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bunny584 · 10 months ago

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OBSESSED: FUSHIGURO

A/N: OH. MY. GOD. Anon. I love you and hate you for this request. This was…hard. I told myself I wouldn’t publish it unless it was fucking perfect (you should see the scalpels I took to each goddamn sentence before this version).

SECOND: I will square up with Gege for writing the most enigmatic, LAYERED, complex, muddled character to exist. I wanted this to be Megumi. Through and through. His darkness, his light, his reservation, his crazy, all in one. And IDK. I think I did it? This one is purely to prove to myself that I can write for characters that are hard to write for (*cough* yuta im glaring at you *cough*)

THIRD: if you do read this (I get people feel things about aged up characters etc), I implore you to listen to this. Guys. I heard this at 0200 IN THE OR during a 6 hour case and the entire concept for this came to me. Meg is sophisticated and unruly, selfless and selfish, etc. So this has some NSFW but definitely probably more on the poetic, long ends of my works.

CW: Aged up characters (20+), college AU, fluffy/raunchy/dark romance-y because LOOK at him. He takes after Gojo AND Toji. Mature, 18+

“You like it when I’m rough.”

Megumi’s melody rings crystal clear.

Low.

Precise.

An F-14 Tomcat fighter jet, flying dark. Below enemy radar.

The piano keys float beneath his tone. His long, slender, deft fingers effortlessly execute the sheet music before him. It’s his GPS system, a personal flight map.

Little Beethoven, his advanced music theory professor calls him.

Truth is, Megumi is a prolific pianist and vocalist. He can tame any note, any melody, any harmony faster than any of his Shikigami.

Speaking of…

Megumi pulls off the piano and tortured love song in an instant. Just as the grade 3 curse creeps through the open door.

The part between his right long and ring fingers is automatic. His left hand grips the web space between his right thumb and index finger.

“Demon dog.” Megumi summons.

Low. Precise. Decisive.

“Eat it, boy.”

A small, approving smile tugs on the corners of his lips. Low level curses are the nothing more than chew toys to his divine dogs. With a tiny wave of his fingers, his technique buzzes inward.

Megumi’s eyes float to the ancient analog clock on the wall.

13:50

10 more minutes until you’ll meet him for your date.

No. Not date.

Study. 10 more minutes until you’re meeting him to study.

Your thought blooms within him like wildfire. It sets his normally cool, porcelain skin ablaze.

Megumi whips his body around to face the piano. To exorcise the feeling. The keyboard has always been his outlet. His life blood. Playing, singing, musing in and out of written songs is his catharsis.

Words don’t come easy. They never have. But lyrics do.

And when he gets to ride lyrics with his voice, his runs..?

The words he can never find on his own are suddenly out there. In the atmosphere. Coating empty rooms in a mist of his thoughts, his feelings.

No certain promise that the person the words are destined for will ever catch them. Or ever walk through the room and be kissed by the remnants of his musical trail. But Megumi has said (sung, played) them. And that’s enough.

“Sorry if I come across a type of way.”

“I’ve been trying to get out of my way…”

His fingers dive into the keys. Angrily. Earnestly.

“I know it doesn’t seem like I care, but you know I care—“

“Wow Meg, you sound incredible.”

You bring him to an abrupt stop. Your voice is maple syrup trailing down Megumi’s neck, leaving goosebumps in its candied wake.

Pitch fucking perfect.

A soft, ethereal C, gliding down Heaven’s staircase. You infuse sunlight into his name, whichever way you choose to say it.

And it’s hell. It’s cruel. To have as keen hearing as he does. To listen to you sing his name and have nothing else follow.

“Fushiguro.” Megumi shoots up from his seat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“What?”

“Fushiguro.” He repeats, eyes briefly meeting yours before settling above your head. He’s at least a head and shoulders taller.

“Nobody calls me Meg.”

You throw your head back. Feather light crescendo in your laughter. It’s pretty. Tantalizing in the way chandeliers twinkle when they capture a beam of light.

His eyes dart down to catch the feminine column of your neck. Curving into your delicate collar bones. How are your lines so seamless?

So cinematic. Like he’s watching a figure skater land a triple axel. Or a prima ballerina en pointe. It’s not fathomable.

Gorgeous.

You are gorgeous.

“I call you Meg.” You retort with a smile that liquifies all of his joints.

You double your walking speed to keep pace with Megumi’s long strides. Both of you exit the sound engineering building. Heading straight for the campus library a couple blocks away.

“Who were you—oh,” Megumi’s glacial hand along the small of your back steals your voice away.

Your eyes and feet follow his gentle push, shifting you to the other side of him.

“Walking on the wrong side.” He mutters, monotone. Matter-of-fact. Obviously.

He’s a gentleman. Of course he is going to walk on the traffic facing edge of the sidewalk.

Of course he didn’t feel the electric currents wire through his fingers to clench — suffocate — his heart.

No, he didn’t hear that punched out, falsetto gasp when his hand cradled your perfectly tapered waist.

Or notice how well you fit into his hand. How light you are under his touch that had none of his real strength behind it.

You’re made of alluring lines. Intoxicating sounds.

What would it take to coax a pretty melody out of your pouty lips?

His fingers?

They’re long. And smart. Cold. Remarkably patient. You’d like them.

He could make you love them.

Crave them. Need, whimper, whine, and cry out for them.

“So who was it?” You tether him to reality.

“Who was what?” Megumi counters, leading you to a private study room.

“The way you were singing earlier.”

Hairs along the back of his neck stand at attention. Blood runs Siberian cold. Megumi’s gaze on you is subzero.

“It had to be for someone.” You lower down into a seat in slow motion.

The sweetheart neckline of your sundress is mean. Your supple mounds tilt and ripple with every micro movement. Megumi has forgotten why he’s glaring at you.

“You sound too…pretty. It can’t be wasted on thin air.” You continue.

“She must be—“

“Let’s just get started, okay?” He sharply redirects the conversation.

And promptly shifts gear to low autopilot. He’ll speak when spoken to, answer questions intermittently. But his mind’s true coordinates are a galaxy away.

Megumi retreats to his shadow garden.

Watching you.

Drinking you in.

Savoring each detail on his tastebuds like dessert.

The pencil eraser leaves an indent on your bottom lip where you’ve been pressing too hard.

Megumi wants to roll your bottom lip under his teeth. Until it flushes rose and swells beneath his relentless pull.

His eyes fall to your bracelet, far too big for your dainty wrist.

He could hold both of your wrists in one hand above your head or behind your back for hours. Without breaking a sweat.

His other hand would take its time.

To stroke you. Pet you. Learn your sheet music. Then play your body like a harp until you’re a chorus of beautiful, soprano whimpers and moans. Begging and pleading so prettily, enticing him to give in.

But he won’t.

Not until you’re soft enough. A babbling, warm, ruined brook beneath his fingers.

Then he’ll take you, gorgeous.

Searing pain from his sharp swallow and nails digging into his thighs rip him down to the present.

Vision a little fuzzy. Head a revolving door of vulgar scenarios. A dull, demanding ache between his legs draws his eyes to his lap.

Fucking hell.

His jeans are uncomfortable. He’s stiff and needy. Not nearly enough strength in his pants to hold back his drunken arousal.

Not to the mention, the—

swarm of shadows growing at his feet?

Is his…innate domain materializing around him right now?

Megumi aggressively slices through the air at his hip level. Below the table, but you don’t miss his sudden stirring.

“Meg? You okay over—“

“Going to the bathroom.” He gruffs through a clenched jaw. Megumi places his forearm over his crotch before hurrying out of the room.

He can barely recognize the man in the mirror. Flushed to his ears. Volcanoes threatening eruption in his eyes. Api Biru. Pure, triple distilled, blue lava coursing through his veins.

Snap out of it, Fushiguro.

The splash of cold water does nothing for his internal heat. But his milky complexion returns to its effervescent state.

But then he turns a little too quickly to leave. And his painfully hard length drags along his fabric. It’s blinding.

A feeble moan tumbles out of his tight lips.

“Fuck.”

Megumi slams his eyes shut. He needs to readjust. But if he touches himself now, he might not be able to stop.

A slow, steadying breath fills his lungs.

“Just adjust, don’t…” His voice trails off. Icey fingers around his hot, angry base is enough to rip the carpet from beneath his feet.

“Oh, fuck.” Megumi mumbles through one quick pump up his shaft.

He shakes his head as if to tell himself enough. He rests his erection along his thigh before zipping up. Still painful, but tolerable.

A tornado obliterates any remaining resolve in Megumi’s mind on his walk back to you.

You are a dream.

Or a nightmare? A curse?

It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t care less.

Megumi would follow you. Deeper than the crypts of his 10 shadows. Into hell if it meant he could have you the way he wants you.

The way he craves you.

Because fuck the cost.

He’d pay anything.

You’re working on an elaborate concept diagram on the white board. On the tip of your toes. Lip curled under your teeth. And you are just irresistible.

So, he won’t resist.

“Meg! Took you a bit, you okay?”

Megumi is silent. Unblinking. Sauntering toward you.

“Megumi?”

You lower to the soles of your shoes. Neck craning to look at his face. Your eyes widen at his persistent silence. Rosy heat dusting your cheeks.

Pretty little doe, rooted in place by his wolfish glare.

Megumi takes the marker out of your hand and tosses it behind him in one swift motion.

“Hmm,” a tiny acknowledgment of his name. Just because it sounds so sweet rolling off your tongue.

Megumi corners you against the wall. Both of his hands casually in his pockets.

He watches you shift. Flicker your eyes in every direction. Fiddle with your thumbs.

His quiet.

His presence.

It flusters you. Well before he’s gotten the chance to run his hands along the lazy curve of your waist and hips.

“So…so blue.” You stammer. Your warm eyes metronome between his.

“They are.”

Megumi steps impossibly closer. His eyes drop to your chest. Dainty, nervous heaves. Up and down. Up and down.

“You are so,” you swallow thickly, dropping your gaze. “hard to read.”

Megumi snakes his large, graceful fingers into your nape. The temperature difference between your warmth and his cold startles you deeper into his grasp. Your head evanesces into his pull.

A beautiful, shocked gasp escapes you. Just as Megumi’s lips trace the shell of your ear.

“I want you.”

His breaths collide with yours, now. Heat welling deep in his groin. His cock thunders against his thigh.

“Can you read that?” Megumi rasps. Ensuring his voice vibrates down your spine.

A new sound tumbles from your lips. Like you choked on your last swallow. How pretty. You gurgling and gagging like that.

“W-want me? Megumi wh—“

“I.” Megumi nudges his thigh between your legs. His steel pipe erection digs into your dewy, hot core. He angles his leg slightly upward, inching you on the tip of your toes.

His prima ballerina, en pointe.

“Want you.” His lips ghost against yours. Free hand cups the flesh beneath your thigh. Pads of his fingers twitching to dig in.

The two of you drink in this lock-in-key fit. Megumi revels in you. Like this. At his complete mercy.

The prodigal son, born with more power than he knows what to do with.

Ten shadows. Ten Shikigami. It’s been centuries since the last head of his bloodline had power buzzing beneath his fingertips like him.

And somehow he’s never felt more powerful than this.

With you, heaven’s most precious angel, cradled in his arms. Drowning in sinful ecstasy. He brands this freeze frame into the most permanent part of his memory.

Then, he free falls off your cliff edge.

Megumi takes your lips with unfettered greed. Hunger woven into the way his tongue traces every corner of your delectable, soft mouth. His fingers push your head deeper into him. Sucking and nibbling on your warm muscle.

You shower him with airy, choppy little pants. Moans and whines so light they crescendo to fairy dust. You can’t keep up with his bruising kiss. His other hand palms your thigh, kneading little bruises into your silky smooth skin.

Marking what’s his.

“Oh my god.”

You breathe into his mouth when he lets you up for air. Megumi’s eyes dart down to the meeting point of your sex and his muscular thigh.

Did you really think he wouldn’t notice how you’re rutting your pretty little cunt against his leg like that?

Crimson high on your cheeks. You look away when he tries to catch your fucked out gaze.

“Don’t hide from me, gorgeous.” His hand traces up to your hips. You preen into his firm grip.

“Megumi.”

“Don’t stop, pretty girl.” He forcefully moves your hips in more dramatic, languid, deep rolls against his thigh. He’s not paying any mind to the pool of his precum soaking through his pants.

You bury your head in his neck. Fingernails digging pretty crescent moons into his back. You take over the pace. Undulating against him. Shameless. In complete heat.

“You feel s-so…so good.” Your lips smear against his dampened neck. Megumi responds by circling your puffy, slick bud with his fingers.

And fuck. The slurred, broken whimper that rings in his ears.

The way you hump him even more sloppily.

He could finish from that alone.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Empty huffs spilling. Whines ascending in pitch. You are close.

“Such pretty sounds, baby.”

“Megumi…meg..I-“

“Let it out.” He grips the back of your neck. Feeling dangerously close to his own nirvana. Drunk off your precious melody.

“Sing for me.”

“F-fuck, GOD.”

You bite down on his neck. Waves of pleasure crashing into you like hurricane winds. He grips your waist steady. Feeling every involuntary twitch and jerk of your doll-like frame.

Blessing or curse?

He doesn’t know.

But he will follow you to the end of his lifetime and the next.

“God, Fushiguro. That was…” The lusty haze from your peak settles around you. The once shattered world, slowly pieces itself back together.

“No.” Megumi pulls you out of his neck. Dropping his lips to yours, so he can breathe the air directly from your lungs.

“Meg. You call me Meg.”

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kysslasher · 6 months ago

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KEEPSAKE:: leon kennedy

WARNING:: 80's au, playboy! Re2!Leon, car sex, riding, hair pulling, oral, fingering, teasing, fingering, slight edging, overstimulation, slight rejection, teasing, sexual tension

SUMMARY:: after a failed date you expect some sort of a reward for putting up with Leon who still seems to be hung up on his ex.

Leon Kennedy has been on many dates. One would even say that he has hooked up half of the girls after a date— which were all unsuccessful. It's not that there was anything wrong in particular with the people he has taken out, it's just that none of them have piqued his interest for a second one. And it just so happens that you had been taken on one of said dates.

When Leon asked you out on a date to the movies and dinner you hadn't expected the movie to be some trashy chic flick about an American actress going to Italy and falling in love with her friend's married Italian lover. It dragged on for 2 hours and you couldn't stand to sit through the first minute of opening credits. But not only did you sit through a silent car ride on your way to the restaurant but when you sat inside the restaurant it felt like this terrible date would never end.

