#nothing happens the school year is uneventful

[ashersanity]

— “IT’S ALL IN THE FAMILY.”

— summary. because you — you stupid little fuck, should have known better than to assume the worst out of this sick family you’ve been unwillingly forced into from your parents unfaithful divorce. well, guess what? you were fucking right, and now — you only have yourself to blame, baby brother.

— content warning! incest, step-cest, dub-con at best, non-con at worst, brief mentions of bullying and violence, alcohol intoxication, manipulation, big brother whitney being a creep, whiny little sister kylar, daddy bailey being bailey, loser male reader, semi-forced blow job, cream pie, shit writing, no editing, no nothing and shittier plot with two disconnected scenes, went a little overboard with kylar. a little.

— word count? wait, you guys count the fucking words and don’t raw dog it in the notes app? like, real long, I guess. I mean, fucking long.

— asher’s note. “I did it purely for the sister fucking. @princesstokyomoon kept encouraging the filthy thoughts so I had to churn something out. something filthy — and I mean fucking disgusting shit, y’know?”

Divorces papers hastily signed away, the ink dotted onto the lines promising that this was indeed reality along with leathered suitcases packed to the brim. Family problems never were easy, much less when it had all happened far too quickly. To your parents separating, the familiar grip of your mother’s hand stringing you far away from the house you had grew up in, it all seemed like one bad dream. Unfortunately it wasn’t, no. This was the harsh reality of things, hands clasped on your shoulders as you were forced to introduce yourself to the man she had vowed to marry and the children he bore.

Fuck, if only your mother hadn’t remarried.

“This is stupid.” You muttered beneath your breath to which your mother, sharp as ever had somehow heard.

“Oh please, this is necessary. Unless you wish for us to keep on living in that cramped apartment? I am only doing what is needed for us to survive.” She sharply retorted back, not leaving much room to argue with as it was the truth. Your lives had been much more difficult since the divorce, selfish father that took everything else with him and went away to god-knows-where, probably off to spend it all in one go at the sleazy brothel in town. Filthy bitch.

Yes, it had been hard, but if you had been given one more year, finished school for real, graduated and got a job — Perhaps then, you would’ve been able to provide for the two of you and—

“Why don’t you introduce yourself, dear?”

Breaking out of your reverie, you had faintly registered then that you had arrived into this overly large establishment your mom referred to as your new home. Standing before you was probably the man she had fussed about so much during the uneventful drive. Dark, slicked back hair and stern eyes that dragged over your lips down to the curve of your throat, almost as if to criticize. His outstretched arm and hand stuck out waiting, that was probably for yours to shake which you reluctantly did.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir..?” You uttered coolly, enduring the firm grasp he had on your fingers till he finally was the first to pull away.

“Bailey.”

“Bailey.” You repeated back the unfamiliar name as if to slowly get used to it, knowing you wouldn’t.

“Whitney, Kylar, come down here and properly greet your brother.”

One boy — you assumed to be Whitney, a little older than you, stood at the top of the oaky staircase, perched over the banister. Ruffled blonde hair and sharp blue eyes hidden behind his fringe, eyeing you with disinterest as he made his way down the creaking steps and over to you.

“Nice to meet you.” He grinned, taking ahold of your hand in his with what was evidently a faux smile, one that didn’t quite reach his mean eyes that matched his father, a lingering streak of maliciousness in them. Even his grip, barely restrained in its force, threatened to crush your hand before ultimately letting go.

“You too.” Forcing a smile back, both of you knew then, the stifling tension that brewed in the air — Neither of you were going to get along here.

“Hey freak, its your turn.”

Another, you had barely noticed, a smaller girl scuffling about in the background, anxiously fiddling with the ends of her oversized sleeves, skittish green eyes purposefully avoiding your gaze whenever you so much as glanced her way. That must be the only daughter, Kylar. Cute thing she was, though your mind couldn’t allow yourself to continue that stray thought any further considering the implications that’d involve after meeting your soon-to-be-step-sister. Fucking get your mind straight, will you?

“P-Pleasure to meet you..” In contrast to her brother’s confident strides, she shuffled towards you before clasping your soft palms together in a hold, weakly shaking it.

“..Pleasure is all mine.” You replied, matching her weirdly formal way of speaking.

Well, she didn’t seem so bad compared to the rest.

The introduction didn’t last very long, lacking any real warmth usually found between two shared families merging together as one. It felt more stiff than anything though you couldn’t spare the thought to think it any further, an ushered murmur said to make yourself at home.

As you made your way over to your new room, hauling your hefty luggage up the wooden stairs, something within the depths of your guts stirred from the shared eyes that bore into the shape of your back, intently observing your every move.

The walls here felt unbearably bare.

Like the people that lived in it.

Ironically enough, your new room was much bigger than your older one, leaving little room to complain as you did when your mother had announced you’d be moving into a new place. All the reasons, no matter how good had earned nothing but a gentle shake of her head, dead set on her decision to drag you along. And to say you hadn’t even told Robin you’d be moving away, best friends since childhood that shared everything between the two, except for this apparently. Imagining his freckled face, worry etched across his features had you wanting to go back to the town you knew, knowing you couldn’t.

Sighing lowly, you sat down onto your bed, hearing the slightest crinkle beneath your weight as you felt an uncomfortable, sharp lump underneath it. That.. Reaching for the covers, you threw aside the thick blankets that covered the suspicious looking lump, revealing fresh packets of condoms haphazardly scattered across the sheets and an old, raunchy magazine displaying a cute-looking school boy getting brutally fucked against the lockers by his own bully.

Heat burned your face at the lewd sight, quickly shoving your little “gift” under your pillow so you couldn’t spare another glance at it. Fucking bastards and their sick jokes, “gifting” you shit like that.

You weren’t like them. Fucking perverts.

Were you?

Whitney was the first to change that.

From the first time he laid his eyes on you, you knew then what he thought of you, distaste apparent over his features, the slight curve of his upper lip curled into a snarl. It was obvious, your step-brother didn’t like you. Shit, maybe hate would be a more appropriate word for the things he’d do. Whitney had made it clear from the get-go, the empty names you’d call each other were utterly meaningless, rarely slipping past his own lips. ‘Little brother’. Fuck, you were a pain in his side more than anything else, dropping by unannounced into his life just like that simply because your shitty mother happened to divorce, meeting his dead beat father who then strung up with yours.

The blonde didn’t attempt to hide his obvious disapproval of your presence in his house, blatantly knocking his shoulder into yours whenever he passed by, mouth cruelly drawn into a snide grin as you toppled down to the cold, hard, wooden floor with a dull thud. The bullying didn’t stop there either, often encountering the delinquent in the school hallways, surrounded by his usual cronies that stuck to his side like a bunch of desperate, panting puppies, eager for his approval. They simply wouldn’t leave you alone, went through your damn locker too, ransacking everything that sat in there before carelessly throwing aside the remnants into a nearby trash bin, left to fend for yourself.

Weak, useless. That’s what you were to him, and nothing else. Soon enough, he’d get rid of you, have you snap and run away, it was merely a matter of time.

Well, that was the initial plan he had made up in his mind — Too fucking bad for the poor bully that life didn’t go always as planned, not when he caught you fresh out of the shower, worn towel snugly tucked around yours hips, a bit lower and he’d catch a glimpse of your— Fucking snap out of it, Whitney! The fresh droplets of water that’d trickle down the curve of your back, cascading over the smooth surface before gently dripping onto the fuzzy carpet below. Fuck. Didn’t help that he was staring a tad bit too hard, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from your bare form shamelessly displayed before him. You were doing this on purpose, weren’t you? Tryna get him all distracted, fill his thoughts with nothing but your thighs sticky with his cum, your lips lightly parted to obediently suck on his fat cock, lapping away at the beads of pre-cum that trickled over the curved length.

Knew he had cracked the second his hand had reached for his cock, fisting his dick for all it was worth, hem of his shirt roughly held between his teeth as he jerked himself stupid to the thought of you. His annoying little brother, fucking bitch, oblivious to the effects you had on him whenever he came with a stifled curse, several strings of cum that’d messily splatter across the curve of his toned stomach and his cotton sheets, staining it.

You, of course, lay ignorant to his frequent glances trailing over your frame, mistaking it for the hostility he had shown you over the past few weeks. You were partially right, except this time it was out of frustrated lust, cock stirring beneath his ripped jeans at the mere sight of his younger sibling now. God, not even the dumb whores that’d sloppily suck him off in the grimy bathroom stalls between classes did it for him anymore, eyes shut in a haze to imagine it was your mouth instead wrapped around the tip of his cock.

Dumb slut. Dumb fucking slut you were, didn’t know what he had in store for you. Take it as payback from having infested his mind with thoughts of you that stray to other thoughts and to other.. that’d eventually end in the same scenario, fucking your slutty mouth wide open.

Yeah.. Actually having you choke down on his cock didn’t sound half-bad now that he thought about it.

So why not make it happen?

It had been a mistake then to accept his offer over drinks, get to know each other better, he had cheerfully claimed with a friendly arm wrapped around your shoulder. Bullshit. Think he gave a shit about that? The only ache in his mind had gone straight down to his slowly hardening cock underneath his grey sweats as his plan was brought into motion, insistently pouring more and more of his friends stolen bottle into your cup until you had lost track of the exact number. Prideful as ever, you had gulped it all down, unrelenting despite the nausea that had crept in your guts and the dizzying blur of your vision.

A hint of a rosy flush had started to spread throughout your skin, lightly dusting your cheeks with half-lidded eyes intently gazing back at your older brother’s slouched form atop the cushioned couch. The dribbling liquid sloshed lazily in the glassy bottle that threatened to spill from your weakened grasp on it. TV faintly flickering in the background, playing some outdated show that had since long been forgotten by the two of you, leaving the remote abandoned on the coffee table.

“Cmon, don’t be such a baby.” Whitney would taunt whenever you hesitated in your sluggish movements, silently observing the rhythmic bobbing of your throat as you took quick shots from your half-full glass. Lightweight, he mused in his mind.

“I’m not a baby.” You retorted back with that fucking cute pouty expression he adored.

Fuck. That’s the look. That goddamn look of yours he was waiting for. Nothing better than some arrogant slut all fucked up, practically begging to be taken on his own fucking couch.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Whitney?” Shit, the way you’d call his name all whiny too, slipping past your own lips. Had his cock twitch like fucking hell, painfully aching between his spread legs.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Why are you so mean to me all the time?? What did I ever.. What did I ever do to you?? I—I just don’t get it.” You hiccuped pathetically, stumbling over your own words, already half-drunk from the fizzling alcohol in your system.

Ah, so you didn’t seem to get it at all yet, did you?

How cute.

“‘Cuz I wanna fuck your noisy mouth, that’s why.”

“..What?”

Blinking back at him, you didn’t even get the chance to register or mutter out another word before he was upon you. Knees firmly planted to each side, increasingly aware of his encompassing frame that towered overs yours as his clothed crotch faced your drunken expression. If it had been any other time, perhaps the blonde would’ve paused then to greedily drink in the sight before him, but this was Whitney after all and he never liked to waste time on silly notions like foreplay, preferring the rougher options that came along with it.

So, fuck it all, right?

With practiced ease, he hurriedly shucked down the elastic waistband of his grey sweats past his hips, hefty cock confidently springing free from the constricting confines of the cotton fabric as it lightly smacked against the curve of his bare stomach. Fuck, you haven’t had the slightest idea how long he had waited for this. Merely a matter of a few weeks for you, though for him, your older brother was dying to sink his dick in that whorish mouth of yours. Looked like you’ve never taken a real cock either, snugly shoved down to the hilt of your inexperienced throat that he’d train till it became a sixth sense to you, gratefully swallowing down his salty cum.

Calloused fingertips tenderly dragged along the swollen flesh of your bottom lip, bloodied cut reopening from the time the bully had split your face open on his fists for the whole school to see in the busied courtyard on a particularly rainy day. Licked his knuckles clean too after that rough beating you took, savouring the heady taste of the crimson mess you left behind, groaning all the while. Had him stupidly hard for the rest of the day, itching to relieve some tension once he got back home. Great times, really.

Now would’ve been the time then, probably— to sputter out your firm opposition over this, resist somewhat. Maybe kick the motherfucker in the balls, satisfyingly watch him writhe on the floor in agony before scrambling up the ancient staircase to hysterically yell about how you nearly got raped by your aforementioned step-brother, to your dozing mother. Christ, that would’ve been the sane decision to do then yet, the bubbling drinks coursing through your veins had thoroughly taken its effect on you, blood rushing down lower to the wrong region, the sinking realization nearly making you bolt upright.

Fucking fuck, you were hard.

And Whitney hadn’t failed to notice.

“Shit, are you getting hard from this?” The delinquent snickered hoarsely to himself, making a show to lightly tap at the growing bulge underneath your own jeans, all too visible despite the rough fabric that covered it. “Should’ve known you’d be into it. Your body speaks for itself, y’know. You want this, you cock whore craving slut.”

No, no. This was all wrong. Must’ve been. You liked girls, didn’t you? Squishy cunts and fat tits you could easily slip your cock into — god. Didn’t like guys and if you did, your step-brother who treated you like nothing but shit would’ve been last on the fucking list.

But you secretly do like being used this way, don’t you? Baby brother.

“I’m n-not fucking—“ Attempting to deny the harsh statement, you cut yourself off from the sudden intruding tip eagerly pressed against your lips, flushed cock head leaking thickly and smearing sticky pre-cum all over.

It wasn’t an order nor anything else that hung heavily in the air, a simple gesture, a subtle thrust of his hips that had his actions speak louder than any words would’ve been capable of. Either you do it or not, the delinquent couldn’t have cared less regardless, always used to getting what he wants and by god, if he wasn’t going to fucking get this. Because the signals alarmingly ringing through your head felt faint in the face of this, shakily inhaling the musky scent of your big brother’s throbbing cock subtly twitching in response to your feathered breaths against it, dribbling out more translucent pre-cum that melded with the scarlet stain of your bloodied lips.

Out of your damn mind — That’s what you were. To even properly consider the implication at hand here. Yet your lips won’t stop from parting, from sticking your pink tongue out, clumsily imitating the gestures of those submissive girls in the cheap porns you’d watch underneath your thin covers late at night, shamefully enough. Always thought you’d be on the receiving end of that one day, dutifully patting at the soft hair slotted between your thighs however here you were, shyly pawing at Whitney’s naked hips instead to steady yourself.

All your fault, all your damn fault so shut up and take it, alright? Shouldn’t have led him on like that, now you’re only reaping what you sow, slut.

A delighted sigh softly escaped from the blonde as you finally gave his dick some much needed attention, experimentally running the flat of your tongue along his leaking slit, coaxing out more dribbling fat globs of pre-cum before slowly and carefully taking his full girth in the warm depths of your tight, wet mouth. “Ah— Fuck. Yeah, that’s good.” No way can he hide the barely restrained, high-pitched, almost needy whimper that threatens to slither past him as you so prettily suck him down to the base, slobbering all over his throbbing balls that has him huffing out a cursed moan of satisfaction, eyes rolling back. “F-Fuckin’— god.” Can’t help the sheer guttural groan that slips out from how tightly his baby brother’s virgin lips sweetly glide around him, the uncertainty in your movements making it all the more endearing as you struggle to take him all in, saliva dripping over your chin to land in varying wet dots on the cushioned pillows. Looking so damn pretty like this with a mouthful of cock, your big brother’s pulsing cock specifically. So don’t blame him then when his hips automatically snap back, slender fingers instinctively reaching for the back of your head to entangle themselves through the soft strands of your hair, ruffling it.

Felt more like he was plainly fucking your mouth than you were sucking him off, sharp, punishing thrusts meeting your open mouthed lips to drive himself deeper in that warm throat that reflexively tightened around his length whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot — drawing another string of adorable, strangled whimpers from you. “Shit, you sure this your first time? You’ve got the mouth of a — hah, fuckin’ filthy glory hole.” Heat prickling up the nape of your neck at the direct statement uttered, the brief realization of your inexperience being taken away like this, from a blowjob. On the giving end. A first, that will mostly likely not be the only first after this, not when you’re unconsciously getting off to the thought for more in store despite your haze filled brain begging you to reason. Ah, fuck. He’s gone and got you stupidly cock drunk now, didn’t he? The bastard. Slurred mutterings tumbling out above you, almost hasty in how he handles you, wanting to truly savor this never-ending moment when his body can’t stop on its own, too eager to be fulfilled of this yearning pleasure he sought out from you firstly. Thankful for your lack of gag reflex that somehow has you forcefully endure the ruthless slam of his hips, struggling grip straining onto his thighs to brace yourself, promising to leave a fresh set of bruising marks on the tanned flesh.

“Gon’ be my lil’ cockwhore, huh? My fuckin’ slut. Goin’ to be so good for— fuck, big brother, yeah?” If treating you so obscenely like this grants him the privilege to have you beneath him, so stupidly on your knees then, fuck, is it goddamn worth it. Every multicoloured bruise splotched along the length of your legs to your elbows, inflicted from his unfortunate beatings took on at every turn. The cold indifference muddled across your features warping to an earnest scowl from simply acknowledging his presence alone, precisely what he wants. To finally recognize your older brother, the churning fear instilling within you, forced to submit to him and worship him rightfully so.

It’ll be more than that though, the sick realization dawning upon him of this opportunity handed to him on a silver plater, free of his taking, of course. Not some other replaceable slut he can find anywhere else by chance, but one forcefully bound to him whether they like it or not since what can you possibly do? Come running with tears in your eyes to your mommy about what your big, mean, older brother did to you? His father will certainly not be one to help you for that matter, that’s for damn sure. Who the hell will believe you then? No one. Fucking nobody. Inadvertently handing him free range to do whatever he so pleases with you, whenever, where the fuck ever. Oh, but it won’t only stop there, y’know. Ruining you fully for the sake of his own selfish pleasure, corrupt that naive view of yours that has you blush bashfully at a bunch of lewd illustrations plastered onto the printed pages. Soon enough, the majority of your days will be lazily spent in his room, leaking cock dribbling profusely from the kitten licks you’ll so cutely give him then while he absentmindedly scrolls on his phone, grinning proudly as you inevitably beg for more of him. And shit, Whitney isn’t one to disappoint either — he’ll have you rightfully rewarded for such behaviour, in public to be exact. Clip a nice, leathered collar around your neck along with a leash too, tug at it a bit to show off his newfound pet, his loyal little brother that sloppily sucks him off and happily sinks onto his hefty cock at a mere snap of his fingers. Drives him fuckin’ crazy merely thinking about it.

That’s right, suck on your big brother’s fat cock to selfishly earn his twisted love, his blind adoration and protection of your being. His pet. His slut. His beloved baby brother. His now blood, flesh and soul tainted thoroughly by him himself. Personally service him on your knees like the whore that he knows you are. Fucking get on your knees and earn it.

All too soon, despite wanting to stretch this further solely to ingrain the addictive noises of your stifled whimpers and drooling mouth inside his perverted mind, visibly struggling to take him all in as he shamelessly used your throat like some sort of flesh light stretched to the hilt — He can feel himself reach the brink of his limit, confident hips stuttering in their steady thrusts to greedily bury the tip of his quivering cock into the back of your throat one last time. “F-Fuck. Stay like that — just fucking stay like that.” He hissed sharply between strained curses, head thrown back like some cheap virgin whore who’s just received his first ever mind blowing blow job. The familiar overwhelming heat curling in the curve of his belly, like a coiling string on the verge of popping. Balls tightening in need, pulsing spurts of his fat load squirting out of the head of his cock to messily splatter across the surface of your pretty fucking face, ruining you for his own amusement.

Should’ve busted his load down your throat just to hungrily watch you swallow it down, though he supposes that the cum stained look adorning your pretty face is a sight to behold on its own, taking a good minute to appreciate the mess before him.

A blank, pristine canvas that he had helped ruin and stain with the filth of his very own actions.

It suits you, really.

“That’s a — hah, good boy.” Whitney heaved roughly between ragged breaths, the uncharacteristically gentle praise laced in his tone differing from his usually sadistic nature. If it weren’t for the sticky mess that obscured your vision along with the heat of his sweating palm placed flat across your forehead, you’d notice the strange fond, warmth that had settled into his softening gaze, a sort of reverence in of itself. “My good fucking boy.”

“So good for big brother, aren’t you?” He smirks knowingly at your hitched gasps of breaths, struggling so stupidly to form back a snarky insult as per usual.

Ah, he gets it now — really fucking gets it, glazed over eyes settling onto your evidently hard, twitching cock still tented pitifully against the front of your jeans, frantically humping at the air like some sort of rabid, horny and untrained puppy in heat, tongue lolling out. Aw, so fuckin’ cute when you’re cock drunk and needy for big brother. Makes him wanna do it all over again.

For that, he should be properly training you then.

“Whitney— fuckin’ cmon, please.” Whining so pathetically in a way that sends a jolt straight down through his spent cock, immediately standing up to attention once more. You’re really asking for it, fuck.

So damn cute, but so impatient too. Maybe he should fuck your virgin ass next, stuff it full of his cum and see what happens to that bratty mouth of yours then. Shut you up a bit.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Just— keep still for me.”

Well, can’t be having his little new pet go frustratingly neglected like that, can he?

—

Kylar, your precious little sister, all too eager to be the first, but the second to sink her mark into you. Convince you a bit more.

Needy as she was, she wasn’t as bad as the rest that inhabited this sick place you reluctantly called home, a flicker of warmth among the distant coldness that resided in this house. Much unlike her brother, the dark haired girl didn’t seem to dislike you in the slightest, often shooting you the smallest of smiles whenever you two briefly locked eyes at the dinner table or in the shared hallways by mere coincidence.

‘Course, she did have her questionable moments whenever you caught her rifling through your drawers, namely the ones where your underwear lay neatly folded in the cubicle space. Promptly muttering out an unbelievable excuse as to why she needed your boxers before bolting past your stunned self, red in the face. Or that time she had decided to curl up onto your bed, lovingly burying her nose into the warm, silken sheets that you slept in, relishing in that sweet scent of yours she’d catch a whiff of as you drew closer next to her at the table.

..Yeah, she certainly had unresolved issues, but it beat the constant poking fun at that Whitney would do. The rough shoving into the metallic lockers that’d clank heavily from your weight, the shared snickering that came along with it and the forced blow jobs that you had somehow eased into over time despite yourself. Fuck, why were you even thinking of that asshole?

Freak or not, she didn’t harbour any of the senseless cruelty this town had to selflessly offer and that was good enough. Enough so that you had found yourself increasingly spending more and more of your time with Kylar whenever you weren’t forcibly dragged along to some shoddy place your big brother roped you into, leaving the loner to her own whims for the day.

So it was no surprise then when the two of you grew closer, a little more than you had expected so to be the one sat onto her worn out bed, her hideaway — she’d call it, a moment of respite from the constant teasing she had to go through from her older brother. A means of escape, perhaps? And for you, it was no different either, all the same. Gladly listening to her overexcited rambling about this and that, about the fine mangas she had newly bought at the local, dusty library, the half priced anime figurines she had found on display beyond the glassy windows that separated them — matching pearly bracelets made of shiny gems and rocks carefully picked at the park she’d sow together to gleefully tuck around your wrist, whining sorrowfully at her own being too loose for her delicate wrists. Cute. Your little sister was real fucking cute, more so than you’d like to admit at times.

So much so you couldn’t ignore the growing knots in the pit of your stomach whenever your knees fortuitously bumped against each other, a sign — a silent, repetitive warning of your shared proximity that was crossing past the treacherous line of two mere siblings. Yeah. Okay. So you found her cute, so what? Big fucking deal. Plenty of guys found a girl cute, didn’t mean jack shit, didn’t mean they wanted to fuck her till she clenched pathetically around them, sniffling miserably at being fucked brutally by their kind, soft-spoken big brother they naively put their trust into. Right, that’s what you were. Nothing more. A responsible big brother she could certainly put her faith into since her other piece of shit brother couldn’t bother with that shitty role, something you’d curse him for on the daily. One she could seek out at a moment’s notice, spend time with to her heart’s content like a normal, unsuspecting relationship between siblings should be.

Not some perverted creep of a big brother who’d steal periodic glances her way, instinctively trailing down to the soft, plump and pink flesh of her parted lips, glistening sinfully from the wetness of her saliva — a habit she unconsciously did despite claiming not to. Gulping thickly, you hadn’t registered how her seamless chatter had ceased to a stop, deafening silence befalling upon the both of you as you stared at each other like some sort of stiff actors awaiting for the next act on stage. Wait, were you staring? Fuck, you were — and she hadn’t failed to notice by the looks of it, blooming flush adorning her pretty, pale cheeks you’d like to press gentle, reassuring kisses to, squeeze under the weight of your palm. Maybe have her spill a few stray droplets of tears across the rosy surface while you’re at it, make her cry the same way Whitney did.

Oh, you’re such a fucking bastard for this one.

“W-What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Her sudden squeak had you stilling in your tracks, twisting the spread sheets without meaning to from the timid pitch of her shrill voice. Look at her, trying to hide behind her torn sleeves in an attempt to draw attention away from her bashful blush, becoming a fidgeting mess under your gaze.

Fuck, no. It was more than that, Kylar. It was the pout of your lips that you wore, the black strands of hair that frames your face so beautifully, the exposed sliver of skin of your thighs from that short skirt you slipped on. It was all you, but dammit all — fuck.

“Hm? No, it’s nothing — really.” Liar. Drawing back to create a manageable amount of space between you both, a reminder not to act upon those disgusting urges of yours, better not to. Bad idea to be thinking with your dick, no man’s ever made a reliable decision with that one. Even so, Whitney did it with you and — nothing particularly bad happened, did it? Would it be so wrong, if you were to do the same? Selfishly grasp for what you so dangerously desire, drop meaningless hints here and there to care for her wants, such a gentler option than any other boy could ever treat your dearest little sister?

Would it?

Too lost in your endless train of thoughts, your eyes connecting with Kylar’s green own that bore with such intensity you hadn’t seen before, almost as if contemplating — no, waiting for something to happen. Though you couldn’t tell what it was, her actions were enough so to speak on their own with how she shifted considerably towards you, used mattress dipping from the creaking weight over the wooden floorboards. Ah, was she..?

“Ky—?”

Before your mind was even fully given the chance to process it, like the leap taken before the shuddering dip of a waterfall, her inexperienced, virgin lips clumsily smashed into yours, knocking the wind out of the both of you from the abrupt step taken by your little sister. Sweet. So sweet. Pink tongue tentatively swiping along the scarlet cut of your bottom lip, ushered gasps accompanied by startled squeaks as she timidly gave you what she thought was a simple kiss, but felt more like a pornographic make out session with how she so desperately shoved her tongue deeper. More. Wants more of this, more of that honeyed taste she yearned to savour, to finally enjoy while her other dumb brother so greedily took you away every time she wished to be the one at your side instead. It wasn’t fair, not fair at all! He’s so mean, so why does he get to string you along whenever he so pleases? Should be her, only be her to fill that solemn space. Only her, only her—

“W-Wait, wait— Kyl— fuck.”

