the rest of Hellfire without a glance backwards. 

"Sorry man." Jonathan muttered apologetically to Steve as he passed, following after his girlfriend. 

Steve waved him off. 

"Well she's just a delight." Jeff muttered, once Nancy was well out of hearing range. 

Steve's entire chest heaved in a sigh, swaying slightly backwards as if the entire confrontation had physically drained him. 

"She's trying to help.” Steve muttered softly, scrubbing a hand down his face. “She's just...coming at it wrong." 

He turned, seeming to finally notice that all of Hellfire was there. "What are you all doing out here anyway?" 

"Rescuing you." Grant informed him. 

"From Nancy and Jonathan?"  Steve said in disbelief. 

Like Byers hadn't supposedly kicked his ass already. Nevermind the moping Wheeler had caused. 

(The entire school had witnessed the moping. 

It was, after all, part of what had drawn Eddie to Steve.) 

"Yes." Tiff replied bluntly. “Also if she corners you like that again, I will make it my personal mission in life to top all her test scores.” 

"I--okay." Steve blinked rapidly, clearly unsure of how to process that.

“Not that I needed rescuing,” He continued after a moment, staring at the whole group. “But why were you looking for me in the first place?” 

His voice was slowly recovering, coming out of that weird flatness it had scrunched itself into. It was an excellent sign, a sign of trust, and Gareth leapt to keep it before someone could say something stupid and fuck it up. 

"Eddie needed you to pitch his next one shot idea and couldn't wait for you to show up." Gareth admitted. “We decided to hunt you down since you were missing lunch.” 

“Oh.” Steve blinked again, and though it’d be concerning on anyone else, the guy just looked like a lost puppy. “I’m sorry man.”

“It's alright Stevie. I just thought you'd totally ditched us.” Eddie sniffed dramatically, looking like he was going to wing an arm around Steve’s shoulder but thought better of it. “No biggie.” 

He pouted, and made absolutely sure Steve could see him do it. 

“Is this you trying to get more of my M&M brownies?” Steve asked after a moment. 

“Oh my dear, sweet, athletic friend. Not at all. Instead, you are going to play the one shot I worked so hard on.” Eddie bounced his shoulder into him as he spoke.  

 It was a weird little compromise the two of them seemed to have, since Gareth had regularly witnessed Eddie ping-ponging off Steve’s shoulders. “Let us break your tabletop cherry.” 

“Or what?” Steve asked, the tiniest bit of humor peaking through. 

Eddie stared at him, abruptly still and completely serious. “I will cry, Steven. Loudly.” 

It brought a small smile to Steve’s face.

“Fine. I’ll play your dumb dweeb game.” He said, and couldn’t seem to stop the smile from overtaking his face when Eddie threw his arms in the air and cheered. 

“Come on, I’m pretty sure the bell rang forever ago.” Jeff said, as they began to venture out back to the main hallway. 

(“Hey guys?” Steve asked, right before they all split up to go to their various classes. “Thanks. For the save.”

Eddie positively beamed. “Anytime, Steve. Anytime.”) 

xXx 

“Hey Gareth?” Steve asked a few days later, joining Gareth in the library during his free period. 

(Gareth himself was skipping, because if he had to listen to yet another lesson on the Crucible he was going to declare himself a satan worshiping witch and demand to be hanged.) 

Gareth hummed to show he heard, as he carefully took stock of the loot he’d gotten from their last game. Eddie had been pretty good about it for once, and he wanted to look things over before the one shot. 

“Can I ask kind of a weird question?” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. 

“Shoot, Stevie.” Gareth replied, finally comfortable enough to use the main nickname Eddie had nailed the poor guy with. 

“Did Eddie give me a character with bad eyesight or “night vision” or whatever, because he thinks I have bad eyesight?” Steve’s fingers made sassy little air quotations around “night vision” because he knew damn well it wasn’t called that and didn’t want to get chewed out. 

It was appreciated, even if it was cheeky as shit. 

Gareth stopped writing. “Why’d you think that?” 

“He just keeps acting like I’m my character.” Steve replied with a shrug. “Like all that stuff we planned  about how my character gets around and relies on the group since he can’t see that great in the daylight? He does it for me too.” 

“It’s Eddie, he’s eccentric.” Gareth struggled to keep a straight face, trying not to give the game away. 

Laughing would absolutely clue Steve in to the fact that Eddie was doing it on purpose. 

“He just keeps telling me before he touches me. Outside of the game.” Steve continued, utterly baffled. 

Of course, Eddie was doing far more than that, in order to keep up the appearance that he was just being a weirdo who was too into his game. (Instead of trying to alert Steve to the fact he was going to lean on him, hug him, or do any other thing involving skin to skin contact that usually made Harrington panic.)

“If you don’t like it you should tell him,” Gareth said. He knew it was the better option, encouraging Steve to communicate. They could come up with something else if this was too weird (as frankly, many of Eddie’s plans could be. 

Bless the guy but he had a habit of going for the dramatic over the practical.) 

“No!” Steve protested, far too quickly. 

He cleared his throat with a cough, and continued in a much calmer voice, “No, I don’t wanna ruin his fun or anything.” 

As far as excuses go for letting something happen it was a weak one, but Gareth wasn’t going to call him on it. If Steve wanted to hide behind Eddie and his “fun”  then Gareth would happily pretend to buy it. 

Would buy whatever excuse Steve needed, to help make the guy feel more comfortable and like himself than the still often vacant ghost that hung around now. 

“Just wanted to know if he actually thought my eyesight sucked.” Steve finished in a mumble. 

“Well you did trip over the curb that one time.” Gareth teased playfully, and shot a grin at Harrington when that awkward look of his melted into something more offended. 

“I was walking backwards!” Steve defended, his normal, almost bitchy tone returning. 

“Uh-huh. And what about when you almost ate shit over that garbage can and Eddie had to save you?” Gareth taunted. 

He grinned, watching as a blush overtook the older boys face, Steve glancing away frantically and--

Oh. 

Oh!

'Oh-ho, ho, ho!' Gareth thought with absolute glee. The entire fucking school knew what Steve looked like when he had a crush, (Steve himself had made sure of that with Nancy) and Gareth recognized the beginning of it happening all over again.

Steve Harrington had a crush.

On Eddie.

Gareth could work with this.

“You know….” He  paused, grin turning sly as a sudden idea came to him. “If you want to mess with Eddie a little bit I have an idea.” 

Steve stared at him, confused. “Why would we want to mess with him?” 

Gareth leaned forward. “Because pranks are fun, Harrington. Legend has it you even used to do them.”  

Steve still didn't look convinced, but the nice thing about a man like Steve was that all Gareth had to appeal to was his sense of adventure. 

“Now." He clapped his hands together in a move that had very much been stolen years ago from Eddie. "How good are your acting skills?

Meant to post this yesterday but I got surprise laid off last week and that pushed me back a bit, sorries! Absolutely related, I have a Ko-Fi now lmao. It’s https://ko-fi.com/sp0o0kyghosthost 

Unemployment should go through just fine so I don’t really think I need to full panic but hey if you wanna throw me a dollar and yell “Dance writer dance!” I’ll do a lil tippy-tap jig. 

[widowmaxff]

In overwhelmed, it mentions that Y/N used to be in a dark hole and how Wanda is afraid she’d go back to it. Can you write about it? Like what happened?

hope ur ok

pairings: mom!wanda × daughter!reader (platonic)

warnings: depressed reader, cryingg, bad thoughts, and sad sad things

a/n: okay how did you pay so much attention to what i wrote in overwhelmed bc i didnt even remember writing that 😭 BUT THANK YOU for the request i literally just ramble what was in my head but hope you like it love!

HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE!

You don't know when it started, much less why it started. Maybe a few days ago, a month ago, maybe a year ago the signs that something was wrong started to appear. It was almost as if these feelings were always there, just hidden by a layer that was slowly removed and made everything more difficult. It seemed like there were days when you could easily deal with it, maybe ignoring it or just hiding it very well, you didn't know. But there were days that were more difficult. It was more difficult to get out of bed, your appetite was barely there, you didn't want to leave your room, just stay in darkness and total silence. Even though this silence made your head spin, it was better than anyone talking and making you even more depressed.

If someone asked the people closest to you if you were sensitive, you were sure that more than half of them would say no. They would talk about how you had a frozen heart, that you didn't cry when you watched a sad movie, that you didn't fall in love with the character when watching or reading a novel, that you didn't care when someone was fighting with you. But deep down, you knew it was a lie. You felt hard feelings most of the time, including when watching sad films. Maybe you just don't like showing the sadness and emptiness you feel. It makes you feel weak, worthless, and selfish, especially selfish. You shouldn't feel this way, not when you had the perfect life: a loving mother, food on the table, new clothes, and expensive sneakers. Then why?

You didn't really care that you felt depressed, you knew that eventually it would pass, just like every other time - even if that feeling came back some time later, even worse. It wasn't like anyone noticed and said anything to you, even though you were sure most of the adults around you blamed it on teenage hormones when they saw you sulking or just isolating yourself in your room all day. Maybe a few questions like 'are you okay?', even though they knew you would respond with something positive even if everything was falling apart. But there was always someone. Someone who knew that it wasn't just teenage hormones but something that was slowly consuming you. Wanda, your mother, was that someone, and she certainly didn't let those details slip.

The first time you actually showed that you were in a depressing state was on a random Thursday at six-thirty in the morning. Wanda didn't mind much in the first moments when you refused to get out of bed, it was normal for any teenager to not be able to stand school. But when you finally decided to show up for the morning in the Compound's kitchen, she was surprised. You had big black bags under your eyes that were tired and red, looking like you hadn't slept well that night and maybe you had been crying most of it. Wanda didn't take long to ask if something had happened and if you were okay, only receiving a murmur of something like ‘'m fine' before turning back to look at the emptiness of space. Tony who was nearby joked “Maybe the red eyes are because of something she used. Don't tell me you snuck out to a party, Mini Maximoff?”, you'd laugh on any other day, even replying something like 'Yes, I did some hard drugs at a party. How do you know?', but that wasn't the case. Stark laughed to himself after saying that sentence but soon the sound of his voice disappeared when he realized that you hadn't heard him and, apparently, nothing around you.

The second time was right after a mission Wanda had done. It was only three days away from you and everything seemed different when she came back. The first thing she noticed was that you didn't run into her arms when she stepped inside the Compound, much less respond to the messages she sent you a few hours earlier. Obviously like a worried mother she went after you, not taking long to find you in your room with all the lights off, two blankets around your body and how it looked like the things in your room had been in the same place since your mother left for the mission. She turned on the light in your room, hearing a soft growl leave your lips. You were awake and conscious, so it didn't make sense for you to want to be lying down and almost sinking into your mattress at four o'clock in the afternoon. She remembered when you were little and couldn't sleep if at least one light wasn't on, now it was ironic to think that you just lived in the darkness and emptiness of your room without fear that some monster would catch you, because no monster could hurt you like depression was.

Wanda couldn't count how many more episodes like those happened and lasted for several days. She was worried, very worried. She was afraid that you would end up doing something that would hurt you, end everything. It was obvious that your mother tried to ask you what was wrong, how she could help you, but you always said that you just woke up on the wrong foot that morning and that everything was fine. Of course, how were you going to tell her what was happening if you didn't even know. There was no reason for you to feel down like that and not even the absurd desire to just want to close your eyes and not open them again. And every day that passed, this dark hole you were in would get deeper and deeper. You knew you needed to ask for help before it was too late. 

It was no longer strange when once again that week you had no will to live. You look at the clock next to your bed and realize that your mother would be coming to your room to call you for another day in two minutes and a few seconds. Just the thought of 'one more day' made you want to throw up the food you didn't even eat the day before, as that empty feeling made your hunger go away. But as much as vomiting, you wanted to cry, cry until you couldn't take it anymore. And it was no surprise when the tears started to fall and you couldn't stop. Even though you are not a loud person, trying to keep yourself in your own bubble, the sobs wanted to get out of your throat anyway.

“Darling?” Wanda didn't mind knocking on your bedroom door in the morning, since you would be sleeping, well, not at that moment. When she heard the choking sounds you were making to keep from crying, she didn't take long to run towards your body on the bed and get under your covers, pressing you against her chest giving the perfect comfort to let you know that you weren't alone. “Oh, my love.” Wanda has seen you cry, many, many times, but it was so different to see you cry as if you were drowning in a sea and needed help from someone, anyone. “It's okay, Mama is here.” With each passing minute it seemed like the tears were getting even bigger than before, but you tried to focus on Wanda's heartbeat as you placed your hand on her chest, making you feel calmer despite all the panic. 

The lullaby that starts to leave her lips and go straight to your ear makes you start paying attention to the soft melody and not your terrible thoughts. The language Wanda sang in, Sokovian, was not understood by you, but you still remembered when she sang you to sleep on the days you had nightmares. It was as if Wanda was using her magic to calm you down, even though you knew she would never use her powers on you without your permission, but her voice was so sweet that it was more powerful than any of her red magic. Your breathing becomes soft and your movements slow, as if you were choosing the right words to get rid of that moment, but with your mother there it was almost impossible to lie.

“I wanna get help,” You murmur for just her to hear, despite there being no one else in the room with you two. “b-but I don’t even know why I’m like this.” Your crying had stopped, but you still choked to say a few words. Admitting those words out loud seemed like a challenge for you, and when you said them, a weight seemed to lift off your back despite not having yet deciphered all your feelings. And Wanda knew that. She knew how hard you were to avoid looking like a weak person even if you weren't, even if asking for help wasn't a sign of weakness but rather of improvement.

Your mother kisses your head, taking a few seconds before cupping your face and looking at it. “I'm so proud of you, my angel.” You didn't see pity or lies in the expression on her face. You didn't see disappointment and much less as if you were a problem for her. “I'm glad you want to ask for help, and I'm here for it, yeah?” You felt a little guilty when you saw a tear come out of your mother's eyes, but she was still smiling. The same smile you saw when you woke up, or when you told her some good news, or even when you told her a joke. Wanda never wanted you to feel anything negative about her. She never took out any frustration on you, never made you feel bad when you got a bad grade at school, or when you accidentally knocked a glass on the floor. “I will help you with whatever you need, my love. It will be slow, but I promise that the tightness in your chest will pass, okay?”

“I trust you.” She nods before pulling you into a hug that she knew you needed more than anything at that moment. The process would take a long time until you felt well again, you both knew that, but it was never too late. It's never too late to ask for help, because it's normal to need someone to pull you out of the dark hole sometimes, it's normal to not feel good all the time. Having feelings is normal, even if sometimes they are too deep, or too shallow. You just needed to realize that you were never alone, that people around care about you and will always want the best for you. 

“I love you so much. Always remember that.”

“I love you too, Mama.”