"I used to be on the basketball before I graduated and I started working with my friend, she's really cool- she even has a neck tattoo" he rambled on and on for what felt like a lifetime. Only nodding off as he rambled on and on about working at the old movie theater and something about how his manager only shows up to be a dick.

But low and behold the lovely waitress with a tight lipped smile "would you like your bill.. or would you like me to swing by a little later?" She asked politely looking at the both of you. "You can give us our check now" you answered quickly before pulling 30 dollars out of your pocket when the check was set on the table.

Once Leon had caught his eyes on the cash in your hand he shook his head "you don't have to pay, what kind of guy would I be to make you pay for your food?" He says patting his pockets which makes you roll your eyes "it's fine" you reply flatly pressing the 20 and 10 dollar tip onto the wooden table and like second nature stood from the worn out booth walk to the class doors pushing them open and making a b-line to the boys nice and shining Pontiac.

Leon grew up coddled, he was popular in high school, he had the cutest girl in his grade. Now he's digging it with girls who never made it past the first date because he never could find a bond with them, while working at the local theater and losing all cool points he's earned on his way up in high school. Well on your end you didn't care for his past reputation, you didn't care for this date and the fact that you haven't had an ounce of fun since you had walked past your front porch was eating you up inside.

When you heard keys jangling in an instant you turned your head being met with Leon walking over to the drivers side of the car. Unlocking the doors you both get in and once the car starts you fiddle with the radio never wanting to sit through silence and letting the hum of the radio come out softly through the speakers.

You were so caught up in your thoughts you had failed to realize how dark it had started to get, the once blue sky turned to deep orange and yellow hues. Watching as the power lines zipped past you in a blur, if you were going to sit in this car you would be damned if you had to sit in awkward silence and do nothing.

Just as Leon had turned onto the highway the road seemingly empty as it got darker out and the headlights of his car lighting up the black asphalt on the road. Your view flickering between the road and Leon who was watching the road with one hand on the wheel as the other slumped against the middle console.

The sight of his thighs sat stiffly while his jaw clenched. "Leon, if you're not over your ex why'd you ask me on a date?" You ask curiously as you tilt your head leaning in a bit pressing the swell of your chest against his hand on the console. "What? I'm over my ex, I have been for a while now. What makes you say that?" He asks as he sputters over his own words at the thought of being hung up over his ex.

"You haven't asked a single thing about me on this date. You really only talked about you, and might I add you even talked about your coworker which really doesn't help your case at all" you say flatly. "Seriously?! I am over my ex I swear" his voice goes up a few octaves higher as he tries to think of something that obscure the idea.

"When was the last time you slept with someone and actually enjoyed it then?" You ask with a twisted grin on your lips. You knew the answer but you wanted to hear it from him, you wanted the satisfaction of hearing the words yourself from his lips. "I don't know? And I'll have you know that I have had great sex without my ex" he snarked at you.

"Yeah your words aren't very convincing like... at all" you say as you push your legs under your thighs "I can change that you know? I don't know if by the end of it you'll even be thinking about her but...I'll occupy your head for a bit" you say, trailing your hand into his lap and rubbing against his thigh.

"What are you doing?" He scoffed as his eyes flicker from his lap with your hand trailing closer to his bulge earning a small gasp from him eliciting a small giggle from your lips loud enough to hear over the buzzing music. "Just keep looking at the road" you whisper as you press your lips to his warm cheek.

Your hand moving closer to his half hard crotch clad in jeans as you palm him, the feeling of fabric pressed against him has him groaning and running a hand through his dark hair in exasperation. "It's not really a good idea to be doing this... while I'm driving" he reasons, which makes you shake your head with a soft smile. "Then focus" you look up at him while your hands move to unzip his pants and unbutton them as well letting him lift his hips while you pull down his jeans far enough over his thighs.

"Shit" he harshly whispers at the feeling of your wet palm wrapping around his cock leaking precum and glistening under the orange and yellow street lights on the side of the road. Taking his cock into your fist, slowly jerking and teasing the tip with your thumb has the boy biting his plump lips while choking back a small groan.

The feeling of your warm tongue has the boy breathing heavily as his foot presses onto the gas harder spreading the car up. "Ease up, you want the car ride to last don't you?" You ask as you look up at him, your tongue pressing flatly against his tip and taking him deeper, letting your lips wrap around him.

Pulling back slowly you began to bob your head, the wet sound of your mouth around his cock has him light headed as he drives slower than he normally would on the highway. Flexing his thighs as the feeling "You're so good at this- fuck y/n" he moaned as his jaw slacks at the feeling of your tongue running against the vein on the underside of his cock that had him nearly shivering.

"keep going. Don't stop" he groaned, letting his head fall back. His hair messily pushed against his forehead as it was soaked from the sweat building at his hairline and his eyes rolled back "you're gonna make me cum" he says breathily as he pushes your hair out of your way turning it into a makeshift ponytail.

Using your hand you hollow your cheeks as your hand takes care of what your mouth wasn't and it had him absolutely lost, still trying to focus on the road he makes a turn to the next exit and choosing to go the longer route to your house.

His breathing becomes more and more unhinged as you use both your hands to jerk him off and licking his tip has him moaning while almost swerving into a random mailbox catching himself before doing so. "I'm so close" he moaned as he clutched your hair tighter realizing how agonizing it felt when you hadn't changed your pace at all.

"Please go faster" he begged, making you smile a bit as you moved your hands away from him completely and taking him into your mouth while he bucked his hips desperately for a release. you could, feeling the tip nudge the back of your throat while your nose was nestled tightly against his pubic bone. While your eyes are closed tight to focus on relaxing your gag reflex to not ruin the tight feeling for him you move faster hoping that would push him over the edge.

"Oh- fuck" he gasped as he gripped the wheel tighter as he felt his orgasm crash on him like a ton of bricks. "I can't...I can't keep driving or I'm gonna crash- fuck" he whined as he pulls onto the side of the road and cutting the lights and engine. The only sounds that could be heard were Leon's heavy breathing.

Watching as you pull back with glossy eyes as your cheeks and chin covered in spit and cum which has his head pulled back against the headrest completely dazed. "You okay?" You ask as you wipe off your face with small puffs of laughter falling past your lips. "I'm good...really good" he says with a faint smirk.

"I wanna make you feel good too" he says, his eyes trailing over to your fully clothed figure, your eyes low and red almost as if you had been high, lips puffy and swollen. "You can do that" you nod as you manage to crawl over the middle console and sit against his thighs, your skirt riding up your legs.

"You're so wet" he whispered as he felt the warmth of your slick panties stick against his skin making you look down where you had been sat with slight embarrassment. His finger rubs against your clothes slit watching as the wet patch on your panties becomes bigger. Pressing his thumb down on your clit had a moan falling past your lips as your hand trails to his wrist pulling his hand past the waist band on your panties.

"I need you, here." You mumbled as you felt his nimble fingers running against your slit making you whine desperately. Grinding against his fingers you can hear his laughing breathily as he watches you fall apart on top of him. "I'd call you desperate if I didn't want to fuck you so bad" he says as he presses his forehead against yours, watching the way you get off could make him cum untouched.

"Just shut up" you whined out with a small gasp pressing your lips against his hungrily your hand raking through his hair, your tongues lapping against the others and sucking on his pulling away with a small 'pop' you bite your lip as you keep eye contact with him. "Fuck this feels so good" you whisper your forehead still pressed against his as he rubs your clit in figure 8's.

"Yeah?" He asks as he pulls his hand away and out of your panties earning a small whine from you. His fingers pushing your panties to the side. "Why?" You practically cry out. Leon's eyes never leaving yours watching them gloss over from the loss of pleasure. "I want you to cum with me" he says just above a whisper while he takes his length into his hand pumping himself a few times before pressing his tip against your entrance and with a harsh hiss he's slowly pushing inside your tight walls.

The warm and wet feeling has him drunk on the feeling of you around him. Pushing his seat back far enough that both of you are comfortable as Leon watches you grind your hips against him slowly as he bottoms out inside you, the feeling being all too good for his liking.

"It's so big" you groan as your hands press against his abdomen lightly bracing yourself to start moving. The soft thudding of your thighs meeting against yours sends goosebumps all over your skin. Leon couldn't possibly keep his hands to himself as he finds the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head.

"No bra?" He groaned watching as your bare chest bounced with every movement you made which has you smiling with your lip caught between your teeth. "You're so big" you slur seeing how good he filled you up to the brim your arms wrap around his neck your foreheads pressed together as you watch his begin to slowly move. Leon couldn't get enough of the sight as his cock disappeared inside your Pussy.

"Oh- god" you whisper shakily. His hands holding onto your hips guiding a pace, the soft sound of skin slapping with your small moans reverberated through the car.

You looked so good with your chest bouncing and your hair all messy. You looked good with a small sheen of sweat on your skin and your makeup smeared, he was addicted to the sight.

He slowly thrusts into you letting you get used to his size not realizing you were beginning to bounce yourself on his lap desperate to feel pleasure. His pace practically teases you and shows you how desperate you really are from your small moans whimpers.

Leon; eager to let his load off inside you, holds your thighs stopping you from bouncing any longer and begins to thrust his hips up into you. The feeling of his tip pushing at your cervix.

His hips pushing into you as your thighs and ass jiggle at the repetitive thrusts "oh my god!" You moan as you feel him pounding in a certain part of your walls. You tighten around him as your essence forms a white ring around the base of his dick.

"Just like that" you babble mindlessly as his stomach churns at the words spewing out. "Yeah? Want me to fill you up with my cum?" he groans as the knot in your stomach begins to tighten and Leon's death grip on the fat of your thighs almost sends you over the edge if it wasn't for how hard he was pounding you.

he placed his hand on your ass, kneading the flesh harshly as whimpers left his lips at the feeling of your walls closing around him. "Just like that, yes, please please please!!" You beg, feeling yourself getting closer and closer as he punctuates his thrusts. You pull his hair, again and again, harder and you can't help but become more aroused from the sounds he lets fall from his lips.

Sitting up completely Leon doesn't hesitate to kiss against your warm skin, from the valley between your breast to sucking on your nipples, the warmth of his mouth has you utterly out of it while you fuck yourself on his cock begging for some sort of release. The sloppy sounds make your head spin, your hand trailing from his hair to between the both of you.

Rubbing your clit in hopes that this would send you closer to your orgasm. "Fuck- oh fuck" he moaned against your chest as you clench around him as he felt absolutely pussy drunk with you on top of him. Leon could barely comprehend a thing as he stops you all together.

"Get up" he said breathlessly as you push yourself off of his lap, you slowly start to crawl back into the passenger seat thinking even the sex was a complete bust. But the feeling of his hands on your waist keeps you from moving. "Bend over into the seat" he says moving out of your way as you feel a smirk on your pretty lips.

With your back arched and your face pushed against the headrest you knew that you were done for, Leon pushing inside you again and without a care in the world thrusts into you at the same pace he was going before.

"Harder- please" you moan out as the windows begin to fog over, Leon begins to buck his hips into you at a faster pace as the slick sound of your pussy and precum mix loudly along with the patterning of your thighs slapping against his. You feel ecstasy at the way he made you feel so full.

His large hands onto your spine as making your chest push into the seat, not that you minded at all. Leon from behind absolutely loses his mind as his fingers card through his brown locks. Fucking into you with harsh and sharp thrusts that have your toes curling. Your ass bouncing against his lap has him tossing his head back leaving a stinging sensation in both of your thighs.

you begin to bounce and grind against him to meet his hips. It felt like he was in your stomach and you didn't mind at all, your hands the seat tighter as he used his other hand to wrap around your throat pulling your back against his chest.

"Aw look at you, all fucked out. What would your friends think about me bending you over in my car and fucking you like a slut hm?" He asks as his grip around your throat tightens, you couldn't even gather your words as he hits a spot that has you breathing shakily and your moans are even more louder.

"Right here? Does it feel good here?" He asks as he drags his cock against that same spot again and again "yeah, it feels so fucking good Leon" you moan as your eyes roll back. The feeling of his sweet lips on your skin as you feel like you're in heaven.

Your thighs are practically shaking at the feeling, pleasure practically taking over your body as Leon pounds you into his front seat without a single care in the world. Pushing your face against the seat while he becomes sloppy and rougher with every passing second you could feel the pressure in the pit of your stomach growing and waiting to be released.

"Oh fuck" you gasp as the feeling of release comes closer "cum for me. I know you can" he coos at you while pulling your hips into his harder than before tipping you over the edge as your walls clench around him sporadically earning a guttural moan ripping through his throat.

"I'm close, where do you want it?" He asks as he continues to fuck into you "inside. Please cum inside me" you whimpered before you felt the pressure in your stomach let loose "I got you, you're okay" he praised as his fingers rubbed down your spine leaving goosebumps up and down your body.

A few more thrusts slow and deep have your toes curling and sending Leon into an orgasm struck daze. "Fuck you feel so good" he groans as his hands rub against the red warm skin of your ass. Leaning of you and kissing up your spine as you both bask in your pre orgasm clarity.

"I see why so many girls like you Leon" you say breathlessly with a smile making him chuckle as he runs a hand through his hair slowly pulling out of you with a hiss due to loss of warmth. "Well it's a pleasure to live up to your standards" he says as he reaches into his glove box and pulls out wipes cleaning you up.

The both of you getting dressed again and seated, Leon starts the car and the both of you are back on the road with the faint sound of music filling the air as the both of you exchange small words every few minutes until Leon turned on the road your house was located.

Pulling into your gravel driveway he parks and opens his door walking onto your side and opening it offering a hand which makes your brows shoot up at the sudden chivalry, taking his hand and shutting the door behind you he walks you to your fronts door and as you turn to look at him you see the small smile on his lips. "So...this was nice" he says as he looks down at his feet.

It wasn't.... Not until the both of you had sex in the back of his car at least. "Right... just- let me know when you get over Ada" you pat his chest with an awkward grin on face as you watch his head fall back letting out a groan. "I told you. I'm over her- seriously we broke up and I haven't talked to her since" he shakes his head.

You could tell by the tone in his voice he wasn't, but Leon was eager to see you again so it meant he was moving on. One step forward. "Let me know when you're ready for something serious, Kennedy."