As if struck by the weight of what she had just done, the loner recoiled back instantly in a fit of panic from the sheer brashness of her actions. Oh, how could she let herself so easily fall to such temptations? What if you hated her now? Or worse, were repulsed by the kiss? Wouldn’t be able to live it down then, quivering lips and bubbling tears threatening to spill freely down the length of her flushing cheeks from her overactive imagination running rampant — because she’d rather die than to have you loathe her so.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to— umm.. I thought that maybe you.. wanted me to—“ The girl stuttered uselessly, trailing off in an aimless direction only to shrink back in her unbecoming position. Silence only answered her in return which she took as the harsh reality of rejection, mustering up all the courage she possibly had in her lithe frame to at the very least subtly peek at the current expression painted along your face. Would it be anger? Disgust? Disappointment even? Surely if you hated it that much, you’d have plainly kicked her right off the bed by now, right? Storm out in a fit of shock and never so much as glance her way again.

The sight to greet her instead wasn’t an unwelcome one though — no, far from it actually, her gaze deliberately falling upon the blazing flush of your face down to the evident bulge straining painfully between your legs, palm nervously placed over it in a half-assed attempt to keep your dignity at bay — shit. It’s one thing to be kissed by your younger sister but to get fucking hard from it is like shameful admission on its own, a visceral reaction that could not be denied no matter what reasonable excuses may tumble from your lips. “..It’s fine. I don’t mind, actually.” You’re really no better than Whitney in that aspect, but when an opportunity presents itself, it’s only fair to mindlessly grasp for it, is it not? More worrying is the debauched idea that forms in your mind in regard to the enamoured expression worn by her wobbly lips and wide-eyed look, not-so-subtly rubbing her plush thighs together in a hint of arousal. Oh, so that’s how it is. If the sloppy kiss itself didn’t confirm it then this surely did, a surge of confidence rushing momentarily through your body at your next actions. “Like I said, it���s fine, Ky.” That fucking nickname again. Unable to stop yourself from dragging your cute little sister closer towards you till she consequently found herself comfortably placed onto your lap, blinking stupidly at the bold move done by her normally gloomy, big brother. Silly girl.

“Siblings do it all the time, it’s not weird. It’s natural.” Lying through your goddamn teeth with a certain ease that even surprises you internally, but oh, is it so worth it as her viridescent eyes glimmer brightly to the whispered reassurance in your casual tone, acceptance easily slipping through. “But Whitney and I don’t—“ She starts, only for you to immediately latch onto her endless questioning with the seed having already been planted, too late to fucking back out now. “You and I are different. I’m nice to you and you’re nice to me, so it’s normal if you want to. We can do that cuz’ everyone else does it, alright? You don’t have to be shy with me about it, Ky.” Every carefully measured word to make it seem as though this was the norm, knowing fully you’d be seen as freaks and degenerates by your peers attending the nearby school. Not that they didn’t already think so with Kylar, the rumors having grown out to such an unhealthy proportion that it pestered the poor girl at every corner in the narrow hallways. Poor thing.

So isn’t it your job as her big brother to make it all go away? Make her feel better.

“Shh, just let me..” Soothing circles rhythmically rubbed in a recognizable pattern along the edges of her skirt, repeated affirmations of want so as to ease her chattering mind over the possible morality of this newfound situation. Could’ve said no if she didn’t secretly desire this, though her actions seem to say so otherwise with how she earnestly complies, willingly tucking her arms to her sides to let your hands do the rest. Good girl. So docile, like a porcelain doll, sharpening breaths noticeably deepening from the careful tugs of her short skirt, revealing the confirmation of her depraved wants as the wet patch of slick soaking through her plain, white panties is bared. Your adorable little sister isn’t so innocent as you thought, is she? Contrary to her modest choice of underwear. Getting fucking wet solely from being leered at so openly by her step brother, even going so far as to spread her soft legs for better viewing.

“See? Isn’t it frustrating to be left all worked up like this?” Agreeing nods promptly interrupted by the press of your thumb against her clothed slit, such a sweet, hitched gasp elicited from the lazy circles traced onto her swollen, twitching clit. A free view of your younger sister’s scrunched up expression morphing to one of pure, unadulterated pleasure, scarred fingertips tightly clutching at the fabric of your shirt, but that’s the least of your concerns at the moment, really. “This good?” There’s no real need to ask when you can naturally rely on the shivering of her dainty figure, breathy moans of y-yes and feels good! along with the guiding of her needy fingers, flush against her slicked heat. A flick of your thumb is all it takes to have her turn into a babbling mess, bucking her hips up to meet your cupped palm, incidentally grinding onto your aching hard-on. “S-Shit, okay. Look at you, hah — so fucking wet already.” Barely able to discern the own pitch of your voice, but who the fuck is supposed to properly maintain their composure when your little sister is so prettily begging for your cock?

Effortlessly peeling away at the sticky fabric of her cotton panties, slipping it down the length of her legs to thoughtlessly throw away onto the wooden floor beneath. No time to fucking think, not with how cute her cunt looks, pink and dripping with slick coating the smooth surface of her inner thighs. Ah, and she’s already impatiently fumbling with your belt too, smiling so happily once it loosens to eventually tug your own underwear down too, leaking cock eagerly springing free from its restraints. “Want it that bad, lil sis?” Fuck, does it feel wrong to even be calling her so in your current predicament, yet so damn right too. The pleading nods, urgently clinging to your frame to press against as she grinds her sopping cunt along your flushed tip, whining whenever it knocks just right up against her puffy clit, squelching from the melding fluids. “W-Want it, want it inside, please.”

“B-Big brother—“

As much as you like the high-pitched mumblings of your dearest Kylar, there’s really only so much edging you can take before promptly snapping your hips up in tandem with her own, relishing in the slippery warmth that lovingly welcomes you, stretched folds accommodating to the sheer girth of your length. “Oh, fuck — Fuck, just relax for me. You feel so.. hah, so good.” Collectively sighing in relief at the intrusion of your pulsing cock squeezed so nicely by her constricting walls, having to steel yourself from the tight suck of her cunt snugly wrapped around your tip. “You’re doing so good for me, taking me so well.” Softly hushing her breathy whines intertwined with a mix of pain and pleasure, fingertips digging harshly in the tender flesh of her hips to guide her quivering frame up and down the length of your cock. Isn’t this what she wanted after all? Such a quick learner too, steadily bouncing to match the pace you had set, your wandering hands slipping past the hem of her loose shirt to greedily palm at her perky breasts which prompts another moan to exit her parted lips. Uncaring for the increasingly noticeable squeaking of the worn mattress when your little sis is so cutely riding you, doing her very best to satisfy your immoral urges and have you mark her slicked insides with your seed.

“What a good sister.. So good, aren’t you?” Cute, pink tongue poking out, begging for another messy kiss pressed onto her swollen lips which you dutifully oblige with another muffled groan. Sloppily planting your own against hers, treasuring every shuddered gasp to swallow down and stifling her open mewls. It’s borderline disgusting how desperate you are, savouring every thick inch engulfed by the sloppy suck of her baby sister pussy, reappearing briefly only to bury yourself balls deep once more into her defiled cunt. Isn’t really your fault with how fucking tight she is, is it? Barely grasping the reality of the situation which is the very high possibility of being heard from outside her room right this moment, but fuck — you can’t slow down, not right now, not when you’re already on the verge of spilling your cum deep inside. Damn Whitney, the bastard. Damn to hell your parents, your indecisive mother and her new husband, this is heaven itself right here. “I’m close—“ You huff out in a sort of warning, though it’s more of an invitation to Kylar, an opportunity for you to shoot your thick seed in her wanting hole, practically locking her legs tight around your waist.

Anything for you after all, huh? Her beloved. Her darling. You just didn’t know it yet! And to say it came true on its own, openly enjoying the sensation of your fat cock instinctively fucking into her tight, little sister hole. So close.

“Cum inside me, please. Let’s finish together, big brother. I-I’m close too—“

And that’s all you really need, precise thrusts upwards hastily turning into erratic humps to lazily grind against her ass, wanting nothing more but to see the dumb, drooling, fucked out expression painted across her adorable face, the convulsing of her cunt stuffed full of your length when she does have her first ever orgasm. A few clumsy circles drawn over her used clit is all it takes to have her cumming, slick trickling out of her fluttering cunt to drip over the base of your cock and stain the pristine sheets beneath. “Ah— God, you’re so fucking tight.” Fuck, fuck, fuck — Shoving the hilt of your cock as deep as possible into your little sister’s stretched out hole to rightfully mark her pink insides with your seed, spurting out thick, white strings of cum while you fuck yourself deeper into her womb and downright have her experience her first ever accidental cream pie too. It’s only then when she pitifully whines for you to stop that you do eventually pause, hips drawing back to stare in awe at the dribbling globs of cum spilling out of her sore cunt. “S-Sorry.” You mutter out apologetically with a sigh, the tension easing out of your muscles once she giggles softly in response to your strained apology. “It’s okay. I-I liked it a lot too.”

“Did you?”

“Mhm, I did.” Kylar sleepily mumbles back with drowsy eyelids, the exhaustion washing both over you all at once from, well.. all the movement involved. Let’s leave it at that, actually. Plus you deserve the rest, don’t you? Wouldn’t be fair to leave your adorable sister all alone in her twin bed without her older brother’s body to warm it with too, yeah? It’s fine to lay yourself down next to her curled figure snuggling closely against yours, drape an arm over her waist to remind her of your presence close by, make her feel secure and at ease. A silent, ushered promise to clean her up later once you two awaken, affectionately pressing a single kiss atop her head one last time before sleep takes her first. It’s your role to as the big brother, after all, isn’t it?

“..Good.”

#fuck #..fucking never. ever. writing this much within the span of a few days. ever. #FUCK SCENES WERE NASTY!!!! FUUUCKKK!! #I’m not beating the siscon allegations with this one #off to blow my brains out now #dol #degrees of lewdity #ITS ALL IN THE FAMILY. #whitney the bully #kylar the loner #bailey the caretaker #robin the orphan #big brother whitney #little sister kylar #daddy bailey #bottom male reader #top male reader #x male reader #character x male reader #asher writes

[jschrepp-illustrations]

Class of 1181 Yearbook - Blue Lions

#fanart #fe3h #illustrators on tumblr #oh no dont make me list every name #sylvain jose gautier #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #ingrid brandl galatea #dedue molinaro #felix hugo fraldarius #ashe ubert #mercedes von martritz #annette fantine dominic #blue lions #I made this like half a year ago whoops #also hopefully clicking it shows it in a better quality? unclear #yay they graduated without issue #no dont look up the actual plot of fe3h #nothing happens the school year is uneventful

[prettyboykatsuki]

BLOOD FEUDS, ANCIENT AND MODERN | RYOMEN SUKUNA.

✮ tags ; no curses au, blood incest, use of honorifics (oji-san) abuse (mostly verbal / emotional), classism, grooming / generally predatory behavior, large age gaps (20+ yrs), blood feuds, imbalanced power dynamics, white collar crime, afab + fem!niece!reader, uncle sukuna, the word rape used in text, non/dubcon (not noncon necessarily), fingering, petnames (little one, kid, little lamb), thigh-fucking, and other things, very horrible and gross sukuna behavior 18+

this is very dark and it deals BRIEFLY with sukuna being very predatory to reader when she's UNDERAGE / young. nothing explicit happens WHILE she is underage, but sukuna does leer at reader and it is mentioned. please proceed with caution !!!

PLEASE HEED THE TAGS BEFORE YOU PROCEED!!!

✮ wc ; 10.3k (???????????)

✮ a/n ; thank you vic @saintshigaraki for always indulging my nonsense and also tomfoolery. kissing you.

i'll be honest lads this one got away from me BAD jksdfhjs. i think its interesting at least.I KNOW THE TAGS ARE WICKED but i promise its like. kind of sexy at least.

also yes the title is from the rdr2 soundtrack shhh

✮ synopsis ; blood is thicker than water. resentment, you think, is thicker than both.

Bastard.

An intimately familiar title, lacking tooth and effect. It's meaning eroded with time and usage - and a moniker you've wielded proudly for as long as you can remember. You don't recall much of your life before it became part of you.

The daughter born of wedlock. Bastard daughter. The only remaining stain to your family's reputation aside from your late father.

Your mother often tells you that you were her hardest child to birth. When you were littler it was a story relayed to you with affection, and but now it's with such bitter hatred you can feel it lodged in your throat.

The most important element is the predestination in it. You came into the world kicking and screaming, throat hoarse and violent. From birth, you knew you were half-forged with bad blood and came into the world trying to be absolved of it. It's shaped your life, your relationships, everything about you.

The other half of your DNA, the good half, is from your father. Before you were a bastard, you were your parents' only child. Your father was a good man. The best you know. An average, humble man. From a generation of other working class men with a tough job in construction. Your best memories come from when he was still alive.

A quiet life, untainted by the residual bitterness of your mothers heritage. You lived away from it, outside of it. The mother in your memories from back then seem like a dream now, some mirage from long ago - disinterested in anything but you and your father. Your mama and papa. Your father took good care of you both, and your mother loved him madly.

You lived as a normal family in a small apartment just outside of Gifu for the first seven years of your life. You attended a small local school and had friends with crooked teeth and messy hair.

Your childhood was mostly happy if you break it up into pieces like that. Blissfully uneventful.

There's a concise break of change of what your life was versus what became of it. Your fathers death the splinter in the wood, separating the two halves.

The worst of your childhood, of course, came in your fathers passing. Not just because of the loss, but what it made of your life. His funeral welcomed people of all walks of life with the most notable absence of your elusive mothers side of the family.

Another old memory you have with your mother is looking at her face during your fathers wake. The deep darkness of her eyes, sunken in and hollow. The first time you ever found her terrifying instead of comforting. While the world mourned your father, your mother—you think—mourned her life.

Forced into single motherhood with no prospects and no career, your mother decided it was best for the both of you to return home.

You think the worst of your life started there.

Your mother's side of the family has never welcomed you with open arms. You wouldn't come to know why until much later. You were a child then. There's no way you could've known about feuds that deep.

The only thing you knew was that you were hated vehemently, and nothing could change that.

Your grandmother's estate was always frightening to you in your childhood. You've yet to grow out of that feeling despite living there for the last fifteen years. It's remained unchanged since you moved in and the lights in the hall never seems bright enough. Jade green painted walls and white tile floors. Some rooms have classically Japanese flooring and heirloom paintings from the Heian era. Others modernized with sterile whites and grays and house plants that add no life to it at all. Stretched wide with tens of rooms, and easy for a child to get lost in.

A sinking abyss. A terrible place. A dark labyrinth. Anxiety inducing to even think about now. No place for a child your size or your age.

The best way to describe your childhood after your father died was cold. Removed from your life in the suburbs and placed among other rich kids, you became overtly self-conscious of the differences between you and them. Them being anyone who grew up wealthy and your other extended family. You were constantly reminded of your place as the bastard child. Later learning how your mother left her fiance many years ago for your father, your poor and worthless father.

(You theorize any warmth that your mother had for you was buried in your dead dads casket. Living there, among them, made sure she'd never find it again.)

Your mother is the most complicated part of your life. You don't have a time for when she gave up on raising you. There was a year when she tried, you think. For the most part, you lived in that house utterly alone. 

At first that abandonment was miserable (as it would be to any child, certainly) but a time came where you were glad you saw so little of her.

Your mother, who you had once loved and thought highly of, became a pitiful prey animal in the four walls of your grandmother's house. Small and anxious and utterly hateful. A bunny born with some cosmic knowledge and horrific understanding that its destiny is to become food for a wolf. Viciousness between her siblings, no doubt fostered by your grandparents and their establishment, tore apart the aspects of her your father mended and ruined her. You were too little to stop it. 

Blood feuds that ran bone-chillingly deep plagued most of the interactions with your extended family for as long as you've been a part of them. Your mother has exactly four siblings. Two sisters between her with her as the middle daughter, and two brothers. One of which is estranged so completely you don't know his name.

And the other being your Uncle Sukuna.

Your hatred for your aunts and their children came to you rather naturally. For every gala and ball and charity fund your worthless bloodline ever raised, came catty arguments and verbal abuse from the shallow mouths of your beloved cousins. You had nothing to prove to anyone in that house. You were detested since your birth and your grandparents made no small effort to show you through as much neglect and verbal lashing as they could get away with.

Rotten girl. Cursed daughter. You're the reason your mother is like this. You're the reason she is miserable. You should've been buried with your father.

Compared to the experience of your grandfather ripping into you at age ten for simply being alive, your cousin's commentary on you was remarkably uninteresting. You resented them for being nuisances, though, with the exception of maybe one who bucked it out of that place as soon as they could. Just like you planned too.

For a long time, Sukuna wasn't around enough to have a real presence in your consciousness. You tried not to think of your extended family more than you had too. You got used to not knowing about your relatives living there, but there was no one so elusive as him.

It was as if, increasingly, you heard whispers of his name at everything you were forced to attend.

The first time you ever meet your Uncle, you're freshly sixteen. It's the birthday party your mother throws for you each year in an effort to show how close the two of you are to the rest of your relatives.

The first time you see Sukuna in person, the only thing on your mind is how much he stands out from the rest of your relatives. He's a head taller than the tallest person there, and he's...bigger. He's not clean or neat, scruff lining his chin. Old, dark eyes. Visible tattoos that reek of disgraced son and hardly of prodigy.

At sixteen, you understood intimately what your family considered to be gold standard. Your uncle was antithetical to it. His very existence a paradox to the ideas you've had been hammered into you for years. Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos - his suit jacket undone to expose his chest. Lacking respect and formality and dignity. 

He was a lot like you. You got that impression, somehow.

When your eyes met with your uncles for the first time, you had your second fully formed thought about him.

Dangerous. Like an alarm. Like a ringing bell, throbbing through your skull and pulsing through your teeth. Some part of you just knew that he was a very dangerous man. Not just a wealthy one.

The first conversation you ever had with your uncle proves to be the most significant. Brief, yet - tonal in all ways. The gold standard for how he viewed you. How he would view you.

How he would treat you.

("So you're the new brat,"

Your uncle is an imposing man. You are sixteen and slightly tipsy, which is the least horrible thing you could be since your other cousin is coked out in the bathroom upstairs. You sway, staring at him. You think that's disrespectful.

He's the kind of man who might kill you for that. Might hit you. But you don't find it in yourself to challenge your defiance when you're far from sober and even father form happy. You lean your weight to one side and hum.

"New bastard," You correct him, and take another sip of the flute of champagne in your hand. "My worthless fathers, worthless daughter."

Sukuna pauses, his eyes widening before his lips break out into a grin. You wonder if it's because you're drunk. You think he's staring at you. Your eyes are too blurry to tell but you think he's gazing down the low dip of your top. At the curve of your chest. Leering at the body you've yet to even grow into.

"Tenacious," Your uncle says, and takes a long drink of his sake. You stare at the edge of his glass, carmine eyes gazing so deeply at you - you think you'll throw up. "You're your mothers daughter. Through and through.")

The night of your sixteenth birthday, your uncle announced he'd be opening a business venture in Tokyo. All this time he'd been doing work overseas, but seeing family helped finalized his decision. You remember the look on his face when he announced it. Remembered his eyes searching on you through the crowd as he held the mic up to his lips. How he named you the main reason, one conversation and he grew so fond of his little niece. That you were a clever girl, and that even though he hadn't known you long - he was sure you'd go so far.

Happy Birthday to you, little lamb.

You remember best the feeling afterwards. How the crowd went nearly silent. Hundreds of eyes darting your way in seas of strangers. All the attention people hadn’t paid suddenly mattering, all the congratulations. You remember how they crowded you and how your uncle came to your rescue with a cheeky grin and air of nonchalance.

You remember feeling sick. You remember the chill creeping up your spine, bile in your throat - all wet eyes and nausea.

Your uncle is a dangerous man. And you, the uninteresting bastard daughter, had caught his full attention.

The next four years of your life would pass so slowly, you often wondered during them, if you died that night and you'd live through these days as punishment for the crime of existing.

A little after your birthday, your uncle moved back to Japan permanently - in a residence not far from your grandmother's estate. He became a permanent fixture in your life. Many things came with that reality, none of them being especially pleasant.

You learn three things in the four years you spend with your uncle in your life.

The first is that your uncle is more powerful than you can really understand.

Through conversations at your kitchen table about his escapades abroad, you learn nothing of the work he actually does. Only what it involves, who it involves - foreign governments and people much more powerful than your family. Your uncle has ties to the Gojo family, and the Zenins'. Your time here teaches you that they make up two halves of private militarized arms and they work domestically and internationally. The only thing you need to know about them is they are filthy rich, richer than your own family and twice as corrupt.

And Sukuna works with them. Knows them rather intimately, from the pictures you've seen of Sukuna and Gojo Satoru drinking together - two prodigal sons with silver spoons and unsettling demeanors.

The second thing you learn is that your uncle's power and influence extend past all borders and include your grandparents and relatives. In the years he'd been away from home, he's garnered a formidable reputation. You never cared to notice it before, but it's all you can see now. Every arrogant, vapid relative you have the displeasure of calling family sees your uncle as some sort of king. The golden ticket to grandparents approval. A wishing well for all their hopes and dreams - so long as they appease him.

They fawn over him. Sukuna knows it. But they're all so busy trying to get on his good side they never catch his subtleties. Never seem to notice the cold sarcasm and biting edge to his questions. They pander and peacock to him constantly, but not one of them has sense enough to understand him a little deeper. Except you, incidentally. That's part of your problem

The third thing you learn about your uncle is that he takes pleasure in your cleverness no one in your life has since.... who knows? Since your father died, you think.

And you are clever. A head smarter than the rest of your family and a try-hard in all aspects. You graduated highschool top of your class and got scholarships into better schools. It was never about proving your worth of course, but about survival. You wanted away from this place, and the only way to cut your ties completely is to carve a life for yourself. Academia, education, using your name to make connections - you've been working silently on it since you were in middle school.

The only person who'd ever noticed your accomplishments was Sukuna. In between his work, he'd visit you in your room. You grew close in one sense of the word. It was a secret kept between you - but Sukuna often reminded you of it. That he saw you for who you were when no one else did. That his interest in you exceeds your own understanding, and it'd be in your best interest to remember that.

Some half-way between threats and affection, for four years - your uncle remained at your side. Uneasy as you were, he'd never try to advance on you while you were still in highschool. Some part of you knew he wasn't above it. Rather his interest hinged on getting to know you.

Your uncle is above all things manipulative.

Rather he preferred to keep you on your toes during the duration of your time together. To get close but not too close. To get to know each other openly. Your uncle made sure everyone in your family knew of his fondness for you. He'd keep you close to his side or follow you around, always in public places with a million eyes. He'd whisper to you, laughed and asked questions.

You hated being the center of attention, so Sukuna turned it on you any chance he got. It made it hard for you to refuse him, but mostly it made it hard to go under the radar without his protection. It made it hard for your relatives to insult and berate you.

You hated it. You hated accepting his kindness, because you know your uncle well enough to know that everything in the world came with a cost. And that this protection is little more than luxury, promised to you as long as you played nice.

And you always did play nice. But you were cautious. Never alone too long in the same room. Never somewhere too late. Never drunk, never high. Always within distance of a door. Sukuna was a dangerous man, and you may be a bastard but you're no fool.

It'd work for years. You evaded any real alone time with him for years. Years.

Until earlier this year where your mother had made arrangements for you to spend the summer with your dear old Uncle - in his villa, far from the safety of Japan's main island.

In the years of your uncle's favoritism towards you, no one has been more pleased than your mother. You've come to hate her for it. Your relationship hasn't been good in years and for her to suddenly attempt to be your mother again felt like a mockery.

(It mostly felt like a betrayal. You didn't think she could betray you a second time after she all but abandoned you the minute she stepped foot in that house.

Like something possessing the corpse of the mama in your dreams, your seething hatred towards her started then you think.)

You'd spent years indifferent to her, but it was this change that made you hate her down to your bones. You were furious about the decision. Furious she didn't bother asking, furious about all of it.

About everything.

An entire summer alone with the man you know to be most dangerous to you. You wouldn't put it past Sukuna, to plan this around you - but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

("You'll be going with your uncle," Your mother says, hardly listening to you. There's a baby on her hip, your half-brother and a vacant look in her eyes. You feel your jaw tighten. "We've already made plans. Your stepfather,"

"Your husband." You correct. Your mother gives you a tight-lipped smile.

"We are going on a family vacation. Your grandparents wouldn't tolerate you here alone , so you're going and that's final."

"I don't need to live with you," You seethe, fighting the urge to grab her and punch her. You've never been violent. Your mother makes you homicidal. "I can find my own fucking place, I'm twenty I don't need-"

She slams something. Your half-brother makes watery eyes. She stares at you distantly, righteously angry. Whether she's earned that anger or not, it makes your mood worse. .

"This is the least you could for me. For us." She hisses, turning around. You think of killing her. "For all the shit you put me through."

"What I put you through? Fuck you," You admit, your throat burning like a star falling through the atmosphere. Then, through a shaky breath"There's something off about him, mom. Do you understand what I'm fucking saying? Where you're sending me?

Three expressions pass over her face. The ghost of grief, some kind of solace and then more vacancy. She swallows, turns around to keep folding baby clothes. Her voice trembles. She knows she's sending you to your doom. Knows what waits for you as soon as you go.

"You're going. We need this." She says, and still doesn't turn to look at you. Her voice is so frigid it doesn't sound like hers anymore. "That's final."

You shouldn't be shocked by it anymore, but it doesn't make it easier.

You slam the door on your wait out. You hope their plane crashes on the way there.)

You tried your best to worm your way out of the situation before the semester closed out. But Sukuna, three steps ahead of you at all times, made sure that wasn't possible. Your uncle owned a villa out on an island, private - and the bags had already been packed. You'll like it there, he assured you so many times, it's comfortable. There's a good view and the kids in the place will remind you of the kids you grew up with.

(It's hard not to notice the ways in which Sukuna tempts you into wanting to go. Though there's nothing, truly, that could make the experience a pleasant one - it's posed to appeal to you. A place to remind you of your childhood. You try not to think about it.)