[httpsserene]

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐬 (𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐬𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠!) - 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: maybe this time, the natural distance between them concerning their now different job requirements would help max get over his small, miniscule, tiny, fractional, microscopic, miniature, little, itty-bitty crush on daniel. it didn’t work the first time, when younger-max had avoided his ex-teammate like the plague after his move to a different team—if anything that absence made his heart ache for daniel more, even though he tried his hardest to hate him. so now, maybe that max isn’t the one causing the growing gap between him and daniel, this space might dissolve max’s fondness. 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. idiots in love. mild angst. fluff. happy ending. attempt at humor. plot with a side of porn. the timeline is mostly accurate. max verstappen is an oblivious idiot. daniel ricciardo is an obvious idiot. 5+1 things (in a way). the three musketeers: charles, pierre, and lando. light praise kink. light dom/sub undertones. mild orgasm delay/denial. 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 9.5k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: max verstappen x daniel ricciardo

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: so....how's life been treating y'all while i disappeared for two months :) ? no, um, sorry for ghosting you guys; i know, i'm surprised that i didn't forget my login info. life started being life for a good amount of time and i got really sucked into school and work. aside from the boring everyday stuff, i've got an internship this summer (yay!), i'm pretty sure i have a bit of a mutual-crush with this boy in my morning lecture, and i've started playing final fantasy sixteen.

anyways, this is my longest work ever! and i'm dedicating it to one of my sweetest betas, bianca. you requested this long before my disappearing act in december, and i told you i was nearly finished with a 6k-word fic for your request. to make up for my unexplained absence, i rewrote the entire thing into a near ten-thousand word feel-good masterpiece.

i hope this fic is of good enough quality for all of you wonderful f1-stans to forgive me because, i'm back, and hopefuily here to stay lol. enjoy reading, loves &lt; 3.

requested & written by/for @biancathecool

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milton keynes, red bull racing headquarters, pre-season 2023

daniel looks happy. max doesn’t know why that surprises him—maybe he’s projecting his emotions (his therapist says he does that quite often) onto the man. the surprise makes sense though, max thinks, as he watches the australian chatter away with the engineers, the largest toothy smile spread across his face like he never left red bull behind in 2018. if it were max who had gone through the mclaren bullshit along with not having a guaranteed seat for the upcoming 2023 season, and he had to settle for a third driver position: he would scourge the world with his fury.

but: it’s not max, it’s daniel. it’s daniel, who was warmly welcomed back into navy blue (papaya did not suit him), it’s daniel, who doesn’t snap at the marketing team when they ask how he’s “coping” with not being on the grid. it’s daniel, who becomes friends with checo easily. it’s daniel, who’s scheduled to fulfill the pr activities that the two red bull drivers refuse to complete. it’s daniel, who has clocked in insane hours in the sim and factory while max has been enjoying his off-season. 

it’s daniel, who hasn’t shown any signs of disappointment about not having a seat this year.

if he won’t show or admit it, max will. having a race weekend without daniel doesn’t feel right. max knows this, even though the season hasn’t started yet: he’s going to be miserable. it’s like when daniel left him the team. of course, max had pushed daniel away after he signed with renault. what was he supposed to do? react calmly with the emotional intelligence he didn’t have? max thought the man hated him when he didn’t tell him that he was leaving before the news was released. 

regardless, instead of the australian leaving, this time around he’s coming back, which max had originally believed was the best thing to ever happen. he’s not so sure of that anymore. daniel belongs in the car chasing him with the smell of burning rubber and petrol surrounding them. max doesn’t appreciate how the smell of race tracks has already disappeared from him. he could tell it was missing when daniel made a show of giving max the biggest hug as soon as he stepped foot in the factory.

maybe this time, the natural distance between them concerning their now different job requirements would help max get over his small, miniscule, tiny, fractional, microscopic, miniature, little, itty-bitty crush on daniel. it didn’t work the first time, when younger-max had avoided his ex-teammate like the plague after his move to a different team—if anything that absence made his heart ache for daniel more, even though he tried his hardest to hate him. so now, maybe that max isn’t the one causing the growing gap between him and daniel, this space might dissolve max’s fondness.

“max, kid,” christian waves a hand in front of max’s face with an unimpressed look, “did you hear a single thing i said or were you too distracted by the sight of daniel in red bull gear again?”

the tips of max’s ears redden, and he snaps his head away from where it was turned to watch daniel’s constant smile, to face his team principal. max doesn’t know what he was thinking; his crush is going nowhere.

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑.

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35

© httpsserene 2023

[python333]

I love your writings sm. And I love the way you write platonic stuff with task force 141 😋

You can ignore this if ya want but I just can't get over reader angst. Honestly atp I starve for angst. Could you feed us another angst fic? Like platonic 141 with a reader where she maybe got pretty badly injured while being on a mission? :3

AND. don't forget to stay hydrated and eat well!! Take any breaks you need 😌.

(sorry if this doesn't make sense English is not my native language 🥲)

below zero — python333

— — — —

synopsis u get thrown into a freezer after refusing to give up intel to enemy soldiers, and u get thrown into a freezer, and ghost comes and saves u :3

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 5.2k

warnings hypothermia, disorientation, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hi anon thank u so much for all the compliments!!! before i say anything else, i wanna point out that i 1) only really wrote ghost into this and 2) literally read the request completely wrong and i think im actually just illiterate because how did i mess up this bad. ALSO hi its been a month since i posted on here i swear i'm still alive i'm just super busy with school!! updates are going to be extremely slow, so i apologize in advance. still, i hope u enjoy it anyways tho!! its all hurt/comfort + angst/fluff + protective/soft ghost :3

When you were thrown into the freezer, the first thing you noticed were the bodies. 

There’s ten that you can immediately see, and twelve once you look a little bit closer. All of them are suspended from the ceiling, each hanging from their ankle—with said ankle being held up by a meat hook. 

When the door had been closed shut with a loud, booming thump you hadn’t felt any immediate fear. But now, as you’re sitting in the corner of the freezer you’d been trapped in—the corner farthest away from any bodies—that fear is starting to set in.

Before this, only a few minutes ago, you were being interrogated. Your captors were asking for information on the details of any upcoming missions, objectives, target locations, anything that you had about the 141 that you could share with them, they wanted. 

Of course, you didn’t say anything. You remained silent throughout the entire thing, not talking once, even when at the end of the whole thing your interrogator slammed his hand down onto the table you were sat down in front of and yelled at you to say anything. 

When he and his team figured out that you wouldn’t give them any information, you remember he muttered something unintelligible under his breath and swiftly walked over to your end of the table. He had uncuffed your ankles from the legs of the chair you were sitting down on and uncuffed your wrists from the table, and before you could fight back, he grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and dragged you behind him. 

Then, he led you to the freezer you were trapped in now, and threw you in roughly before shutting the door behind you. You had hit and scratched at the door for a good minute after being thrown in, and after you figured that it was a waste of time trying to do so, you sighed and retired to the corner.

Now, as you’re huddled in the corner, you kind of regret not giving them the intel they needed. 

The freezer wasn’t too bad at first—you thought you’d last pretty long in there, and mentally called all the dead bodies hung from meat hooks in there pussies and simply walked around for a bit. The walking helped warm you up a bit, but soon it got tiring, and you retired to the corner farthest away from any dead bodies. 

You think the freezer is below zero degrees—no, has to be below zero, because now, just about five minutes after being thrown in, violent shivers have started to wrack your body and you swear you can’t feel your lips anymore. You haven’t been able to feel any sort of warmth in the past four minutes, all of it disappearing within the first. 

And God, the smell. The smell of frozen, rotting flesh really isn’t something you ever want to smell again. Thankfully, there’s no live flies in the freezer—all of them had died of the severe cold, creating small black circles under each hanging body where they died. 

You currently have your knees up to your chest with your hands trapped in between your thighs to try and keep them warm at least, with your forehead resting on the top of one of your knees. It’s working, kind of. The palms and backs of your hands feel just warm enough to not be considered cold, but the tips of your fingers are so cold they’re beginning to burn. 