You snap your fingers as you give yourself an idea, your hands find themselves under your skirt which had Leon in a small shock at your actions seeing a flash of your pink panties as you pull them down your legs and balling it in your hand. "Until then have the panties as a keepsake to get off whenever you like" you say, stuffing the ball of wet fabric into his pockets. and with that you leave him at your front door with his hand in his pockets clutching your frilly panties.

Opening the door and shutting it behind you Leon stands at your doorstep biting his lip turning on his heel and walking back to his car watching how the windows were still a bit foggy. Opening the driver side to the door and sitting down in his seat he sighs, dragging his finger across the glass in the shape of a U and to small dots in the shape of the tip of his index finger a smiley face left behind.

"I gotta get her on that second date" he huffed to himself as he pulled out of the driveway of your home.

#𖦹—(ifuckslasherz)#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon smut

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meimei-archives · 6 days ago

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KEEPSAKE!:: rafe cameron

WARNING! :: 80's au, playboy! Rafe, car sex, riding, hair pulling, oral, fingering, teasing, fingering, slight edging, overstimulation, slight rejection, teasing, sexual tension, spanking

SUMMARY!:: after a failed date you expect some sort of a reward for putting up with Rafe Cameron who still seems to be hung up on his ex.

PT2

Rafe Cameron has been on many dates. One would even say that he has hooked up with half of the girls after said dates— which were all unsuccessful. It's not that there was anything wrong in particular with the people he has taken out, it's just that none of them have piqued his interest for a second one. And it just so happens that you had been taken on one of said dates.

When Rafe asked you out on a date to the movies and dinner you hadn't expected the movie to be some trashy chic flick about an American actress going to Italy and falling in love with her friend's married Italian lover. It dragged on for 2 hours and you couldn't stand to sit through the first minute of opening credits. But not only did you sit through a silent car ride on your way to the restaurant but when you sat inside the restaurant it felt like this terrible date would never end.

"I used to be on the basketball team before I graduated and I started working with my dad,he’s really been pushing me to work towards more deals and shit" he rambled on and on for what felt like a lifetime. Only nodding off as he rambled on and on about his father and something about how his sister was stuck up; at least you think so- you’ve barely been paying attention.

But low and behold the lovely waitress with a tight lipped smile "would you like your bill.. or would you like to swing by a little later?" She asked politely looking at the both of you. "You can give us our check now" you answered quickly before pulling 30 dollars out of your pocket when the check was set on the table.

Once Rafe had caught his eyes on the cash in your hand he shook his head "you don't have to pay, what kind of guy would I be to make you pay for your food?" He says patting his pockets which makes you roll your eyes "it's fine" you reply flatly pressing the 20 and 10 dollar tip onto the wooden table and like second nature stood from the worn out booth walk to the class doors pushing them open and making a b-line to the boys nice and shining Pontiac.

Rafe grew up coddled, he was popular in high school, he had the cutest girl in his grade. Now he's digging it with girls who never made it past the first date because he never could find a bond with them, while working with his father and the geezers he partners with, losing all cool points he's earned on his way up in high school. Well on your end you didn't care for his past reputation, you didn't care for this date and the fact that you haven't had an ounce of fun since you had walked past your front porch was eating you up inside.

When you heard keys jangling in an instant you turned your head being met with Rafe walking over to the drivers side of the car. Unlocking the doors you both get in and once the car starts you fiddle with the radio never wanting to sit through silence and letting the hum of the radio come out softly through the speakers.

Just as Rafe had turned onto the highway the road seemingly empty as it got darker out and the headlights of his car lighting up the black asphalt on the road. Your view flickering between the road and Rafe who was watching the road with one hand on the wheel as the other slumped against the middle console.

The sight of his thighs sat stiffly while his jaw clenched. "Rafe, if you're not over your ex why'd you ask me on a date?" You ask curiously as you tilt your head leaning in a bit pressing the swell of your chest against his hand on the console. "What? I'm over my ex, I have been for a while now. What makes you say that?" He asks as he sputters over his own words at the thought of being hung up over his ex.

"You haven't asked a single thing about me on this date. You really only talked about you, and might I add you even talked about your dad which really doesn't help your case at all" you say flatly. "Seriously?! I am over my ex I swear" his voice goes up a few octaves higher as he tries to think of something that obscure the idea.

The warmth of your mouth around him almost has his eyes rolling, letting his hand rest on the back of your head, needing to push your head down further but letting you slowly take him into the back of your throat as the tip of your nose brushes against his the happy trail on his lower stomach, stubble like hairs getting wet from how sloppy the blowjob you were giving him truly was. Strings of spit latching onto your lips and chin connecting down to his cock.

" faster" he demanded yet his voice filled with need, making you smile a bit as you moved your hands away from him completely and taking him into your mouth while he bucked his hips desperately for a release. you could, feeling the tip nudge the back of your throat while your nose was nestled tightly against his pubic bone. While your eyes are closed tight to focus on relaxing your gag reflex to not ruin the tight feeling for him you move faster hoping that would push him over the edge.

"Oh- fuck" he gasped as he gripped the wheel tighter as he felt his orgasm crash on him like a ton of bricks. "I can't...I can't keep driving or I'm gonna crash- fuck" he moaned as he pulls onto the side of the road and cutting the lights and engine. The only sounds that could be heard were Rafe's heavy breathing.

"You're so wet" he whispered as he felt the warm wet patch that had grown on your lacy panties, your own juices slick and glistening on your inner thighs and against his skin making you look down where you had been sitting with slight embarrassment. His finger rubs against your clothes slit watching as the wet patch on your panties becomes bigger. Pressing his thumb down on your clit had a moan falling past your lips; hips bucking in response as your hand trails to his wrist pulling his hand past the waist band on your panties.

"Yeah?" He asks as he pulls his hand away and out of your panties earning a small whine from you. His fingers pushing your panties to the side. "Why?" You practically cry out. Rafe's eyes never leave yours watching them gloss over from the loss of pleasure. "I want you to cum on cock" he says just above a whisper while he takes his length into his hand pumping himself a few times before pressing his tip against your entrance and with a harsh hiss he's slowly pushing inside your tight walls.

The warm and wet feeling has him drunk on the feeling of you around him. Pushing his seat back far enough that both of you are comfortable as Rafe watches you grind your hips against him slowly as he bottoms out inside you, the feeling being all too good for his liking.

"fuck- Rafe” you let a mewl that had been clawing at the back of your throat finally be released into the car as sounds of distant music, and heavy breathing fill the air. Bracing yourself for the strenuous movements you press your hands to his lower stomach, your nails just ghosting over his skin makes him shiver at the feeling. The soft thudding of your thighs meeting against yours sends goosebumps all over your skin. Rafe couldn't possibly keep his hands to himself as he finds the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head.

"No bra?" He groaned watching as your bare chest bounced with every movement you made which has you smiling with your lip caught between your teeth. “Fuck you feel so good" you slur seeing how good he filled you up to the brim your arms wrap around his neck your foreheads pressed together as you watch his begin to slowly move. Rafe couldn't get enough of the sight as his cock disappeared inside your Pussy.

His cock buried deep inside you that you moan and dig crescent shaped dents into his skin. set a pace for bouncing in his lap. The feeling of your velvety walls tightening around making him choke back a moan. Rafe could feel the frothy white ring of your juices dripping down his cock making him groan.

"Oh- god" you whisper shakily. His hands holding onto your hips guiding a pace, the soft sound of skin slapping with your small moans reverberated through the car. You looked so good with your chest bouncing and your hair all messy. You looked good with a small sheen of sweat on your skin and your makeup smeared, he was becoming addicted to the sight.

Rafe; eager to let his load off inside you, holds your thighs stopping you from bouncing any longer and begins to thrust his hips up into you. The feeling of his tip kissing the sensitive spot inside you makes your jaw slack, and your thighs quiver as you tried to force anything to come out past your lips to show Rafe how good he made you feel, but the way your nails dig into his skin and your body reacting to every punctuated thrust inside you proves that he didn't have to hear you to know that he way fucking you perfectly.

His hips pushing into you as your thighs and ass jiggle at the repetitive thrusts "oh my god!" You moan as you feel him pounding in a certain part of your walls. You tighten around him your hands grip him tighter as the air is knocked out of your lungs as you let out a sharp breath with a moan dying on your lips. “Fuck Rafe- fuck!” You stutter and moan gutturally as you arch into him.

"Just like that" you babble mindlessly as his stomach churns at the words spewing out. "Yeah? Want me to fill you up with my cum?" he groans as the knot in your stomach begins to tighten and Rafe's death grip on the fat of your thighs almost sends you over the edge if it wasn't for how hard he was pounding you.

he placed his hand on your ass, kneading the flesh harshly as whimpers left his lips at the feeling of your walls closing around him. "Just like that, yes, please please please!!" You beg, feeling yourself getting closer and closer as he becomes more rough with his thrusts. You pull his hair, again and again, harder and you can't help but become more aroused from the sounds he lets fall from his lips.

Sitting up completely Rafe doesn't hesitate to kiss against your warm skin, from the valley between your breast to sucking on your nipples, the warmth of his mouth has you utterly out of it while you fuck yourself on his cock begging for some sort of release. The sloppy wet sounds make your head spin, your hand trailing from his hair to between the both of you.

Rubbing your clit in hopes that this would send you closer to your orgasm. "Fuck- oh fuck" he moaned against your chest as you clench around him as he felt absolutely pussy drunk with you on top of him. Rafe could barely comprehend a thing as he stops you all together.

With your back arched and your face pushed against the headrest you knew that you were done for, Rafe pushing inside you again and without a care in the world thrusts into you at the same pace he was going before.

"Harder- please" you moan out as the windows begin to fog over, Rafe begins to buck his hips into you at a faster pace as the slick sound of your pussy and precum mix loudly along with the patterning of your thighs slapping against his. You feel ecstasy at the way he made you feel so full.

His large hands onto your spine as making your chest push into the seat, not that you minded at all. Rafe from behind absolutely loses his mind as his fingers card through his dirty blonde locks. Fucking into you with harsh and sharp thrusts that have your toes curling. Your ass bouncing against him has him tossing his head back leaving a stinging sensation in both of your thighs.

you begin to bounce and grind against him to meet his hips. It felt like he was in your stomach and you didn't mind at all, your hands clutching the seat tighter as he used his hand to wrap around your throat pulling your back against his chest as the other cracked a harsh smack against your ass leaving behind a welt that you know would probably bloom into a bruise later down the line.

"Aw look at you, all fucked out. You like getting bent over and fucked like a slut in my car?" He asks as his grip around your throat tightens, you couldn't even gather your words as he hits a spot that has you breathing shakily and your moans are even more louder.

"Right here? Does it feel good here?" He asks as he drags his cock against that same spot again and again "yeah, it feels so fucking good" you moan as your eyes roll back. The feeling of his sweet lips on your skin as you feel like you're in heaven.

Your thighs are practically shaking at the feeling, pleasure practically taking over your body as Rafe pounds you into his front seat without a single care in the world. Pushing your face against the seat while he becomes sloppy and rougher with every passing second you could feel the pressure in the pit of your stomach growing and waiting to be released.

"I can't take it" you moan as you shake your head "I'm gonna cum" you whimper as you feel warm tears slide down your cheeks. "I think you can baby, you wanna cum so bad right? So take what I give you" he orders in a teasing tone as his eyes stay latching onto the sight of him stretching you out over his cock he lands repeated smacks to your ass that makes your body quiver. His thrusts are non stop and you can't help but let the pleasure envelope you.

"Oh fuck" you gasp as the feeling of release comes closer "cum for me. Look at me and cum” he groans while pulling your hips into his harder than before tipping you over the edge as your walls clench around him sporadically earning a guttural moan ripping through his throat.

"I'm close, where do you want it?" He asks as he continues to fuck into you "inside. Please cum inside me" you whimpered before you felt the pressure in your stomach let loose "you look so pretty under me like this" he praised as his fingers rubbed down your spine leaving goosebumps up and down your body.

A few more thrusts slow and deep have your toes curling and sending Rafe into an orgasm struck daze. "Fuck you feel so good" he groans as his hands rub against the red warm skin of your ass. Leaning over you and kissing up your spine as you both bask in your pre orgasm clarity.

"I see why so many girls like you Rafe" you say breathlessly with a smile making him chuckle as he runs a hand through his hair slowly pulling out of you with a hiss due to loss of warmth. "Well it's a pleasure to live up to your standards" he says as he reaches into his glove box and pulls out wipes cleaning you up.

The both of you getting dressed again and seated, Rafe starts the car and the both of you are back on the road with the faint sound of music filling the air as the both of you exchange small words every few minutes until Rafe turned on the road your house was located.

It wasn't.... Not until the both of you had sex in the front seat of his car at least. "Right... just- let me know when you get over Sofia" you pat his chest with an awkward grin on face as you watch his head fall back letting out a groan. "I told you. I'm over her- seriously we broke up and I haven't talked to her since" he shakes his head.

You could tell by the tone in his voice he wasn't, but Rafe was eager to see you again so it meant he was moving on. One step forward. "Let me know when you're ready for something serious Cameron."

You snap your fingers as you give yourself an idea, your hands find themselves under your skirt which had Rafe in a small shock at your actions seeing a flash of your pink panties as you pull them down your legs and balling it in your hand. "Until then have the panties as a keepsake to get off to whenever you like" you say stuffing the ball of wet fabric into his pockets. and with that you leave him at your front door with his hand in his pockets clutching your frilly panties.

Opening the door and shutting it behind you Rafe stands at your doorstep biting his lip turning on his heel and walking back to his car watching how the windows were still a bit foggy. Opening the driver side to the door and sitting down in his seat he sighs, dragging his finger across the glass in the shape of a U and to small dots in the shape of the tip of his index finger a smiley face left behind.

"I gotta get her on that second date" he huffed to himself as he pulled out of the driveway of your home.

#𖥻meimei’s-archive ៹ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ ⸰ֺ ⭑ ఌ #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #obx smut #obx x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron #obx season 4 #drew starkey #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x reader #outer banks smut

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munson-blurbs · 2 years ago

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Summary: Eddie's past in Chicago is revealed after he reaches his breaking point, but he's not the only one facing a crisis.

Warnings: mentions of drug use/addiction, neonatal medical trauma, panic attack, mentions of learning disability, brief allusion to Kurt Cobain's death, Reader's grandma has dementia.

WC: 7.2k

Chapter 7/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @vexed-n-hexed Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie was no stranger to bad report cards, failing grades, and dissatisfied teachers. You don’t fail twelfth grade twice without dealing with all three of those. He’d learned to shrug it off and move along with his day, mostly unfazed.