Despite your protests, despite your vehement frustration - there was nothing you could do but go. If you didn't go with Sukuna, it'd be enduring 3 months alone with your grandparents. You could try to crash with friends but the friends you've made so far wouldn't dream of being so polite and you dare not think of burdening your childhood friends with your family problems. They deal with enough as is.

The last option was running away. You're desperate enough to entertain it. You do, several times - considering what the worst outcome could be. All scenarios end with Sukuna coming to find you, because he's crazy and connected like that. Even if he's deliberate in not displaying those parts of himself, you know his apathy to be a facade.

You know him well. He knows you well. It feels like a competition to see who can outsmart the other that you were forced into with no say.

So, come the end of your third year of college - a driver picks you up right as your finals are finished to take you to the airport. A private jet, a nauseating display of wealth just for your uncle to torment you with you're sure.

On the plane ride to a small island on the coast of Japan, you think to yourself that all gods in the world must've abandoned you before you were ever born.

__

The first few weeks of your stay in the island of Nii-jima prove to be uneventful.

For a small island, it's still governed through something related to Tokyo. It's not the city or even the country, some quiet and relaxing in between. There are people here who've lived for generations and others who are only touring. Your uncle's villa though, is far from all life - and a few miles out from a beach.

You can hardly understand what a single man needs such a big house for. There's staff there too, though less than at your grandparents place which you're grateful for. You've met six of eight, two of them people who take care of the yards and garden.

Sato-san is the woman you see most often. The one cook Sukuna has and the woman who's been working longest. She is kindhearted and sturdy, often bringing her grandchildren with her. She's quiet and motherly - and so warm you're unsure of how to behave around her. Your uncle is seemingly fond of her which is saying a lot. She speaks highly of him. 

It's been so long since you've experienced something like maternal warmth, you're awkward around her. You try to not be too attached, try not to be fond of anything in this house because you know something horrible and dormant lies within it and you do not want to stay. Don't even want to entertain the idea of staying.

But Sato-san is good to you, with wrinkles and sunspots and a bright laugh. Her grandchildren are so well-behaved you wonder about how they were raised. A girl about seven and a boy about four, always quiet and inattentive. You've grown fond of them too, despite how bad you normally are with children. They're easy to be around.

You're frustrated mainly because you don't hate being here. The people are kind and welcoming and everyone locally is pleasant and good. You've been in the city too long, with insane people too long, and everything feels refreshing. The bus here is free and you can be at the beach whenever you like. You've made friends here - organically, with no strings attached. .

For the first time in your twenty years of living, you even have a guy you think is cute. It seems small, but back home everyone knows who you are. You've never had a relationship work out for one reason or another, but here? Here no one knows you, and the boy you meet at the beach with his friends is just a boy.

You don't want to like being here, but you do - and you don't want Sukuna to come back and he will. Nothing ever works out for you.

The worst of your luck you think builds on the edge of that thought.

You come home tonight doing a lot of things you would not normally. 

For one, you've gotten yourself drunk. The reason being the cute boy aforementioned invited you down to the beach with his friend. You justified going thinking if you were going to be miserable all summer - a single good memory wouldn't kill you.

You had fun. Your swimsuit is underneath your short skimpy clothes, and you sat in his lap and made-out with him all evening. Got to pretend you were a normal girl and you got to kiss for the first time. You still reek of alcohol and his cheap cologne. Blissfully uneventful. 

When you stumble into the foyer of the house with blurry vision and hear the T.V. playing, you know it instinctively that peace is going to be short-lived. You know that your uncle is home, and that he was waiting for you.

All the hairs on your neck raise. A shift in the atmosphere makes it hard to think clearly. Your lungs barely get enough oxygen in them to keep you upright. You think of leaving. You think of running up marble stairs to your room in hopes he won't catch you.

"Brat," Is yelled from the living room. Right, as if you'd ever get so lucky. You jump in your skin. "You home?"

Your stomach churns. You feel sick.

"Come to the living room."

You go obediently when Sukuna calls you, trying not to stumble over your two feet.You don’t think there’s more options than fearful compliance. 

Your uncle is watching Scarface on the big flatscreen on the TV. The subtitles are on in Japanese though you don't think he needs them. He only barely turns his head to look at you, his interest piqued when he sees what you're wearing.

You feel sixteen again, self-conscious of your body and womanhood. He hides it even less than he did the first time - the leering. He notices your skimpy shorts and top, the bottom of your bikini. And he grins, and stares but doesn't say anything.

"Oh?" He says, calm and casual, glancing back at the T.V. "Finally went and had some fun did you? Thought all that studying turned you into a bookish little shut-in permanently."

You don't say anything, arm clutching your other self-consciously.

"Did you need something?"

He snickers, low and predatory. "Come on. You're here to spend time with me so let's spend time together."

You don’t bother asking where he’s been for the last few weeks.  Your gut churns, feet heavy as they drag you to the far end of the couch. Sukuna stares as you sit hesitantly. You have no doubt he's going to make you move, but he's kind enough to leave you alone for now.

"Have fun on your..." He gives you another knowing look then laughs. "Outing?"

You aren't sure how to respond. "Just drank with some friends."

"Friends," He mimics, feeling the words out in his mouth. "The kind of friends that smudge the lipstick off your mouth, huh brat?"

You flush suddenly, embarrassed - and Sukuna barks a laugh. You don't know what he's expecting you to say there so you opt for nothing.

"Sorry," Is the only thing you can manage. Placating. He lets out a puff of air through his nose and relaxes further. There's an air to him, of nonchalance, that unsettles you more than if he was angry or unpleasant. Your throat bobs.

"You're a big girl now," He comments - sleazy and indignant. His indecency towards you, about you glints like a star. A sharp canine and piercing red eyes examine you from his peripherals. "Now that you're showing off it's only natural boys flock to you, hm?"

You can't explain the way this comment makes you feel. So much said with so little. The gap between is and has always been miles wide except sometimes it's not. Your uncle is unusual. Cold-blooded, manipulative, ruthless. There's no warmth in him in a comfortable, loving way. 

There's even less of a normal relationship between you.

But you both exist in this space with... similar awareness. Of the world. Of yourselves. There's a conscious intelligence to him that's reflected in you - that you are both fractured parts of your grandparents bloodline in two separate bodies. That self-awareness affords him a presence. In your mind. In your fear.

You are undoubtedly related. Sukuna revels in that.

It’s rare to see that kind of awareness in your family. You’ve never felt threatened by people dumber than you, even if they had more power or money. Vapid and shallow and useless - there’d never been anything that could win you on. It might sound cocky, but it’s true. It’s been true. 

It’s why Sukuna frightens you. He has everything, but above all - he’s smart. And hard for you to read. 

You swallow, shakily - your eyes looking down at your hands. In a profoundly long beat of silence, the movie plays. A fair bit of gunshots echo through the loud speaker and they startle you.

"You scared? Come sit closer, then." He tells you, less than asks you.

You stand and sit next to him, still a distance away. Sukuna remains unmoving. You don't know what to do with yourself.The silence seems to stretch for miles and minutes. Sukuna just watches the T.V. and stares at his phone - occasionally answering messages. You stay like that for a long time. 

"Need a smoke," He says, and it's not really directed at you. "Maybe later. Wouldn't wanna make you sick."

"People smoke around me all the time."

"Do you smoke?"

You shake your head, too tipsy to lie. He laughs at that. "Not even weed?"

You don't bother mentioning legality, you both know it doesn't matter between your lineage.

"Don't like the taste."

"How interesting. What a straight-edge kid. Most I've seen you get is drunk and this is the drunkest I've ever seen you. Still sober enough to talk clearly though."

"I just drink socially,"

"Ohh," He says, and then grins a little sharper. "A little shot of courage to fuck that little college boy then?"

This makes you jolt. "We didn't fuck—"

"No?" He looks genuinely surprised at this, though it's mild. "Poor kid must've wanted too if you came around him wearing that. Unless he came in his pants soon as you sat on him. Boys that age do stuff like that,"

The comment about his age reminds you of how old your uncle really is, and something in your chest flares hot.

"It wasn't that either—I've never-"

He cuts you off. "You're a virgin?"

You flush, stopping yourself from answering and he laughs.

"Ohhh, that's good. Very good," He grins, so genuinely pleased it makes you shiver. "I like virgins. Easy to please."

"That's—It wasn't for you."

For the first time in your relationship, Sukuna bridges the gap between you. He sits up and forward, his hand finding the bare skin of your knee. He rests it there, his thumb circling the flesh.

"Don't touch me," You hiss. Sukuna tightens his grip, but not threateningly. He turns to look at you that time, and you can't help but look back.

There's something in his degeneracy that horrifies you. It's fondness, you think. Genuine fondness.

"You sure?" He licks his teeth in a way that reminds you of a wolf. But not one that's starving. There's no desperation in his actions, but a self-assurance. Wolves don't often survive alone, but Sukuna has. And he hungers with the confidence of a predator who has killed all that stand before him. That's never been told no to what he wants to eat.

Your heart stops. Your voice a low whisper. "Stop,"

"You say that but you came in the house looking all desperate for sex and approval. You always look like that. Have for a little longer than what's normal for a girl your age,"

"I don't look like that!"

"You would've fucked that little college twerp if you stayed wouldn't you? Nothing wrong with honesty, brat."

Before you have a chance to understand what goes on around you, Sukuna changes position. You've never gotten a chance to feel and experience how strong he is - not like the way he's manhandling you now. You gasp at the arm around your waist and back. He pins you to the couch in a swift motion, not sure how he's done it, the alcohol making you dizzy.

Sukuna has never crossed the boundary with you like this before. Your heart is thumping loud, beating against your ribs. The source of it eludes you. If it's fear or discomfort or some other thing entirely causing such noice. 

There's a certain blase in his attitude that makes you forget momentarily about the taboo and gives way just to the tension between you. You feel it for the first time with his body pressed against you, all hot and heavy. He smells of cologne, but it lacks the acidity cheap ones tend to have. There’s strong hints of cigarettes and aftershave accompanying it. Appearance wise, he has lines in his face like a man in his forties. 

You don't know what's wrong with you. With a relationship so fucked up from the start, you thought crossing this line would feel different. You think you want to throw up, but you're completely calm. 

You want to be disgusted. You want to thrash and kick and scream and fight. You squirm away from him, the threads of what's left of your moral conscience urging you to do so. Like a last ditch effort to keep you sane. 

But there's just. Something. Something so inevitable about it that your heart doesn't beat at all. The panic itself feels hollow in nature. You are a rotted log and Sukuna has ripped the soft wood out of you with relative ease. But you’ve been that way for a long time, and nothing hurts. Not really.  

It's relieving in the worst way. 

"Get away from me,” You whisper again with noticeably less fight. Sukuna looks at you bright-eyed.

"You're a good kid," He says. The genuine praise knocks the air out of your lungs. That disgusts you more than anything else happening between you so far. "Interesting. A lot brighter than the other kids in our family."

Our family. You wince. .

"Stop, this is—" You don't know what word to use. He's your uncle and you're his niece and he's been gazing at you like this for god knows how fucking long. "Stop."

"You've got something going on behind your eyes at least, even if you're still just a wet-nosed and angry little housecat," He says, staring down at you. He's so imposing. His facial hair and his various tattoos. Everything about him, down to his bones. "But I can't tear my eyes away from you at the same time. You know that?."

You do know that. You cast your gaze away.

"I applaud how cautious you've been. But it didn't make a difference in the end. You know that too, right?"

You don't say anything.

"Clever little lamb you are, indeed. I like that about you." He hums, leaning down closer to you. His face is inches from yours. "You should be smart enough to know how this ends. But you know, you've been so entertaining to me this whole time I feel like I should at least be a little nice. So I'll offer you something. A deal of sorts, we can even write it on paper."

This catches your interest and he knows it does. He knows. You’re cut from the same cloth. And this place has made you lose your character, just like it always does. So if it means your survival and sanity or your morals, one comes before the other.

He grins at you.

"Come stay with me. Here in Nii-jima and back at my estate at home. I'll take care of your expenses and whatever else. I have better connections than the old hag," He says, leaning down even closer to you. You can smell him. He's intoxicating "You can be away from everything. I'll even let you have boyfriends and girlfriends over. You can throw sleepovers. I don't care. You can do whatever you want."

"What's in it for you?"

You can feel his knee press up against your cunt through your shorts and you gasp, hand going up to his shoulder. "This. Been thinking about this tight little cunt for a while now. You'd have to be at my beck and call. We'd be the closest uncle and niece in all of Japan," He snickers.

You wince at the reminder. You hate yourself for considering it. "Why me? There are plenty of women who are dying to fuck you."

He scoffs a little. 

"Once we get you a little farther from the trenches kid, you might start to understand me. Wealth, fortune, fame - all of it's fucking boring. I came back to Japan prepared to leave again but you made me stay. Not much more to it than that."

"You're fucking your blood-niece out of curiosity? Your sister's daughter?"

"My sister never did anything good with her life except marrying your father and making you." Sukuna says, and laughs lightly. You hate how validated it makes you feel. Your skin crawls. "I'll have to thank her for it. She'll be pleased.

You make a face at him, uncertainty. Apprehension. Fear. Frustration. Everything you’ve been compartmentalizing comes bubbling to the surface and making your head feel weighted with lead. You want to kill everyone and everything including him. You want to run away from this place. You want to go home, though you don’t know where that would be anymore. They demolished your old apartment years ago. 

You think spending a few years getting fucked and used might be less miserable than the suffocation of living with your mother and your baby brother and your grandparents. How much abuse you’ve endured already vs. what awaits you when their true heir starts to walk and talk horrifies you. 

You look at him. 

“You’re horrible.” 

“Tell me something new.” 

“I hate you. I don’t…want this. Any of this. I want to go home.” 

You’re just venting. Really. You’ve made the choice already. 

“Has there ever been a time where it’s been about what you want? I doubt it. But if you stay with me, appease my wishes for a while, well,” He laughs confidently. “You’ll get something, at least. Better than what you have.” 

“The contract. Are you serious about that?” 

He laughs at you. “Sure. If it makes you feel better, you can draft it and I’ll just have my lawyer sign. Bring your defenses. Whatever. Don’t really care as long as I get what I want.” 

“And that’s me?” 

“Seems like it,” 

You purse your lips. It seems like a rash decision to make in the moment, but truthfully your heads never felt so clear. Even with the alcohol. 

“...Fine.” 

Sukuna hums when you agree. It feels anti-climatic somehow. Not that he’s not expecting your yes but that you’ve come to accept it so easily. It’s not like this takes away from the coercion, from the awful feeling of being violated. Sukuna was going to rape you whether you liked it or not. This way, at least, you get something out of it. This way it’s something you choose. Something tangible results from your inevitable doom - the fate your mother damned you to. 

It affords you some plausible deniability too. In truth, you’re afraid for yourself. You’re afraid of what will happen when he finally does cross the line completely. You’re afraid you’re going to accept it, that it’s going to feel pleasurable, that years of repressing yourself will come back to make sure you never return to normalcy. 

What will become of you when Sukuna has his way with you? Will you become a more apathetic version of yourself? Is it possible? Will you sober and feel like scrubbing your skin clean in the shower? 

The worst outcome, you think, is nothing so horrible happening. The worst outcome is knowing you’ve fallen far enough for none of it matters at all. 

Sukuna grins down at you. “What a well-behaved niece I have. Good girl. You’ll do well living with me.” 

You make a displeased face at him, but your breath catches in your lungs soon after. Your uncle leans in to kiss you and you close your eyes trying to get away from it. But it’s true that your body has been burning up from the inside since you came back home - a dull throbbing between your legs turning you all kinds of stupid. 

When Sukuna kisses you - your first thought is that he’s unexpectedly gentle. 

You didn’t think he’d care about kissing to begin with. In your head you thought he’d tug off your shorts brutishly and fuck you without any prep. You were readying yourself for tears and pain, for screaming and crying - the sharp sobs of your own voice piercing your ears. 

A gentle press of lips startles you from your drunk haze. You can feel the scruff of Sukuna’s face on your own, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively. The taste of cigarettes and something else mildly smokey fill your mouth and make you dizzy. Sukuna tastes like kissing a man - or what you might’ve imagined that to be like. Not a boy, but a man. You feel his strength, your hands splaying at the base of his neck and feeling the faded undercut of his neck, the texture of his dyed hair. His weight shadows you, his strength making you feel fluttery. 

He doesn’t tease you all during the kiss like you’re expecting. Nothing goes the way you expect. He kisses you in slow, short pecks and escalates to his tongue dipping against your lips - a little added element to his deep kisses. He kisses like he’s been doing it for longer than you have, with experience and finesse. You’re all but too conscious of everything little thing. About the sounds you make, about knowing when to breathe, about trying not to get wrapped up in the pleasant euphoria. 

All you can think about is how good he is at it. Effortlessly good. You think part of you latches onto it to avoid thinking about what’s happening. Denial feels pleasurable at least. 

You kiss like that for so long, your lips have swollen - sticky with spit and saliva. Sukuna has a self-satisfied smirk on his face when he pulls away from you, laughing at the flush in your expression. 

You hit him lightly, looking away from his face. 

“It’s a wonder you’ve kept your virginity,” He says, chuckling. “A kiss and a dirty old man like me could’ve taken it from you.” 

“Shut up,” Your reply is weak. He laughs against your mouth, and you can’t get over the intimacy of it. You hope you’re deluding yourself but then he kisses the corner of your mouth. Hot, warm air tickles against your jaw and neck when he presses his lips there too and suddenly it occurs to you how real it is. 

You don’t think your uncle is capable of warmth or love or anything that doesn’t come from coercion. But fondness. Maybe fondness. 

He spends more time doing that than what’s comfortable. Relishes the feeling of you in his arms, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt but not forcefully. Just with enough pressure to make you gasp once in a while when you don’t have a mind to fight it. 

“I won’t take your virginity tonight,” He says declaratively. It surprises you. “You’ve got three months with me. It’d be boring. I’ll give you something else.” He looks at you then, then grins impishly. “What do you want?” 

Your eyes widen, suddenly unsure of yourself. You push away, brought back to reality by the questions. 

“How would I know?” 

He blinks at you. “I know you said you were a virgin, but did you really mean in everything?” 

You pout at him all of a sudden. “So what. I didn’t have that kind of time.” 

Sukuna barks a laugh. 

“Huh. I thought you were a goody two-shoes out of necessity but you really don’t do a damn thing in that house. Not even a boyfriend to do hand stuff with?” 

“Ugh. No, alright? I don’t have time for that kind of thing like I just said.” 

He laughs a little breathless, sitting up for a minute. You’re wondering what it means for you. Sukuna pulls you up along with him. He sits down again with his legs spread before looking at you. He pulls you into his lap with relative ease, until you’re half-way pressed into him with your legs over his thighs. You stare at him, feeling more exposed in this position. You get a closer view of his neck tattoo, realizing how far down his back it must go. You go to ask him what he’s doing - but he’s undressing you before you can. 

Confident, large hands trapeze down your back as he finds the end of your overwear and pulls it off - leaving you in the microkini you wore to the beach. It barely covers your nipples. You made the choice to wear it, yet seeing Sukuna examine it so closely leaves you wallowing and regretful. Still, he’s silent as he does something similar with your jean-shorts. A hand lifting your legs up enough to roll the cheap, denim shorts and discard them right on the marble floors. 

You’re still half-way over his lap - sitting on his thighs but you’re naked now.

You feel yourself growing self-conscious. Never mind that it’s the first time anyone’s seen you this naked, who exactly you’re showing it to makes you want to throw up. He stares for so long you wonder what he’s thinking, a lazy grin splitting his face. A hand nudges your thighs apart, moving your leg to give Sukuna more access to you. With an arm around your waist, his hand cups your cunt, rubbing it softly. You shift nervously. His thumb moves then, rests at the hood of your clit, pulling up to look closer at it. You hold back any noise as he examines you, bent pointer of the opposite hand brushing over the hair on your skin with a laugh. 

“Unexpectedly, it’s pretty,” He says and your eyes shoot wide open. “Good job brat.” 

“What are you,” You pant, your breath hitching as you close your eyes.”staring so much for it?” 

“It’s mine to stare at.”

You don’t think of your uncle as particularly possessive. It’s more like he believes in that so much, so unshakingly nothing else could be true. You wonder if there’s more to it. He didn’t seem angry even after you told him about seeing a boy. 

But comparing the two, Sukuna outclasses him in all ways that it should matter. He must be confident about that. 

He spreads your thighs a little further. You’re half tucked into his side now - an arm around the back of his neck and shoulders. Sukuna ducks down a little, nudging his nose against your neck and scraping his teeth lightly against your throat. He doesn’t do much other than… touch you. Not directly. His other hand, the one not secured around your waist, rubs at your pussy but not in an attempt to pleasure you. It’s exploratory and intimate. He’s just touching you in a way that’s making you restless. And the angle he’s bent down, the proximity gives you a better view of him. From the side where you sit in his lap, you can see the tattoo again. 

You shudder then, pussy suddenly clenching in a way that leaves you ashamed. Your uncle notices, though he doesn’t look up. 

“Thought of something, brat?” 

“No.” You deny, vehemently. He spanks your pussy but not hard. You jolt in reply, a shock traveling up your spine. 

“C’mon now,” He hums, predatory. “Don’t lie. That’s not fun.” 

“Y-your tattoo,” You say, suddenly feeling the influence of alcohol in a way you hadn’t all evening. “It’s…big.”

“Into bad boys or something, kid?” 

You frown. “You look like a yakuza.” 

This makes him laugh, more genuinely than you’ve ever seen him laugh. “Getting warmer, I guess.” 

You don’t say anything to that. Instead spurred by the sudden confidence. “Why aren’t you…touching me?” 

He looks at you surprised then tilts his head. “Is that what you want? 

“I don’t want any of this but it,” You squirm again. “Feels weird.”

“Sounds like you want something, at least. Go on, tell your oji-san what you want.” 

You scrunch your nose up at him, a familiar feeling of disgusting flitting through you. It fades as quickly as it comes.

“I’ve never put a-anything inside,” You admit, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

“That so,” He hums. His middle finger slides down the wet seam of your cunt as you tell him this. You nod but you don’t think he’s really listening. His hand is warm, and big - and his fingers are thicker than yours. One of yours may as well make two of his, no end to how imposing he is. You don’t protest as he starts to touch you. You simply take a deep breath, holding onto him a little tighter. 

With your head turned towards him, Sukuna leans in again to kiss you. It’s deep from the beginning this time, and a little rougher. He bites lightly on your lower lips as his middle finger dips down towards your sex. Your insides are throbbing, hot and wet as you feel some friction. It’s the first time anyone else has ever held you in your life, every touched you directly like this. Against your will, your body is sensitive to the stimulus. Everywhere he touches you goes alight, and the kiss makes your tummy flutter. A tender feeling of want spreads you open, tears you apart right in front of him. 

With parted lips and a heavy head, you kiss him as his middle finger dips down low enough to penetrate you. A soft gasp pulls from your throat. 

It doesn’t feel unpleasant.

“I thought it was going to hurt more.” You admit, feeling him inside of you. It’s a new sensation but it’s not bad. 

“It shouldn’t hurt if you’re aroused enough. And wet enough. You seem to be both.” 

You frown at him, face pinching. It’s washed away quickly by the sensation of him pushing deeper. It’s hard to describe it as anything other than feeling something inside of you. Deep in a place you didn’t think it could go. You shake a little, trying to get adjusted. Sukuna does it carefully, slowly - thrusting in even strokes and keeping you focused on kissing so you’re not too conscious of it. 

He’s not thoughtful, not really - but you can tell that he’s going slower for your sake and that makes your heart stammer uncomfortably. The last word you’d ever use for him is kind but he’s not being horrible and it’s unsettling you. 

Once one finger goes in and out smoothly, your uncle starts to add another. You feel it that time, the stretch of it - gasping hard at the sudden sensation. Your breath catches in your lungs, hand clutching at his shoulder for purchase. He pulls away from your mouth, his breath near your ear. 

“Easy, little one. Give it a minute.” 

“It feels different. It’s,” You can’t form the words as two fingers penetrate you in full, slowly being eased inside of you until Sukuna is knuckle deep. Your breath hitches. “Not like it hurts.” 

“It’ll feel good in a second.” He says assuredly, voice smooth and raspy against your ear. You feel combative at his confidence, but then a minute passes of him rubbing along your insides and something strikes against you like lightning. You pause, blinking confused as Sukuna laughs. “There it is,” 

“There what is?” 

“C’mon kid, I know you’re too busy with school but you don’t know something so basic about your own body?” 

“What is it, oh.” 

His other hand toys with your clit, rubbing it in slow circular motions as he gauges your reaction to the touch. You jolt from the sudden pleasure, getting used to it slowly. You didn’t realize how badly it was throbbing to be touched until he does it in full. Your mouth dries up immediately. Little shocks of electricity spark up through you as his hands go full in on your body. The combined pleasure starts to uptick, something building slowly but surely. It goes from not feeling like much to feeling like something. Feeling physical. 

Your mouth drops open in sudden shock, eyes lidded as you moan unabashedly - unable to keep the sound at bay. You own a vibrator, use to cum quick and hard just to curb the feeling. You’ve had orgasms on your own but nothing has ever felt like this before. It’s undeniably satiating, mimics the feeling of eating something and nearly making yourself sick on it. You go slack-jawed, your nerves on fire. 

Two fingers curled against your silken walls and another two toying at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs leaves little room in your brain to think. The only thing your body seems to remember is how to moan and whine - make these pathetic little noises you’ve never heard in your life. You didn’t even know you could make. Oddly enough, Sukuna is quiet through it. He makes grunts and little affirmatives but he’s mostly silent. You mostly hear the sound of your own voice. 

The sound of your own wetness. You can feel the sticky sensation of your arousal but you can hear it even better. It’s lewd to listen too, wet smacks mixing with the pathetic bleats of your voice make you feel hot all over. Skin prickling with heat and sensation. 

“I knew you were sensitive but haah. If I would’ve fucked you today, you would have cried.” 

The thought drifts idly by about his cock and your whole lower half reacts to it by going weak. It aches just thinking about anything bigger or longer entering you than his fingers. 

“Figure an insolent little kid like you isn’t much of a crybaby. I’m sure I can make you one.” 

You don’t even think about asking what he means. 

“Feels,” You make a gasping noise, body suddenly going tense. “Hngh, fuck. Feels so good, holy fuck.” 

He groans a little. “I’m being too nice to you. I really should be balls deep in your cunt already and I’m not. You gonna cum for me, huh brat?” 

You nod your head dumbly, unable to retort. To think of anything but the sensation washing over you.”Go on. Do it. Cum for your perverted oji-san.”  