You pull them back a bit to trap your fingertips in between your thighs, exposing the area where your wrist and hand meet to the cold, sighing as your fingertips warm up just a bit. Your thighs, thankfully, still have some heat trapped in between them, and you think your stomach is still somewhat warm. 

Around ten minutes later, you feel the heat trapped in your thighs start to dissipate. Fucking fantastic. You sigh and let your head tilt back, the back of it hitting the wall behind you, making you wince at the cold metal directly on your head. The cold seems to crawl through your hair and make it to your scalp, small pinpricks of the cold spreading throughout your scalp and the back of your neck. 

You’re reminded of just how cold it is then, of how this is quite literally a freezer, and of how said freezer has already claimed twelve lives. Or, at least, has housed twelve dead bodies and several unfortunate flies.

Just then, the fear finally starts to set in. 

At first, you weren’t all too worried about being saved—you figured you’d be found soon enough, since your team has a general idea of where you are. But the more you think about it, the more your brain emphasizes the general part of general idea. You start to think about how they don’t know any specifics. 

Sure, they know that you were captured, and that you were being held in some small part of Italy, and the people who captured you—but what did they know beyond that? Did they know your exact location? How long would it take them to figure it out? And how long would it take them to get here? 

Would you even be alive by the time they got here, if they ever did?

You notice your teeth starting to make an annoying chattering noise and you bite down to stop them. The violent shivers that wrack your body don’t help, the intense trembling only succeeding in making you more anxious. You start to become hyper aware of the cold that crawls onto your back from the freezing metal you’re leaning back on, and you quickly push yourself just a foot away from it so that it no longer bothers you. 

Your feet are starting to feel numb, you don’t think you’d be able to stand on them anymore if you tried, for you fear you’d just stumble and fall down. You look around the small freezer. There’s nothing that could help you get out—there’s only the bodies suspended from the ceiling and the dead flies that surround them. 

You’re glad none of the bodies are facing you—you don’t know what you would do if you had to sit in the corner with a bunch of dead bodies staring at you with their vacant, frozen-over eyes. Thinking about the eyes makes your own water, and you blink away the small tears that’ve gathered on your waterline. 

You can’t feel them, but you see the tears that were once in your eyes now clumping together on your eyelashes, making your brows furrow. With them starting to cling to your eyelashes comes blurriness for the top half of whatever you can see. You sigh, a white puff of condensation hanging in the air as evidence of your exhale, and move your hand out from in between your thighs to wipe away the tears from your lashes haphazardly. 

You don’t bother to put your hand back in between your thighs, instead just resting it on top of your knee. Despite it only having been around fifteen minutes since you were thrown into the freezer, you’re starting to feel more fatigued and your breath slows down significantly, as does your heartbeat. 

Another ten minutes of doing nothing but staring at the wall opposite of your own pass by, and disorientation is starting to set in. You feel oddly forgetful—like at times, you forget how you even got into the freezer, and have to wrack your brain to remember that you literally got thrown into it and are now trapped in here until someone rescues you. Assuming they do. Who was it that would even rescue you? 

You think long and hard for a few seconds, and can scrounge up nothing from your confused mind. You let out a frustrated huff and let your head tilt and fall forward so that your forehead is resting atop your knee, another shiver ripping through your frame. It almost feels like it’s getting colder in the fridge. 

Suddenly, you hear a loud banging noise—albeit, it sounded more muffled to your ears, but you could tell it was loud—and guns being fired. 

You can’t really tell when the gunfire dies down, but you can tell when the thumping of someone’s boots grows louder and closer to the door of the freezer. You try to stand up, not really knowing why since you’re in no condition to fight, having been in a freezer for about forty minutes, but you still attempt to. 

You find that standing is extremely difficult after practically being frozen alive for the past forty minutes, because as soon as you try to even push yourself off of the ground with your shaky hands, you discover that you aren’t even strong enough to push yourself up a single inch before having to stop. As well as that, you find that the ground is just as freezing as the walls and air of the freezer, because your hands now ached with frostbite. 

The action causes an unexpected wave of exhaustion to roll over you, and you pant to try and catch your breath, breathing white puffs of condensation out into the air. 

You hear a loud bang against the door, and jump at the sound, your head whipping towards the door. You hear another loud noise, and the confused fog that’s taken over your mind only grows thicker, your disorientation only growing stronger with it. The room feels like it’s spinning, and the feeling reminds you of a word, and you know what the word is, but fuck, why don’t you know it at the same time? Why can’t I remember anything? 

There’s another bang, and you hear muffled cursing before suddenly the door bursts open, a man wearing a skull mask stumbling in after it does so—he probably ran into it to open it, you think, watching the man get his balance back. He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on you, and the moment they do, you finally remember something. 

That’s Ghost. 

Somewhere in your confusion-clouded mind, you’re happy that you’ve finally remembered something. But right now, you can’t really think about anything—your mind is blank, and you can barely even process what you’re seeing. 

You’re so caught up in thinking about the fact that you aren’t really thinking, you’re just focusing a little more on whatever’s going on in your mind and not actually retaining any of it, that you don’t even notice Ghost rushing towards you and kneeling down right next to you. 

He pauses for a moment, but after a second he makes the decision to put one hand behind your back and snake one under your legs, the warm physical touch making you wince. Not that you didn’t like the warmth—you just didn’t like the sudden temperature change beneath your knees and across your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Ghost grunts as he picks you up, one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you up into a sort of bridal carry. He nearly drops you because of how cold your skin is—for a moment he thinks your back and legs are wet, then he realizes that no, they aren’t wet, you’re just really fucking cold. 

He takes a moment to make sure you’re secure in his arms before tilting his head to the side, all the way down to his shoulder, and muttering something into his earpiece. Despite being so close to him, his voice only sounds muffled to you—in all honesty, just about everything is starting to sound more muffled to you. You can only tell he’s done talking because he lifts his head back up and readjusts his arms around you, before walking out the busted-open door. 

The walking quickly turns into running, which then turns into sprinting, making your surroundings go blurry and makes your vertigo worse—it almost feels like you’re falling. You’re grateful you haven’t eaten anything in the past few hours, because you fear that if you had, you would’ve thrown it all up by now. All you can see are blurred colors—the hallways, you vaguely remember, because I’m in a building. How’d I even get here? Why am I here? You’re pulled out of your confused thoughts when you’re set down on the ground somewhere, and forced into a lying position with your limbs all outstretched. When you slowly blink up at what you thought was the ceiling, you’re both surprised and not surprised when you see the blue-black night sky. 

Not sure of what’s going on, you try to get up, but Ghost quickly pushes you back down, muttering something under his breath. He pauses for a moment, his blurred figure stopping any and all movements, before he suddenly picks you back up, making you wince at the way your head spins at the sudden movement. You hear a quiet, muffled—but clearer than before—’sorry’ from Ghost before he’s running again. 

It’s a much shorter distance this time, and instead of immediately setting you down, you hear something click and suddenly you hear another muffled voice. They sound concerned, you mentally note, Or maybe confused. Maybe both, actually. No yeah, definitely both. Well, now just concerned. Or maybe that’s confused. 

Caught up in your confused thoughts, you don’t realize that you’re being set down on a few comfy seats. You aren’t pulled away from your own thoughts until you feel two warm hands cupping either side of your jaw, and hear Ghost’s oddly distressed voice becoming more clear by the second. You now acknowledge the weird ringing in your ears that almost drown out the sound of Ghost, and struggle to figure out what he’s saying through the annoying noise. 

“—something,” You catch the end of Ghost’s sentence, and blink up at him slowly. 

“Huh?” You elegantly ask, coughing and wincing at your hoarse voice, not knowing how it got so hoarse—or why it hurt so much to talk. Your throat almost felt like it was burning, but it also felt oddly numb, a sensation you couldn’t quite put a name on. 