Those same things directed towards his son was a different story.

Ms. Marion’s words rattle around in his brain, wrapping around his lungs and choking him from the inside out.

Constantly interrupting

His heartbeat pulses in his ears, drowning out the background noise of other parents chatting as they wait their turn to meet with the teachers.

Incapable of paying attention and following directions

A bead of sweat trickles down the back of his neck to his spine, then another, until he feels his t-shirt sticking to his skin. Despite the stifling heat building up in his body, his teeth chatter together noisily as a deep shiver rips through him.

Socially and academically behind his peers

He knew this day might come; he should’ve been prepared for it to happen. Has he only been fooling himself, pretending like everything was going to be fine?

At this rate, he won’t be ready for kindergarten

Eddie swears he’s walking to the parking lot, one foot in front of the other, keys clenched in his right hand until he feels their serrated edges digging into the calloused skin of his palm. Yet he finds himself at your classroom door jamb, leaning up against it with a soft thud.

You’re struggling to stay awake after the long day you’ve had. You roll your shoulders, wincing as you hear the small pop. You’ve just finished the last conference with Frankie’s mom, Carol, and she was a bitch and a half. She’d insisted that her son was gifted and demanded that you recommend he start kindergarten early.

A noise draws your attention to the door, and you’re suddenly wide awake when you see who’s there.

“What’re you doing–hey, what’s going on?” Your curiosity morphs into concern when you clock Eddie’s ragged breathing and tear-streaked face. He’s repeating something, but his voice is so low that the words resemble a hum, and you can’t catch them until you get closer to him.

“Harris–falling behind–all my fault.” Eddie speaks as though he’s in a trance. His brown eyes are saucers, and more tears fall with each blink of his eyelids. “Falling behind–all my fault.”

You haven’t the slightest idea what he’s referring to, but you do know that you need to get him inside the classroom before anyone else sees him breaking down. You reach for his wrist, and he instinctively flinches and pulls away before seemingly snapping back to reality and resting his hand in yours. One calloused palm trembles in your smooth one as you lead him to the table where you’d just been speaking with Carol Perkins, only letting go to steady himself into the chair.

“Falling behind–all my fault.”

You take both of his hands this time, and he doesn’t draw back when you do. “Eyes on me, okay? We’re gonna breathe together.” It’s the same technique that you’d used with Harris on Halloween. In for three, out for three. Eddie watches you a few times before joining in, breath hitching slightly before evening out. “There ya go…here, let me get you something to eat.” You offer him a small, kind smile that he doesn’t reciprocate before rummaging through the bottom drawer of your desk and pulling out a little bag of mini pretzels and a half-pint of water. “These good?”

He manages a nod, eyes locked onto you even as he twists open the snack and absentmindedly pops one in his mouth. He’s still in a daze, but no longer at risk of hyperventilating. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” you cautiously ask, not wanting to trigger another panic attack.

A solid ten seconds passes before he answers. When he finally does, the hoarseness in his voice startles you. “Could you, um, close the door?”

“Of course.” The wheels of your swivel chair skid against the tile floor, but Eddie’s too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice. When you return to your seat, he doesn’t even register your presence until you say, “whenever you’re ready.”

“I, um,” he clears his throat. “I just had the parent-teacher conference thing with Ms. Marion. And, apparently, Harris is destined for failure, just like his old man.”

He relays everything the old woman told him; the racing thoughts all spill out like bees fleeing their hive.

“She starts off by saying that he’s already behind the other kids, which may not seem like a big deal now, but, apparently, it means he’ll fall farther behind as he grows up.” He gnaws on his lower lip and continues. “And then she said that him interrupting and not paying attention is because he ‘lacks structure at home,’” he adds with a grimace.

“But y’know what really fuckin’ got me?” he asks, rubbing his hands over his jean-clad knees until his palms are tinged red. “She said to me, ‘Some kids aren’t cut out for school, and if Harris is struggling with preschool, it’ll be a long road ahead of him.” Eddie’s eyes are shiny with the prospect of a fresh batch of tears. “What the hell am I supposed to say to that?”

You try to quell your temper for the sake of professionalism, but your boiling blood makes it almost impossible. “None of that is true. Harris having trouble doesn’t make him impossible to teach. And it doesn’t make you a bad parent.”

Eddie can’t manage eye contact when he says, “But what if I’m the reason why he’s having trouble?” His voice is so small that you can barely hear it.

“I’ve taught a lot of kids with a lot of different needs, and none of them–”

“You’re not listening!” Eddie slams his fist on the desk, rattling your jar of pencils, and you reach out to steady it. His eyes blaze with fury, but this time, it’s not towards you. “It is my fault, because I am a bad parent! I let this happen!”

You crease your brows. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” What, exactly, is his fault? What could he possibly have done?

Eddie shakes his head despondently. “I-I didn’t know…Harris’s mom, she…Christ, it’s a long story.” But you can practically see the words on the tip of his tongue, just waiting for permission to be spoken.

So you give it to him.

“You can talk to me,” you murmur, resisting the urge to grab his hand and lace your fingers through his. Just to comfort him, you tell yourself. “You can trust me.”

Eddie lets out a slow, low breath and looks up at the ceiling. There’s a long silence; for a moment, you worry that you’ve said something wrong. Overstepped your bounds. Harris technically isn’t your student anymore, and God only knows where you and Eddie stand.

Finally, Eddie begins to speak. “I met her out in Chicago when I was twenty-four? Twenty-five? She was a groupie, I guess. We never said we were seeing each other exclusively, but after a while, I realized that she was the only person I was sleeping with, so…” He shrugs. “A couple nights before my band and I left for tour, she told me she was pregnant. Too far along to, um, do anything about it. She apparently didn’t even think to test until she complained about gaining some weight and her friend brought it up.” His gaze shifts to the window over his right shoulder, and all you hear is the sound of his sneakered feet nervously tapping a fast rhythm against the tiled floor. “Look, I’m not proud of this, but I used to party. A lot. And at these parties, there were, um…”

“Drugs?” you supply before you can bite back the comment, clenching your fists at your side where he can’t see you chastising yourself.

Eddie just laughs, a throaty chuckle that escapes despite the seriousness of the conversation. “A shit-ton of ‘em. I was partial to coke; helped me stay awake when I wanted to crash. But I swear, I only used when I was partying. And when I found out I had a kid on the way, I stopped using completely. Cleanest tour of my life.” His lips turn up in a semblance of a smile that doesn’t come close to reaching his eyes. “Figured she’d do the same…she said she would, but…”

Your heart sinks; you know exactly where this is going, but you don’t dare interrupt him this time.

“I was at some dive bar in Cincinnati when I got the call that she was in labor; ran right off the stage and caught the first flight back home. I got there in time to watch him be born; and it was the best goddamn moment of my stupid life, until…” His voice breaks on the last word, and he can’t stop the tears from leaking out of his eyes. Or maybe he doesn’t want to. “He was six weeks early. Fuck, I shoulda known, but I was just so excited to be a dad. He was shaking so hard that his tiny little body was practically blurry, and, like a total moron, I’m going, ‘Is he cold? Does he need a blanket?’ No one would answer me; they just fuckin’ whisked him away before I could even hold him. And when they brought him back, they told me that he tested positive for cocaine and had something called Neonatal Abstinence Syndrome because of it. Said it can affect his learning, his attention span, everything. Kid wasn’t even two hours old and I’d already fucked him up.”

Your response seems meek; far too pathetic for the intensity of what he’s just admitted. “But it was his mom…”

He tucks his lips into his mouth, pressing them together until the outer edges turn white.

“Yeah, she was the one using,” he relents, but his tone is so thick with self-loathing that you couldn’t claw through it if you tried. “But where the fuck was I? On the road, thinking I could be a rockstar and take care of a family. If I had stayed back, I could’ve stopped her. I would’ve seen that she wasn’t just doing it at parties or shows; she was an addict. I could’ve gotten her help; I could’ve saved my son from being born a goddamn coke addict!”

“You can’t make someone stop doing drugs,” you say feebly, though you’re certain he already knows this.

“But I could’ve done something! Fucking anything! And it would’ve been better than not being there.”

You have to choose your next words wisely, mulling them on your tongue before talking. “Is she still involved in Harris’s life?”

He shakes his head forlornly. “I invited her to his first birthday party, and she came, surprisingly. All the way from Chicago. I thought maybe she was getting her life together. Then, right before we were gonna cut the cake, she came out of the bathroom with white residue under her nose. I told her to leave and not to come back until she got clean.” He barks out a gruff laugh, as though he still can’t believe it. “Haven’t heard from her since.”

You don’t know how to respond to this. It’s going to be okay seems too patronizing, because nothing about this is okay. I’m sorry? What are you sorry for? Harris’s mom is an atrocious excuse for a human being, and so is Ms. Marion? Kind of tips the balance towards the unprofessionalism you’re striving to avoid.

Eddie continues, not noticing your failure to respond. “The doctors would tell me that he was developing slower than he should be–walking and talking and stuff–but he always got there eventually. But hearing his teacher say that he wouldn’t…fuck, if that’s true, I’ll never forgive myself.” He puffs out his cheeks as he exhales; tendrils of hair flow upwards and flutter back down with the exaggerated breath, and you realize that he’s trying to ward off another crying spell.

You can’t remove the guilt that eats him alive, but maybe he’s not asking you to. “I’ve never met a more determined little kid than Harris Munson,” you say truthfully. “Name one time that boy gave up.”

“For better or for worse, I can’t think of any.” His eyes still don’t meet yours, but you see a flicker of happiness at the mention of Harris’s perseverance before his expression darkens again. “Call me stupid; that’s fine. But my son is gonna be better than I ever was.”

Your heart pangs with sympathy when he puts himself down. “You’re not stupid.” He bristles at your reassurance, puzzling you even more. “What?”

Eddie runs his tongue over his teeth. “That’s not what you said before.” The comment isn’t accusatory, just a simple fact, as though he’s talking about the weather. “On the first day of school, you told me to leave before I said anything else ‘ridiculously stupid.’”

“I just–”

“Look, I’m not saying the Cat-and-Mouse is the nicest thing to do,” he interrupts, cheeks aflame at the mere mention of it, “but I guess it really fucked with me for someone I…someone I just met…to call me stupid.” The phrasing is clunky and awkward, and he sinks his teeth into the tip of his tongue in a paltry attempt to stop the word flow.

You take in his shameful expression, mulling over a response. Knowing what you know now–that his little game was a poorly-designed coping mechanism after being put through the wringer–your comment was harsher than he deserved. “I was hurt, and I…I should’ve just said so. I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Just an asshole?” He tilts his head, finally looking at you. The corners of his mouth turn up to form his first smile of the evening.

“Just an asshole,” you confirm playfully. Another silence fills the room, only interrupted by Eddie crunching on the pretzels you gave him. He’s nibbling on them from the outside, as though savoring each bite. “Mr. Munson?”

“Eddie,” he says, crinkling the empty pretzel bag in his fist and tossing it into the nearby waste bin. “Please, just call me Eddie.” Mr. Munson awakens memories of his father; specifically, the way the cops addressed him each time he got arrested for various offenses.

“Eddie.” Though you’d called him that on the night that you two had fooled around, the name feels foreign in your mouth. Too casual for what you’re about to propose. “Eddie, um, back to the stuff with Harris…” You swallow your nerves and push through, knowing that you need to do what’s best for Harris, even if you have to face his dad’s wrath. “If I suggest something, promise you won’t get mad.”

Eddie flinches, but not for the reason you think. No, it’s because he hates that you’re fearful of his reaction. He hates that he’s made you afraid of him. “Fuck. I mean, yeah. I promise.”

“What…what if we talked to the school psychologist about getting him evaluated for a learning disability?” The words tumble out, and you worry that whatever semblance of acquaintanceship will shatter, leaving you unable to pick up all of the pieces. And even if you can, even the best adhesive can leave visible fractures.

His jaw clenches; his shoulders draw up and biceps flex with a twitch, fight or flight instinct kicking in. This was a horrible idea; he’s already emotional from the conference with Ms. Marion, and now you’ve crossed a line. You’re so caught up in deciphering his body language that you don’t catch his softening eyes as he silently reminds himself that you’re on his side. On Harris’s side, at the very least.

“What does that involve?” he asks. It’s inquisitive, not judgmental, and you permit yourself a small sigh of relief at the narrowly-averted crisis.

You explain the process as Eddie intently listens, nodding to acknowledge that he’s following along. “Nothing invasive; just asking him questions and giving him some tests, and then if he does have a learning disability, we’d figure out what modifications we can make so he can learn alongside the other kids.”

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, considering your recommendation. “Will they know? The other kids, I mean. Will they know that he needs, like, extra help to learn?”

“Nope.” You shake your head. “I don’t know how Ms. Marion runs her classroom, but I always emphasize that everyone learns differently anyway.”

He nods, drumming his fingertips on the desk in a rhythm you can’t decipher. “Do you think…if we do the evaluation, would he go to kindergarten on time?”

“Well, as a teacher, I’m not supposed to say. But as a friend,” you shrug, “I think it’s worth a shot.”

As a friend. A friend. Friend. The word reverberates around Eddie’s brain, replaying like a melody he can’t pause. But he doesn’t want to stop it. He wants you to call him your friend over and over again, enveloping him in your kindness, never letting him go. He wants to wrap his arms around you in a hug and bury his face in the crook of your neck, while he laughs or sobs or a combination of both.

Do friends do that? Or is that something more complex than he can allow himself to imagine?

Your voice brings his perseverations to a grinding halt. “And you can be there while they evaluate him. So he won’t have to be alone.”

Another nod, another pregnant pause. He twists his curls around his pointer finger, brushing them over his lips. “Could you come, too?” he murmurs, quickly clarifying, “for Harris?”

“Of course.” You agree without a second thought, watching as his body unstiffens when he leans back in the chair with a sigh. “And if you want, I could tutor him after school once a week. Catch him up and stuff.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “You’d do that?”

“Mhm,” you beam. It’s like cracking a complex code after aimlessly spinning the dial, hoping to land on the right combination of numbers. “Just…it would have to be at my place, so I can stay home with Grandma. Medicare only pays for her aide to be there for a certain number of hours. I’m actually paying out of pocket so I could be here tonight.” While you’d initially been annoyed at having to spend your hard-earned money just to talk to ungrateful parents, this time with Eddie has made it worth every penny.