Something about the depravity of it sets your mind numb. Your body goes tight, every nerve firing off at once as you grip onto his shoulder and let the feeling of euphoria wash over you. Your whole body is so stimulated it’s numbing. The feeling of pleasure crashes into you, leaves your spine arching - mouth dropped open and nearly screaming. Your sanity melts, fades off completely and your brain feels like it’s gone empty. You close your eyes so hard little splashes of white show up in your vision, like you’re seeing T.V. static. 

You think you scream. You don’t know. You just know that you’re cumming, hard, just from his hands and you’re terrified of what else he’s good at. You don’t think it boils down to sensitivity as the waves of your first orgasm ripple through your body. 

You lay in his arms, sweaty and limp. Your vision is blurry with tears as you open them to look at him. Sukuna is rubbing your side, taking his fingers into his mouth. You look at him surprised as he does. He grins. 

“Tastes good, kid.”

You flush. “Shut up.” 

“Don’t think I’m done with you quite yet.”

Sukuna guides your hand to his pants, over his bulge. You gasp a little at it. His size through clothes is astounding to you. 

“I’m not so generous to leave with nothing, you know.” He pats your thigh, moving you from his lap. “I’ve got a better idea than trying to teach you anything today, so try to hold still.” 

You don’t know what he’s talking about until he guides you on the floor. You’re confused until you feel him position you  - facing towards the couch with your knees spread on the floor. In doggy, you realize a little too late, your upper-half supported by the couch cushion. You feel more confused than you felt a moment ago. 

Sukuna positions himself behind you. You can’t see him, but you can hear the soft rustle of his clothes moving as he stands on his knees behind you. More than that, you can feel his cock resting on your bare ass. You gasp, feeling the weight and size slide against your curves. Sukuna does a breathy little laugh at your reaction. He’s huge. 

“Don’t cry kid. I told you I wasn’t gonna put it in tonight and I meant that,” He hums. His hands come to your hips, all of a sudden pushing them together. “Push your thighs together as tight as you can.” 

You listen to him. You can do it with some effort despite how weak your body feels. You lean forward on the couch for support, bringing your knees together and pressing your thighs. You don’t understand what it’s for until something hard pressing along your spine moves down the curve of your ass. You gasp aloud as his thick cock pushes between your thighs, tip catching against your swollen clit. Your whole body is covered in goosebumps. Sukuna moans low in his throat, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” He hums, sounding pleased. “Keep them tight for me, alright girl? Try to at least.” 

Sukuna is wordless as he grips your hips, your flesh dimpling under his bruising grip. You're silent, your voice threatening to spill again as you try your best to listen to him. You keep yourself tight and firm, your hands gripping the couch cushions as Sukuna pushes his cock between the fat of your thighs and starts a pace.

The angle makes you gasp, body feeling weak at the way it touches your clit with each bump. Sukuna doesn’t hold back at all. You’re not being penetrated but the weight behind each of his thrusts makes you feel like you’re being fucked. The bruising sensation of skin against skin - the hard muscles of his own legs smacking against the softness of your thighs. 

Most embarrassing is the way the position makes you conscious of your uncle's cock. You knew he was huge before, but the way he’s thrusting. Where it reaches when he does thrust makes your throat feel nearly tight. You can’t stop thinking about the fact it’ll be inside you. You can’t imagine taking it in your hands - the girth and length of it fucking impossible. And he wants to fuck you with it? Take your virginity? 

He’ll stretch you so open if he does. You can barely think of it fitting in you. When you do, your whole body shudders in a horrible and pathetic way - a new wave of arousal striking a strange chord. As he bumps and ruts against your clit and your mind fills with such lewd images, a new wave of lust starts to pour through you. 

It’s unhelped by the feeling of Sukuna’s cock - getting so close. The throbbing with each thrust and the low, throaty groans he keeps vocalizing against your ear. All of it proves to be too much for you. It shocks you when you feel yourself grow hot all over again. Not even being touched directly and so soon after your first - a mere few minutes. 

And you find yourself with all your muscles tight, your hand reaching back for Sukuna as you plant your face against the cushions and let him fuck hard between your thighs. You feel incoherent, stupid and so fucking horny. You’ve never experienced it. You can’t think of what to moan, so you choose his name. 

This makes him laugh as he bends over you, his teeth biting your shoulder blades. 

“Gonna cum again from this brat? Aren’t you fucking easy? Come on, cum with me. Just like that, take it. Fuck, that’s it. Good. Good girl.” 

It’s the last bit of tension that pushes you over the edge, whether you care to admit it. Your voice breaks as a second orgasm washes through you - more intense but much shorter than the first and you nearly fall limp. You only barely manage to hold yourself up as your uncle keeps thrusting relentlessly. 

You can feel him twitch hard between your thighs when his orgasm finally hits. You shake as you feel him squish the tip between your thighs - hot ropes of cum spurting against the swollen mound of your cunt and dripping down your thighs as he finishes. He smacks your ass as he finishes, making you yelp. Your whole body is rife with exhaustion, finally coming down from high-highs and low-lows. 

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun together for the next few months kid,” He says, almost affection in his words. You’re too exhausted to reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Let’s get along and do our best.” 

“You’re a sick-fuck, oji-san.” 

“And you’re a whole lot like me, aren’t you kid?.” 

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #writing tag #dark content cw #incest cw #dubcon cw #abuse cw #grooming cw #<- kind of sort of not really hes just gross. #THIS HAS SO MANY TRIGGER TAGS .. SORRY

[rinhaler]

The Root Of The Apple

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Why is Megumi at your parents house warming party? And why is he such a psycho? Daddy issues, of course!

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, panic attack, mental health issues, alcohol consumption, drug taking, bullying, drugging mention, bladder failure mention, marking mention, family drama. 

WORDS : 5.8k

notes : two years years with hindsight i should not have added toji bc i want to fuck him so desperately 😭

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Unlike your hellish few days, Megumi’s were uneventful. After he choked you in the club, he took a cab home. His sister Tsumiki was fussing over him, much to his chagrin. She asked how his night went, if he had a good time, if he kissed any girls. She thought she was hilarious, but Megumi found her to be nothing but a nuisance.

He hates that he was trapped with her until he finishes university, being unable to move out from under her over protective thumb is painful for him. Tsumiki is invasive, irritating, and too God damn happy. And what’s worse, she’s not his real sister. He’ll never think of her as such, to him, Tsumiki is a means to an end.

He hates her. He hates his whole God damn family. But right now, right in this exact moment…

There’s nobody he hates more than you.

While you were still in a drug infused sleep, Megumi’s Wednesday was different. He went on as if everything was normal, he got a ride to university from Tsumiki. It’s rare she has the time to take him since she is usually at work.

He found the entire day dull. It pained him to admit it to himself, but he supposes part of him missed you. He was blissfully unaware of your coma-like state, he smiled into the pencil he was chewing in his mouth as he imagined that you’re terrified to come back to school for fear of seeing him. It gave him a sick sort of power trip, knowing what he’d done to you, what he’s doing to you.

He’s sick.

But it’s okay that he’s sick, because he knows.

He knows he’s fucked up, and everything he’s doing to you is fucked up.

But Christ it’s fun.

Thursday is the same, although he’s grateful he gets to finish the school day earlier. But as he walks through the parking lot, he pauses when he doesn’t see Yuuji’s car in its usual spot. He didn’t think twice about it yesterday.

Of course perfect Yuuji would want to stay home and play the role of the doting boyfriend, protecting you from the big bad bully, wrapping you in cotton wool and shielding you from the world. But today is the second day Yuuji hasn’t been to school.

Megumi would never admit it out loud, but his blood ran cold at the thought that something terrible had happened.

He arrives home, his sister nowhere in sight. Megumi dumped his backpack and sprawled out on the couch. And against every voice in his head telling him not to, his resolve crumbles, and his thumbs involuntarily types your name into Facebook.

He couldn’t see much since you weren’t friends, but he thought he might be able to see if anyone had said something about what happened.

Alas, there was nothing.

He decides to try and put it to the back of his mind.

Within the hour, Tsumiki is home. She begins preparing dinner for the two of them. She waffles on about her boring, mundane workday. She hasn’t even realised that Megumi has his headphones on and is completely tuning her out. An eyebrow quirked on his face when a text came through to his phone.

Nina: Megumi omg baby we are in soooooo much trouble! 😳😟💘xxx

Megumi’s thumbs hover above the keyboard momentarily as he contemplates how he should reply. One thought ran through his mind.

Who the fuck is Nina?

It had to be one of those annoying sluts from his class. But was it the blonde or the redhead? They’re both practically the same save for the hair colour.

He can barely remember which one he fingered; he thinks it’s the blonde.

It had to be her, surely the other one wouldn’t be so bold as to call him baby. He shudders and gags as he thinks of the pet name. The more he debates formulating a reply, he opts to not bother.

Megumi technically didn’t do anything wrong.

Hours pass, it's close to 1am. Tsumiki never normally stays up this late, but she has the day off tomorrow and was enjoying watching movies with Megumi.

Well, she thought they were watching together.

Megumi is just in the room playing on his phone, pretending she didn’t exist, as usual. Just as he was about to go upstairs, the siblings both startle at the sound of an ominously loud knock. Tsumiki looks at him, as if to ask if he was expecting anyone. He shakes his head in response, so she gets up and looks through the peep hole.

She gasps, and opens the door quickly after she’d spotted who was outside.

Megumi isn’t ashamed to admit that his stomach drops when he realises the police are at his door. And the disappointed look in Tsumiki’s eyes as she hears them ask if Megumi Fushiguro is home make his insides churn. She welcomes them in, clearing space for them to sit on the sofa.

Megumi sits down next to her, she wraps an unwelcome arm around him, a sign of solidarity.

“There’s been a serious allegation made against you Megumi.” one of the officers speaks. Megumi hears his sister’s breath hitch, but he clears his throat and tries to remain calm.

“In regard to what? I’m not sure what you’re referring to.” he answers simply. The officers look at each other quickly before giving him their attention once again, as if they’ve already decided he's guilty.

“A classmate of yours has accused you and two others of drugging her in the early hours of Wednesday morning. Do you know anything about that?” the policeman asks. Megumi does his best to stay composed, shaking his head in response.

“Megumi would never—”

“Please don’t interrupted miss.” the other policeman speaks. Tsumiki bites her tongue as she sinks back in her seat. His attention focuses back on Megumi before he starts flipping through a notebook. “This young woman was in a terrible state. I won’t go into too many details, but she was publicly humiliated and has been unconscious for the last two days.” he explains. Megumi’s jaw bubbles as he tried to supress his emotions, Tsumiki’s hands cover her mouth in horror as her ears digest the information. She leans forwards timidly, as if to ask permission to speak.

“I- sorry, what do you mean by publicly humiliated?” she wonders.

The officer clears his throat, unsure whether he should say. The other nods, wanting to fill them in. Megumi knew their little game. They think if they tug at his heartstrings and make him feel guilty, his emotions will give him away. He didn’t know what happened after he left; he told the girls that the drug will be enough to make her embarrass herself.

“When she was discovered on the bathroom floor in the club, we were informed that she had urinated and vomited on herself on account of the drugging.” they explain.

Megumi has to do everything in his power to supress his laughter.

He knew you’d find a way to make a fool of yourself when it was in your system, but that really cut the cake.

“That’s awful.” Tsumiki says softly.

“As well as that,” the officer speaks again, commanding the sibling’s attention, “the t-shirt she’d worn that night appeared to be cut open with a pair of scissors. We could tell from the CCTV from the night of the incident that someone had written the word 'bitch' across her body. According to the woman’s partner it was written in lipstick.” he tells them.

Megumi managed to keep composed, although he was seething. Those idiot incompetent girls could be the undoing of him. He specifically told them that they had nothing else to do other than slip the pill in your drink. Their petty jealousy had clearly gotten the better of them, and it could fuck them all up well and truly.

Tsumiki gasps when she hears the final sentence from the officer. She assures them that Megumi could never do anything so horrible. They look at him, and he knew he had to speak.

“I don’t know anything about that. I left earlier than most, I got a cab. My sister was awake when I got back, and I’m sure the CCTV can prove that I wasn’t there.” he tells them calmly.

“How do you know you were gone before it happened?” the officer asks, feeling clever, feeling like he trapped Megumi in a lie.

“Because you said it was the early hours of Wednesday morning. I had left the club by 11:30pm, like I said, the CCTV will be able to prove I left early. This incident has nothing to do with me,” Megumi stands to his feet, knowing he’s won and has no interest in carrying on the discussion anymore. The policemen knew as well as he did that it was your word against his, he feels untouchable. “Whoever she is, I hope you can get some justice for her.” he tells them, smugly. His sister beams up at him with so much pride. Her little brother is so good, so respectable, he’s perfect in her eyes.

If only she knew.

She shows the men out of their home, requesting he get in touch if he remembers anything that might help their case. Megumi finally retreats to the safety of his bedroom, feeling cocky and proud of himself for slithering his way through your feeble attempt to get him arrested. He feels like a god. He feels invincible. An electric excitement jolts through him as he wonders when he might see you next.

What he can do to you next.

Friday brings another uneventful day, he really fucking misses you.

It sounds more romantic than it is.

Maybe it is, in some twisted way, treat them mean to keep them keen.

And he is downright vile to you. He doesn’t feel anything but pure unadulterated hatred for you. You’re too fucking nice, like his sister. No one is that nice. The way you felt compelled to compliment his art whenever you had the audacity to lean over and observe his sketchbook. And every time you did it, it was pictures of him. He thinks he hates you the most. And then when he remembers that man, that scumbag, he takes first place. If you could have just shut your fucking mouth, if you didn’t feel so compelled to start talking about those pictures of him, maybe you wouldn’t be paying the price now.

Megumi arrives home from his boring school day and kicks the door shut behind him with his foot. He's furious. The combination of his hatred for you and his father is too much. All he wants to do is go to his room, get changed and head outside for a few hours to clear his head. But when Tsumiki stops him from going to his room, he just about bites her head off.

“What?!” he barks. The volume makes her jump, but she simply smiles as she prepares to speak.

“Dad called.” she told him.

“My dad. Don’t say dad as if he’s your dad too. What did he want?” he moans at her. Her smile pulls downwards into a frown at his rude and hurtful words. She was about to answer him again, but before she can she's interrupted by the creaking of stairs. The siblings look to the source, and Megumi’s blood boils at the sight.

“That’s no way to talk to your sister.” Toji speaks. He’s just showered. He's wearing some grey joggers and his chest is bare, he's in the middle of the process of pulling a shirt over his head. His shirt clung to his water-soaked body in all of the right places, it's almost a little pornographic considering how innocent of an act it was.

His children almost didn’t want to look at him because it's so unintentionally erotic. Although Megumi doesn’t like to look at him anyway. “It’s been a while son. You don’t mind if I take him for a drive do you Tsumiki? Got some things I wanna talk to ‘im about.” Toji smiles at the young woman who nods enthusiastically.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Megumi spits.

“I wasn’t fuckin’ askin’ so get your scrawny ass in the car and stop bitchin’ at me.” Toji commands, walking ahead and leaving through the front door.

What Megumi hates most about Toji is no matter how much he hates him, how much he knows he’ll never change, he still – for some unknown reason – craves his approval. He knew his son would follow him through the door, that’s why he didn’t wait for him to start moving his feet. Because within seconds, Megumi is following him through that very same front door.

The silence in the car is deafening.

Toji is feeling the need to drag out whatever it is he wants to discuss, and Megumi has absolutely no desire to make idle chit-chat with his piece of shit father. The new car doesn’t go unnoticed. Megumi can feel his blood bubbling with rage through his veins.

When Megumi’s mother died, Toji went off the rails and he brought Megumi right along with him.

He was a downright mess. He drank, he did drugs, anything to forget. And Megumi didn’t understand. All he knew was that he lost his mother, and his daddy wasn’t his daddy anymore.

Toji could barely stomach looking at him, he reminded him too much of his dead wife. Although he found a new wife to go off the rails with, and that’s how Tsumiki entered the fray.

They were both terrible for each other and they fed off each other’s toxicity. Megumi couldn’t bear to look at his father without reliving his trauma, his unresolved resentment coursing through his fragile skin.

He understood that his father was hurting, but he was too. He lost his mother. And instead of taking care of his son, being there for him, helping him heal. He found a new wife, narcotics, and shady ways of making money. That was more important than being a dad, apparently, and this new car, his new set of wheels that reeked of money and sin, makes his body fail him.

Megumi isn’t sad. He's never sad. What he's feeling right now, some may call a broken heart. But not him. To Megumi, the way his heart feels being in such close proximity to his father is different.

It didn’t feel broken. It feels shredded.

It feels like it has been wrapped in barbed wire, and when he was near this pathetic excuse of a human being it did all it could to bulge out of its piercing prison. Chunks escaped, sure, but they were destroyed. The rest of his heart is stained, bruised and pouring blood. He couldn’t bear it.

Megumi couldn’t bear it.

“Let me out,” Megumi speaks, his breathing intensifying. His chest rising and falling rapidly.

“What? Kid, stop bein’ a bra—”

“Dad! Stop the car!” he screams. He stares at his father, begging him to listen to him.

When Toji looks over to where his son is seated, he doesn’t recognise who he's looking at. Snot and tears dribble down his face. His eyes are puffy and red, totally bloodshot. His white irises cracked with red uncomfortable veins that made Toji’s heart stop for a brief second.

This isn’t Megumi. Megumi doesn’t get like this, he’s never seen him like this. But what has Toji seen him like? He’s seen gloomy, stoic Megumi.

That’s all he sees on his fleeting visits.

Toji pulls the car over and Megumi scarpers out as quickly as he can. Toji takes his time turning off the car, finding a pair of sunglasses in the glove compartment before stepping out to tend to his child. He approaches him slowly. Wallet, phone and keys all rested skilfully in one hand.

Megumi doubles over, clear vomit evading the pit of his stomach. Toji grimaces at the sight, what the hell was wrong with him? His son is trembling, still. When he isn’t vomiting he's taking in sharp, heavy breaths, he almost sounds like he's screaming.

The desperation in his inhales are so eerie, like someone dragging a sharp knife down a windowpane.

Megumi is disgusted with himself.

It's all too much for him, reminiscing on his childhood and the closure he’d never get. The fact that his father thinks he’s allowed to pop into his life if and when he chooses.

He expects Megumi to drop everything and anything he’s doing to spend time with him and do as he’s told.

And the worst part? He does it.

He fights him every step of the way, but still, he does it.

Why does he do it? He hates him. Toji knows he hates him, too. Every conversation they have is surface level toleration or a heated argument. But Toji knows, no matter what, Megumi wants to please his father. Because he left him to fend for himself, he left him without a friend in the world. So, whenever Megumi gets the chance, he wants to prove himself to his father.

That’s why.

Megumi needs his father’s approval.

“The fuck’s wrong with you kid? Panic attack?” Toji questions as he towers above his son.

Megumi collapses onto his backside, mouth agape as he manages to calm himself down. He wants to rip his dad’s throat out for talking to him like that. But he doesn’t have the energy. He just can’t.

“Shut up, Toji.” he commands, making his father roll his eyes. An act of petty defiance, to call him by his name instead of dad. It doesn’t bother Toji, he couldn’t care less. He knows he’s a shit dad, he didn’t sign up for it anyway. He doesn’t care, he probably never will.

“Get up, there’s a coffee shop over there I’ll get you some water.” he tells him, hoping the offer will be enough to entice him off the ground.

Megumi blanks him though, still focusing on his breathing and trying to coax himself into feeling better so he can go home. Toji isn’t a man who likes to be ignored, Megumi is lucky he’s his kid right now. Anyone else would be in for a world of hurt.

But instead, Toji slowly raises his foot off the ground. He inches his dirty dust clad shoe closer to his boy’s face. Megumi side eyes the muddy soled loafer, piercing green eyes threatening him to back off.

However, Megumi forgets who he inherited those intimidating emerald orbs from.

Toji doesn’t take lightly to threats, and he hasn’t gotten where he is by being frightened by a simple look. His filthy shoe is millimetres from Megumi’s face, “I said get up kid.” and with Megumi ignoring him yet again, Toji has to make good on his threat. He gently kicks the bottom of his foot into his son’s face. Megumi grabs his ankle and pushes him away, springing to his feet soon after to ball his fists in his dad’s shirt.

“Why the fuck are you here now? What do you want? You only come when you want something so out with it.” Megumi hisses, his face mere inches from his dad’s. Toji raises his hand in surrender with that signature shit-eating grin on his face. But Megumi’s fists grasp harder, for the first time in his life he feels strong. Stronger than him. He shoves him backwards and pins him against the car. “What do you want Toji?!”

Toji, however, is over this little game. Megumi never has been, and never will be, stronger than him. He’d never hurt his son. He does love him, in his own fucked up way. He’s his after all. But he doesn’t love him enough to let him disrespect him in his quest for validation and superiority. He grabs his junior by the base of the neck, removing his sunglasses and peering intensely into his child’s eyes. Fear shudders through Megumi, and he lets go. But Toji doesn’t.

“Get in the fuckin’ car. Dumbass. I’ll go get you a drink,” and with that he releases Megumi from his grip, crossing the road seamlessly. Commanding the traffic around him to stop as he approaches the coffee shop.

Megumi gets into the car. It’s hot. Fuck, it’s hot. His breathing is intensifying again. He hastily removes his jacket with shaky hands.

His father has only been gone for a few minutes, but his gaze is flitting between the windscreen window and the coffee shop. He balls his jacket up and shoves his face into it, screaming all of the air in his lungs out into the material. He just screams. It feels like he can’t stop, the oxygen will never be out of him.

He needs it out, he needs to breathe out this day, this experience.

But he can’t.

It’s lingering in his lungs, itching away at him. Little spindly legs crawling around inside of him like spiders, biting and tapping inside of him searching for a way out.

There’s no way out. He can’t breathe. He wants to rip his fucking heart out and let his dad drive and reverse over it until it’s unrecognisable.

His head drops between his knees, his hands interlocking behind his head trapping tufts of his unruly onyx locks.

He startles a little when his father opens the car door and sits behind the wheel. Toji could swear he saw him jump a little again when he slams the door shut behind him.

“Here,” his dad speaks, holding two bottles out to him. Megumi peers up to see them. One is water, and the other is a chilled glass bottle of beer. Why did he get him this? “Might steady yer fuckin’ nerves. What happened to you? Never seen y’like this before,” Toji states, not expecting a direct answer from Megumi, but daring to ask anyway.

Megumi twists the plastic cap off his water bottle. He doesn’t sip, he gulps. And he gulped, and gulped, and gulped, until the plastic bottle was contorting and creasing as he sucked the air out and his heavy fist gripped tighter around the soft material. Toji offers a teasing ‘think ya got it’ hoping it would make Megumi give up trying to get the last lingering droplets out of the plastic container.

He was right, he did get it.

It just isn’t enough. It does nothing to drown that unbearable itch inside of him. So, he slouched back in his seat, at least a little calmer for having something else to focus on.

“I’m fucked up.”

And he laughs.

It's manic. If you could see him now, God if you could see what a pathetic miserable shell he is right now.

It’s symbolic really, how insanely he’s laughing. You’d actually see a similarity between the two of you. He was almost laughing as insanely as you had been as you destroyed his artwork, probably more so.

He's unhinged. And for the first time in his life, he thinks Toji is scared. His face hurts from the way his cheeks are pulling as he laughs. If he was normal, his stomach would be aching. Because that’s what is meant to happen when people laugh. Right? When people truly laugh at something, you feel it in your belly. But fuck, Megumi isn’t normal.

He’s breaking apart.

Toji grabs his shoulder, and in an instant the laughter stops. Megumi’s face turns, his eyes snap to find his father’s matching ones. His smile is gone, but his eyebrow quivers as he studies his father’s features.

“Oh, fuck, scared you huh?” Megumi asks. Toji scoffs and lets go of him, starting the car up to drive away instead. But before he does, he takes his sons beer bottle between his teeth and bites the lid off. He spits it down on the floor of his car beneath him and gives it to Megumi. And Megumi drinks it, seeming to enjoy the taste.

That’s doing it.

That’s drowning his demons.

His attention is back on Toji as he’s driving.

And looking at him now, that is the father he knows.

He’s just driving as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like his son hasn’t just totally snapped before his very eyes. He’s snapped already, so why not push him a little more. Megumi punches his arm, causing Toji’s steering to waver.

“Stupid little idiot, fucks wrong with you? Don’t fuckin’ touch me while I’m drivin’.” he barks at his son. But he doesn’t stop. He punches him again, again and again. He slams harshly on the breaks, engulfing his sons whole face in one fist. He smothers his face and forcefully pushes him back into the passenger side door. “Hey! Did I fuckin’ stutter?”

“Did I fuckin’ scare you dad? You looked a little concerned you piece of shit! Ya fuckin’ deadbeat…” Megumi yells, fighting back the tears that were building, slithering behind his eyes threatening to spill at any moment.

“Pfft. Grow up Megumi. You’re not fifteen anymore,”

“Yeah, I was fucked up then never mind now.” Megumi spits at him.

“God, shut up.” Toji seethes as he softly slaps Megumi on the side of his face, pointing to the tip of his nose, demanding his attention. “You’re not fucked up. You’re fine. Y’think everyone doesn’t get like this? Y’think I never get like this? I wanna rip my fuckin’ skin off when I think about how fucked everything is for too long.” he tells his son sternly, trying to be calm but firm with him.

“You—” Megumi manages to croak out before Toji interrupts.

“Yeah, me. I fuckin’ left you. Never said sorry did I? Would you believe me if I said I was sorry? I don’t know if I am kid, that’s the problem. Had to fuckin’ split, couldn’t handle it. But if it helps, sure. I’m sorry. It was fucked.” Toji tells him.

Megumi is in awe.

This is the most they’d ever talked in their lives. Everything they discuss is surface level pleasantries that are meaningless. And he apologised. He can’t apologise. He’s said the word sorry but the itch is still there. He doesn’t mean it, he said himself he doesn’t mean it. This can’t be it, this can’t be everything Megumi has been waiting to hear to fix him. Anger and resentment he’s clung onto for so long, dying as he awaited the moment he’d finally get an apology or an explanation.

And this was it.

This was all he’d waited for, and it wasn’t good enough. It’ll never be good enough. He’s going to be stuck with this itch for the rest of his life.

“Are you kidding me? You think that’s good enough?” Megumi questions, fists balled as he argues with himself whether to punch Toji again. “I’m sorry, but I’m not really sorry because I had too. Huh, asshole? You really think that’s good enough?!” Megumi bellows, lip quivering as he clenches his teeth together.