“Oh my god,” Ghost sighs, his forehead falling onto your chest momentarily as he takes a few deep breaths. He brings his head back up from your chest and says, “I almost thought you were dead when I got in there. Jesus, you look dead. I need to— I need to get something, a blanket or— why the fuck don’t we carry any heat packs or anything in here? Swear to God, I’m gonna—” You don’t pay too much attention to Ghost’s panicked ranting and shift your head to the side to try and look at where you are, and you discover that you’re in a car. Oh. Cool. You spot the door on the passenger seat’s side still open and swinging a bit, as if it’d been opened quickly just a few moments earlier for someone to quickly get out. 

Ghost suddenly backs up and gets out of the car, though staying within a foot of it, looking around for a moment before heading to the back of the car. Your head clears up the tiniest bit, just enough for you to be able to assume that he’s heading to the back of the car to get to the trunk for whatever reason, and you simply lie there on the seat cushions. 

A few seconds later, Ghost comes back with a somewhat-fluffy jacket, and carefully gets into the car—half kneeling down so that he doesn’t need to lean on the seats to get to you. He tosses the coat over your chest, and it does absolutely nothing at first, at least not until Ghost gets a bit closer and tucks the coat tighter around you, treating it like a blanket. Then, it starts to warm you up just the tiniest bit. Beyond that, it does absolutely nothing. But props to Ghost for at least trying. 

He quickly backs out of the car and once he’s out he closes the door behind him, and you want to get up for a moment, just to go see what he’s doing, but you don’t have to. He gets into the car again, this time in the driver’s seat, and he turns on the ignition. Once the car rumbles to life, he immediately turns up the heat and leans over to the passenger seat’s side in order to close the door, and with a grunt he manages to do so. 

The newfound heat makes you shiver, and it almost feels like you’re in a microwave defrosting. Distracted by the sudden temperature change, you don’t pay attention to what Ghost is saying into his earpiece as he glances out the front window of the car and back at you. You simply tug the jacket tighter around your torso and relish in the warmth. 

“—ay. So we’ll just leave then, and you’ll be fine?” You pick up from Ghost’s conversation, perking up at the mention of leaving, “Copy that, Captain. I’ll get them back to base.”

‘Captain’—Oh, he’s talking to Price—says something that makes Ghost sigh exasperatedly and take his index finger off of his earpiece, instead settling both of his hands on the steering wheel of the car and stealing one last glance at you before setting his eyes on the gravel ahead of him and pushing down on the gas pedal.

— 

When you wake up, you’re significantly warmer than you were… however-long-it’s-been-ago. 

You look to your left and see nothing but a white wall and a heart rate monitor—which displays that your heart rate is 115—then to your right, where you see Ghost sitting in a plastic chair close to the bed you’re laying in, eyes closed with his head tilted to the side and resting on his own shoulder.

You don’t bother trying to wake him up, not knowing how long he’s been asleep or how much sleep he’s gotten, and instead simply turn your head back to stare up at the ceiling. 

After maybe five minutes of zoning out and staring up at the ceiling, you hear clothes rustling and look back over to your right, seeing Ghost start to stir in his sleep. Just a few seconds later, he stirs awake, slowly blinking his eyes open. 

You watch silently as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, and he breathes in sharply through his nose before looking over at you and seeing you staring at him wordlessly. You both blink at each other for a long, awkward moment before he speaks. 

“… Did you, uh… how was your… rest?” Ghost asks, not sure what to say. What exactly do you say, after saving one of your teammates from potential death?

“Good,” You respond, your throat having an odd, small burning sensation when you talk. 

Ghost looks like he’s holding back a few words for a moment after you speak, and after one expectant look from you, he mumbles, “You should really say ‘well’ or ‘fine’ instead. It’d be more grammatically accurate and is more grammatically aligned with the verb ‘rest’.” 

“… Okay?” You blink, thrown off by the unexpected information, “I’ll, uh… keep that in mind, next time someone asks me how my rest was.” 

“You get asked that often?” 

“I only get asked that by you.” 

“Ah.” Ghost nods, looking off to the side for a moment. You’d think he was your dad and you’d just asked him how babies were made with how awkward he was, and you honestly expected the next words out of his mouth to be ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ before he hesitantly asks, “D’you feel better? After the whole being-trapped-in-a-freezer… experience?” 

“Experience?” You question, a light laugh evident in your voice, “Yeah, I feel better. I like being warm more than, y’know, being frozen alive. Laying down in a warm bed is nice.”

“I didn’t know how else to phrase it,” Ghost huffs out, leaning back in his seat. 

“So you’re gonna correct me on my grammar but you can’t think of a better word than ‘experience’?” 

“Don’t get smart with me, [c/n].” 

“I’m just saying,” You shrug lightly, wincing a little when your shoulders ache as you do. Ghost notices this and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t mention it. 

“Then stop trying to sass me.” 

“Sass you? Jesus, fuck, don’t talk to me like I’m some preteen who just found out that they can talk back to their parents.” 

“Isn’t that what you are, though?” 

“No, I’m— you know what? Fuck you. Get out. I hate you. You suck.” 

“That’s a colorful choice of words to say to the man who saved your life,” Ghost raises an eyebrow at you, “I’m still waiting for my ‘thank you’, by the way.” 

“Don’t care, you’re never getting it,” You say stubbornly, making Ghost sigh and stand up. You look up at him as he stands up and try to sit up in your bed, but wince again when you try to move your arms. Still, you attempt to push yourself up, and only relax your weak joints and lay back down when Ghost presses a gentle hand to your shoulder to get you to stop trying to sit up. 

“Don’t,” He warns softly—you didn’t know his voice could get that soft—as he pushes you back down, “Medics said you’re to keep laying down for a bit while you warm up. We’ve gotta wait until your BPM is below a hundred before letting you up.” 

“That’s stupid,” You huff out, though not fighting Ghost pushing you back down. 

“It’s not stupid,” Ghost lightly chastises you, “It’s doctor’s orders. Once your BPM is below a hundred, we’ll know you’re warmed up enough to start gettin’ up and walking around.” 

“… Still stupid,” You grumble, not commenting on the way Ghost’s hand lingers on your shoulder even after you’ve already laid back down. Ghost sighs and kneels down so that his shoulders are level with the railing of your bed. 

“You’re too stubborn.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“No I’m not!” Your light arguing only proves Ghost’s point further, and he knows this, the knowledge of it making him snicker quietly. 

“Uh huh. Sure, kid,” He begins to retract his hand from your shoulder, but upon seeing the disappointment that immediately seeps into your expression once he even barely begins to lift his hand from your shoulder, he immediately lets it rest right back onto your shoulder. 

You both sit in silence for another few moments before Ghost speaks up again, this time a bit quieter and in that same soft tone he’d used earlier, “I tried to get to you quicker. But we needed some time to get your exact location, and when we found it we were a hundred and sixty klicks away, and it was just—it took us… some time to find you.” 

“It’s fine. I understand,” You respond, about to shrug but stopping yourself, not wanting to feel that aching in your shoulders again, “I don’t even know how I let myself get captured, that— that’s probably on me.” 

“You didn’t let yourself get captured, you just did.” 

“Well…”

“Well, what?” 

“I don’t know, I just—” You take a deep breath before continuing slowly, “I didn’t let myself get captured, but I also didn’t do enough to fight against it, so I feel like technically—” 

“Fuck the technicalities about how you got captured, you got captured either way, and you got thrown into a freezer,” Ghost cuts you off, talking quickly, before sighing and continuing in a softer voice once again, “Please, just let me try to be somewhat comforting for once. You know I’m bad at this, and that I never do this. So just… don’t talk about what happened like that, if not for your own mental health’s sake, at least for my attempts at making you feel better.” 