“Yeah, no problem,” he easily agrees, starting to stand and brushing some rogue pretzel crumbs from his jeans. “Oh, um, how much do you charge? For the tutoring?”

At this, you giggle. “Eddie, you’re not paying me to work with my,” you lower your voice mid-protest, even though the door is closed and no one else is around, “favorite student.”

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest defiantly, denim jacket creasing at the elbows. “Well, I’m not gonna let you work for free, so name your price.”

“Fine,” you huff, feigning annoyance. “It’ll cost one…pizza.”

“Seriously?” Eddie asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“Seriously,” you confirm, walking to the supply closet and grabbing your coat. The inside of the sleeves are chilly, having not been exposed to the heat churning through the classroom, and the temperature shift makes you shiver. “Saves me from having to worry about making dinner. And Grandma loves pizza, so it’s one less thing for her to argue about.”

The arguments in question were still happening frequently, though her verbiage was decreasing with each subsequent spat. Last night, you’d told her that she had to turn her TV down so you could sleep. Grandma had repeatedly yelled “no” and “hate you” until you gave up and smushed one half of your pillow over your exposed ear in a pathetic attempt to muffle the sounds of the infomercials blasting from her room.

“I can do that,” he agrees, following you towards the door and stepping out of the way so you can flick off the light, plunging the classroom into total darkness. “Any toppings?”

You think for a moment, tapping your forefinger to your chin as your other hand rotates the key in the door until you hear the soft click of the lock. You twist the knob just to make sure, only turning from the door once you’ve confirmed that it doesn’t open. “Ooh, we both love olives. Get those.”

Eddie scrunches his nose in disgust. “I’ll do half olives, half plain, so Harris and I won’t have to suffer.”

You stop in your tracks. Eddie’s chest bumps against your back. “Oh, I…”

“Shit, that wasn’t an invitation, was it?” He’s blushing, cheeks turning a deep crimson at his gaffe. “Sorry, totally misread–”

“No, no, I’d like the company.” You’ve come to appreciate how much easier it is to navigate Grandma’s moods when there are other people around, but you can’t ask someone to endure that just for your comfort. “‘S just that my grandma…well, you saw her at the hospital that night. She says things that are mean, or inappropriate, or don’t make sense…I don’t want Harris to hear that.”

Eddie just laughs, waving off your concern of Harris. “He grew up around me and Wayne. He’ll probably be teaching her some bad words.”

“Oh, God,” you shudder at the thought of Harris and Grandma swapping swear words. “Then, yeah, I’d love to have you over for dinner. Are Wednesdays at four okay? We can start tomorrow, if that works.”

“Perfect!” Eddie chirps, tossing his car keys upwards and dramatically snatching them mid-air. “I teach guitar lessons, so Wayne’ll drop him off. I’ll swing by around five with the olive pizza.” His pronunciation of the topping is obnoxiously whiny and snide, and you roll your eyes, pushing open the main doors to the school while he trails behind you.

You’re normally not at work this late, and it feels almost unnatural to walk out to a night sky. Clouds obscure the stars, and the dim streetlights do little to pave a discernible path. Eddie seems to be walking in the same direction, and there’s a sense of comfort knowing that you don’t have to navigate the parking lot alone.

The volume of Eddie’s voice lowers considerably as he says, “You’re…you’re kinda the best, y’know that?”

“About time you realized.” You smile as the two of you approach your car. You slide into the driver’s seat, tugging the seatbelt over your shoulder. “Where did you park?”

“Um…” Eddie squints, pointing to a spot clear across the lot. “Right there.”

Your jaw drops. “Eddie!”

“What?”

“Why’d you walk all this way, then?” Your keys sit in the ignition, waiting to be turned over.

“And leave you to trek across this vast terrain all by your lonesome?” He presses his hand to his heart, staggering backwards until he bumps into another parked car. “Ow, shit. So, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yup.” And as he closes your car door with a small wave, it occurs to you that you’re actually looking forward to seeing Eddie Munson.

Elise wasn’t exaggerating when she’d warned you that Grandma was in a mood today. In addition to the usual song and dance to the tune of “those pills aren’t mine,” she’s insisted on changing her clothes no less than four times in the hour since you’ve been home, grumbling that every outfit doesn’t look right. As you wipe down the kitchen counter, sweeping crumbs from your after-work snack into the garbage bin, you hear banging against the living room wall. Never a good sign.

“Grandma?” you call out as you abandon your chore and start towards her. She’s struggling to hold onto the large painting of a sailboat that should be mounted on the wall. You get to her side just before she can topple over, grabbing the artwork from her grasp. “What are you doing? Why did you take this down?”

She looks at it–and you–with utter disgust. “S’ugly,” she mumbles.

There’s no sense in telling her that it was her favorite or that she picked it out herself years ago. Instead, you heave a frustrated sigh. “Okay, well, we’ll just leave it here,” you say, carefully leaning the cherry-lacquered frame against the wall.

“No!” She shakes her head, tousled gray hair brushing against the wrinkles etched into her cheeks. “No, no!” Anger creeps into her voice, and tears appear along her lash line. Truth be told, your tears are not too far behind.

“Look, I’ll just…turn it around. See?” You swivel the painting so it faces the wall; all that’s visible now is the sad beige frame backing. It’s hard to believe that she finds this view more appealing than the soft watercolor brushstrokes of blues and greens, but you leave it as is, until she inevitably demands to know why it’s no longer hanging up.

The harsh buzz of the intercom brings your quasi-argument to an abrupt end. You can hear some shuffling, and then an older man’s raspy voice instructs, “say who you are so she knows you’re here.”

“HARRIS!” The little boy exclaims loudly. “Oh, and my Grampa Wayne!”

The sound of his voice alone is enough to bring a smile to your face. You press the button that lets them into the building, quickly ushering Grandma into her room and putting on the Animal Planet. A rerun of Wildlife SOS blares through the TV, and you can only hope that Harris won’t be too distracted by the noise. It certainly beats being the recipient of one of her incoherent rants.

The frantic knock on the door ushers away your anxious thoughts. “Ms. Sweetheart, I’m here!”

“Relax, buddy,” the older man–Wayne–gently reminds him.

You open the door, grinning as Harris barrels into the apartment. His little arms wrap around your waist as he envelops you in a tight hug. “Ms. Sweetheart! I’m at your house!”

“You are,” you agree with a laugh, patting his back with your palm before offering your hand to his grandfather. “And you must be Grampa Wayne.”

The older man chuckles as he shakes your hand in his own calloused one. The whiskers above his lips and on his chin are white, flecks of gray stubble peppered along his jawline. “‘S nice to put a face to the name. All I hear about lately is how wonderful Ms. Sweetheart is.” He bashfully scratches at the wisps of hair that lay flat along the crown of his head.

Taking compliments is not your strongest suit, but you manage. “Trust me, I’ve heard some great things about Grampa Wayne, too. I’m just glad Harris loves being my student as much as I love teaching him.”

“Huh?” Wayne’s forehead crinkles in confusion before he catches himself. “Oh, yeah, Harris. Right.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, Ed’ll be here at five.”

“He’s bringing PIZZA!” Harris shouts, unable to contain his excitement as he pumps a tiny fist in the air.

Wayne shakes his head, as if to say, this kid. “C’mere, Har. Give me a hug goodbye.” Harris all but leaps into his grandpa’s arms, spider-monkeying his legs around his waist. Emotion wells within you as the gesture reminds you of the easy way love used to flow between you and Grandma. No questions or doubts about who you were or how she would perceive you in that moment.

As soon as Wayne leaves, Harris tugs on the hem of your shirt, peering up at you with a gigantic grin. “Daddy telled me that you’re gonna teach me again! But not at school.”

“Mhm!” you say, guiding him over to the kitchen table. You’ve cleared a spot for the two of you to work. There’s a stack of flashcards in front of your chair, and Harris eyes them curiously. “Those are gonna help you learn letter names and sounds. You’ll be reading like a pro in no time.”

He eagerly nods, flinging one little leg onto the chair and climbing onto it haphazardly. He’s facing the back of the chair with his knees tucked underneath him, and he shifts until he’s sitting on his bottom, eye-level with the tabletop. “I can’t see anything!” he harrumphs grumpily.

“Here, you can face me,” you tell him, holding the chair steady as he swivels around again. “There ya go. This works out better anyway.” You tap the deck of cards on the table, watching as Harris kicks his feet in anticipation. “We’re gonna play a game with these,” you say, keeping your tone full of excitement. “I’ll hold up a letter, and you tell me what the letter’s name is and the sound it makes. And if it’s a little tricky, there’s a picture on the back that might help you out. Sounds good?”

Harris considers this, tongue poking out between his lips, and you can’t help but notice the way he mimics Eddie’s actions. “Can I see the picture even if it isn’t tricky?” he asks.

“Absolutely.” You shuffle the deck, making a dramatic show of closing your eyes and folding the cards into a bridge. “Let me give you an example.” You grab the card off of the top, the letter R printed in bold, black lettering. “This is the letter R. It makes the rrrr sound.”

“What’s the picture?” Harris squeals, clapping his hands together, the sound muffled by the cast on his wrist. When you flip the card around to reveal a cartoon robot, he cackles like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen. “He has triangles for eyes! That is so silly!”

“That is silly,” you agree with a laugh, putting the card at the back of the deck and holding up the next one for him. “Okay, now it’s your turn. Remember, just do your best. This is just so I can see what we need to work on.”

He nods, sitting up straight as he reads the letter F.

“Nice job, Har! And what sound does F make?” This is more difficult for him, and he squints as though it will help him remember.

“Umm, eh?” He knows it’s not correct, and you watch as his shoulders begin to slump dejectedly. “I…I don’t know.�� His lower lip juts out, quivering as he admits it.

You keep your tone light and breezy. “No worries! We can always look at the picture, and if it’s still tricky, we can figure it out together.” You show him the french fries on the back of the card.

“French fries!” Harris exclaims giddily.

“And what sound does french fries start with?” You enunciate the start of the words, but he still can’t seem to get the pronunciation. His breath hitches with frustration, chubby fingers digging into his tousled curls to pull at them. “You can ask me for help if you need to. That’s what I’m here for!”

His tiny “need help” is almost inaudible, head drooping towards his chest in defeat. “Everyone needs help sometimes,” you say kindly, pointing to the flashcard to draw his attention back to it. “F makes the ffff sound. Go ahead, try it.”

Harris emulates you, bits of spittle flying as he makes the noise over and over again. “This is fun!” he cheers, eyes widening when he comes to a realization. “Hey, fun starts with the fffff sound, too!”

“Sure does!” You raise your hand for a high-five, shaking it in mock-agony when he slaps it. “Wow, Har, you’re super strong! Okay, let’s try the next one.”

With a few breaks to release some energy, Harris continues stumbling through the rest of the alphabet unceremoniously. He’s definitely behind, you realize, but not so badly that he’s unable to catch up with some extra help.

“Only a couple more to go,” you assure him, presenting the card with the letter P.

“P!” he yells, a grin spreading from ear to ear across his sweet face. “An’ it makes the puh sound!” He reaches out and plucks the flashcard from between your fingers, turning it to see the picture on the back. “It’s a princess.” His eyes flit between you and the pink poofy dress-clad cartoon. “Me an’ Daddy think you’re pretty like a princess.”

There’s no time to ask for further clarification before a loud bang erupts from Grandma’s bedroom. You swear silently, somehow still aware of the four-year-old beside you as you dash to her door. Instinctually, you grab the knob and twist, only to be met with resistance.

“Grandma!” you call out, pounding your fist as loudly as you can. “Grandma, open the door!” You hear the soft, slow pad of her footsteps, watching as the door knob turns slightly before it stops.

“‘S broke,” Grandma says from her side, and relief temporarily floods your senses with the knowledge that she’s unscathed enough to get to the door.

“No, it’s just locked. I need you to unlock it.” Another brief twitch, then nothing. “You…you have to turn the little dial on it. See how it’s horizontal—um, left to right? It needs to go up and down. Can you switch it?” Jiggle jiggle, silence. No attempt to toggle the dial.

“Ms. Sweetheart? ‘S everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, honey,” you lie through your teeth. “Why don’t you go look at the pictures on the—”

BZZZT!

“Pizza delivery!” Eddie croons through the intercom. “One half plain, half gross—sorry, half olive—”

“Eddie!” you press your finger to the button, cutting him off more sharply than you mean to. “Eddie, my grandma locked herself in her room, and she can’t remember how to open it.” Your voice catches in your throat, and you swallow the lump in a determined attempt not to break down in front of your guests.

There’s a pause before his voice floats through the box again. “Gimme a sec.” That’s all he says before he’s gone as quickly as he arrived, and you turn to face the inquisitive little boy who remains glued to your side.

“Har, why don’t you go sit at the table until Daddy comes.” Thankfully, he doesn’t put up a fight, and you’re able to turn your attention back to the crisis. “Grandma, can you please turn the dial?” But when you’re met with another disheartening turn of the doorknob, you have to accept defeat.

BZZZT!

“It’s me; let me up,” Eddie’s words are straightforward but not brusque or curt, and you buzz him in without wasting any time. He’s at your door in a hurry, and you open it before he can knock twice. He’s got the pizza box balancing in his right hand and a small rectangular container tucked under his arm. “Is she hurt?” he asks, handing you the box as you lead him towards Grandma’s room.

You shake your head. “I don’t think so. She’s been twisting the doorknob, but she doesn’t understand what I mean when I asked her to unlock it.”

He nods, examining the knob for a second before unfastening the box’s latch and pulling out a tool that resembles a miniature hook. Splitting his stance, he squints and pokes his tongue from his mouth, just as his son had done earlier. Within seconds, you hear the telltale click of the door unlocking, and you exhale audibly. Relief floods your body as your shoulders untense; you hadn’t even realized you’d pinched them together. Behind Grandma, the TV has toppled to the floor, screen now resting on top of the beige carpet, but that’s the least of your concerns.

“Are you all right?” you ask her, checking for scrapes and scratches, but she luckily appears to have escaped unscathed. “How did this even fall?” You pick up the TV, wincing as you get a glimpse of the spider web of cracked glass right in the center.

“Dunno,” Grandma shrugs, moving past you to get to the piping hot pizza that you’ve placed on the kitchen table. She slides into the chair you’d just been sitting on, pushing the pile of flashcards away clumsily. “‘M hungry.”