“Don’tcha get it? Idiot. Nothing I say’ll ever be good enough. I fuckin’ left you alone after your mother died. Whether I mean it or not, it won’t stop fuckin’ hurtin’ kid. You got more than I ever did. The Zen’in used to lock me up and beat the shit out of me.” he angles the right side of his face and points to the scar on his lip, “they gave me this for the pleasure, think I ever got a fuckin’ sorry? No. Fake or sincere, nothin’. Think holdin’ a grudge is gonna fix anything?”

Megumi has been vibrating with anger the entire conversation.

All he wants to do was smash the glass of beer he has and stab the jagged shards into Toji’s neck. He's furious.

There is some truth to his words, sure, but he's so fucking casual. Like Megumi is meant to take everything he's saying as gospel, accepting it as absolute truth and living his life by them from now on.

He’s been vibrating with anger through the entire conversation, until he thought of you. He can’t smile; but his clenching jaw relaxes when visions of you enter his mind.

It's just as well, Toji thinks if he clenched any harder his son’s teeth would smash to pieces. It was something Toji said that made him think of you.

Think holdin’ a grudge is gonna fix anything?

No. But it helps. He’s sure you’d have the same thought process as Toji, you’d be desperate to end the vendetta Megumi has against you. But if he didn’t hate his father, if he didn’t hate you, how else would he cope?

How else would he control the itch?

Megumi allows his body to go limp, looking over to Toji with a side-eye glance. He huffs, allowing his chest to rise and fall in one heavy dramatic breath.

“What do you want, dad?”

Toji kisses his teeth, contemplating how to speak. How to ask. But Megumi has honestly had enough of fucking around today, dancing around subjects and rowing with each other. He just wants to know, and that is something Toji could plainly see in his son’s defeated body. So, he comes right out and says it, not wanting to beat around the bush.

“Tomorrow,” he begins, looking around at everything in the car other than his son. But his gaze settles, their emerald eyes meeting once again. “There’s a big shindig, all of the Zen’in are goin’. You need to be there.”

And that’s how Megumi found himself in a town car on his way to your parent’s new manor home.

Toji didn’t offer him a ride, of course.

Megumi suspects his father will be feeling uncomfortable after their argument yesterday, but in reality Toji is having a good parenting moment. He felt it necessary to give his son some space to cool down after their heated conversation.

The closer the car got to the ridiculously enormous manor; butterflies joined the itching in the pit of Megumi’s stomach. He tries to clear his throat and take deep breaths, but it wasn’t helping.

He fishes around in his inside jacket pockets. He pulls out a mirror from the right pocket and a baggie of cocaine and a razor from the other.

The car slows as it pulls into the gates, manoeuvring around the intricate landscaping. He takes the opportunity to make a white powdery line atop the mirror resting on his lap. He doesn’t care what the driver thinks of him, he’s sure Toji does the same if not worse whenever he's in here.

He snorts it, slowly. It’s been a while since he’s let this be a vice of his.

Megumi isn’t stupid, no, he’s careful. He will be careful with his vices. But when the car stops below the staircase that lead to the daunting double doors, he sags back into the plush leather seats of the car.

“D’ya mind if I just wait here for a minute?” Megumi asks, the man shakes his head, much to Megumi’s delight.

It’s been a while since he’s been to a Zen’in get together. When he and Tsumiki moved away, he managed to avoid them and Toji like the plague.

It's harrowing, really, that he had to walk into a strangers home, alone. To see a family who did nothing but chastise and disapprove. A family he barely knew but still felt it necessary to try and control aspects of his life and look down on each and every little thing he did.

But he relaxes. He wipes his nose of the white dust and takes a deep breath. He gets out of the car, slamming it aggressively behind him. He ascended the stairs. Breathing shallow breaths as he prepares himself for the hell he's about to endure.

He rests his finger on the doorbell, he can’t seem to take his finger off it. Air is knocked from his lungs when the door opens, almost being ripped from its hinges.

What the fuck are you two doing here?

He can’t help but stare, completely in awe at the sight. You’re looking at him differently, like you know him. Like you’ve had a look into the window of his damaged soul.

What the fuck are you staring at?

Megumi clears his throat, and you're staring soon turns to dismay, irritation. Megumi thinks you’re just processing what is happening, the unlikely coincidence of it all.

Are you still scared of him?

Terrified of what he’ll do to you?

Or are you safe now, because dear old Yuji is here?

Megumi takes in the sight of both of you, but drinks up the vision of you. He can’t believe it. You’re really here. He opens his mouth, smiling sadistically, knowing whatever he does will get a reaction out of you.

“Well well, what do we have here?” Megumi questions, crossing his arms across his chest as he waits for a response.

Yuuji looks feral, like he wants to skin him alive. It’s sad, really, that his best friend has let a useless cunt come between them. Megumi won’t disown him, but he knows Yuuji won’t claim him as his friend anymore. He’ll always be Megumi’s. Yuuji pulls your hand to bring you closer to his body. He’s sure Yuuji can feel you shaking like a frightened lamb against him, because even from this distance, Megumi can see it.

“Get out of the way Fushiguro,” Yuuji demands, holding your body as tightly as he can to give you the feeling of safety you’re so desperate for.

But of course, Megumi doesn’t move.

He doesn’t sidestep to allow you past.

He just stares. And Yuuji’s temper flares when he stops staring at you both, but through you. Because a dastardly grin stretches across Megumi’s pretty face.

While Yuuji is staring, shaking and furious, while you’re trembling, terrified and on the brink of tears, he sees who he can only assume are the owners of the house, who he can only assume are your parents, are walking through the foyer and approaching you. It’s like he’s watching a movie in slow motion. And it just gets better when his own dad lollygags behind them, leaning on a doorframe further down the hall as he watches your mother and father chase after you.

Megumi knows you’re not going anywhere.

Megumi knows your parents will beg, plead for you to stay. What will people say if you leave the party earlier? They’ll be the talk of high society. A simple, elegant party couldn’t go off without a hitch because their selfish daughter ruined it all.

No.

That’s not you.

The few brief days he’s known you, something he can see about you is clear. You, perfect, sweet girl, are a people pleaser.

Megumi’s smiling. And he’s smiling hard.

Because you aren’t going anywhere.

© 2021 fuwushiguro | © 2023 fuwushiguro

#megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #megumi angst #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #fushiguro megumi angst #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #yuji itadori #yuuji itadori #itadori yuuji #itadori yuji #yuuji smut #yuuji itadori smut #yuuji x reader #yuuji x you #yuuji x y/n #itadori yuuji smut #yuuji itadori x reader #yuuji itadori x you #tw bullying #bully megumi #tw panic attack #tw drug use

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Two

Jasper Hale x Reader

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None

Notes: So sorry it took me more than a week to post, life kind of imploded and knocked me off the schedule I had planned. This chapter is honestly just filler so it can get to the good stuff… I plan to take this story all the way to Breaking Dawn at the very least. Thank you for all the love on the previous chapter!! Enjoy!

Word Count: 1695

Series Masterlist

• January 24th, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

Thankfully the first half of the day went rather uneventful, although I am disappointed I haven’t had a class with the handsome Jasper Hale yet. I did however, make friends with his adopted siblings Alice and Emmett Cullen. Both of which are gorgeous in their own right, but nowhere near as attractive as their blonde brother.

In English I sat in the unoccupied seat next to Alice Cullen, gratefully so. She seems like just the kind of friend a new girl needs in order to survive high school. I transferred to this place at such a horrible time in the year - almost at the end of my 11th grade. But after just a few minutes of knowing her, Alice caught me up on everything I missed. Turns out I’ve pretty much read everything they had covered this year and then some, fingers crossed that it continues to be a trend in most of my classes.

I learned that the boy walking with Jasper Hale this morning when I so rudely almost killed him with the door to the front office, is his adopted brother Emmett Cullen. A hulking mass of muscle, but a complete teddy bear, he kept me entertained for most of Trig. I can already tell that sitting in front of him was probably a bad move on my part for my academic career, but the guy is an absolute comedian.

Parting ways with Emmett after Math, I made my way to my locker. Digging the wrinkled combination paper out of my pocket, I was studying the numbers right when I bumped into a thin scrap of a girl with brown hair and an orange backpack. Immediately cursing myself I dropped to the ground to gather her notes before they could be stepped on by the stampede of people rushing to the cafeteria for lunch.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry! I-I just wasn’t paying attention, I was looking at my stupid locker combination and-“ I scrambled for excuses, word vomit spilling from my lips.

“Oh um, it’s okay! I’m not the most graceful person, so no worries.” An awkward pause, “Hey, you’re the new girl right?” She asked.

“Unfortunately.” I replied, looking up with a sad smile. I stuck out my hand to shake, “I’m Y/n Y/l/n, you are?”

“Bella Swan, former new girl I guess.” She responded as she lightly shook my hand. “You can sit with me during lunch if you want, maybe us gracefully-challenged should stick together.”

“Oh absolutely.” I chuckled a little, “I’ll grab my lunch from my locker and find you in there.”

“Cool, see you then.” She replied with a half-wave as she continued down the hallway to the cafeteria.

Jasper

One of the convenient things about being a vampire is that we really don’t necessarily need to breathe. In public places packed with humans, I can just hold my breath, but the challenge comes in making it still seem like I’m breathing.

Lost in my thoughts while Emmett and Rosalie drone on about plans after school, I spot the new girl - Y/n enter the cafeteria. I sit up straighter in my seat and observe her shamelessly as she walks unknowingly in my direction, switching paths as she spots the object of Edward’s latest desire: Isabella Swan. I spare a glance to my stoic adopted brother and see him rising from his seat, probably headed in the same direction as Y/n.

Walking up to the pair, I could tell his eyes were only on Isabella. Both girls stared up at him in awe, their emotions giving away that they were surprised to see him seeking them, or rather a certain one of them, out.

“Isabella-“ Edward started but was interrupted by Y/n.

“I’ll… go find us a seat.” Bella didn’t even spare her a glance as Y/n rushed away.

“Bro, you’re staring a little hard there, something catch your eye?” Emmett said, leaning over Rosalie to nudge my ribs. I turn to him and discreetly flash a crude gesture, causing him to chuckle. I love my brother, he just thrives on getting a rise out of me any chance he gets.

Alice smacks my shoulder, “You two behave, she’s shy and I’ll be upset if your rowdiness scares her off.” My adopted sister huffs in slight frustration at our antics.

“As if we need another human in our business.” Rosalie grumbles from her spot between myself and her mate. Crossing her arms, she stares daggers at the back of Edward’s head from where he’s talking to Bella Swan.

“Oh hush, I want more friends outside of you guys, plus Y/n is relatively safe. Cheer up Rose, I’ve already seen you get along with her rather nicely!” Alice fires back at Rose.

“I haven’t even met her yet-“ Rosalie leans forward to argue.

“But you will and you’ll love her, end of story.” Alice says matter-of-factly.

Rose leans back in her seat, huffing as Emmett pats her thigh. She swipes his hand away, not happy that he finds it amusing that she’ll have to deal with another one of her brother’s fixations on a human girl. It’s always so easy to read Rosalie’s emotions, she wears them so boldly and almost prefers to torture me with their intensity sometimes, as if to get her point across even more than her biting words.

I let out a sigh at their exchange concerning Y/n, she’s been here for half a day and already a hot topic for even us.

I’ve been in a trance pretty much since lunch, the two classes following it were uneventful allowing my thoughts to fill with day-dreams of the new girl.

Her hair, the way her oversized sweater hangs from her shoulders, her intoxicating scent…

The bell ending sixth period startles me from my reverie. This girl almost put a me-sized-dent in the door to the front office this morning and here I am obsessing over minuscule details after only seeing her twice.

I gather my notes and writing utensils before filing out of the door behind my fellow classmates. I slow my walk to the next class in hopes that I might catch a glimpse of her before the end of the day. I don’t even know her emotional signature yet like I do my adopted siblings, a handy ability I’ve managed to teach myself to find them in busy situations.

My search for Y/n comes up short, the hallways are mostly empty by the time the warning bell rings for the final instruction of the day. With a small huff I enter my seventh period class keeping my eyes on the floor as I make my way to my assigned seat.

“Glad you could make it in the nick of time, Mister Hale.” Mr. Ellis states rather loudly in an accusatory tone, raising an eyebrow as I sit and the final tardy bell rings.

An almost imperceptible gasp to my right keeps me from replying, I clamp my mouth shut and force myself not to meet the gaze I could feel boring into my back as flames begin to lick down my throat.

Wonderful, not only was I late enough to garner the attention of everyone in the room, but Y/n Y/l/n is in my history class and I can’t breathe for the next forty-four minutes.

• January 24th, 2005 • Home •

Reader

“How was school sweetheart?” My mother yells from the kitchen as I push open our front door, I swear that woman wastes no time when digging for information.

“Jeez, let me get in the door first!” I yell back with a light-hearted chuckle, setting my backpack on the ground by the couch just inside the living room.

“Sorry, I’m just excited to see how everything went.” Her voice is much closer this time and I turn to see her walking down the connecting hallway wiping her hands on a dish towel.

I flop onto my back on the couch as she leans over the back, folding her arms under her chest with an expectant look on her face ready for my response.

“Well, I don’t think it’ll be hard to catch up in-“ but my mom interrupts me excitedly.

“No, no, no! I need the good stuff! Did you make any friends? See any cute guys?” I could burst out laughing at the look on her face and the fact that she’s more concerned about my social life than my academics on the first day of school in a new town.

“Mom!” I drag the word out in exasperation as I smush a decorative pillow to my face to hide the slight heat in my cheeks.

“There’s a cute boy! I knew it!” She practically yells in victory, “tell me everything, baby girl!”

I pull the pillow down enough to reveal my eyes to her, “I almost killed him with a door.” I mumble in a rather sad tone.

“Oh dear God.” She immediately becomes serious, rounding the couch to push my legs off, forcing me upright so she can sit next to me, “it can’t be that bad!”

“I wasn’t looking while I pushed open the door to the front office and he barely caught it in time before it hit him square in the face!” I blurt out in a rush and drop the pillow to cover my face with my hands. “Definitely not the way to start off on the right foot.”

“Oh honey,” she tries to sooth me, guiding my hands away from my face and into her hold, “look at it this way - you’ve captured his attention in a way that’ll be memorable. Sure it isn’t without embarrassment, but now you’ve made a first impression he’ll never forget!”

“Yeah and I’ll probably never hear the end of it.” I mumble as I bury my face in her shoulder, sighing deeply. I hesitate, “We do have one class together.”

The gasp my mother lets out immediately sends me into a fit of giggles, forgetting all about my early morning embarrassment.

Next

#jasper hale x reader #twilight #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #jasper whitlock hale #twilight fanfiction #redamancy series #bless-my-demons #female reader insert #jasper hale fanfiction

[kimoralov3]

Marry You

Requested by: @arkofblake Word Count: 2738 Pairing: Steve Harrington x gn!reader Warnings: swearing, angst, steve is a bit of a dick, mentions of steve's parents, tears a/n: did not mean to post this on 4/20 but hey lmao

 You would think that after all the years you and Steve had known each other, nothing that he could do would surprise you.

You were wrong. 

Currently, you, Steve, and Robin were sitting in her backyard catching up. You and Robin were talking about everything that had happened while the two of you were at college, with Steve occasionally chiming in every now and then for clarification about someone’s name or why what they had done was so bad. When it came time for Steve to share what he had been up to while the two of you were away, he said not one, but two things that sent a bolt of shock down your spine. 

“Well, I got a job working at the Sheriff’s office and went on a few dates. Other than that though, these past couple of months have been uneventful.” He said as he casually took a sip of his soda. You and Robin both gave each other a shocked look before turning back to Steve and speaking at the same time.

“You went on a date and didn’t tell me about it?” Robin yelled.

“You’re working at the Sheriff’s office?” You asked as you sat up straight. Steve looked between the two of you, not sure why either of those things were surprising. 

“Yeah, I got a job at the Sheriff’s office; it’s just sorting through papers and stuff so it’s nothing special. Why are you so surprised that I’ve been on a date?” Steve asked as he turned towards Robin. She scoffed as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“Steve, when I first met you you were still hung up on Nancy Wheeler and constantly got shut down by every girl you looked at. How did you manage to find a date?”

“First of all, I was not hung up on Nancy,” At that, you and Robin let out loud chuckles. Steve rolled his eyes at the both of you before continuing. “And just so the two of you know, there are plenty of guys and girls that want to go on dates with me.”

You had calmed down at that point, whipping fake tears from your eyes. “Ok, so, did any of these lucky guys or girls stick? Does Steve Harrington have someone special in his life that his best friends should know about?” 

Steve thought for a moment before answering. “Nah, none of them really had what I was looking for. There wasn’t that spark that people always talk about, you know?” His words seemed rehearsed almost, as if he had spent an ample amount of time thinking about this. 

“Ugh, you disgust me. You and Y/N sound just the same, always talking about some ‘spark’. The two of you should just get married already.” She said as she playfully shoved Steve’s arm.

“Says the one in a relationship! Seriously, let’s not forget all the sappy shit you said at the beginning of you and Nancy’s relationship.” Steve pointed out. While Steve and Robin argued about who was right, you took time to consider Robin’s second statement.

A few years ago, if someone had made that statement both you and Steve would have immediately shut them down. The two of you? In a relationship? Never in a million fucking years.

But things have changed in the past few years— in good ways and bad ways. Outside of both of you almost dying multiple times, you’d both grown as people. Steve was no longer the biggest dick you’d ever meet and you had learned how to stick up for yourself. 

And your personalities weren’t the only thing to grow over the past few years. You’re the first to admit that when the two of you were in elementary school, you had a little crush on him. These feelings had gone away by the time the two of you reached middle school, but something about working close proximity with Steve at Scoops Ahoy reminded you of the sweet little boy you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

During the months you were away at college, you had spent more time than you’d like to admit thinking about Steve. His smile, the look in his eyes he gets when he’s listening to you, the way his eyebrows furrow whenever he’s stressed or focusing really hard on something. 

You were head over heels in love with Steve Harrington, but there was nothing you could do about it. 

—

The first few weeks of your summer break seemed to go by in a flash. Most of it was spent driving around town with Robin and Steve, or stopping by the Byers-Hopper household to hang out with all the kids. It was fun to watch Dustin and Steve argue about the most random things, and it was nice to catch up with Nancy, Max, and El. 

However, you noticed that after the conversation you, Steve, and Robin had had a few weeks ago, Steve had been distant. Which didn’t make sense, because when you first got back he had practically tackled you to the ground. 

You first noticed it when the three of you went to the local diner right after that conversation. It was getting pretty late, so there weren’t many people left in the diner except for truckers working the night shift.  Y’all all ordered your usuals — a strawberry milkshake and fries for Robin, a cookies and cream milkshake and a burger for you, and a strawberry milkshake and a bacon cheeseburger for Steve. When the waitress came back with your orders, it was clear that she was trying to flirt with Steve.

“Alright, here are all of your burgers, fries, and milkshakes. Is there anything else I can do for you cutie?” The waitress asked, turning her full body towards Steve. She was posing herself in a way to make her seem more appealing, but it clearly wasn’t working judging by the uncomfortable look on Steve’s face. 

“Uh, no thanks, we’re good.” He said simply. The waitress flashed him another smile before walking off. 

Once she was out of earshot, Robin let out a scoff and turned towards the two of you. “Well, that was awkward.” 

“Yeah, I mean it was clear that you weren’t interested. Right, Steve?” You asked as you turned toward Steve and took a sip of your milkshake.

Steve didn’t say anything, just moved the straw around in his milkshake. It took you and Robin calling his name a few times to get a response from him. “Hm? I’m sorry, I spaced out. What did you say?”

You looked him up and down before responding. “It’s nothing important. Are you okay? You’ve been acting strange since we got in the car.”

“What, am I not allowed to be quiet?” Steve scoffed. 

“Wow, okay. No need to get all rude, I was just checking in on you.” You replied as you sat back a little.

“Well you surely weren’t worried about checking in on me when you fucked off to college.” Steve snapped.

“Steve!” Robin hissed. “What has gotten into you?”

“What, it’s not my fault that they left me behind! Both of you did, actually.” His voice was getting louder, causing the few people left in the diner to turn toward your table. Including the waitress that couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of Steve, even now.

“If you want to be a dickhead towards me that’s fine, but you have no right to raise your voice at Robin, Harrington.” To anyone else, you might have sounded calm, but Steve knew better than that. Because the two of you knew each other more than you know yourselves. 

At least you had thought so, but apparently, more things than you thought had changed since you’d been away at college. 

“Whatever, Y/N.” Steve got up, threw some money on the table, and stormed out of the diner.

“What the fuck is his problem?” Robin mumbled as she watched him walk out.

“I have no idea, but as long as he has some giant stick shoved up his ass, I don’t give a fuck.” You said as you took a sip of your milkshake. 

—

The next few days you spent alone. Steve was still acting like everything wrong in the world stemmed from you, and Robin didn’t know how to handle it when her two best friends were at odds. 

You were currently propped up on your bed, going through your diary from when you were in middle school. The pages looked and felt as pristine as they did back then — Steve always teased you for taking such good care of your diaries, but you’d always remind him that when you were rich and famous one day, these would be of the utmost value. 

Dear Diary,

Today was a great day. Steve, Jonathan, and I hung out after school, but Jonathan had to go home so it ended up just being me and Steve. I helped him out with some homework, and he told me about his weekend baseball practice. When I was helping him with his homework, our hands accidentally touched, but it didn’t mean anything! I’ve been over him since 6th grade, and he’d never be into me like that. We’re just friends, and I’m completely fine with that. It’s better than nothing, actually. 

Anyways, it’s almost time for dinner, and mom’s making chicken alfredo. Goodbye for now, unless I think of more to talk about later. 

“Wow, this was definitely written by a 13 year old.” You said with a scoff as you slammed the book shut and threw it towards the end of the bed. 

Ok, maybe you still had feelings for Steve when the two of you were in middle school, and working so closely with him at Scoops did not help your situation at all. And after what happened at the diner, Steve had made it pretty clear to you that he was not interested in you. He might even hate you now. 

“What’s got you thinking so deeply?” A voice asked. You looked towards your door to see Steve standing there, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. 

“What are you doing here, Harrington?” You asked as you hugged your knees to your chest. How did he even get in?

“Your mom let me in, she said you’ve been holed up in your room the past couple of days,” He started. When he got no response from you, he continued talking. “I came to apologize. I had no right to speak to you the way I did.”

“You’re right, you didn’t.” You simply stated. Steve shifted a little, like he didn’t know what to do now. You sighed, scooting over and patting the bed. “Come sit down.” 

Steve gave you this sad puppy look, almost like he was asking if you were really sure you wanted him around. You patted the bed again and he walked over, sitting down slowly. 

“What’s going on Steve? Like actually going on, don’t give me that bullshit you gave me the other day about me going to college and forgetting you, because you know that I would never forget you. I’d never want to.”

Steve groaned, pushing the palms of his hands against his eyes. “I know, I’m a fucking idiot.” It’s just that—” Steve broke off, letting out a sigh as he tried to think of what to say next. You looked at him, raising an eyebrow as a signal for him to continue. “I didn’t know what to do with myself when you left for college. I mean, we’ve been best friends since elementary school, how was I supposed to go on about my day while knowing I couldn’t just pop over to your house when something went wrong? It just felt like I was losing my only support system; god knows my parents aren’t fucking interested in me. And I know that’s not an excuse, but let’s be honest. I’ve never been particularly good at managing my emotions.” He ended off with a chuckle. His eyes had gone a little red, as if he was fighting back tears. 

You scooted closer to him, wrapping your arms around him in a sort of side hug. “Oh Steve. Why didn’t you tell me about this before I left?”

“And stop you from following your dreams? No way, I could never do that to someone I love.” He mumbled as he looked at you. The look was filled with so much tenderness, it hurt you to have to look away. Now you began to tear up, thinking about all the things that needed to be said between the two of you. How could you possibly let him leave like this when he so clearly needed you.

“I have something to tell you.” You said as you turned Steve to fully face you. A few tears had fallen down his face at this point, and for a second Steve moved back a little. As if you were about to break his heart.

“What, did you meet some boy at college and I’ve just made a complete fool of myself?” Steve attempted at a joke. You of course saw through it; his eyes seemed to have gotten even more red and now the tears were streaming down his face at this point. 

“Steve, look at me,” You say as you gently tilt his head to look you in the eyes properly. “I love you too, and I have loved you for years. Honestly, if you haven’t figured that out by now I must be one hell of an actor. When we were in elementary school I had the biggest crush on you. And as far as going off to college, it was really fucking hard for me too. We’ve been inseparable since birth basically. Living a life without you? It was fucking hell. Then I came back and you seemed to be finally moving on. I didn’t want to fuck that up because you deserve to be happy.”

“Well you’re what makes me happy.” Steve said softly, smiling now that everything was out in the air. 

“Well if I make you so happy, why don’t you do something about it?” You teased as you backed away from him. Steve scoffed, pulling you closer and softly pressing your lips together. The kiss was soft, like being wrapped in the fluffiest blanket of comfort. Steve tasted a little like salt from the tears, as well as the mintyness from his favorite chewing gum. 

The two of you pulled away after a few moments, not wanting the kiss to end. When you finally opened your eyes, Steve was looking at you. And from the look in his eyes, you could tell that everything he had  said to you since he walked in your room was genuine. And what more could a person ask for?

“God, I’ve been waiting to do that since we were like 8.” He finally said, breaking the silence.

“I’ve been waiting to do that since we made that pact to marry each other when we were 5.” You said with a giggle. 

“Wow, ok, I can’t believe that you actually remember that.” Steve groaned as he leaned his head on your shoulder. 

“Oh I more than remember it. In fact, I probably have that contract that you wrote up and made me sign laying around here somewhere.” You said as you began looking around. Steve’s eyes widened, and he quickly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closely to his chest before you could get up and look for the alleged paper. 

“Please don’t, I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night.” He mumbled into your ear as he laid his head on your shoulder once again.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled your eyes, dramatically throwing your arms up in the air. “Fine, I won’t look for it now. It’ll just have to wait until our wedding.” 

“Oh, you’re already planning our wedding?” Steve asked as he looked at you.

“Oh please Steve, I’ve had this wedding planned since middle school. It’s going to be in the summer, and the colors will be a light yellow and white.” You said as you rubbed his arm unconsciously. 

Steve chuckled, placing another kiss on your cheek. “If that’s what you want babe, then that’s what you’ll get.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things fic #kimoralov3

[eddiexmunsonlover]

One Step Away From You (Chapter 3)

ExBestFriend!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Fem!Reader

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Chapter Summary: After some encouragement from Steve and Robin, you decide to finally talk to Eddie, and it doesn't go so well. Nothing a movie night with Steve and Robin can't help to take your mind off of though.