You open your mouth to say something else but ultimately close your mouth and let out a deep sigh through your nose, not saying anything, letting Ghost continue to talk. 

“I, for whatever reason, feel… very oddly bad for you,” Ghost poorly explains, before pausing to think for a moment then rephrasing, “Not… not as in I pity you, but as in I feel bad for you in a way that I feel like I’m at fault for what you went through even though I know I’m not at fault. It’s like empathy but… worse. Not saying empathy is bad to begin with, but this is like if empathy was bad and it became worse and—” 

Ghost cuts himself off with silence and lets out a frustrated huff at his inability to put his feelings into words, and tries again, “I feel bad for you in a way that I don’t know what exactly you felt or how you felt in the moment that you were in that freezer but just the idea of you being in there without me for… I’m assuming an entire hour, if not longer, makes me feel like I failed. I don’t know what I failed at—”

Ghost quickly pauses before sighing and continuing, “Actually, no, I do. I feel like I failed at protecting you. Which is strange, because that’s technically not my job, but I felt—and still feel—obligated to protect you especially and that bothers me. Not bothers me in a sense that I don’t like you or the thought of… protecting you, but bothers me in the sense that I’m not supposed to feel like that. No amount of teasing, or borderline bullying, or anything should’ve ever made me feel obligated to think of you like— like— like…” Ghost trails off, leaving you wondering what he meant to say. He stays silent for a few moments, before you try to fill in for him. 

“Like… what, a kid?” You offer, watching him shake his head negatively. You think for another moment, before trying again, “… Like your kid?” 

Ghost nods affirmatively, hesitantly, and you want to scoff at the hesitation. 

“And what, that’s bad to you?” You ask, your words more venomous than you intended. Ghost sighs and nonverbally shakes his head negatively before responding to you.

“Not bad in the way you’re thinking,” He answers, before elaborating upon seeing your confused expression, “It’s bad not because you’re bad, it’s bad because I’m bad.” 

“… No you’re not?” 

“Yes, I am.” 

“No, you’re really not,” You insist stubbornly. 

“Please don’t be stubborn with me on this,” His tone makes it sound like he’s almost begging you, which is… somehow beyond terrifying to think about.  

“I’m not being stubborn, I’m being honest, you’re really not.” 

“But I am,” He sounds like he’s trying to make his tone sound like there’s no room for any further arguments, but he fails, and you continue to argue with him. 

“No you’re not!” The whole conversation feels like a parallel to the one you’d both been having just a few minutes earlier, except this time you’re not giving up as easily, “How are you bad?” 

“I’m—” Ghost pauses for a moment, not having expected that argument, and he weakly argues, “I just am!” 

“You’re not, and you fucking know it!” 

“Okay, well—” Ghost sighs and looks away from you, “You might not think so. That’s fine. But I know I am. If not for anything else, for you. I’d be… terrible as any sort of… I don’t know, role model to you.” 

“Jokes on you, you’re already a role model to me.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

“So am I,” You raise an eyebrow at him, “You aren’t a terrible role model. A little emo, sure, but not terrible.” 

“I’m emotionally and mentally unstable, and am terrible with empathy. I’m blunt, abrasive more than half the time, and I tell the shittiest jokes known to man. I can’t— I don’t show my face to anyone. I expect everyone to act the way I want them to. I’m almost always busy.” 

“At least you’re self-aware,” You brush off, “And, for the record, I don’t know what abrasive means and I can’t tell empathy from sympathy without using Google.” 

Ghost looks back at you in disbelief and stares for a moment before saying quietly, “Abrasive means harsh. And empathy is showing understanding for others while sympathy is pity.” 

“I also like your shitty jokes,” You add on, “I think they’re great. They make everyone else mad so I like them. And some of them are funny.” 

“You find them funny?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That’s…” Ghost blinks at you, eyes a little watery, before huffing out a small laugh, “That’s ridiculous, none of them are funny. I call them shitty for a reason.” 

“Some of them are pretty funny.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

“The Mayflower one.” 

“… That one?” Ghost asks, tone humorous but still disbelieving, “Out of all the ones I’ve told, that one?” 

“Yes, that one,” You insist, before pausing and holding back a smile while tacking on, “Unless you wanna tell it again to try and change my mind?” 

Ghost thinks for a moment before telling the joke, “If April showers bring May flowers, what do Mayflowers bring?” 

You feign cluelessness for a moment, “What do they bring?” 

“Pilgrims.” The bluntness of the delivery makes you quietly snicker, much to Ghost’s surprise, the laugh not forced or anything. 

“It’s still good,” You sigh, small giggles still escaping your lips. 

“It’s really not,” Ghost sighs, finally retracting his hand from your shoulder to settle it on the railing of your bed and use it to help himself stand up. Once he fully stands up, he looks down at you, and one look at your face makes him want to whisk you out of bed and at least hug you, but he knows he can’t with your sore muscles and still-somewhat frozen skin. 

Instead, he opts for grabbing one of your hands gently and giving it a very emotionally charged squeeze, and holding it for another few moments before letting go. 

“I’m not forgetting that, by the way,” At Ghost’s confused eyes, you tack on, “You confirming earlier that you think of me as your kid.” 

“That—” Ghost stammers for a moment before saying, “That was barely a confirmation, that was just— that was nothing.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yes. Yeah. Yep.” 

“So if I told you that you saying that that was nothing is making me a little bit upset…” 

“… Then I would say, out of pity, that I did mean it and that it was a confirmation.” 

“Good to know,” You nod. 

“But that’s only a hypothetical.” 

“Right, yeah, of course.” 

You both stay silent for another moment, the silence now a little less awkward, before Ghost says, “I’m gonna, uh… head out, now.” 

“Alright,” You hum simply, watching as Ghost nods to you as a sort of ‘bye’ before heading towards the curtains in front of your bed. 

Before he can exit, you quickly and quietly say, “Thank you, for saving me.” 

He pauses, a little confused on why you chose now to thank him—and why you thanked him at all—until he quickly recalls earlier in the conversation when he’d mentioned expecting some words of gratitude. 

He smiles behind his mask, the smile evident in his voice as he replies to you, “No problem.”

[idyllcy]

oops... i got married || TO THE CUTE DUDE IN CLASS?!

word count: 1.2k || Fic 4 of oops... i got married

summary: ... you do not understand how a man made god wants to marry you but frankly you don't care as long as you aren't dying to his hands

You get married as a joke.

Yes, there are limits to how much you can drink. Yes, there are limits to how insane you can get while drunk— but apparently getting married is not within that limit. You get married to some random guy— NOT SOME RANDOM GUY. SOMEONE YOU KNOW. WELL. KIND OF. You wake up to a legally signed marriage document and him in your kitchen, and you blink at the red booklet in your hands and then at your new lover at the door.

"You're going to be late for class."

"Oh. My. God."

"Yes, I am aware that is an expression of shock." Kamukura catches the mug that you've just hurled at his face.

"HOW ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE?"

"We are married."

You blink at Kamukura. "WHY DID YOU EVEN AGREE TO MARRY ME?!"

"Perhaps you will bring a semblance of amusement to my day-to-day life." He pauses. "Also because you would have asked someone else had it not been me, and I would not have trusted you to not ask one of the old men in the bar."

You sigh, throwing your head back into the pillow. He has a point. 

"Shall I let the professor know that you are skipping class?"

"No." You snort. "Tell him my head feels like it's been cracked open from drinking too much yesterday."

"Anything else?"

"Will you divorce me if you get bored?" You turn your head to face him. "I mean, I got drunk, no?"