You look at Eddie and Harris and muster up a smile. “Guess it’s dinner time! Oh, Grandma, wait for a plate.” You grab four of the plastic pale blue plates from the cabinet to set the table, giving one to Grandma first. You place one at the spot Harris had just occupied, and one in front of the third and final chair–

“Shit,” you whisper under your breath before addressing the boys again. “Um, we only have three chairs. ‘S normally just me and Grandma, and sometimes her aide–”

“No worries,” Eddie waves off your concern, scooping Harris up and resting him against his hip. “Harris can sit on my lap.”

“Or I can sit on Ms. Sweetheart’s lap!” Harris squeals, wriggling out of his dad’s grasp. “Or Ms. Sweetheart can sit on your lap!”

You cough as Eddie turns bright red, cheeks the same shade as the marinara sauce buried under a thick layer of cheese. He sweeps Harris on top of his thighs and snags a slice of pizza for each of them. “Uh, yeah, no,” he mumbles, taking a gigantic cheesy bite in an attempt to end the conversation.

Dinner goes as well as it possibly can. Harris asks to try an olive, promptly spitting it onto his plate as soon as the taste hits his tongue. Grandma tells Eddie no less than five times that she likes his shirt, thoroughly embarrassing you, but he just politely says “thank you,” each time as though it’s the first. At one point, Harris gives him a bewildered glance, but before he can say anything, Eddie whispers, “I’ll explain later, bud.”

The rest of the meal is filled with conversations about work and school. Eddie tells a story about how a customer came into the store completely frazzled after listening to a Nirvana album. “She thought it was about Buddhism, and was very distraught when she got Kurt Cobain instead. Guess she missed the whole…” He mimics holding a gun to his head, and you laugh at the crude gesture, slapping his hand out of the way before Harris can see. Luckily, the boy is too engrossed in dissecting his slice to notice.

Grandma retreats to her room as soon as she finishes her dinner, and Harris gets bored soon after, squirming to the floor and dashing to the living room TV set–now the only working one in the house. That leaves you and Eddie at the table alone.

“I can take your plate if you’re done,” you say as you lean over, scoffing when Eddie starts to get up and bring his empty dish to the sink. “Hey, let me clean up. You brought the pizza.”

“Yeah, because you tutored Harris,” he reminds you, swooping in to grab your plate as well. “So we’re even.”

“Even?” you ask incredulously. “After you rescued my grandma and kept us company during dinner? Do you know how long it’s been since I had an actual conversation during a meal?”

Eddie chuckles at this. “I think ‘rescued’ is a bit dramatic. All I did was unlock a door; not exactly superhero stuff.” He shakes his hair back behind his shoulders.

“She could’ve been hurt,” you point out earnestly, following him to shoo him away from the pile of dirty dishes, “and without you, my only option was to take a battering ram to the door. I don’t even know where I would buy one of those.”

“Have you tried Melvald’s? They sell everything there. ‘S actually where I got Harris.” Eddie teases, hand inching towards the faucet.

“Eddie, sit down and relax. Don’t you dare turn on the water.” Your eyes widen as he locks his gaze with yours, flicking on the spout indignantly and grabbing the sponge without breaking eye contact. “Eddie, I mean it–”

He smacks the sponge against a plate and harshly brushes it up and down, still staring at you. “Oops,” he deadpans, rinsing it and haphazardly placing it in the dishrack before picking up another one. “Oops again.”

“Give me that!” you charge over to him, yanking it away before he realizes what you’re doing. You squeeze the bottle of soap over the already-saturated sponge just to emphasize your point. “Go watch TV with your son and let me clean up.”

He’s quiet for a moment, leaning back next to you. The hem of his shirt makes contact with some water that sprayed out of the sink, but he doesn’t notice; if he does, then he doesn’t care. “I don’t usually have anyone to talk to at night, either. And with Harris–I mean, I love him to fuckin’ death, but a guy can only hear so much about the latest episode of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers.” He clears his throat, but the words come out even softer somehow. “I like talking to you.”

The water runs uninterrupted by any movement as you look into his warm eyes. Flecks of gold punctuate the deep chocolate orbs that are drinking you in. They're the same eyes that you looked into on the night that he’d brought you back to his place. The eyes that shot daggers at you while he spewed venom at you in the music store. The eyes that could barely look at you when he’d somberly confessed his past, more motivated by anxiety than trust. The eyes that could flip your world upside down if you let them.

He lets his thumb graze yours as he grabs the newly clean plate from your hand, wiping it with a towel until it’s impossibly dry. You can’t look away from his lips, the way they practically scream kiss me. And you want to. Fuck, you want to so badly.

But you’re not stupid. Possibly naive, hooking up with him nearly three months ago and thinking it would have no emotional impact on you, but not stupid. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

“Same time next week?” you blurt out, taking you both by surprise. It’s too abrupt to be natural, but you don’t care. You need to stop this before it starts. Again.

Eddie recovers quickly, though his nod is a bit delayed. “It’s a date. Uh, a tutoring date. For Harris.”

“For Harris.”

Harris is at your classroom door the next morning, knocking excitedly. “Ms. Sweetheart, I got something for you!” Digging into his backpack, he produces a plastic bag tied in a knot. Bradley’s Big Buy is stamped on the side, but the contents aren’t anything you’d find in the supermarket.

It’s a lockout kit; the same kind that he’d used last night to unlock Grandma’s door. There’s a note Scotch-taped to it, and you read it silently:

I hope it doesn’t happen again, but I wanted you to be prepared in case it does.

-Eddie

P.S. Don’t try to pay me back. It was much cheaper than a battering ram.

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rockermybuddie · 2 months ago

Text

Second thoughts

Rocker x reader

Story 4

Summary: Its been five months since you were shot and you and rocker have officially dated. Its almost time for you to go back to work but theres a secret thats been keeping you awake and you’re unsure of what to do.

A/n: im not sure how many stories im going to put in this series lol.

———————

You stare up at the dark ceiling as you have for the past three months. Every night you fall asleep for two hours but is woken up by a reoccurring dream that you wish would just go away.

But its not that easy.

You pick up your phone to check the time, 4:10am. The bright light hurting your eyes you quickly put your phone down hoping it didnt wake Rocker.

“Babe?” You hear a low mumble then felt a hand pull your waist closer to the warm strong furnace laying in the bed next to you.

“Just checking the time.” You tell him giving him a small peck on the lips. You snuggle your head in the crevice of his neck and shoulder as you try to drift back off into sleep.

You sit up in a dripping sweat, trying to catch your breath. You look over and see Rocker asleep facing the other way.

“Damn it.” You mutter out, you just had another one of those dreams in the same night. You grab your stomach, where your were shot, as you check the time. 5:07. Almost an hour since the last one.

Rocker is about to wake up for work so instead of trying to go back to sleep or pretending that you’re asleep when Rocker wakes up. You decide to go make him some breakfast.

As you stand infront of the hot stove you feel two arms wrap around you and all of a sudden its a hundred degrees in the room.

“Whats all this?” Rocker asks, his voice still raspy from sleep. “Breakfast for my favorite human being.” You answer. Rock plants a fat sloppy wet kiss on your neck as he leaves to get the orange juice from the fridge.

The two of you sat at the table and ate breakfast together as you thought about where you are in life.

Not where you want to be.

Rocker got ready for work and the two of you said your goodbyes. You watched Rocker back out of the drive way and watched him all the way down the road intill you couldn’t see him anymore.

You head back into the kitchen to clean up after breakfast. As you’re doing the dishes you get a flashback from the bank robbery.

“Ahh!” You scream as you grab your stomach in pain. You stumble backwards falling to the floor.

——

When you open your eyes you see the floor and broken glass infront of you. Your head is pounding, lifting your hand to try to rub the pain away in your head you see blood dripping down your arm from the palm of your hand.

“Shit.” You mutter as you grab the hand towel hanging from the door and wrap your hand it.

The room is spinning, so its not a good idea to stand up but you dont want to call Rocker either. Not when hes at work, he’ll just worry about you and he cant do that, he needs to be focused.

You pull out your phone and call the next person that comes to your mind. “The key is under the plant.” You tell him.

Only 10 minutes later Deacon comes walking in the kitchen. He sees the broken glass and blood on the floor. “What happened?” He asks kneeling down beside you.

He looks at the giant bump and bruise forming on your head and then at the bloody towel wrapped around your hand.

“I dont know. I fell. Thats all i can remember.” You tell him. “I’m taking you to the hospital.” Deacon scoops you up in his arms and carries you to his car.

He pulls out his phone. “Please dont call Rocker.” You ask him. He looks at you with concern and confusion. “Im calling Hondo.” He tells you.

You lay your head against the window as he turns on his lights and sirens.

At the hospital they stitched up your hand, 20 stitches. They said you have a grade 2 concussion. You just need to rest and you should be fine in a few days.

“What happened?” Deacon asks again when the two of you get in the car. “I told you, I don’t know.” You tell him, not wanting to have this conversation.

“You were supposed to return back to work in a few days, then this happens? I dont think thats a coincidence.” Deacon says. You let out a heavy breath, Deacon is good at reading people he knows you are hiding something.

You were about to talk to him but his phone rang.

“Its Hondo.” He says before answering it.

“They need me back at HQ. I don’t have time to drop you back off at Rockers.” He says apologetically as he drives to HQ.

You hope Rocker is out on a call.

———

You and Deacon pull up to HQ, he gets out and heads in to the main roon as you walk in slowly behind him.

The doctors gave you some pain meds that are making you a little loopy. As you turn the corner you stumble into something but are caught by two strong arms.

“Sweetheart? What are you doing here?” A familiar voice asks. “Rocker?” You mumble.

He gets you steady on your feet and lifts your face up by your chin with his fingers. “What happened to you?!” He asks when he sees the bump and brusing on your face.

“I fell. But im okay.” You tell him. “Well maybe not my hand. It has 20 stitches in it.” You let out a small laugh as you lift your bandage hand.

“Why didnt you call me? Did you drive yourself?!” Rocker asks concerned as he hopes you didn’t drive yourself to the hospital and then here.

“I didnt want to worry you while you are at work. I called Deacon.” You point at the meeting hes in but hes focused on what Hicks is telling 20 squad.

“I’m taking you home. Stay here.” Rocker orders as he sets you down on some creat in the hallway.

He leaves to tell Hicks is done for the shift that theres a family emergency. He leaves his 60-david in charge of the team.

———-

When you and Rocker arrive back at his house he carries you up to the bedroom. He places a glass of water next to you as he goes back downstairs and cleans up the kitchen.

Rocker soon comes back upstairs and makes himself comfortable on the bed bringing you in close to him.

“What happened? How did you get hurt?” He asks.

“I dont remember. I just remember waking up on the floor.” You tell him.

“Did you black out? Did you trip?” He asks. “I said i dont remember.” You snap. “Okay. Okay.” Rocker rubs your arm with his hand as he kisses the top of your head.

This is why you didnt call Rocker. He should be at work right now, not sitting in a bed with someone who doesn’t know whats going on in her life.

——-

You’re sitting on the couch downstairs, its 2am and you cant sleep because theres too much going on in your brain.

“I dont know. Im having second thoughts about it. What should I do?” You ask balancing the phone between your ear and shoulder as you fidget with your fingers.

Rocker sits at the bottom of the steps and listens.

“What if I regret it?” You ask. “Who are you talking to?” Rockers voice makes you jump, you look up at him and he looks aggravated? Mad? Tired? You arent sure.

He grabs your phone and sees Deacons name across the screen. “She’ll call you back.” Rocker says into the phone and hangs up.

“What the hell?!” You scream, you try to snatch your phone back but he lifts it above his head. “You are so childish.” You snap at him.

“We need to talk.” Rocker finally says. “Rocker you didnt hear the whole conversation.” You tell him.

“I heard enough.” He says, he walks around the couch and sits down. Leaving a gap between you and him. You don’t mind though, not with the way he’s acting.

“Are you breaking up with me?” He asks. “What? No.” You say. You can see the relief fill his face.

Youbtell Rocker you’re unsure if you want to join SWAT back.

“Did you hurt yourself on purpose so you didnt have to go back to work?” Rocker asks, a hince of concern in his voice. “No. Why does everyone think that.” You rub you face in your hands.

“Everyone?” Rocker asks feeling more left out than he already does. “By everyone, i mean Deacon. Rocker i only called him and talked to him because hes like an older brother to me. He has helped me before and i just feel comfortable talking to him about life decisions.” You tell him.

“I understand. Just know im always here for you.” Rocker tells you. “I know.” You give him a small smile.

The two of you talk more about you returning back to SWAT.

——

A/n: This is probably gonna be the last story to this series. It went better in my head i just couldn’t write it as good as i had hoped. The stories just arent doing as well as my others, so im just going to stick with writing 911 stories.

For those who read these, thank you so much! Means a lot to me <3 i promise.

#swat fandom #swat cbs #swat x reader #swat imagine #swat fic #swat #donovan rocker fanfic #donovan rocker #rocker x reader #lou ferrigno jr

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skyeslittlecorner · 11 months ago

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Small gameplay tips pt. 1

I love to do my little shenanigans to take out as much as I can, so here are little tips, and maybe I can call it good practices?

I wanted to include a little more here, but oh well, in the end here I am with a math essay...

In summary: Buying keys for pancakes every day is very profitable.

Daily reroll

See these keys? Delicious, free keys? Yes. Free. What you get from them is worth more than what they cost.

For those who are curious why, you got the whole math below.

Let's write down the values right away:

S Devil - 80 pancakes A+ Devil - 20 pancakes S Artifact - 10 pancakes A+ artifact - 5 pancakes

I do not mention the L value because it is nice to have it, and besides, the chances of being drawn are so low that we will not use them to estimate the average.

Let's assume two small conditions.

1) You have some pancakes to start with, let's say at least ~300

2) You have a goal (and this is VERY important)

Buying keys with pancakes will give you 10 pulls a day, which you can use immediately. Do it. Remember what you got, it's best to take a screenshot. If the card or artifact you're looking for isn't among them, you sell EVERYTHING. Yes all. This artifact you need for development too. This evolution of your favorite too. All. If you have a large supply of pancakes, go ahead, you can save something, but below 500 it's better to be safe than sorry.

You leave only what you were hunting for from the beginning - most likely L's cards and artifacts.

Taking the average of the draw percentages, in 10 pulls you should get: 1x S grade devil, 4x A+ grade devil, 2x S grade artifact, 3x A+ grade artifact.