WC: 5.7k

Warnings: MDNI. Explicit language. Angst. Eddie is a bit of an asshole and gets slapped for it. Fatphobic comment/bullying from Jason.

Thursday, September 19th, 1985

The past few days since your first day had been uneventful in terms of Eddie. You continued to avoid the lunch room and opt for spending lunch in the library. Robin has joined you once so far, promising to continue so you wouldn’t ‘get lonely’, as she put it. The handful of times you’ve seen Eddie in the halls, he’d see you and immediately avoided you. Refusing to look at you and even turning to walk in another direction. The 2 classes you have with him weren’t any different, not sparing a glance your way, and either being the first or last to leave class so he wouldn’t be walking out near you. The pressure of the guilt you carried only intensified with each averted gaze and you don’t know how much more you can take.

You know you have to talk to him, figure out a way to make this right but you don’t know how. Don’t know what you could even say to make him understand, make this right. You wonder if it’s even possible to recover the friendship you once had with him, but you know you have to try. Living without having him in your life while you were in Virginia was hard, but seeing him in class and the halls everyday now made it so much worse. More than you can bare, and you feel like you’re gonna crack. 

A tiny folded note lands on your desk, catching you off guard. You reach for the paper, peeking up at the teacher as you unfold it.

The trials and tribulations of the French Revolution not entertaining enough for you?

You smile at the note, glancing to the seat to your left. Robin stares back at you, wide eyed and shaking her head at you teasingly. You look back down at the note with a grin, grabbing your pencil and writing a response.

Oh, yes. I’m having the time of my life, can’t you tell?

You pass the note back to her as the teacher writes on the board. Smiling as you watch her reaction.You’re grateful to have a few classes with Robin. She had missed the first few periods of your first day for a doctor's appointment. The next day when you saw her in your 2nd period World History and 3rd period Science class, you let out a major sigh of relief. Your friendship with Robin, and Steve for that matter, happened so naturally. You didn’t have to force it or feel like you had to act differently to be more likable to them. Other friendships in your past had been different. 

Whenever you had started at new schools, you felt like you had to always be funny and make jokes to get friends. You’d always been told you had a natural humor to you, a humor you often felt the need to force to be more likable. It had worked too, other kids would be nicer to you. Who knew all it took to lessen your bullying was to make a joke about the teacher’s unzipped fly? It didn’t stop the bullying and teasing all together, but it certainly helped. Still, the ‘friends’ you had made from it were never the deeper, genuine friendships like you had with Eddie, Robin or Steve. That pressure was a weight that was finally off your shoulders now. You didn’t see a point in trying to make new friends for the one year you’d be here at Hawkins High, nor did you feel the need to. Your life feels full with the friendships of Steve, Robin, and the younger party. Well…almost full. That hole once occupied by the wild-haired, metal loving, DnD ‘freak’ of Hawkins aches and looms around, antagonizing you.

It continues to loom for the rest of the day, even into your work shift at the restaurant your Aunt Patty manages. The meager Thursday night dinner rush and small stack of dishes to wash doesn’t help to distract your thoughts, no matter how hard you try. You consider making a stop after work at Family Video to get advice from Robin and Steve about what you should do. You’re getting nowhere going back and forth in your own head. Maybe hearing the words from them will help give you the courage you need to do what you know you need to.

Slow business for the night leads to you getting out at a decent time, an hour before Family Video closes. You hop in your truck and drive the mile down the street to your friends’ workplace. When you pull in front of the store, you and Steve’s cars are the only ones in the parking lot. You’d been betting on it being a slow night for Family Video too, giving you the privacy you wanted for the conversation you need to have.

You’d never talked about Eddie to Robin or Steve throughout your friendship since the beginning of the summer. You know they had to have known about it, though. Steve even mentioned it once at some point at Scoops Ahoy when he tried to remember you from school, “Didn’t you use to hang out with Munson?” You’d simply walked away, the need to organize the back freezers suddenly becoming an urgent task. Steve thankfully let it go and forgot about it quickly, never bringing it up again.

You smile as you see the two through the glass doors, standing behind the counter and bickering about god knows what. The ringing of the bell on the doors grabs their attention, eyes landing on you. Robin dramatically lays her upper body limp across the counter and groans.

“Oh, my savior. Steve is boring me out of my mind and we haven’t had a customer in like, an HOUR.”

Steve rolls his eyes, hands on his hips. “I am not boring, thank you very much.” He whines before offering you a soft smile, leaning on his forearms against the counter as you approach. “How was washing dishes?”

You grumble in response, “About as exciting as watching paint dry. Decided to come and provide y’all some clearly much needed entertainment.” You say with a smile that quickly falters as you look down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of the counter, “I um- I actually came to talk to you guys about something… maybe get some advice.” 

Robin quirks up at that, standing at full attention. Steve straightens up a little too, nodding his head at you. This is the first time they could recall you ever coming to them for advice, tending to keep most personal things to yourself.

“Of course, what’s going on?”

“So, I don’t know how much you guys remember me from before, like from the last time I lived here. But um, I used to be really good friends with Eddie… Eddie Munson. Best friends actually.”

When Steve’s eyebrows furrow, Robin’s eyebrows rise, eyes widening in recognition.

“Wait, Eddie? As in ‘Freak of Hawkins’?”

“Yeahhhh, I remember seeing you guys in the halls at school. Two cute little outcasts against the world.” She smirks as she stares off, lost in memory. Your eyebrows scrunch together, scoffing out a laugh as you shake your head.

“First off,” you point a finger at Steve. “Don’t call him that, I caught your tone. And uh, in case you didn’t realize Stevie boy, you yourself are friends with a ‘freak’.” you say gesturing toward yourself. 

“And secondly,” you turn your attention to Robin, mouth open as you ponder what to say. “Cute? Ya know what, let’s move on.”

“Anyway… we were really close. But, after I moved back to Virginia we lost touch.” You pause, shaking your head at yourself, “No, I lost touch. I uh, stopped returning his calls. It…it was just too much, too painful to hear his voice.” You stare off into the comedy aisle, collecting your thoughts under their gaze you didn’t want to meet just yet. “I didn’t expect him to still be here when I moved back, but he is. And uh, it’s clear he’s upset. I mean he has every right to be. He even overheard that girl Debbie that used to come to Scoops talking to me in class about working there. So now he knows I was visiting in the summers and didn’t see him-”

“Wait, Debbie Harris? She was supposed to call me…” Steve mutters the last part under his breath before Robin snaps her fingers in his face. 

“Focus, Steve!” 

He gives you a sympathetic look, mouthing ‘sorry’ as he brings his attention fully back to you.

“Look. Long story short, I don’t know what to do. I can’t take having him avoid me and clearly hating me just- in my face everyday. I miss him. I know I need to fix this, I just… I don’t know how.” You finish, running your fingers through your hair.

Robin and Steve stare at you in silence for a moment, you can practically see the cogs turning in their brains. 

After a moment, Steve leans a little closer toward you. Eyes squinting as he reads your face.

“You love him, don’t you?” 

Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up in shock as your mouth hangs open. You quickly scoff out a laugh, shaking your head as you try to play your reaction off.

“I-Well of course I do. He was my best friend for like 6 years!”

Robin tilts her head slightly as she meets your eyes, both giving you a look that says they see right through you. You feel your throat tighten, cornered by knowing eyes.

“Alright, maybe this was a bad idea coming here-” You begin to say, throwing your hands up as you take a step back from the counter.

“No no no. Come on” Steve says, beckoning you back. When you do, he continues. “Look, the only way you’re gonna fix this is if you just talk to him and try to explain your side of things.”

“I know.” You say, sighing as you lean your arms against the counter. “I’m just afraid that whatever I say, it’s not gonna be enough. You know?”

“Well if you guys were as close as it seems, he knows you. Maybe it’ll be easier than you think for him to understand?” Robin adds, a sympathetic and encouraging smile on her face. Steve nods in response.

“And I mean sure, he’s angry. But he probably wants to fix things just as much as you do.” Steve finishes, looking at you with genuine care in his eyes. You take a deep breath, allowing a small smile to appear on your face as you look at your friends and nod softly. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I think I just needed to hear it from someone else. Thanks guys, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” you say, thankful to have them in your life. 

“Don’t mention it, Y/L/N” Steve says, offering a wink and a smile. You can only roll your eyes at him playfully in response. 

“Well, I know you guys gotta close up shop here soon,” you say as you glance at the clock on the wall. “Butttt, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to do one of our movie nights tomorrow after work?”

Robin and Steve turn towards each other. You laugh as Robin begins to bounce on her heels,

“Yes yes yes!”

“It’ll be a late one, but I’m down.”

“Good,” you smile. “Aaaaand if I remember correctly, it’s my turn to pick.”

Steve groans in response, “Fine, but nothing too gory this time. I can handle some horror but ugh, no guts please!” his face scrunches in disgust, shaking his head as he turns to finish some closing tasks.

“Don’t worry, Stevie. I think I’m feeling something different this time.” You laugh as you grab your keys. “Thanks again, guys.” You bid them farewell so they can finish up closing for the night.

Steve and Robin gave you just what you thought they would, the validation of your own thoughts on what to do, and the push you needed to actually do it. They helped to calm some of your anxiety about it, but not all. You just need to figure out when to talk to him. Maybe you could go over to the trailer to talk to him? It definitely wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have at school. Tomorrow wouldn’t work; you knew from the boys that they had Hellfire after school on Fridays. You had to work and hang-out with Steve and Robin anyway. 

Nope, can’t do Saturday either. Maybe Sunday? Yeah, Sunday. I’ll just walk over to Uncle Wayne’s and talk to him. It’ll turn out better than you think it will. It will. You try telling yourself, attempting to carry Rob and Steve’s optimism. 

It’ll be okay. You reassure yourself as you spare a glance at the trailer across the street. Noticing a dim light through the curtains of a window you knew too well, before you shut and lock your front door. 

Friday, September 20th, 1985

Putting your conversation with Eddie off until Sunday helps to alleviate some of your anxiety. Your schoolwork and handful of quizzes you have today takes your mind off him as well. Starting at Hawkins High weeks after the year began meant you already have work to catch up on. As tedious as it is, it’s a welcomed distraction from worries about salvaging your friendship with Eddie. You’ve spent every afternoon this past week trying to complete your catch-up work, determined to get good grades that’ll help you get into college and a step closer into full adult independence. You’ve put a solid dent in the stack of schoolwork too, as well as your stash you brought with you from Virginia, needing some way to cope with the stress. You’re going to need to find someone you could buy from here in Hawkins soon.

After a last-minute study session with Robin in the library during lunch, the stress leaves you in dire need of a quick smoke break before your next class. You say goodbye to Robin, wishing her a good shift and sharing excitement over the continuation of your movie nights before leaving the library. You walk down the near empty hallway with a few minutes to spare before the bell signaling the end of the lunch period rings. You reach into your bag to fish out your cigarettes as you approach the back doors of the school near the football field, an unofficial smoking spot for students. 

Just as you begin to inhale the fresh air, it’s knocked out of your lungs as you step outside and collide with someone. A simple case of someone heading to go inside as you go out, you assume.

“Oop, sorry-” you begin immediately, falling short as your eyes rise to look at the person you’d nearly shoulder checked. 

Shit. Both your eyes widen, your mouth falling open as your brain stumbles in shock, trying to figure out what to do. In the split second of recognition, Eddie’s features harden, jaw tightening. He moves to continue to walk past you toward the door you just came out of. 

Now’s your chance! It’s not the ideal circumstances, but when a chance like this falls into your lap you can’t let it pass. Just as his hand grabs the door handle, your own reaches to grab his arm.

“Eddie, wait!” you feel and see his entire body tense under your touch. You take a deep breath as your grip on his arm loosens and begins to pull away.

“Can we please just talk?” you plead, voice soft. You hear him laugh in disbelief before he turns back to face you, eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh, so now you want to talk to me?” he asks. His voice is as hard as his features, eyes glaring at you. Your breathing begins to quicken, gulping as your throat runs dry.

“Y-yes. Look Eddie, I’m really sorry. I guess I thought I was doing what was best for me, and for you. I-”

He scoffs, taking a small step closer to you. “And who are you to decide what’s best for me, huh?” his voice raises slightly. You feel your chest tighten, convinced that the blush that has no doubt started to cover your cheeks has spread there too. You feel the rise and fall of your chest as you take quick, short breaths. “You know, I really thought you were different. But you showed me you’re just like everyone else. Just throw me to the side like trash when you’ve had your use of me, right?” he finishes through gritted teeth.

You feel so fucking small. Others have made you feel this way before. Mainly your mom and some bullies in the past, but never Eddie, and that made it feel so much worse. You can’t stop your eyes from beginning to water with tears, biting your bottom lip to keep it from quivering. 

“No…No, Eddie I swear it wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just-” you voice comes out weaker than you’d like, embarrassment and guilt overtaking your mind and body. 

“Well you did! You think you can just take that back like it’s nothing?” you flinch involuntarily as his voice rises further in anger and hurt. You stare up into his burning eyes as a tear falls from yours. You stand there, staring at each other for a moment before you speak up again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie” your voice betrays you, cracking as you force the words out of your dry throat. You can’t think of anything else to say under his fiery gaze, your brain turning into a jumbled mess. He shakes his head at you, jaw tensing.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t want to hear it. So why don’t you scurry off to your new boyfriend, ‘King Harrington’!” he seethes out in bitterness, “and don’t give me those crocodile tears, Y/N. It’s not gonna work this time.” he scoffs, shaking his head at you in a mixture of anger and disbelief. You look at him in shock, unable to believe those words just came from his mouth.

He knows why you tend to avoid confrontation. Why you turn red and tears burn your eyes when someone raises their voice at you, or when you decide to be vulnerable with someone close. Eddie had been the only person you ever felt truly safe to be vulnerable with. Past experiences left you misunderstood, belittled, lectured, and emotionally neglected, but never by Eddie. He knows how much it takes for you to cry in front of someone. How much it takes for you to let yourself cry in front of someone. He knows, but he can’t stop himself from saying the words that’ll drive a knife right through your heart. All rational thinking out the window, his anger taking the driver’s seat.

His words transfer the same feelings onto you. Lighting a fire within your body, blazing behind your eyes. It barely takes a second for the wave of anger to crash onto you. Before you can stop yourself, your hand shoots out and connects with his cheek in a loud smack. It takes Eddie a moment to register what just happened as he stares at the brick wall his head is now facing. Did you really just slap him? You’d never hit him like that before, nothing beyond playful slaps or punches on his arm. He knew you harbored anger and aggression inside from your past just like he did, but he’d never seen you lash out on someone like this, and certainly not him. He can’t say he should really be surprised, given the hurtful words hurled from his mouth. That thought doesn’t extinguish his anger though, as he turns his gaze back onto you.

“Fuck you!” You snap, pointing your finger in his face. It’s all you can muster saying in the moment, your whole body on fire and vibrating in anger. 

You push past him, throwing open the door back into the school just as the bell ending lunch rings. You quickly wipe your tear-streaked face with your hand as you stomp down the hallway. You take deep breaths, attempting to calm your breathing as you follow the hall to the front doors of the school. You need that smoke break even more now than before, especially if you’re gonna have to sit through a few more hours of quizzes and classes… with Eddie. You light a cigarette as soon as you step out the doors. Pacing back and forth in a short line, hoping the nicotine will help to calm your nerves. 

You expected him to be angry, you could see it from the moment your eyes met on your first day, but you never expected him to stoop so low. Poking at the sensitive spots of your psyche you’d only revealed to him. Maybe you deserved it, maybe this is your karma personally delivered by the very person you hurt. You scoff as you think over his comment about Steve. Your new boyfriend, “King Harrington”? The fuck is he going on about? You figure he’d seen you, Steve, and Robin in the parking lot after your first day. Including your hug with Steve. You didn’t know hugging a guy automatically made him your boyfriend. 

You finish the cigarette as the warning bell rings. You check your face and makeup in your compact mirror, taking another deep breath before venturing back into the school. You aren’t sure how you’re gonna be able to focus at all, thoughts still racing through your mind as you enter your English class. You refuse to meet eyes with anyone. Although you wouldn’t be meeting Eddie’s anyway, as his seat remains empty through the entire class period, as well as in your last class of the day. 

Eddie once again secludes to his spot in the woods behind the school. Pacing, smoking, and failing to attempt to focus on last minute touches to tonight’s Hellfire campaign. After a short while the sting on his cheek fades, but still leaves a red-hot warmth in its wake. Maybe he deserved it for hitting a sensitive spot of yours, or maybe you deserved it after breaking his heart. He can’t make up his mind on which is right, telling himself he doesn’t care either way. 

You waste no time darting out of your last class when the bell rings, grabbing the last of your things from your locker in record time. Your body had calmed slightly over the last 3 periods of the day since your fight with Eddie, but not your mind. You ruminate on the words said over and over, thinking of different things you wish you had said in the moment. You’re so consumed in your own thoughts you barely register the laughs and voice of some meathead standing at his locker with his buddies just as you begin to pass them.

“Watch out boys, it’s Miss Piggy” he snickers to his other jock buddies huddled around him, giggling like he just said the funniest joke on earth. Jason Carver. You just barely recognized the twerp from when you used to live in Hawkins. Though you’d learned to filter most of it out, you’d caught a few comments and looks from him here and there in the past week you’ve been here. You’d just ignored him, deciding it wasn’t worth your acknowledgement. 

Well, not today. You might regret it, but he caught you at the wrong goddamn time.

“Jesus Christ. Grow the fuck up, Carver.” You snarl, rolling your eyes as you continue walking past them.

“The hell you just say to me?!”

Without missing a beat, you throw a middle finger in the air back at them. Not even sparing a backward glance, as much as you’d love to see the look on his face, as you step out the front doors and make a beeline for your truck. 

You hop in, quickly turning your key in the ignition. 

You’re thankful it’s Friday and you don’t have to give the boys a ride. They’ll be occupied with Hellfire after school, meaning you don’t have to deal with Dustin’s prying questions once he reads you like a damn book.

You head home to pack a change of clothes and grab the movie you picked for movie night before changing into your work clothes. 

For the first time in your life, you’re hoping for a busy dinner rush at the restaurant. Anything to keep your mind busy and distracted from the persistent thoughts of him. You get your wish, tonight is no exception to the usual Friday night dinner rush. A steady flow of dishes coming back to the kitchen for you to clean. Unfortunately, not even the music on the radio in the kitchen or non-stop motions of dishwashing are enough to keep the thoughts of him from bursting through your mind. 

However, the busyness of the night does help to quiet the thoughts slightly, and makes the hours go by quickly. Before you know it, it’s 11pm when you’re done with your closing tasks. Clocking out, you enter the cool September evening air with a pep in your step, excited to meet up with Steve and Robin. Knowing their presence alone along with one of your favorite comfort movies will help to lighten your mood a bit.

You know the two should be preparing to close around now. You pull into the Family Video parking lot at the perfect timing, just as they’re locking the doors. They throw excited waves your way, before climbing into Steve’s car and driving toward Steve’s house, your car following closely behind. You roll down your window, letting the cool night air wash over your warm face, and turn the radio on to the local rock station. 

Given the passing hours and prospect of movie night, you’ve mostly calmed down since your fight with Eddie. Body no longer on edge and shaking with anger. Your heart still carries a heaviness to it, and your thoughts mostly remain the same. You hate how hard it is for your mind to let things go, to not constantly ruminate about things.

Caught on a one-way street

The taste of bittersweet

Love will survive somehow, some way

You haven’t been able to let the feelings of hurt and anger from Eddie’s words go yet. You know they’ll stick with you for days, maybe weeks. Hell, maybe you’ll never be able to let it go. Every word he said floats through your head. Now that you’re not as activated, you recognize he was only wanting to hurt you back for hurting him. You figure his comment about Steve probably stemmed from jealousy. Maybe he thought you replaced him with Steve. The accusing him of being your boyfriend part still confuses you, but you decide it’s something maybe you won’t ever understand. 

One love feeds the fire

One heart burns desire

I wonder, who's crying now?

You don’t blame Eddie for wanting to hurt you back. Still, part of you feels like you didn’t deserve the spiteful comments. As you replay his words in your head for the 100th time today, the sting in your chest doesn’t lessen, now threatening to spread to your eyes. You cough, rapidly blinking to stubbornly push the tears away before they can even well in your eyes. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you take in the words of the Journey song playing on the radio.

So many wrongs or rights

Neither could change their headstrong ways

And in a lover's rage

They tore another page

The fighting is worth the love they sav-

You hastily turn off the radio, choosing to sit in silence for the few remaining minutes of the drive to Steve’s. You’ve managed to live without Eddie in your life for 2.5 years now. Sure, it’s hurt like hell, and this time you have to actually physically see him. But you can continue to live without him, you decide. Maybe holding onto the hurt from his words will help, make it easier to move forward without him. You don’t know, but you’re gonna have to try. That much is clear. 

You take a deep breath as you park your car behind Steve’s in his driveway. Gathering your things, you’re greeted by hugs in the middle of the driveway. You avoid talking too much about your day outside of work, opting to redirect the conversation to their days as Steve unlocks the front door, laughing at their stories of clueless customers.. If they’ve noticed your avoidance in talking about your day or an off-ness to your demeanor, they don’t mention it. 

You needlessly ask Steve if you can shower to rid yourself of the smell of grease before the movie, already knowing he’d say yes. Turns out it’s just what you need, walking back out to the living room in your pajamas feeling more relaxed. Steve and Robin have changed too, sitting on the sofa replaying the events of their shift. You notice the coffee table is already filled with your staple movie night snacks and drinks.

“So, what bloody slasher will I be forced to endure tonight?” Steve asks as you round the couch to stand in front of them.

“No bloody slashers tonight, Stevie.” You laugh as you reach for your movie in your overnight bag. “Tonight, we will be watching… Grease 2.” You announce with a smile, completely shocking Steve. Robin nods in agreement to the movie, grabbing the bowl of popcorn as she gets comfortable in her seat on the couch. As a band kid, you knew Robin would be down for it, loving practically any musical.

Steve, on the other hand, was skeptical.

“Grease…2? The nowhere near as good sequel?” He asks with furrowed brows and a slight frown.

“Steve, have you ever even watched it?” you sigh, putting your hands on your hips.

“Well, no… but I’ve heard-”

“Let me just stop you there. Look, I love the original Grease just as much as anyone. I’ve watched it at least 100 times. I even had to buy another copy of it cause I burned through the first one watching it so much. It’s a classic, yes. However, I personally prefer the sequel.” When Steve’s face continues to meet yours in confusion and disbelief, you continue. His and Robin’s eyes follow you as you slowly pace back and forth in front of them. “It’s… campy, and fun! The songs are fun, the character’s are fun. And it works because it doesn’t take itself too seriously. AND the gender reversal with the guy being the one who’s chasing after the ‘cool’ girl, learning how to ride a motorcycle and changing his style to win her attention is, I think, a perspective shift much needed in this day and age.” You ramble, pointing at Steve as his eyebrows rise, Robin watching you in amusement. 

“So yes, we will be watching Grease 2 because it is one of my comfort films and you know what… I really need that tonight.” You sigh as you finish, finally stopping your pacing. You watch as they take in your words, the shift in tone and demeanor at the end. Before they can say or ask anything, you quickly start up again.

“And besides, Steve, are you really going to let the opinions of others influence your own before you’ve even given it a chance?” You ask, looking at him expectantly. “And you’re really gonna tell me you don’t want to watch 90 minutes of Michelle Pfiefer looking totally hot and badass while singing and dancing?” you finally finish, hands on your hips as you look at him. Robin looks at Steve with a grin, completely amused as she throws more popcorn into her mouth. 

“Yeah, Steve. Are you really going to let yourself be a mindless follower and conformist?” Robin pokes, smirking with a mouthful of popcorn.

Steve sighs, realizing this is yet another argument he will not win against you. 

“You’re right, you’re right. Okay, I’ll keep an open mind!” he states, raising his hands in surrender. 

“Good.” You state with a self-satisfied smile as you pop the tape into the VHS player, plopping down on the couch in the middle of the two.

Watching one of your favorite comfort films with your best friends gives you just what you expected, completely taking your mind off the events of the day. Drinking your favorite soda and eating your favorite snacks. You and Robin sing and shimmy along to the songs, laughing at the stupid jokes and silly characters. A few peeks at Steve show he’s fully immersed, specifically in the scenes with Pfieffer, just as you predicted. You even catch him laughing at a few points throughout the film, especially during the ‘Reproduction’ number. Towards the end of the film, you feel Robin’s head rest on your shoulder. You start to feel yourself growing tired as well, the stress of the day and late night hour setting in. As the film finishes you look at Steve, waiting for his opinion.

“Alright, I’ll give it to you. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. I still think the first one is better though.” 

“Alright, that’s fair.” you say to him with a soft smile. “Thanks for giving it a chance anyway, for me.”

“Anytime.” he smirks at you before stretching with a yawn. “Well, I think I’m gonna call it a night. The spare room is open for you as usual.”

“Sounds good, besides the fact I have this big sleeping baby on my shoulder.” you giggle as you take a peek at Robin, soft snores escaping her open mouth.

“I got this” he states as he gets up, gently maneuvering Robin’s body off your shoulder and towards the arm of the couch.

You yawn and stretch as you stand, telling Steve goodnight as you head upstairs to the spare bedroom he’s let you crash in after every late movie night over the summer. You groan softly as you snuggle under the cool comforter, feeling the sweet release of sleep quickly approaching. This night was just what you needed after today. All worries pushed away to deal with later.

(If there are no Grease 2 lovers, I am dead. )

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x plussize!reader #eddie munson x y/n #bestfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson slow burn

[kittenwalker]

soothing (tate langdon) x (fem!reader)

WARNINGS : panic attack, family issues and fighting

“ Moving into a new house would help us bond better, “ She said mocking her dad, it was funny honestly because it was the opposite of that. Every day there would be an argument or something uneventful happening. Living here was worst, to be honest, the constant shouting was making her go insane and her new school wasn’t helping either.

“ Well, It’s the murder house what’d you expect “ Tate answered. You met him during the first few days of settling in, then you continued to learn more about him and this house that you wished you hadn’t known. You tried convincing your parents to move out but they only declined your request as they have tried but no one would buy it due to its history.

“ Oh yea I mean, made you shoot up the whole school, “ You said snickering 

“ Hey I told you not to bring that up, that was 2 years ago I’m a changed man, “ He said with a smug face

“ Yea right “ 

You picked up your backpack and were already dreading going back to school.

“ Oh well see you after school Tater-tot  “

“ Mhm “

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You arrived at school with a cigarette in between your fingers, it helps soothe your anxiety about going to school. Oh but it only caused you more trouble, you forgot you couldn’t smoke on school grounds.