Kamukura nods, door clicking behind him as you bury your head into the pillow, screaming. You married the class genius. How the hell did he even agree to marrying you? What does it even mean that he married you for some semblance of amusement? What does it even mean that you got him to agree to marrying you? In what world does this happen? You scream back into the pillow, deciding that this would be a problem for you to face after your nap. What a great day to NOT have anything to do.

Except Kamukura comes home and you find that there's an assignment due by the end of the day— which makes you seriously contemplate your existence right then and there. Your new husband refuses to help you, and he watches you struggle in silence, lips pulled into a fraction of a smile, almost as if he were enjoying the way you were fighting for your life. Maybe you will beat him up next time (you would not win). So, you stare at Kamukura from the couch as he stares back, unblinking, unbothered.

"Help me."

"You are simply being lazy."

"Okay and?" You huff. "Is a husband's duty not to help his spouse?"

"Oftentimes, it is used as an excuse to not do something. If I were to do it for you, there will be a second, and then a third, and eventually, I will be the one doing all of it for you. Then, you would—"

"It's an elective." You deadpan.

"Perhaps this is, but who am I to say that you will not abuse your new husband and make him complete your major for you?"

"Izuru fucking Kamukura." You deadpan, voice even. "Will you cosplay as me to take my classes? Will you put on makeup so you can look like your beloved and take my tests for me? Will you take on the task of double life so I don't need to do anything?" 

Kamukura blinks at you, unbothered. "No."

"There you go." You sigh. "Will you at least teach me?"

"That, I will do."

You go through the homework with your husband, brain fried by the end of it, eyes spinning, annoyed as he explains everything with eerie precision catered to you. 

"Next thing you tell me is going to be something like "I attended Hope's Peak High School" or something of equal insane value."

"I shall do you one better." He tilts his head. "I was created by Hope's Peak Academy."

You pause. What.

"They took a talentless kid," Kamukura coughs lightly, "and transformed him into me."

"So they— They basically rewired your past in order to create you? I knew you were suspicious for taking 24 units." You deadpan. "You're an escaped government spy, aren't you."

"Government spy, no. Escaped, yes." His eyes dig past your soul until you are bare before him, but you do not look away. "Hope's Peak can not own a person under the law."

You raise a brow. "So why then did you marry me?"

"That is something for you to find out."

You find that the answer is that people tend to steer clear of you when you are with Kamukura. Perhaps it is some sort of primal urge to mark their territory, or the primal instinct to stay away from predators bigger than you, but Kamukura next to you equates to individualism. You find that even his unofficial fanclub that used to bother you stays away. Kamukura might have just thought of you as some strange trophy... or just someone he would not mind spending the rest of his life with. 

The answer comes at home, perhaps.

You stare at the man at your door, Kamukura not home, and you tilt your head as you start taking your shoes off.

The man speaks up when you start opening the door. "Does a man by the name of Kamukura live here?"

You blink twice. "No? I live alone."

"You have men's shoes at your door."

"They are there for safety."

"What about the two bowls of rice on the table?"

"Rather rude to look inside my place, isn't it?" You start to shut the door. "You can not search my house without a warrant. Besides, you aren't in Japan, you know? Welcome to the land of guns and eagles."

"Duck."

Kamukura holds your head down as the sound of a gun rings out on your floor. You've never been so glad you actually threw your whole life savings into a penthouse. Yet, you try turning around, his hand covering your eyes naturally.

"Is he dead?"

"Leave it to me." He ignores your question.

You listen to him as he has you step into the apartment, door shutting behind you as you start eating, biting the chopstick and blinking at the door absentmindedly.

Kamukura comes home, clean of any sign of what could have been a murder.

You don't know if you want to ask what he was up to. 

He stares at you, almost as if waiting for something to come out of your mouth before he moves to do anything.

You rack your brain for what you could even say to him.

"Good job." You raise a brow, staring at him and then the seat. "Now hurry up and eat. What were they even here for? Was it enough to warrant a gun to their head?"

"Yes." He blinks. "They were here to find me."

"Isn't it more suspicious that they're dead now?"

"I have disguised it as a slip on the stairs."

"With a gun wound?"

"The probability of a bullet bouncing off a wall into your own brain is small but never zero."

Ah.

Well, you suppose at least your husband won't be killing... you.

[madaqueue]

Practice Makes Perfect | Chapter 1

synopsis: you and yuji have been best friends basically as long as you can remember, and you made a promise to each other to stay friends and help each other be the best versions of yourselves for your future partners. but will things change when yuji finally starts looking for a relationship?

pairing: yuji itadori (18+) x f!reader

themes/content: modern college au (characters aged up to 18+). fluff, angst, language. kissing, mention of over-clothes grinding. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.3k

a/n: baby's first multi-chapter fic, please be nice or i'll cry :) thx. also this will eventually get more intense, but we're starting light teehee

series masterlist | next chapter

You and Yuji Itadori have been friends your whole lives. You remember the day you first met on the playground in elementary school where you both insisted on racing each other to decide who got to use the tire swing first, and when you came in a dead tie you both refused to concede and ended up sitting on the swing together for the rest of recess. You stayed close as you grew up, often having sleepovers at each other's houses every weekend and spending almost every day together in and outside of school.

On one of these sleepovers while you were both sophomores in high school, you got around to discussing your first kisses and realized neither of you had had yours yet. You both agreed it wouldn't be weird to kiss each other and went for it; the only problem was that it was awful. From that day forward you both vowed to stay friends, but help each other practice all that romance stuff for whenever either of you wanted to actually date someone.

It was a miracle when you both ended up getting accepted to the same college, since one of you (*cough* Yuji) definitely slacked off a little more in high school, but you were so excited to get to spend the next four years with him.

The first semester of college went by quickly and you didn’t get to see each other too often since you came in as an engineering major and he was slowly working his way through business classes. Even though you hadn’t spent as much time together, you’d still get texts from him every few days with some stupid meal concoction he’d made in his dorm kitchen and you’d send each other TikToks that made you laugh. You let yourself fall into a rhythm between classes, homework, and exams, until one Wednesday evening you get an unexpected notification lighting up your phone:

Yuji: “heyy, come over? got a question to ask you”

The message sent butterflies through your stomach for some reason; you two hadn’t seen each other for a few weeks, and his text was much more direct than you expected. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you think of how to respond.

You: “okayy, be over in 5. should I bring anything?”

His response almost immediately appears under yours:

Yuji: “just yourself, sweets ;)”

The nickname caught you a bit off guard and you questioned what to say next before another text came up:

Yuji: “sorry, don’t know why I said that lmao. see you soon :)”

You sigh and lock your phone, setting it down on the bed beside you before standing up and sliding your shoes, tossing on a sweatshirt on top of your leggings and cropped t-shirt before heading out.

—

You stand outside his dorm, looking at the “Yuji” name sign made out of construction paper taped to his door. Below it was a mini whiteboard he had put up that had some less-than-tasteful drawings and the note “Itadori + Fushiguro” written on it surrounded by hearts. You rolled your eyes as you knocked, the door immediately swinging open as you were greeted by the pink-haired boy wearing his standard red hoodie and jeans combo, looking down on you with a huge grin on his face.

“Welcome, welcome!” he said with a smile, ushering you inside. You looked around and realized you had never actually been in his dorm before - whenever you hung out last semester it was always at cafes, the library, or a party, but never in either of your rooms. You look around and appreciate that he actually managed to make the small space kind of nice. You smirk at the dark blue bedding on his twin size mattress and pinup posters adorning his walls as the LEDs lining the room cast a blue glow across everything.

“You like it?” Yuji asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“It’s very…hmm…how do I say this…you,” you say with a smirk.