So, roughly estimating, averge return of pancakes should be around 195. Keys costs 180.

Example - random 10x pull i made to make this post was worth ~400 pancakes.

I'm surprised Gusion isn't here lol

So far, I have made many pull and there have been some that were both above and below average. In the worst case scenario, I made about 100 pancakes. Math is math, but luck is luck. That's why I advise keeping some savings. I would say 300 is the absolute minimum. I'm ultra frugal, so I like to have at least 800 pancakes on hand, but it depends on you when you feel safe.

There are also surprises, such as new cards that cannot be sold, but it depends on the account, so I didn't take it into account. General rule is the same for all.

If you hasn't used these keys before, I hope you will start. This is one of the most generous things from PB. It's worth trying :D UPDATE: I've been questioned about how to get pancakes, so here are the screenshots! You can sell both artifacts and devil duplicates in your inventory.

#whb #what in hell is bad #overanalyzing #whb tips

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winryrockbellwannabe · 9 months ago

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13/30 days of routine

💻 yesterday i didn't post as well, i let myself sleep as much as i wanted bc i was still tired. (btw, we got third place in the competition!🥰 im low key proud) (somehow it was mostly civil engineering challenges, which was super funny bc there wasn't a single civil engineer student in the competition lol)

⚛️ speaking of good news, remember how upset i was over my quantum physics grade? well, i retook the exam, and now i got a 14/20 (originally i had a 12/20) so im really happy about this

💉 (last update) remember last week's bright orange solution? yeah, now it's a pink ish squishy thing, i love it.

🎲 i also bought my friend's birthday present (a set of dnd dice, since he's obsessed with dnd rn)

#studyblr #study blog #studyspo #stemblr #stem student #study blr #study goals #adhd studyblr #2.3 #30 days of routine

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mangoharvest · 1 year ago

Note

May I please request a Yandere Deuce??? Also please drink water!

Henlo YES. I’m SO sorry I was gone for like 5 years. I had this one since 1/18 and just barely finished, so it will def feel rushed. Sorry it took so long, and feel free to req more (that will NOT take so long lol). Also, this one is not as yandere as I would like. I think Deuce is objectively one of the less insane charas so it's hard to imagine him being true yandere if that makes sense lol.

White Knight - Yandere!Deuce x Reader

Deuce is a good kid. He really is. Sure he had a rough patch in middle school, but that’s all behind him! At least, that’s what he has managed to convince those around him of. While it was mostly true, you could always tell he was never 100% genuine. He may not have even noticed it. How his eyes shifted at the mention of a local gang spotting, or how his adams apple would bob lightly when someone brought up sneaking out to party. The man was hardly a party monster, but it had been quite a while before the opportunity to relax had presented itself. So, when you had offered to sneak him out of school to celebrate New Year’s, it was difficult to bother feigning surprise. At least, that’s what it had appeared like.

“Deuce,” You hissed, tapping at his window, “Oi… It’s me! My magishift skills are as good as your grades, so hurry and open up!!” A low blow? Sure, but it’s not as if it was a lie.

After a few moments and much more frantic tapping, said man finally came to the window, prying it open just enough for you to slither in. “About time.” You muttered, huffing from a mix of annoyance and slight exasperation. You placed your broom next to the window, mentally noting to return it later.

“Sorry about that,” Deuce muttered, smoothing down his blazer, “I was trying to get that idiot Ace out for the night. Luckily he just texted me he’s got plans already.”

“I see. Lucky indeed.”

As quickly as you had come in, you made your way back to your exit. Reaching out a hand, you offered Deuce an awkward smile. “Are you coming, or what?”

—

“I thought you wanted to get out for once.” You murmured curiously. Though no one could hear your musings from the bar, Deuce sure jumped as if he could. He had always been awkward, but you had been thoughtless enough to assume that he could at least attempt to channel whatever he had going on before NRC. How foolish of you.

You had chosen a smaller club with his help, something more low-key from the usual spots. The music was good- but not nauseating- and the bar didn’t bother to ID you since you used to run with the manager. It was the ideal situation for anyone that didn’t exactly ooz sociability; so imagine your surprise when the party-craving Deuce refused to leave your side. While this in itself wasn’t awful, he also refused to leave the wall. Getting drink refills 20 feet away was the farthest the two of you had been all night. Thank god the man was a nervous drinker.

“Your lemon drops?” The bartender offered, placing the two drinks delicately beside you. You nodded in thanks, offering a small smile as you tuck your phone away. As you paid for the drinks, another is placed down. “Oh, uh,” You chuckled awkwardly, “I think you have the wrong person for this last one.” Internally, you prayed the bartender wasn’t about to say what you think he was.

“It’s no mistake, the gentleman over there paid.” Your nervously frozen smile followed the bartender’s gaze, landing on an older man along the counter. A glass shattering snapped you out of your trance. You smiled again to the bartender, before nodding dismissively at the gentlemen and taking your two original drinks.

Much to your dismay, you only manage a step back to the safety of the wall before your path is cut off. Fuck! You mutter, barely managing to hide your disdain behind a paper-thin smile. “Can I help you?”

“It seems like you forgot something, care for some company on your way back.” Jesus christ, it really couldn’t get worse than this. Your smile quickly fades, though you're sure to keep a semi-polite tone.

“Oh sorry, I’m really not much of a shot person. Plus I’m here with a friend.” The man dramatically looks on either side of himself, shrugging before moving further towards you.

“I don’t see anyone as lovely as you here. Looks like they left you.

“Oh, no he’s actual-”

“I’m sure you’re used to that,” He shushes you. Your face morphs into one of clear annoyance. You hadn’t missed the implications in his tone, and now you felt no obligation to cater to his weird mockery-flirting. You begin to brush past him.

“I gotta go.”

“Hey hey, careful there!” His hand, which had already been uncomfortable close, grasped at your wrist. As you tugged away from him, you could feel his grip tighten. Your body begins to fill with a suffocating sense of dread.

“Can’t have you falling down and wasting our drinks.” Your glare is met with an insufferably confident smirk. Of course you just had to run into this shit stain the one time you went out on a school night.

“Hey...” Your partner for the night called, sending a shiver down your spine. You knew about how he used to be when he was younger, but this felt completely different from what he had told you. He was furious, seething at the man before him.

“Deuce,” you breathed with a sigh of relief, “There you are-” as you attempted to break away from the strange man’s grip, you could feel the pain in your wrist only increase. He noticed you beginning to flail, and yanked you towards him.

“Let go of me, you stupid prick!” You seethed, still trying to be semi discreet as to not set Deuce off. The man has an unreadable expression, before looking at you in bewilderment.

“Why are yo-”

Too late.

Before you could react, the man was already on the floor.

“Oh shit, Deuce what did y-” Before you could finish your question, said man grabs your hand. “We have to go.” he states, not leaving room for rebuttal as he starts towards the door. Wordlessly, you follow behind him. By this point, both of your drinks were on the floor, and the party had been definitely tainted by having some random man’s knocked out body on the floor. Behind you, a pair of security guards come dashing out, yelling for you to stop. Terrified, you only run faster.

��

It isn’t long before you could feel your lungs sting, tugging lightly at Deuce in hopes he would slow down a bit. He peers at you, seemingly brought back to reality upon seeing how disheveled your impromptu race had made you. Looking behind him, he bit back a frustrated growl, before focusing on you apologetically.

“Sorry about this.”

“Sorry about w-Hey!” You yelp in surprise as Deuce lifts you bridal style (quite easily too) and hastily begins running off again. It’s amazing how he is somehow faster than before, and not long until the security guards of the club give up their pursuit. The sky above you is an odd purple shade- no doubt a result of residual magic in this world. There were a few unnaturally big stars out tonight, providing light in tandem with the moon. The rest of the city slept, as only its party district was known to function around this time. Despite this, Deuce kept running, barely breaking a sweat. You could hear his footsteps echo against the stone tiles that guided your path.

“Deuce, you can stop now. I think they’re gone.” You murmur in his ear as to not startle him. His face flushes a bit, before shaking his head. “It’s ok, I’ll just slow down a bit.”

He does as he says, slowing to a walking pace, but refusing to let you down. “It’s okay, really.” He keeps assuring you, doing little to dampen your protests. Eventually, you relent.

“You’re so stubborn,” You pout, gently adjusting your arms to wrap around his neck. “My stubborn little knight.”

“A knight?” Deuce questions, face exploding to a shade of crimson only matched by Rosehearts himself. You chuckle at his antics, going further and placing a chaste kiss on his lower jaw (it was all you could reach at that angle). Deuce’s face explodes with shock, and he starts mumbling and muttering like a madman.

“Deuce.” You chide, causing his gaze to snap right onto you, before darting away and back again. He was quite adorable like this. Such a clear contrast from earlier. You had seen him worked up before, but he was really upset tonight. He looked like a bomb about to go off. The insane strength behind his punch, in addition to the unusually commanding tone he used with you made you nervous (though not in a purely negative manner). If you weren’t so sure he would never hurt you, you likely would have been scared shitlesss.

You take the chance to curl further into him, making sure to hold his gaze with a slight blush of your own. “Thank you. For tonight. I was… I was really scared back there. That man, he really freaked me out…” Thinking about what had happened earlier that night made you shiver in Deuce’s hold, making said man hold you closer with a slight grimace.

You kept going. “But, you really helped me out big time. I don’t think I’ll ever need someone to protect me as long as I have you.” You joke, closing your eyes to rest a bit before getting to NRC.

Little did you know, Deuce’s heart was racing. He felt every hair on his body stand in delight, and his face was frozen in one of disbelief and awe. Then, he chuckled. It was more akin to a scoff, maybe. You really couldn’t tell. All you could feel was his resting his head atop your own, muttering proudly, “I’ll always be there for you.”

You snuggle into his side, vaguely hearing the sound of his ringer going off, followed by an annoyed and gruff, “I’ll send the money tonight.” and some yelling from the other line. He hangs up, muttering something about Ace needing his snack money back. You nodded silently, then had a weird recollection from earlier.

You had texted with Floyd right before getting your drinks, and according to him, Ace’s phone has been broken since last night’s practice. An odd coincidence, but maybe his mom called and he was embarrassed. However, you began thinking. The man from earlier; had he been looking at you? Or had his gaze been settled past you? It was weird, too weird to feel coincidental, but not enough to really raise any flags.

Deuce was your white knight. So surely he would never orchestrate something like this…right?

#twst #yandere twst x reader #twst x reader #deuce spade #deuce x reader #yandere x reader

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webvampzz · 4 months ago

Note

Hey regarding the question thing can I get your answers to 9 and 31

YAYAAYY I LOVE ANSWERING THESE TYY

Ok so

9. idk if ive ever had a true accomplishment tbh but probably passing an exam i knew i was gonna fail? ( im so sorry i cant think of anything)

10. i am allergic to mango

11. highs- when i bought a game i really wanted and was able to lore dump for hours, lows was when i had a breakdown ( rlly bad one ) to some music i dont remember the reason but i was 100℅ sure i wasnt gonna make it to today ( sorry about the personal vent,, tldr i had a breakdown with music playing thats it)

12. definitely spain. no clue why but definitely spain or france

13. i listen to ambience / save room music and rant to myself . or just music in general and rant to myself

14. pinterest and last fm ( or any app that lets u track what music/ movies uve watch i love stats and numbers sm)

15. lore nerd with bad taste in movies

16. i like my eyes the most so probably those

17. im somewhat good at writing but only about my interests

18. i am terrible at math and science

19. im ngl probably anytime i went to the doctor and they asked me about how im doing mentally

20. radiohead was named after the talking heads song and they were originally called on a friday because theyd practice on fridays hence the name

21. probably myself? i dont like revealing much about me to anybody tbh

22. my keyboard and guitar definitely i love them sm esp the key board

23. one that ive had since 5th grade iirc,, idk how long its been tho but its defo been a long time since we've been friends

24. when i realized i had to get a job eventually snd pay taxes and move out someday

25. ive never played any :(

26. bad

27. night owl, i wish i were an early bird though 😭

28. i kinda do but i kinda dont its hard to explain. more on the not at all side though

29. these r very weird answers ik i sound like an edgelord rn 😭

" i want to be someone else or ill explode " ( talk show host by radiohead)

" we were good as married in my mind, but married in my mind's no good" ( pink triangle by weezer)

" a heart that's full up like a landfill, a job that slowly kills you, bruises that wont heal " ( no surprises by radiohead)

" you'll go to hell for what your dirty mind is thinking " ( nude by radiohead)

30. probably just basic self care like showering i dont do anything past that tbh

31. thom yorke, thomas edward yorke, the radiohead singer ( i cant think of anyone else 😭)

Im actually so sorry if any of these were too personal or the answers were too long 😭 i just really like answering these but in so sorry if they seem weird or like im venting

#ask game #YAAYAYAYY

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stillalive19567 · 29 days ago

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Beneath The Surface | JenLisa | GxG | Chapter 20

The door swings open, revealing So Hee, her presence instantly shifting the atmosphere in the room. I quickly hide the folder I got from the librarian under the blanket, hoping she doesn’t notice the tension that’s been brewing.

“So Hee,” I say casually, trying to act natural.

She smirks and glances at Rosé. “You coming?”

“Yeah, wait a second,” Rosé replies, her voice light but her demeanor still slightly strained.

As they prepare to leave, I busy myself with my laptop, pretending to focus on whatever screen is in front of me. My mind, however, races with thoughts of The Elite Circle and the potential connections to something darker. I keep an ear out for their conversation, hoping to catch any hints of information that could lead me closer to the truth.

“So, what’s the plan?” Rosé asks, her tone a mix of excitement and curiosity.

“Just hanging out with some friends. You know, the usual,” So Hee replies nonchalantly, but I can sense there’s more behind her words.

“Sounds fun,” Rosé responds, but I can see the uncertainty in her eyes as she steals a glance at me.

I make a mental note to keep an eye on both of them. Whatever So Hee is up to, I’m not convinced it’s just a simple outing.

I start by gathering all the notes and documents I’ve collected so far. Pulling up my laptop, I create a timeline, meticulously matching the dates of when each student went missing with key meetings or events held by The Elite Circle. As I go through the bank statements, attendance records, and any notes on the group’s activities, patterns begin to emerge.

As I step out of our room, the hallway is quiet, a few students passing by, absorbed in their own conversations. I turn a corner, lost in thought, when I notice Lisa approaching. She looks up with a soft smile that lights up her features, and my heart skips a beat.