“ Hey prefect here, you can’t smoke in this school “ 

“ Oh sorry I’m new here “ you lied

Not wanting to cause any more trouble, you stomped down on your smoke.

“ What is wrong with you!? “ the prefect screamed then launched her body onto you. You fought back and spat at her before running away to your first class. Though you felt good spiting at her.

The bell rang and it was lunch time, you were walking down the stairs to the cafeteria and reading your book. Accidentally bumping into someone, you looked up and apologised. The face looked familiar until it dawned on you that it was the prefect.

“ Hey we finally found her! “ she said to her two other friends

Your flight or fight kicked in and you chose to run, you were running for dear life but they eventually caught you. It escalated into a nasty fight but you managed to escape and walked home with a black eye and blood all over your face. 

You jiggled your keys, already hearing the arguments flooding out, and opened the door trying to avoid your mother’s small talk she always had with you after school. But to add to your unfortunate day, you failed. Both your parents saw your face and gasped 

“ Y/n you can’t keep getting into fights! We can’t afford to exchange you for a different school again. “ She shook her head

“ How many times do we need to tell you not to cause trouble in school! “ your dad yells at you

They kept on nagging and nagging at you making you break.

“ Can you both stop!? I already had a shitty day I don’t need you to add to it! “ tears falling out without you knowing.

You ran up to your bedroom and slammed the door shut. Tears flooded out of your eyes non-stop, but it turned into hyperventilation and then having a panic attack. You felt breathless and your heart was beating rapidly, breaking out into cold sweat as well as shaking. You tried gulping as much air as possible because it felt like you were running out of it. All this happened because of this stupid stressful life.

As you were trying to calm down you felt a cold hand on your back, you looked to your left seeing Tate sitting with you saying nothing. He slowly picked up your right hand and put it against his heart, he removed his hand from your back and did the same.

“ Breath at each beat of my heart “ he advised

You listened to him and did as he told you. After a good 20 minutes, your heart rate started to slow down. Tate pulled you into a tight hug and kissed your forehead.

“ Don’t worry love, your safe with me “ He whispered, soothing you by tracing little circles on your back. You were truly grateful for Tate at that moment.

#tate langdon #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon imagine #tate langdon one shot #tate langdon drabble #tate #tate langdon fluff #ahs #ahs murder house #murder house #american horror story #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x you #tate langdon smut #evan peters #kyle spencer #jimmy darling #james patrick march #kit walker #ahs smut #smut #fluff

[natsarrownecklacx]

Small Town Sheriff

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary- Natasha’s mission is to keep you safe. Natasha never fails a mission, well, usually. Based on a request.

word count- 2202

Warnings- Gun shot wound, asshole Hydra agent, passing out, blood

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

Crime scenes, murder, detective work, suspects, interrogations, clues. These are things you know all too well. It’s what you’ve trained for. Gone to school to study for. Have years and years of experience with.

What you don’t have an abundance of experience with is sharing your caseload with entitled, big city cops. Or in this case cop, singular. A red haired, five foot five, over confident, smug, cop.

Sometimes when cases involve higher scale investigations the FBI have to come in. But considering your small town is located in what you consider "the back ass of nowhere” that doesn’t happen often. Maybe one or two cases tops in the past ten years. Both times, the perp had come into town looking for a place to hide from the authorities. It’s why everyone in your town is weary of outsiders; they bring trouble. 

Everyone knows everyone in a town like yours. That’s how, when Natalia Roman first set foot in your office, claiming to be your partner for the case you’d just opened, you’d immediately spotted her as an outsider. Alluring, but an outsider nonetheless. 

At first her charming demeanor and kind smile had honestly captivated you. She was professional, always handling her job with the utmost care. She always made sure that things were in order, warrants, permits, evidence, everything. She was a huge help. She was also funny, never failing to make you laugh or bring a smile to your face. Despite your town's unspoken rule against outsiders, you found that you genuinely liked spending time with her. She made the usual uneventful days at work more enjoyable, even making you look forward to going to work to see her.

But then you began to notice how, sometimes, when she thought you wouldn’t notice, she mentioned things she shouldn’t know. Things about you or other residents in the town that she couldn’t have found out from any files or town gossip. The latter being because everyone refused to talk to her. Something that got in the way of her interviewing witnesses, which you didn’t really mind. It just meant that she couldn’t do interrogations alone, so you more or less always did them together. 

Then there was this one witness you brought in for questioning who Natalia straight up refused to leave you alone with. You even had to pull rank, saying that because it was your town and your case, you should be able to question the witness alone. The witness, a smug man, refused to talk in her presence; something that struck you as odd. What you found even more odd was the hardened look she directed toward the man when she thought you weren’t looking. 

Natalia, surprisingly, disagreed, saying how she technically ranked above you and how she couldn’t leave you alone with a potential dangerous witness. She even became hostile, saying that if you refused to cooperate she would have you removed from the case. That was the one and only time Natalia had pushed back on a boundary you’d set. The speed at which she moved from her usual kind demeanor to almost threatening made you pause.  

After that, you’d immediately tagged her in your mind as untrustworthy, as outsiders usually are in your town. 

You couldn’t figure out what her motivation was for being here, only that she’d lied about the real reason she’d come in the first place. You know for certain because you’d called one of your friends at the FBI and asked about her. They knew nothing of her, not her name, not what she looked like, nothing. As far as they were concerned there wasn’t even an agent in your town.

Not one belonging to them anyway.

Your friend had urged you to stay away from her. To allow them to call it in, send you some backup and have her hauled out of there. But you refused. Some part of you told you it was better to keep her close by. That she needed to be here, your gut instincts told you so. And they’d never let you down before, so why should you believe they would now.

Right now, as you lay on the ground bleeding, you think back to that thought and scoff. You should’ve let your friend come in and take her in for questioning. Maybe then there wouldn’t be a bullet sized hole in your thigh.

It hurts like hell and there’s a lot of blood, too much blood. You’ve been shot before, it’s kind of inevitable in your job. But that was different to this. There’s a searing pain that spreads through your whole body each time you try to move even an inch. The blood pooling from your leg is a deep, dark red. It’s a fatal shot. You know that. The bullet probably nicked your femoral artery, meaning you're going to die soon. Alone and bleeding out on the floor.

You can’t help but laugh at the thought. Of all the places to die of course you’d end up doing it here. I’m a run down old warehouse at the edge of the town.

You’d followed that same suspect out here, the one that started your distrust with Natalia. You’d seen her put something under the hood of his car as you were driving home and decided to follow him, wanting to see what it was she put there. 

Apparently he wasn’t too fond of being trailed. Something you wish you’d done more stealthy. He led you inside, giving the impression he thought he was alone, then, when you least expected it, he shot you.

“You think this is funny?” He asks, a perplexed look on his face as he hovers over you. Placing his booted foot on top of your bullet wound he presses down, a sickening smile spreading over his face as you scream out in pain. “Not laughing now are you.”

“Please.” You beg as he puts more of his body weight on your leg. At this point you’re convinced the bullet has lodged itself into your bone.

“Please.” He mocks, a fake pout on his face. “How pathetic. You’re meant to be sheriff and you’re here begging like a little bitch.”

You close your eyes as shame washes over you. He’s right, you’re better than this, you can do more than this. Taking a deep breath you pull together every bit of strength you have inside you. In a quick motion you lift your uninjured leg to bend it back against your chest before kicking him full force into the knee.

The man drops to the floor, a yelp leaving his mouth as he hits the ground with a thud. Without a second's hesitation, he lunges toward you, rage clear in his eyes as he screams. “You bitch!” 

Acting on pure instinct, and the last of your adrenalin, you kick him in the face, a sickening crunch sounding through the room before his unconscious body hits the floor, blood pouring from his nose. 

Your body, weakened from the blood loss, slumps back against the ground. You vaguely register a noise from the front of the house, the front door slamming open and hitting against the wall behind it with a violent smack. Fast passed footsteps echo off the walls, someone’s running through the house. 

“Y/n.” A voice you recognise sounds off somewhere in the room. “Oh shit.”

You can feel someone lifting your leg, wrapping a bandage around it. The pain you feel at the action has you attempting to shuffle away from them, wanting to curl into yourself to protect yourself from the pain. Strong hands still you by your shoulders, one going to cup your cheek before both disappear back to bandage your leg.

You think the person is talking to you. Something that sounds a lot like your name keeps being spoken into the room, but you can't process the words, not really. Not with your hearing fading in and out as you battle against the unconsciousness that wants so badly to consume you.

The bandage around your wound tightness to an intolerable level, the pressure added to the gash on your leg making you cry out in pain. “I know, I’m sorry.”

You want to tell them to stop. That it hurts too much. You're too tired. But your voice doesn’t seem to be working, instead all that comes out is a whimper of pain. 

The person hovers over you, a messy blur of red, black and pale skin. You blink your eyes to rid yourself of the bleariness, willing yourself to focus on the person trying to save your life.

The first thing your eyes settle on is a pair of green orbs. They’re so pretty. They hold so much concern and what looks to be fear but god, they are so, so pretty. Her hair comes into focus next, along with the rest of her. Natalia, you think, and you can’t help but be grateful that it’s her who found you. 

“Just stay awake. Okay? Please. Help will be here soon.” 

Her mouth is moving, but you can’t hear a word she’s saying. So you just keep your eyes locked on hers. How could you never have noticed how beautiful they are before. 

“I should have been here sooner. I shouldn't have left you alone. I should have known you’d do something like this. Shit!”

Natasha continues to hold pressure to the wound, her hands trembling slightly as she does so, until help arrives. You drift in and out of consciousness on your way to the hospital. Each time you wake you look groggily for Natalia. She’s always positioned to your left, her hand holding yours tightly. 

This time when you wake Natalia is not next to you but standing at the foot of your bed arguing with a man wearing a long  black coat. “You were supposed to watch her Natasha! To keep her safe! How could you let this happen!”

Natasha stands in a defensive position. Her shoulders squared and her jaw clenched as she faced the man in front of her. “I got distracted. It won’t happen again.”

Natasha? You think to yourself. But before you can finish the thought you drift into the darkness again.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, y/n.” Her voice whispers into the room. You’re waking up, slowly, but you keep your eyes closed, not watching to interrupt her. “I was supposed to protect you but instead I got distracted by you and you got hurt. I’m so sorry.”

Something wet drops onto your hand, it takes you less than half a second to realize it's a tear. “Nat?” You ask, your voice horse from not being used. Slowly you blink open your eyes to see Natasha with a shocked look on her face. Quickly she looks between your eyes to your hand held securely in hers. 

“Sorry.” She mumbles. “Thought you were asleep.” She lets go of your hand, rounding the table to get you a glass of water. Wordlessly, she hands you the glass and you drink from it gratefully. 

Natasha takes a minute to watch you, letting the fact that she did in fact save you sink in. 

You wince as you try to sit up in your bed. Surprise filling you at the speed in which Natasha found herself at your side trying to help you. Once you're settled Natasha sits in the chair she previously occupied. 

She’s acting differently than she did before. Something about her giving a more authentic vibe. She holds herself differently, her voice is a few pitches lower, even her eyes look to be a slightly darker shade of green.

“Who are you?” You ask, preparing yourself for a long, complicated answer. 

Natasha shifts in her chair, uncomfortably. She wants you to know her, she wants you to be around for a long time. But she’s not sure if she can trust you just yet. So she settles on easing you into it. 

Shaking her head Natasha sends a soft smile your way. “Another day. For now, you need to rest.” 

You reluctantly accept her answer, wanting to know everything there is to know about her but also understanding there needs to be a certain level of trust for that to happen. 

You lay back down on the bed, Natasha watching from her seat as your head hits the pillow and your eyes instantly become heavy.  “Will you be here when I wake up?” You ask, a certain vulnerability to your voice. You want her to be there when you wake up. You want her to stay. 

Natasha fights against herself to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, finding you too adorable for words at that moment. “Yes.” She answers. “I’ll be here when you wake up. I won’t go anywhere.”

“You promise?” You ask without missing a beat. 

Natasha smiles at that, this time leaning forward to tuck that stray hair behind her ear when she gets the urge. “I promise.”

With that you fall asleep. Natasha’s hand held between both of your own. The warmth from it lulling you to sleep as you think about what tomorrow has in store for you.

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff hurt comfort #black widow x you

[unofficial-writing]

She calls me Freddie (Pt. 2)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Warnings: None really, fluff and a little banter, implications that your normal hair color isn’t red (sorry to my beautiful redheads)

Summary: The Tri-wizard tournament is announced and entering doesn’t go to plan

Word count: 4.9k

(Part 2 - Find all other parts here!)

༺═────────────═༻

The next week turned out to be pretty uneventful for you. After you all recovered from what happened at the game you started to use quidditch as your pastime. You, Harry, Ron, the twins, Ginny, and even Hermione practiced behind the burrow. Ginny had begun to take an interest in being a chaser so you showed her just about everything you know, having been one for the Gryffindor team for most of your years at Hogwarts. You played most days leading up to school and on the following Thursday you all traveled to the station in London.

“Did he find a compartment?” You asked George, who you were following through the train. Your luggage was already loaded, leaving you to carry your wand and one of your smaller bags.

“Fred said he found an empty one up here,” He started, peering into each compartment as he passed, looking for his brother. The boy stopped abruptly once he spotted him, which made you trip over his feet. “Aha.” He let out casually, as if he didn’t just have to save you from face-planting.

“Finally. I didn’t know how much longer I could fight of these kids.” Fred complained as you stepped into the little room. He sat by the window with Ginny across from him, who rolled her eyes at her brother.

“It was one first year. And the kid looked terrified.” Ginny told you and George while you hoisted your bag onto the rack above the seats. You gave Fred a look.

“Fred, you did not chase away a first year!”

“Oh no, he didn’t.” Ginny defended him. “He actually offered for him to sit with us but the poor kid ran off.”

George broke into laughter and Fred sighed, crossing his arms. You sat down beside him, fitting yourself into the space between him and the window. It was small enough that he had to scoot over so you wouldn’t be in his lap, which he did so without question.

You patted his knee to comfort him. “We can’t all be good with kids, babe.” You told him casually. The other two Weasleys glanced at you when you said this, but neither you nor Fred treated it any differently so they moved on.

“It was probably just the kid’s first day and he didn’t want to sit with a sixth year he didn’t know.” George stated, sitting down once he put his couple of bags up. Fred just shook his head and moved on.

The rest of the train ride went by quickly, spent with carefree talk and conversations about nothing important. Soon the clear skies of the morning began to turn grey and by the time you arrived at Hogwarts, the clouds were much darker and threatened to drop rain on the school.

Still dry for now, you entered the courtyard in awe of the castle as always. It was now your sixth year here and you were still taken by the school. Raindrops finally began to fall, so you stepped under the covered walkway.

Fred tugged your sleeve to get your attention and when you looked up at him, his eyes were looking out onto the lake. “What is it?” You asked him, stepping toward the stone opening to see better. Out on the water, a huge ship sprouted up f on the lake, water draining from it as it lifted above the surface.

“I’ve never seen that before.” You admitted. Ginny hurried beside you to get a look as well, but gasps from the other students drew you to the opposite side of the walkway. There you caught sight of a huge carriage coming in from above, drawn by several winged horses.

“Who do you suppose they are?” Ginny asked as they landed, guided in by Hagrid. They ducked just out of view as they touched the ground.

“I imagine we won’t have to wait long find out.” You said, turning from the spot where they disappeared to see the students flowing into the castle. Everyone filed into the great hall to find a seat. You sat down beside Angelina Johnson, who gave you a huge smile upon seeing you.

“Angie!” You exclaimed, giving her a tight hug. Fred sat down beside you and George across. He gave Angelina an almost timid smile.

“Hey, Angelina.” George greeted. You’d rarely seen George look so nervous. Angelina, of course, gave her smile out to him and asked about his summer, which got them talking less awkwardly. You and Fred exchanged a look, sharing the exact same thought.

The room filled with laughing and cheering as friends were reunited for the year, Gryffindor being the loudest as usual. By the time Dumbledore stepped up to his podium, your stomach ached from laughter. It took his loud voice to silence the hall and once the noise had subsided, he started his beginning of the year speech.

“Now that we’re all settled and sorted, I’d like to make an announcement.” He addressed the students. Fred twirled a piece of your hair to distract you and earned an elbow to the arm, which didn’t stop him. “This castle will not only be your home this year but home to some very special guests as well. You see, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event. The Tri-wizard tournament.”

You had heard of it before but you hadn’t been to Hogwarts long enough to see one take place. And certainly not to see one take place here.

“Now for those of you who do not know, The Tri-wizard tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. For each school a single student is selected to compete.” Dumbledore continued to explain. This had everyone paying attention, as most of your group especially was interested. You leaned an arm onto the table.

“But let me be clear.” The professor paused briefly to scan the room. “If chosen, you stand alone. And trust me when I say these contests are not for the faint-hearted.” He said ominously and then suddenly flipped a switch and took on a light-hearted expression.

“But more of that later,” he continued. “For now please welcome the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons school of magic!” On cue the doors opened on the opposite side of the hall, having everyone’s head suddenly turn in that direction.

In came a group of girls mostly a little older than you, all in matching blue uniforms with their hair tied neatly behind their backs. They strode through the room elegantly catching nearly every eye, especially from the boys. “Bloody hell.” Ron said. Hermione rolled her eyes.

Behind the girls came an extremely tall woman, probably even taller than Hagrid. “Blimey, that’s one big woman.” Seamus Finnigan said, a few seats down from you. Dumbledore had to reach up to take her arm, guiding her to her seat. The entire hall whistled and applauded except for Hermione, who was mad at Ron, and Ginny, who didn’t care. Dumbledore cut them off.

“Now our friends from the North.” He continued. “Please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang and their headmaster Igor Karkaroff.” In came a group of men also around a year older. They were all tall and handsome. Their entrance turned the table and now Ron was huffing at Hermione.

After the students, the headmaster entered with a tall boy at his side. It was Viktor Krum, the quidditch player from the World Cup.

“Blimey it’s him,” Ron said, startled. “It’s Viktor Krum.” He walked through the hall staring at the other hand, not bothering to greet anyone. You weren’t impressed by him. Dumbledore greeted their headmaster warmly, bringing him into a welcoming embrace.

Once everyone was seated and settled, the feast began. Each table was filled with every food imaginable and everyone was happy with what they ate. After the majority of the room was finished, four men entered the hall, rolling with them a large pillar decorated with gold and jewels. It was parked at the end of the room, right in front of the professor’s table.

Dumbledore stood again, making his way over to the pillar. “I’d like to say a few words.” He announced, quieting the room again. “Eternal glory. That is what awaits the student who wins the Tri-wizard tournament. But to do this, that student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks.”

“Wicked.” You heard the twins say in unison. Fred nudged you with his elbow, bringing a little smirk to your face.

“For this reason, the ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule.” The professor continued. “To explain all this, we have the head of the department of international magical cooperations, Mr. Bartemius Crouch.”

The man stood, making his way over to the podium. But he and everyone else were interrupted by the sudden sound of thunder clapping in the hall, rain and lightning following swiftly. Students shrieked, ducking for cover from the sudden chaos. From one of the side doors, a tall man stepped into the room and pointed his wand toward the ceiling, fixing the mess.

After the rain had gone everyone sat up again, looking around in confusion. The man that had entered was tall and widely built. He had a limp in his stride as he walked. “Hey that’s Mad-eye Moody,” Ron announced.

“Alastor Moody? The Auror?” Hermione inquired. Ron leaned down and whispered something to Harry, which was low enough that you couldn’t hear.

“My dear old friend, thanks for coming.” Dumbledore welcomed him, shaking his hand.

“Stupid ceiling.” Moody replied gruffly. Dumbledore nodded and gestured to a seat at the professor’s table, sending him in that direction. After the room had settled again, Barty Crouch finally made it to the front, standing in front of the gold pillar.

He paused, hesitating briefly before speaking as if it was something difficult for him to say. It was definitely something difficult for you to hear. “After due consideration, the ministry has concluded that for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen should be allowed to put forth their name for the Tri-wizard tournament. This decision is final.” Your face dropped in disappointment and the students erupted into shouts of protest, the twins being the loudest.

“That’s rubbish!” They shouted. The hall fell into chaos once more until Dumbledore saved it again.

“Silence!” He yelled, immediately quieting the school. The professor stepped forward toward the pillar. His hand glided over it, causing it to melt away in front of you. The outer shell of gold gave way to a large stone goblet, a blue flame igniting in the cup.

“The goblet of fire.” He explained. “Anyone wishing to submit themselves to the tournament need only write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it in the flame before this hour on Thursday night. Do not do so lightly. If chosen, there’s no turning back. As of this moment, the Tri-wizard tournament has begun.”

You glanced at Fred and George, who held an excited expression as if they weren’t just told they couldn’t enter. If you knew them, which you did, they would likely come up with an absurd plan to try and enter anyway. You would just have to wait until they brought it to you.

─────────────────────────

A few days later, you were absolutely correct in your suspicions. You were in the library, picking up a few books when the twins approached you. “Y/n,” Fred said in a singsongy voice, sliding next to you. George came on your other side.

“What is it, boys?” You asked, setting your books down on the table and turning to lean back onto it. They both looked at each other as if trying to decide who should answer. “Well, spit it out.”

“We have a plan to enter the tournament.” George started, you gave a loud sigh. “And before you say anything, we’ve thought it through completely. It’s going to work.”

“You did, did you?” You responded sarcastically, glancing down at the books you were carrying.

“We did,” Fred returned, ignoring your remark. “But, it requires you.” He held up a finger and pointed to you. You chuckled, crossing your arms.

“Uh-huh. And what does this plan require me to do?” You asked with a tiny smirk.

“We need you to brew an aging potion,” Fred explained, setting a hand down on the table to lean closer to you. “You’re much better at potions than us and we have to make sure it’s going to work correctly.”

You sighed. “It’s not.”

“What, why not?” George asked. “We could probably manage it so you definitely can.”

“Oh no, not the potion. That will work exactly how I make it to. But your plan won’t work.”

“And why is that, Y/n.” Fred asked, the look on his face put a longing feeling in your body.

“You really think that the ministry— Dumbledore for that matter would be thick enough to not think of an aging potion?”

“That’s what we’re counting on.” George stated, making you sigh even louder.

“Ok, let’s say hypothetically this does work.” You said, sitting on the table. “Have you considered at all that competing in the tournament might not be the best idea?”

“Nope” they said together.

“But we’re not worried about it.” Fred added. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Oh I don’t know, you could die?” You told them, setting a hand on the side of their heads. “And unfortunately I would miss you both dearly if you died.” You finished in an exaggerated pouty voice.

“When did you get all responsible?” George asked, “You were just as excited as we were to enter.”

“That was before I read about the tasks from the last tournaments.” You stated. “And I don’t want to risk losing my favorite redheads.”

“Well. That’s very sweet and all but we still need you to make that potion.” Fred told you.

You sighed once more to get your point across. “Fine.” They immediately grinned and gave each other a high five. “But when this blows up in your face, it’s not my fault.”

“You’re the best, love.” Fred spoke, giving you a sudden kiss on the cheek before taking off with his brother through the bookshelves, leaving you sitting there frozen. You watched them round the corner, your fingertips brushing your cheek. God, Fred Weasley was going to be the death of you.

─────────────────────────

You met them with their potion outside the great hall the next day. “Here,” You handed them two little viles. “This is your last chance to stop and save yourselves the embarrassment.”

“Yeah not a chance, babe.” Fred said, taking them from you and handing one to George.

“Alright, fine.” You said, throwing your hands up in defeat. “Just remember, this is your own doing.”

“We’ll try,” George told you. The twins ran into the hall cheering, you following a little ways behind. There was a little crowd gathered around the goblet of fire and they all applauded as Fred and George made their entrance.

“Well lads, we’ve done it!” Fred announced, jumping up onto the wood bleachers and holding up his potion.

“Y/n cooked it up just this morning.” George explained further, following his brother. Hermione, who sat a feet away, turned her head from her book and laughed.

“It’s not going to work.” She sang in a mocking voice. The twins sat down on either side of her.

“Oh yeah?” Fred started.

“And why is that, Granger?” George finished. Hermione pointed out a hazy white line around the cup.

“See this?” She told them. “This is an age line. Dumbledore drew it himself.”

“So?”

“So,” Hermione slammed her book shut as if it was outrageous that they didn’t seem concerned. “A genius like Dumbledore couldn’t possibly be fooled by something as pathetically dim-witted as an aging potion.”

“Ah but that’s why it’s so brilliant.” Fred stated.

“Because it’s so pathetically dim-witted.” His brother finished for him. The twins stood again while Hermione rolled her eyes. You took their spot, sitting down next to her.

“Ready Fred?”

“Ready George,” They both popped their viles open.

“Bottoms up.” They said together and drank the contents. Once the potion was consumed, they jumped into the circle beyond the age line.

“Why did you make them that?” Hermione asked, awaiting being able to say she was right. You sighed.

“I tried to tell them it wouldn’t work.” You replied, chuckling. “But you know them. They have to learn the hard way.” And they did. Fred and George tossed their names into the fire, pausing to see what would happen. Nothing did at first so they cheered. Fred shot you a smug look which made you shake your head.

Their success was quickly shot down by the fire spitting their names back out, shooting little flames around the room. The crowd ducked out of the way and the twins were send backward and onto the stone floor. You stood to get a better look over the students but all you could see were grey hair and beards sprouting from their heads.

You broke into laughter as they started fighting, cursing at each other. You were absolutely going to give them an earful after they recovered.

─────────────────────────

It took them a couple of hours before they were back to normal and they still had some grey left in amongst the red. Now they sat in the common room, grumbling as you finished combing out the hairs that didn’t belong. “Stop complaining, I’m almost done.” You scolded George, who huffed. Fred was already finished and sat beside you on, propping his feet up on the table and leaning his head back on the back of the couch.

“Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.” You suggested as you finished, tossing the comb to the side and shoving George away from you. “I could’ve given you a much better plan.”

“Oh please, yours are about as good as ours.” He responded, sinking onto the other end of the couch.

“At least my plans actually work.” You stated. “And my pranks, and that does make them more successful than yours.”

“Pranks are supposed to be funny, Y/n, not practical.” George teased. “I don’t think you’ve ever made a prank better than ours.”

“Oh really?” You said, standing and crossing your arms. “I could prank better than you two any day.” This made Fred pick his head up.

“Is that a challenge, Y/l/n?” He asked, standing up to meet you. The boy immediately towered over you. You should’ve picked your next words wisely and not ended up in a prank war with the Weasley twins, but of course you didn’t.

“Sounds like it, Weasley.” You told him confidently, stepping closer to him. He laughed.