He giggles as he flops down on the bed. “Well, you did always know me well.”

You kick off your shoes and sit down onto the bed next to him. “So, what’d you have to ask me?” you question as you turn to face him.

“Right!” he exclaims, hopping off the bed to stand in front of you. “Remember when we were younger and we promised to help each other practice all the romance stuff so we’d be ready for when we get in a real relationship?” You nod as he continues. “Well, I think I might finally be ready to kick things off, and I sorta need your help with the whole practice thing.”

You freeze. This was the last thing on your mind when you came over. You hadn’t even seen Yuji in almost a month, and this is the first thing he says to you? How could he even remember that stupid deal you had made after your horrible first kiss with each other?

Your thoughts suddenly come to a halt as you realize what this might mean. “Wait,” you start, looking up at him from the bed, “does this mean you have a crush on someone?”

Yuji’s face turns red as he breaks eye contact and looks down at the ground, one arm reaching up behind his head to scratch his undercut. “Um, kinda, I think so,” he says as he grins sheepishly. “There’s a girl in one of my classes, and we’ve hung out a few times for this group project, and-“

“And you want my help making sure you know what you’re doing, right?” you cut him off. He looks back up at you, cheeks still red, and nods slightly. “Wait,” you think out loud, “does that mean you haven’t kissed anyone since then?”

His face flushes again and his eyes shoot back to the ground as he mumbles “No.”

You chuckle softly as you get up to meet him in the middle of the room, throwing your arms around his neck and tilting his chin so you’re making eye contact. You’re not sure where the sudden confidence comes from, but it just feels natural for you in that moment. In all honesty, you actually hadn’t kissed anyone since then either - you just hadn’t seen the need - but Yuji doesn’t need to know that. You gaze into his soft brown eyes as he nervously bites his lip, waiting for your response to his confession.

“Don’t worry Yu, that’s okay,” you whisper, your lips nearly grazing his, “we can practice together.”

Yuji nearly squeals with excitement, dissipating any tension or romance that was building between you two. “Yay! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he exclaims as he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you up in the air and spinning you around. He sets you down but his hands don’t leave your hips as he looks down at you expectantly. “Okay, where do we start?” he practically beams down at you.

You pause to think for a moment before responding. “Well, we should probably figure out where you’re starting so we can work on what actually needs to be improved.”

“Works for me!” he says, picking you up again with ease as he walks towards his bed. Your legs wrap around his waist for stability as he sits down with his back against the headboard and you in his lap. The position also gave you butterflies for some reason, which was odd since the two of you used to sit like this all the time - you in Yuji’s lap during car rides when there wasn’t enough space, your head laying across his chest while you watched movies, or even his head resting on your stomach while you tried to braid his hair. But for some reason, this time felt different, maybe because you knew what was about to happen.

“Ready?” he asked with a smile. You nod, trying to mentally prepare yourself for what you expect is going to be a repeat of your last horrible kiss. “Okay, let’s do this,” Yuji says with a soft sigh, still smiling, and you try not to laugh at his lack of seriousness about the whole situation. But before you can react, his hand reaches up to your cheek and his eyes flutter closed as he leans towards you. You let your eyes shut as his soft lips press against yours. He holds himself there for a moment before beginning to gently suck on your bottom lip. The unexpected action causes you to open your mouth slightly in surprise, and he takes the opportunity to gently slide his tongue between your lips. Your tongues meet as he gently explores your mouth with his. His hand moves from your cheek to the back of your neck, holding you close to him. At the same time, one of your hands slides up from his hips to the back of his hair and you run your fingers over the softness of his freshly-trimmed undercut.

You start to feel yourself get lightheaded as the kiss gets sloppier and Yuji shows no sign of letting up. You begin to pull yourself away to catch your breath but just as you feel the air hit your lungs he uses the hand on your neck to gently push you back towards his slightly parted lips. It’s almost as if he couldn’t stand to spend a second separated from you and you willingly lean back in as he gets more eager, his tongue effortlessly slipping back into your mouth. The action elicits a soft moan from you, and you feel heat building between your legs. Your hips almost start grinding against the boy beneath you before you remember who it is - your best friend. You open your eyes suddenly and pull away from the kiss, Yuji loosening his hold on the back of your neck as a thin thread of your shared saliva temporarily connects your lips. You are met with those sweet, brown eyes, his cheeks flushed and lips pink from the intense kiss you suddenly pulled him away from.

As your brain clears, the first thing you’re able to say to him is “What the hell?”

“What, was it alright?” he hums back through a smile.

“That was m-more than alright, there’s no way that’s only your second time ever doing that!” you stutter, trying to get the words out.

He shrugs, “What can I say? Sometimes I’m just a natural.”

You start to sit up more and lean back off his lap, when there’s a sudden noise at the door. “Dude c’mon, hop on Discord, we’re gonna play some ranked matches.” The door handle turns as the sentence finishes, and in steps a man dressed in all black with his short black hair fanning out in every direction. He takes in the scene in front of him with you and Yuji sitting on the bed and he immediately covers his eyes with his hands. “S-shit, I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t know you had someone over and I-“ he stutters as you watch his ears turn red from embarrassment.

“No need to apologize my dear friend!” Yuji proclaims as he hops off the bed, clearly no longer thinking about the intense moment you two just shared. He turns to you while gesturing towards the clearly distressed man in the doorway. “This is Fushiguro!” he yells, almost too loudly, with a smile plastered on his face.

Once the man in the door realizes that Yuji has no plans to provide any more information, he removes his hands from his eyes and politely waves at you from across the room. “Um, hi. Yeah, I’m Megumi Fushiguro, but you can just call me Megumi. I live across the hall from Yuji,” he explains, pointing over his shoulder at the door to his room.

You introduce yourself and give a little wave back. “Oh, wait a minute, you’re the Fushiguro that’s on Yuji’s sign on his door, right?” you say with a little laugh, remembering the whiteboard you saw on your way in.

“That's the one! Isn’t he charming?” Yuji sing-speaks as he practically skips towards Megumi. 

The boy in black seems less than impressed with the situation and rolls his eyes. “Yep, that’s me. Again though, you can call me Megumi. I don’t know why Yuji insists on calling me by my last name, I mean we’re basically the same age-”

“Because I just loooooove your name!” Yuji exclaims, now standing next to Megumi and batting his eyelashes dramatically at him. Megumi responds by holding a hand out to his side and gently shoving Yuji, who dramatically pretends to slide down against the wall with a pout.

“Anyways, I was gonna play some video games, but if you guys are busy we can do it another night,” Megumi explains.

“Nah don’t worry, I should probably head home anyways and make some dinner, I’ll leave you boys to it,” you say as you stand up to put your sweatshirt back on, trying to ignore the pulsing between your legs.

Still sitting on the ground, Yuji chimes in, “Aww, you don’t want me to make you dinner here?”

“I don’t think I want to eat the things you make if they’re anything like the meals you’ve been sending me over the past semester,” you preempt.

“Oh man, he’s shown you those too?” Megumi responds with a smirk as he reaches a hand out to help Yuji off the floor.

Yuji stands up proudly, stating “You guys just don’t understand my culinary genius.”

“I wouldn’t call a strawberry Poptart with cheese on it ‘culinary genius,’” you say with a chuckle as a pout returns to Yuji’s face. You put your shoes on and slide past the boys in the doorway. “Anyways, goodnight Yuji, and it was nice to meet you Megumi!” you wave back at them from the hallway.

—

When you get back to your dorm, you’re finally able to process the events that just took place. All you’re left with is more questions.

When did he learn how to kiss like that? How did he learn how to kiss like that? And why do you want more of it so badly?

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