“Can I walk with you?” she asks, her voice warm and inviting.

I nod, feeling a flutter of excitement as she falls into step beside me. The warmth of her presence radiates in the cool air, making the tension of the day fade away. We walk in comfortable silence for a moment, the soft sound of our footsteps echoing in the hallway.

As I walk down the hall, the atmosphere shifts suddenly when So Hee steps in front of me, blocking my path. She looks at me with a fierce determination, her eyes blazing.

“Lisa is mine,” she declares, pinning me against the locker. I feel the cold metal dig into my back as I glare at her.

“What does it have to do with me?” I shoot back, my voice steady despite the intensity of the moment.

So Hee leans in closer, a smug smile playing on her lips. “Lisa said that she likes you,” she taunts, pushing me harder against the locker.

I can feel my blood boiling at her words. “Listen, touch me again, and I’ll beat the shit out of you,” I warn, trying to remain calm.

But she shoves me again, and I stumble back, falling to the floor. A rush of anger surges through me as I hear someone yell, “Stop it, So Hee!” I recognize Lisa’s voice, but my vision is already clouded by fury.

Rosé appears beside me, confusion etched on her face, but it’s too late. The fire inside me ignites further as So Hee slaps Rosé across the face. That’s it—I’ve had enough.

With a swift motion, I grab So Hee by her neck, pushing her back against the locker. The shock in her eyes fuels my rage, and I slap her across the face, feeling the heat of the moment surge through me. “Lay a finger on her again,” I growl, my voice low and threatening, “and you’re dead.”

Each word punctuates my anger, and I can see the fear dawning in her expression. She tries to struggle, but my grip is firm. I’m not letting her threaten anyone I care about.

“Do you understand?” I hiss, locking my gaze onto hers. In this moment, I feel a rush of protectiveness wash over me—nothing will come between me and Lisa, not even So Hee.

I narrow my eyes at So Hee, my grip still firm around her neck. “Were you held back a grade? Two?” I ask, my voice dripping with disdain.

“Fuck off. Mind your own business,” she snaps back, but I can see the fear in her eyes.

Just then, Jungkook rushes in, his voice echoing in the hallway. “Yah! You mind your own business!” he yells at So Hee, anger flashing across his face. He moves as if to slap her, but I quickly intervene.

“Kookie, stop!” I call out, shaking my head. “A man shouldn’t raise a hand to a woman.”

So Hee smirks, the arrogance returning to her expression. “Yeah, ‘Kookie,’ obey her like a pet you are,” she taunts, trying to regain her composure.

In a split second, I lose it. I slap her hard across the face, the sound of it echoing through the corridor. “But that doesn’t apply to me,” I hiss, my voice low and cold. “I am a woman, after all.”

The shock on her face is priceless, and I can feel a rush of empowerment surge through me. I won’t let anyone intimidate me, especially not over someone I care about.

I take a step back, my posture defiant, as I watch her stumble slightly, the smirk wiped clean from her face. “Next time,” I warn, “you’ll think twice before messing with me or anyone I care about.”

#blackpink #blackpink jisoo #blackpink lisa #blackpink rosé #fanfic #gxg #jenlisa #jennie

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krispyweiss · 3 months ago

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youtube

Song Review: Dan Reeder - “52 years ago”

Talk about carrying a torch.

Dan Reeder’s apparently been pining for an ex-girlfriend since “52 years ago” as evidenced by his new single announcing the Smithereens.

Oh 52 years ago my girlfriend dumped me/well she had a long dress on/she had a long dress on/she had a long dress on when she dumped me, Reeder sings in stacked harmony to his own piano accompaniment.

At 2:30, “52 years ago” is an epic by Reeder’s standards though he uses just fewer than 20 individual words to tell the story. Yet it’s low-key funny and completely melodic.

Out Oct. 4, the 27-track Smithereens encompasses 2023’s EP X 500 and other previously released singles.

Grade card: Dan Reeder - “52 years ago” - B+

8/14/24

#Youtube #dan reeder #52 years ago #smithereens

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girluninterrupted11 · 1 year ago

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For our first installment, I’ll be covering the first decade of this blog, the 1920s. When I I think of this era, I envision the roaring twenties, full of flapper dresses and glamorous time in fashion. A period full of parties in a world seen through rose-tinted glasses. I think of overindulgence and socialites. Of course, art is a representation of culture, they go hand in hand. Fashion reflects the times, and if there is one thing about this era in fashion, it reflects its optimistic and almost carefree culture. Now, enough of my rambling, onto my favourite parts of 1920s fashion.

This is when Coco Chanel made the flapper dresses we all associate with the twenties especially popular. This dress style can be seen above worn by Joan Crawford, a Broadway icon of the times. During this decade, the go-to party dress was straight with a dropped waistline, low cut back, square neckline, and was often decorated with strings of shiny beads and jewelry.

Oddly enough, the hemlines were not as short as you'd expect in a dress like this. Honestly I think the longer hemline fits better with the dress because it already has such a low cut back. It would be too much otherwise. I think the hemline fits with the dress, the best advice in fashion is you don't want 20 dresses in 1 dress. I remember my mother's tailor saying this just about every single time she was getting a dress made. That is something that will always stay with me. An outfit has to be harmonious, and harmonious the flapper dress is. The beads and decorations are flashy, but not too much. I really cannot stand overly flashy clothing, it just ends up looking tacky. It's fun and it's free but not too crazy, just like the lifestyle. Although they’re not very fitted (straight cut), I still think they’re very stylish and elegant. If I lived during this time period, I would absolutely be wearing flapper dresses on a night out. I'd honestly pick them over a lot of the styles we have today. Simplicity is key.

Of course, no party dress is complete without a decadent shawl or coat, which they definitely loved to wear during this time. I completely adore this idea. I think it adds an additional dimension to the look and really just makes it that much more glamorous. These coats never fail to remind me of a book that I absolutely love, entitled Tender is The Night by Scott Fitzgerald because of how rich they are. I remember reading it for the first time in grade 9 and thinking what a time the roaring twenties must have been. Oddly enough, I also get reminded of the third season of The Vampire Diaries where the characters revisit their time in the 20s.

Now, the important thing to note about the 1920s is this is when fashion started becoming more accessible. Clothing was no longer a status symbol. I for one love this idea, and I think it's nice to see a time where everyone was presentable all the time because that was the standard. Personally I love the feeling of being put together. Otherwise, I feel like a mess, and I think overall everyone just looks better when they're in a proper outfit. At this time, women wore dresses at the time, with lots of accessories, whether it be hats, purses, jewelry, or whatever else. It's strange now to see people wearing hats all the time, and quite eccentric ones at that, but I truly adore the idea. It makes me think of the one scene in Breakfast at Tiffanys (yes, I know it takes place during the 1960s) where Audrey Hepburn is walking down the street in a red coat with a matching hat. That outfit will forever be iconic to me because accessories take an outfit to another level. A simple straight-cut dress becomes a fun look with the right heels, hat, and jewelry. That is the key to the 1920s look. That’s what I believe to be the best fashion tip out there. And of course, don't be afraid to make it a little fun. We'd all do well to remember that sometimes.

Until next time, xx.

#1920s #1920s fashion #fashion blog #joan crawford #fur coats #fashion

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oswinsdolma · 1 year ago

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i've been reading a bunch of modern aus lately, and i've noticed that quite a lot are a bit uncertain about how the british education system works. it's not a problem by any means, but for anyone who wants it, here is a brief explanation:

we don't say "grades", we say "years", e.g. 7th grade would be year 7. we also don't say things like freshman/sophomore/senior etc. it's just the numbers.

however, some primary schools split into infants and juniors, infants being from yR-2 and juniors being y3-6

we also have a national curriculum all throughout compulsory education, which means everyone studies the same thing, more or less. there are discrepancies at GCSE/A-level with different exam boards, but in general, most people take either the same, or very similar exams, and are taught the same skills.

you start primary school when you are four or five in year R, and continue through primary school from years 1-6.

at the end of year six, you take the SATS, which are a really insubstantial national standardised test for english, maths and spag

it is also optional to take an exam called the 11+ at the end of y6. if you pass, you can go to grammar school. these can be state or private, and are basically redundant nowadays, and just used so parents can say that their child passed the 11+ and got into the Smart School. These are usually single gender and low-key cult like, but otherwise, are exactly the same as normal state "comprehensive" schools.

secondary school is from y7-11. at the end of y11, everyone takes the GCSEs (General Certificate of Secondary Education). you have to do english, maths and sciences, plus several other subjects. most people have between 7-13 GCSEs, and if you fail english language or maths, you have to retake until you pass, even into college.

GCSEs are graded on a scale of 9-1, 9 being an equivalent to A** and is the top 1% of the students who got 7+, and 1 being an F/U. the pass mark is a 4.

the grades you get in your GCSEs are kind of irrelevant, except they determine which subjects you can take for A-level.

After secondary school, you have to stay in full time education for another two years (allegedly, though ik a few people who dropped out), and most people do A-levels (Advanced Level Exams). Instead of doing loads of subjects like at GCSE, you pick 3-4 and study them for two years. these are a LOT HARDER than GCSEs.

if you do four a levels, you're kind of a try hard. honestly, if you do it, good for you, but as a cultural thing, so many people who did four a levels were the most insufferable people who only did it to gloat, and then couldn't handle the workload.

oh, also this entire system is pretty much 100% exam based. for 2/3 of my a levels, i had a coursework essay that was pre graded, but it was only worth 20% of my final grade, and those were rare occurrences. at GCSE, unless you do art or something like that, everything is exam based.

A-levels are graded on a scale of A*-E, and then a U if you literally get nothing. which happens more often than you might think.

this is the bit that i see a lot of people get confused about. in the UK, we don't call university "college". college, to us, is where you take your a levels. if it's an independent institution, it's a "college/further education centre". if it's attached to a secondary school, it's called a "sixth form" (because y12 was year six of senior school in the old system).

i'm sorry i'm trying to be as clear as i can but our education system is complex af

your A-level grades determine where you can apply to uni, which you HAVE to do through a system called UCAS.

UCAS (the university and colleges admissions service) is a national system where you put in all your details required to apply for uni. you start it in the june of y12 and send it in by January** IN MOST CASES

to apply for uni, you need to list all your qualifications/details, predicted grades, personal statement essay and teacher references. this all gets submitted by your school.

HOWEVER. if you are applying to medicine, vet, dentistry, oxford or cambridge, the deadline is in october, and you have to submit written work, do multiple assessments and do rounds of interviews in addition to everything else (would not recommend).

you can also apply to conservatoire for music/drama schools, which tend to have their own deadlines and systems because they're not technically universities

okay nearly at the end

the closest thing we have to an Ivy League is the Russell Group, but it's not as prestigious. Russell Group unis tend to be higher ranked, offer niche courses and demand high grade requirements.

Oxford and Cambridge are not normal universities. i CANNOT stress this enough. you apply through ucas, but the courses themselves are unique and highly competitive (the one i applied for had like 10 spaces)(i got rejected lmao). also they are arranged in colleges within the uni, so it's like a collection of tiny unis linked by a larger institution. colleges are not subject specific and most of them have weird cults. if you're writing oxbridge students, google it, not just for accuracy, but because it's absolutely hilarious.

interviews are also more like interrogations. i was reduced to tears on several occasions, and you also have to swear not to reveal the questions you were asked (everyone does it anyway but STILL IT'S WEIRD). for example, one of my interviews, i was given a poem about feet and asked to analyse it on the spot over a blurry zoom screen. they don't ask you about yourself. they don't ask you about school. they just quickfire questions at you for forty minutes and roll their eyes when you take more than a few seconds to answer.

we also don't have majors/minors. you choose one subject that you apply for specifically, and spend 3-7 years studying that subject pretty much exclusively. the only deviations from this might be if you were taking archaeology and took an art history class or something — everything is really closely related.

we can also drink at 18. not that an age limit has ever stopped anyone in the uk from getting drunk. getting pissed in a field is a major pastime for anyone from the ages of 12-28. it's a problem.

instead of having dorms at uni, most people live in flats. there will be like ten people on a corridor with a shared kitchen. you only live in university housing for your first year, unless you are at oxbridge, in which case i think it's mandatory to live in your college for your whole course.

community college and private universities aren't a thing either. when you apply to uni, you apply to student finance (unless your parents are absolutely LOADED and pay for you) and get a loan for your tuition, and also a maintenance loan based on your household income, which is used to pay for rent, food, etc. you cannot be exempt from financial aid but a lot of people do not receive enough, particularly in recent years when the cost of living in the uk has gone up so much.

university is roughly £9-10k per year (depending on where you study) which is a Lot. but why are people in the US paying hundreds of thousands of dollars, are you guys okay???

also, if you're scottish, university in scotland is free. they also have a standard four year systm rather than the three year system in england and wales (idk about ni i didn't apply there). why?? because the english government is absolute shite and they got rid of the state university programme for england (blame the tories)

don't do your research on the student room. just don't. for your own sake.

and a couple more cultural things before we leave off

we all wear uniform until we get to year twelve. everyone. even the four year olds.

Nottingham Trent university is just the butt of so many jokes and I really don't understand why (they're not even the lowest in the league table 😭😭)

Durham is full of Oxbridge rejects who are in denial about it, and is also the butt of a lot of jokes

everything i have mentioned so far is about STATE education. private education runs on different tracks: you have prep schools, which run from yR-8, and senior schools that run from y9-11, and most of them have attached sixth forms. there is a massive cultural and economic divide between state and private school kids, because they get so much more help applying for uni, and also there is so much nepotism in our government. like. politicians wear their old school ties in parliament so they know who to give favours to. it's AWFUL.

some private schools are so fancy they loop back around and are known as "public schools". they're schools like Eton, Harrow, Winchester, Marlborough, etc. really old institutions that basically guarantee you a place at oxbridge because of family legacy (though this has got a lot better over the last decade or so)(but they still have an unfair advantage).

a lot of compulsory education schools are really religious because education in the uk used to be run basically by the church, and the church still own a lot of schools. universities though, even the ones with roots in the church, are atheistic, their religious links symbolic or supplementary to their main purpose.

okay that ended up being way longer than i thought, but i hope someone finds this useful when writing, or at least interesting.

#writing #writeblr #fanfiction #also if it wasn't clear i hate private education with a passion #how did bojo get into oxford fr

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