“Ok fine, we’ll see who’s better.” He said, giving you a smirk that almost shook your composure. You tilted your head slightly.

“I guess we will.” You told him, turning and stalking toward the stairs to the dorms. “Good night, boys.” His eyes and his smirk followed you until you were out of sight. And once you were, you realized how badly you screwed up. You were definitely the smartest of the three but you couldn’t come up with something nearly as fast. And now you were on the clock. It wouldn’t surprise you if they had a plan in the next hour so thinking something up soon wasn’t optional.

You walked into the great hall for dinner that night without them, but they had beaten you there. Fred made eye contact with you, wearing a smirk. His brother sat beside him. They definitely already had a plan and you were definitely done for. Regardless, you sat down next to Fred.

“Fred, George.” You greeted coolly. Fred managed to surpress a chuckle. Instead, he copied your demeanor.

“Y/n,” he responded, returning to his meal. You ate quietly beside him, holding yourself together while listening to the twins try not to laugh the entire dinner.

“What’s up with them?” Ron asked Harry, who shrugged in response. The entire section of the table picked up on the change in interaction between you. Especially since you and Fred normally behaved like a married couple. After eating, you silently stood and left the great hall with Ginny. Fred gave you a stupid look in an attempt to break your seriousness. It only managed to bring a toothless smile to your lips, which you hid away quickly.

─────────────────────────

The next morning arrived and you still didn’t have a plan. It was probably already too late for you but you were too stubborn to just give up. You slid out of your bed yawning, but before you could stand all the way you were met with Angelina’s shocked expression.

“What?” You asked her nervously.

“I… would just go look in the mirror.” She told you. Hermione came walking out of the bathroom, dropping her things once she saw you.

“God, please tell me it’s not that bad.” You said, panicking. You stood and ran past Hermione into the bathroom, gasping as you saw your reflection. Your hair was as bright a shade of red as the twins’ were. You clasped a hand over your mouth in surprise.

“What happened?” Angelina asked, sliding into the bathroom behind you.

“The twins is what happened!” You exclaimed. The noise had finally woken Ginny.

“It’s really not that bad, Y/n. It’s just a bit of a shock at first.” Hermione assured. It wasn’t the worst thing you’d ever seen but that didn’t make you any less irritated.

“Hermione, look what they did to my hair!” You said, groaning.

“Hey,” Ginny said sleepily, rubbing her eyes. She started a yawn but it stopped dead in her throat when she saw you.

“I’m going to kill your brothers, Gin.” You said, trying your best to make your hair look decent.

“Please do, I have plenty more where they came from.” She responded, turning and leaving the bathroom. Once you looked okay to your standards you followed.

You stormed out of the dorm and down into the common room. Fred and George were at the chairs and turned their heads as they heard you enter. “You two!” You pointed at them. They stood immediately, stifling their laughter.

“You shouldn’t have challenged us.” George told you and shrugged, which made you scowl at him. You crossed your arms, absolutely fuming.

“Aww you’re so cute when you’re mad.” Fred stated, pulling your glare to him.

“You think I’m cute? We’ll get ready because I’m about to be gorgeous!” You snapped, beyond pissed off.

“Don’t worry, Y/n.” Fred spoke in an attempt to calm you. “It should wear off in the next hour.”

“It better.” You pointed a finger at him.

An hour turned into the morning and the morning turned into the whole day. By the next morning, your hair was still the same shade of red. When you found the twins in the common room again, they looked surprised and much more panicked.

“An hour, huh?” You asked them, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. Fred approached you, rubbing the back of his neck nervously with his hand.

“It really was supposed to be just an hour, love.” He told you. There was a guilt in his voice that made you soften.

“Who knows? It could take weeks to wear off at this point.” George stated, not getting up from his seat on the couch.

“Weeks?” You repeated back to him, dropping your head into your hands with a groan. “This is going to be the color of my hair for weeks?”

“Sorry Y/n, I have no idea what went wrong.” He apologized. “But I’ll figure out something to fix it.”

You sighed. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

Fred never mentioned it to you, but he did do his research. He even ventured into muggle hair dye, which seemed like his best option. The hard part was matching your hair color, so he took a small picture he had of you and picked out the closest shade to yours.

That evening you had finished dinner early and beat everyone back to the common room. Now you were sitting in your dorm, having just changed out of your robes. You were just about ready to return to the common room when you heard a knock on your door.

“Come in,” You said simply. Fred came in, carrying a couple of small boxes. “Oh hey,”

“I have a solution,” he announced, handing you the boxes. Inside contained y/h/c hair dye. “It’s only temporary. I figure we could use this until your hair goes back to normal.”

Your eyes softened at the gesture and you looked up at him. “Thank you, Freddie. That’s really thoughtful.”

“It’s the least I could do for turning you into a Weasley.” He said with a little chuckle, taking you into the bathroom.

Fred leaned on the small counter and read the instructions. “Ok, get your hair wet.” He said without looking up from the papers in his hand. God he looked attractive standing there, his long body supported by the counter and his brows creased just barely while he read.

You did as he said, wetting your fiery hair and returning to him, trying to keep it from dripping. He took a little towel and draped it over your shoulders, then positioned you so that you stood in front of him.

He poured the paste into your hair and you sighed as he massaged it in, making sure to get your entire head. “Enjoying this, darling?” He teased, getting an elbow to the torso from you. He laughed and continued to work the dye into your hair.

“You know, it’s only fair if I get to dye your hair too.” You informed him, causing him to pause for a moment.

“Y/n, I wouldn’t look good in any other hair color.” He replied, tying your hair up messily behind your head to let the dye soak in.

“Neither do I, but I didn’t get the choice.” You returned, turning around to face him. He looked at you for a second, considering his options.

“Fine,” He sighed. You smiled, trading spots with him and hoisting yourself onto the counter to reach his head better. “But for the record, you can pull off any color so that’s not a fair comparison.” He argued.

“Ok, Fred. I get it, you have a crush.” You teased him, working the dye into his long, soft hair. You almost detected him falter before returning to his normal composure.

“Oh, you mock me, Y/n.” He said, putting a hand to his chest in exaggerated offense. You both sat in the little bathroom with your now h/c hair tied up and soaking. Once the dye sat for long enough, you rinsed and dried both of your heads and then stood in front of the mirror to study your work. You looked completely back to normal but Fred looked entirely different.

“I actually think I make this work.” He said, turning his head to observe the new color.

“I agree.” You gave him a bright smile, relieved to have your regular hair back.

“It is going to come out though, right?”

“Yes because I, unlike you double-checked.” You stated. “It’ll come out in a couple of weeks.”

“That’s comforting.” He sighed.

“It should be. Because if I said it then it’s true.” You smirked, tilting your head up to him. “And now you have to admit that my pranks are better.”

“Y/n, you didn’t even do anything.” He laughed, looking down at you. His face looked different now that it was framed with h/c hair.

“I didn’t have to,” You explained. “Just letting you fail was proof enough.”

“Fine. Our plans work much better when you’re apart of them.” He got out slowly as if it was difficult to say.

“That’s not what I asked, Freddie.”

“Well that’s all you’re going to get, so you’re just going to have to be content with it.” Fred crossed his arms, not even phased when you gave him a smack on the arm. All jokes aside, he genuinely did prefer when you were there to participate in their schemes and keep them in check. He could admit you were really the only brain in the operation.

#She calls me Freddie #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley #fred wealsey fic #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley fluff #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x you #weasley twin fanfiction #weasley twins #hogwarts fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction

[skyward-floored]

OKAY ITS DONE here, Incredibles au thing that got way too long, and I had to force myself not to add more. It was supposed to be just a short little sickfic darnit. Takes place maybe year after Lost Time, but it doesn’t have much to do with it. That’s just where things are time-wise XD

Minor warning for some throwing up, it’s not graphic, but it’s there.

Ao3 link

————————————————————

Warriors covered his mouth as he let out a huge yawn, absently pouring cereal into his bowl while he listened to the rain patter relentlessly against the window.

Being forced to get up so early for school was an absolute crime in his opinion. He didn’t really mind getting up on the earlier end of things, but it was barely even light outside, not to mention a dreary, wet sort of day that nobody should have to go out in.

Warriors wished it was an actual crime. Then he’d have an excuse to do something about it.

“I won’t be here when you guys get home from school, I’ve got patrol and a double-shift,” Time apologized as he walked past the table, grabbing a bag with his lunch in it as he pulled on his coat. “If you need anything after school you can ask Gaepora, okay? And if anything serious happens—”

“Don’t worry about it Time, we’ll be fine,” Warriors said with a wave. He’d been so clingy since Majora. “You better go before you’re late.”

Time sighed, and made the expression Warriors knew was him checking his internal clock. “I know, I know. I’ll see you at dinner, have an uneventful day at school,” Time teased, and ruffled Warriors’ hair all over the place before heading out the door.

Warriors grumbled as the door shut, spending the next several minutes smoothing his hair back down. He then went back to eating his cereal and staring mindlessly at the puzzle on the back of the box, koroks smiling as they danced around a word search.

Nothing like a dumb puzzle and cold cereal to get the brain going for the day.

The words had all been found but one (he couldn’t find crispy anywhere, which was ironic, because his cereal hadn’t been crispy even before he’d dumped the milk on it), and Warriors was about to see what had happened to his brother when a creak above him signaled Sky finally getting out of bed.

Cutting it a little close, Warriors thought as he glanced at the clock. Sky was a sleepy guy, but he was usually up before now. They’d have to rush to make it to the bus stop on time.

Sky trailed down the stairs as Warriors grabbed his backpack and boots, wings dragging behind him as he yawned.

“Grab an apple or something Sky, we need to go,” he said, pulling his scarf over his shoulders, and Sky mumbled a reply, stifling a cough in his arm.

Warriors paused at the lackluster response, and watched as Sky grabbed a handful of cereal, nibbling on it as he slowly retracted his wings and pulled down his shirt. He movements were slow as he began pulling on his rain gear, and Warriors raised an eyebrow.

“You good Sky?” he asked, giving him a suspicious look.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Sky answered, with a bright smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just... just tired. I didn’t sleep the best.”

Warriors looked him over again, noticing that Sky’s normal eye bags were darker than normal, and how his face looked a little pale. It might have been Warriors’ imagination, but he thought he might have been shaking a little as well, and as he stared, Sky sneezed harshly into his arm.

“Gesundheit. Sky are you sure you’re okay? You... could always stay home,” Warriors suggested, but Sky shook his head, slipping on his own boots and backpack.

“I’m fine Wars, I’m not staying home because I didn’t sleep enough,” he scoffed lightheartedly. “Quit worrying, ‘m fine.”

Warriors met his gaze, and Sky met it in turn, the look in his eyes almost daring him to keep pressing the issue. But Warriors couldn’t really prove anything, and without Time as backup, there was no way he’d be able to get Sky to stay at home, even with his growing suspicion that there was something wrong further than too little sleep.

“...if you’re sure,” Warriors finally said, still feeling suspicious.

“Positive,” Sky assured, then gave him a smile as he walked past him out the door into the chilly, wet morning.

Warriors watched him go, then followed afterwards, a lump of worry settling into his gut.

(...)

Warriors and Sky didn’t share many morning classes, so once they got to school, Warriors spent most of his time worrying about him from a distance, trying to catch glances of him in the hall, and debating if his worry was really justified.

After all, Sky sometimes just didn’t sleep well. He had nightmares the same as Warriors did, and sometimes they were bad enough to keep him up at night. A singular sneeze and a few unsteady movements really weren’t a sign of anything wrong.

There really was no reason for him to still be worrying over Sky, and by the time lunch had rolled around, Warriors had mostly silenced the little voice in his head that was fretting.

Until he actually saw Sky, anyways.

Warriors caught sight of his brother from across the room, and froze, entirely forgetting about the growling in his stomach. Sky looked absolutely awful from where Warriors could see him sitting, paler than this morning and quite obviously not touching his lunch. The worry roared back to life in Warriors’ stomach, and he slipped past the crowds of people in the cafeteria and joined his side.

Sky was arguing with Sun over something, and didn’t notice him walk up, until Warriors touched his shoulder anyways. Then he startled and looked over, and Warriors grew even more worried.

Up close he could see Sky’s cheeks were flushed, in stark contrast to the pallid tone of the rest of his face. He was noticeably trembling now, and Warriors grabbed his arm, giving him an intent look.

“Sky, you look terrible,” he said worriedly, and Sky frowned.

“Gee, thanks,” he grumbled, looking annoyed. “Everybody keeps saying that.”

“Probably because you look like death warmed over,” Sun said from next to him, her face full of worry. “Seriously Sky, it couldn’t hurt to have the nurse check you out, right?”

“I said I’m fine,” Sky said shortly, and poked at his sandwich a bit.

“I think Sun is right,” Warriors replied, then tried to tug Sky to his feet. “We should go see the nurse.”

“I’m fine Wars, how many times do I have to say it?” Sky said sourly, but Warriors could hear the rasp in it now, and the lump of worry in his stomach grew.

“Sky, you’ve been looking worse and worse all day,” Sun said, getting to her feet as well, “I really think you should go see the nurse. Now.”

“I think so too,” said one of the other people at the table, an older boy named Pipit. The girl next to him nodded as well. “Sky, you look awful.”

“I’m fine!” Sky snapped, then immediately looked ashamed at the outburst, turning away from the table with his arms crossed tightly over his stomach. “Seriously guys, just leave me alone, I’m okay,” he mumbled, and Warriors exchanged looks with Sun.

He carefully extended a hand and placed on Sky’s forehead, his stomach falling at the heat radiating off of it. Sky looked even shakier than he had been now that he was standing up, and Warriors decided that enough was enough.

“Sky, you need to see the nurse, you’re burning up,” he said firmly, and began to tug him away.

Sky tugged back though, and Warriors was surprised at how strong his grip was despite how much his hand was shaking.

“No I don’t,” Sky bit back, and Sun stood up as well.

The rest of the people at the table they’d been sitting at were staring openly now as Warriors tried to tug Sky away, but his brother was putting up quite the struggle despite how awful he looked.

“Sky please,” Sun begged, going to Warriors’ side and helping him pull at their stubborn friend. “We’re worried about you, you almost fell over earlier in Science! Can you just—”

“Hey Sun!”

“Oh not now,” Sun groaned under her breath as a boy with large red hair sauntered up to their table, trailed by two other boys.

Groose, the most annoying person in the entire school in Warriors’ opinion, took in the scene with his hands on his hips, eyes trailing over Warriors and Sun with their arms on Sky, who was shivering openly now and looking less pale and more green.

He burst into mocking laughter.

“What the heck are you losers doing now?” Groose snorted, and jabbed Sky in the chest. “Looks like little Sky isn’t doing so hot, huh? He need some chicken soup and a kiss on the forehead to feel all better?”

Groose smirked down at Sky as his lackeys laughed, but it was at that moment that Sky lost the battle against his body.

He put a hand to his mouth, and Warriors barely had time to figure out what was about to happen and get out of the way before Sky lurched over and emptied out everything that was in his stomach... right on to Groose’s shoes.

There was a split second of silence as shock passed over Groose’s face, his eyes wide as he stared down at his ruined sneakers.

And then the cafeteria broke into pandemonium as Groose began yelling, his lackeys jumping backwards with disgusted looks on their faces. Kids were hollering at the sight and those that hadn’t seen were trying to figure out what had happened, and at least one adult was yelling for order. But Warriors’ focus was solely on Sky, who was shivering so hard it looked like he was about to collapse where he was still bent over.

Sun handed him a napkin to wipe off his mouth with, and Warriors put an arm on his shoulder again and attempted to steer him out of the cafeteria, Sun doing the same on his other side.

There was so much going on it was difficult to make any headway though, people pointing and worrying and laughing at what had happened. Right as Warriors was about to start shoving people, a larger hand settled on Sky’s back, and steered all three of them out into the hallway.

Warriors looked up to see Mr. Owlan, one of the teachers Sun’s father worked with, who was looking at the three of them with a concerned expression.

“Mr. Owlan? Why aren’t you at the high school?” Sun asked confusedly, and the teacher hummed.

“I was here to substitute for the morning, one of the science teachers is sick. I suppose it’s a good thing I stayed for lunch,” he said as he looked at the three of them.

Warriors swallowed. “We weren’t trying to do anything except get Sky to come see the nurse,” he quickly explained, and Owlan nodded.

“I’m aware. You three weren’t exactly being quiet. I was actually about to come over before Sky... gave us a very good reason for why he needs to go to the nurse.”

Sky moaned a little, and Owlan’s face softened as he studied him, placing a wrist on his forehead and frowning when he noticed him shivering.

“I’ll call your brother and see about getting Sky home. He—”

“He’s working, you won’t be able to reach him,” Warriors interrupted, then winced slightly at Owlan’s expression. Time would be on patrol about now, and Warriors didn’t want Owlan to call him and be treated to the sound of his older brother beating up bank robbers or something.

Their teacher lowered his arm from Sky’s forehead, and leveled Warriors with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s completely unavailable?” he asked in a disapproving voice.

“Yes, but we live next door, my father can come and take him home,” Sun quickly put in. Owlan blinked at her earnest expression, then chuckled a bit.

“That certainly sounds like your father. In that case, I’ll go call him and see about getting Sky picked up,” he directed at Sun and Warriors, and they nodded as he folded his hands behind his back. “In the meantime, I think you two should take him to the nurse’s office. He can rest there until he can be picked up.”

“Thank you Mr. Owlan,” Sun said politely, and Warriors gently tugged Sky away, Owlan turning and heading for his office.

Warriors and Sun guided Sky down the hall and towards the nurse’s office, the hallways feeling strangely quiet after the cacophony of the lunchroom. It wasn’t until they reached the door of the nurse’s office that Sky finally spoke, and when he did, his voice was small and embarrassed.

“I really thought I could make it through the day,” Sky whispered, and Sun gave him a look.

“I don’t know how,” she said with an eye roll, but gave Sky’s arm a warm squeeze as they went inside. “How are you feeling Sky? Really feeling?”

Warriors watched Sky as they sat down on a bench inside the office, his brother hesitating. But after a moment his shoulders slumped in defeat, and he rubbed a hand against his face.

“...Pretty bad,” he murmured finally. “I just feel... dizzy. And achy, kind of. Stomach hurts.”

“Are you going to be sick again?” Warriors asked quietly, and Sky gave him a tiny shrug.

“Not right this second,” he mumbled, looking miserable. Warriors frowned, and looked around for anyone coming before coating his hand in just a bit of ice, resting it on Sky’s forehead.

Sky leaned into the touch with a sigh, and Sun squeezed his arm before getting up and going down the hall to get Sky some water. In the meantime, Warriors and Sky waited in silence for the nurse to finish whatever it was she was doing and see them.

Warriors couldn’t help but watch Sky as they waited, a faint look of discomfort on his brother’s face. His raspy breathing seemed louder in the quiet of the office, and Warriors held back a sigh as Sky coughed.

So much for an uneventful day at school.

“Why didn’t you want to just stay home, Sky? It would’ve been okay,” he asked quietly. Sky looked down at his feet, not replying for several moments.

“I didn’t want to bother Time,” he whispered. “You and him have done so much for me, and he would have had to stay home and you’ve been dealing with a lot lately, I...”

He shook his head, and coughed into his arm.

“...I didn’t want to add to it,” he mumbled.

“Time wouldn’t have minded, Sky,” Warriors said gently, and Sky kept looking at his feet. “We’re your family you know, we take care of each other. Even if it means missing a day or two of work.”

“His work is important,” Sky mumbled, and Warriors squeezed his arm.

“So are you, Sky.”

His brother swallowed again, but didn’t resist when Warriors tugged him over to lean on his shoulder.

Sun came back with a cup of water for him only moments later, and Sky gladly rinsed out his mouth. Warriors thought he looked a better after sipping the rest, a little less sickly-looking and pale. Though that might have just been the lighting in the room.

“You know, I feel a little bad for Groose, but... his face was pretty funny, wasn’t it,” Sun said after a minute, her lip twitching.

“He’s going to be so mad the next time he sees us,” Warriors replied with a held-back snicker, mind flashing back to Groose’s expression of utter shock.

“I’m never gonna hear the end of it,” Sky groaned. Warriors looked over at him, but Sky was smirking, a glint in his eye. “I just hope he doesn’t make me buy him new shoes.”

Warriors let out a snort, and he and Sun both broke into laughter, Sky joining them after only a moment.

All three were still laughing when the nurse finally came out to see them.

#Warriors on the phone later: hey Time remember when you said to have an uneventful day? #Time already sprinting towards the school: WHAT DID YOU DO #linked universe fanfic #lu Sky #lu time #lu warriors #lu sun #writing from the floor #incredibles au #incredibles au fic #watch me fake my way through writing about public school hee hee #Gaepora and the other sksw guys are highschool teachers and this is only middle school #and I know Owlan is probably his first name but i had to make it work alright #sky’s still struggling not to feel like a burden #he feels like more of a problem then he’s worth sometimes #Warriors is working on it

[weeklyreadings]

Week 3

through the gaps of sunlight By @pancakehouse and tempus_fugit_and_all_that

Rated E. 47k. Wolfstar

Summer, 1860. At the tail end of a rather uneventful season, the town of Godric’s Hollow is stirred into frenzy by the long-awaited return of one of their own…

After five years away, Remus comes home. And Sirius is engaged to someone else.

Jasmine in Bloom by @lqtraintracks

Rated E. 41k. Drarry

This is not something Draco can have in his life… Potter overturning all that he’s carefully cultivated. They’re not compatible and never will be. Draco’s been playing with fire. It just so happens that he likes how Potter smoulders before being allowed close enough to burn.

No Harm by Tessa Crowley (tessacrowley)

Rated E. 47k. Drarry

After a long, bloody war, Draco Malfoy just wants to do something good with his life for a change, and resolves to become a healer. But magical society refuses to make it easy for him, and an increasingly dramatic series of events—all of them instigated by Harry Potter—get him kicked out of med school, force him to live in exile, and threaten to destroy the new life he’s trying so desperately to build.

But Harry isn’t instigating anything—at least not on purpose. He’s just trying to work up the nerve to ask him out. His efforts don’t appear to be going great.

Nothing in Particular by purpledinosaurss, tofulover

Rated M. 45k. Wolfstar

Auror's Headquarters, November 1st, 1981. In one interrogation room sits a bored Remus Lupin; in another, an irritated Sirius Black. Just earlier that day, the duo and four other rogues (identified by security as James Potter, Lily Evans, Peter Pettigrew and Regulus Black) have turned up at the doors of the Ministry of Magic with a dead body and five destroyed horcruxes. The Wizarding World is on a cliff's edge, and Auror Alastor Moody has two simple instructions: find out what happened to Voldemort, and get the suspects to say who killed Orion Black.

Never Mind the Bollocks by @the-sinking-ship

Rated E. 119k. Drarry

If someone told Harry six months ago that by autumn he would be single, living on whisky and toast, and dancing the night away with Draco Malfoy, he would have told them to get their head checked.

And yet, here he was.

#fic recs #fanfic #hp fanfic #wolfstar #ao3fic #drarry #wolfstar fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #drarry fanfiction #drarry fic

[winterchimez]

Eyes On Me | Lee Sangyeon

summary: Lee Sangyeon was determined that you were the right one for him, and he was going to make sure that you'll only have your eyes on him

pairing: ceo Sangyeon x employee f!reader

genre: suggestive

warnings: kissing, basically making out with your hot ceo 🤪

word count: 2,435

a/n: behold my very first fic for the loml ❤️ and yes this is written based on their jp track from their latest album! a huge shoutout to @sungbeam for helping me loads bcs ya gurl does not know how to write sexy 🧍🏻‍♀️ (ilysm beam 🩵)

It was a usual uneventful morning as the CEO of Lee Corporations sat in front of his desk, desperately trying his best to get to the hundreds of emails he had received for the day. 

Lee Sangyeon had been promoted to the head of the company, ever since his father retired from the industry 5 years ago. Frankly, it was never his choice to work in the business industry. 

Coming from a well-off family, it was difficult for the man himself to turn his back on his parents' high standards and expectations. Ever since his older sister was married off, he had no choice but to follow in the footsteps of his family’s business which has been passed down for generations. 

Adding insult to injury, that also meant that his parents were also in control of his love life. He has been set up multiple times in the past with a variety of different girls, from high school up to college, and eventually now in the work industry. None of them truly matched his values and desires and he always broke things off with them, the longest relationship only lasting about 2 years. 

Since he was already 27 years of age, his parents were desperately trying to get him to settle down for good. Hence, they found him yet another girl, who also came from yet another well-off family.

In fact, both families have been business partners for the past 2 decades. When their one and only daughter decided to work in Lee Corporations, eventually rising up to the ranks of being Sangyeon’s personal assistant, it was a win-win situation in both families’ eyes. 

A knock was heard on his front door, and he decided to shut down his computer screen, already knowing who it’ll be visiting at this hour.

“Come in.” 

Within seconds, the door swung open and a female dressed in a stylish, matching pencil skirt and blazer set brought in his favourite choice of coffee, iced americano, and placed it onto his desk.

Sangyeon stood up, and eventually made his way towards the female before both parties having their bodies pressed against one another, arms winding around each other’s bodies. 

“How was your day, babe?” 

“Just the usual, nothing much.”

The woman noticed how gaunt he looked. Clearly, he was pretty worn out due to the unending amount of crap he has to deal with being the CEO. 

Loosening his tie, she immediately threw it to the ground, before cupping both of Sangyeon’s cheeks as she decided to go in for a kiss.

“Let me take away all of your worries, babe.” 

As their lips met, the female snake both of her arms around his shoulder while Sangyeon wraps his around her waist. Both were having a passionate kiss, as one would like to say, tongues exploring each other’s mouth. 

As much as one would think that Sangyeon loves his fiancé, Rachel, who is also his personal assistant, what nobody knew was how he had his eyes on a completely different individual. 

Although physically occupied, Sangyeon happens to open up his eyes as he notices a familiar female employee that just made her way onto the floor to pass on some documents required to her superior. 

You began your journey here at Lee Corporations earlier this year when you were promoted from a small humble company on the outskirts of Seoul. Apparently, your superior in your former job had an acquaintance that informed him that the Lee Corporations were in dire need of more capable employees to join the team as they continue to expand their business.

Your former boss knew very well how you’ve always excelled at your job, and insisted that you applied. Hence, he immediately signed you up and you were packing your bags and leaving your home village for the heart of Seoul within the next couple of weeks. 

It was hard to leave everything behind, especially when you’ve lived almost your whole 25 years of life back in your quaint, little village. But you knew in order to support your family, you had to take on whatever job that had the best and highest pay. 

The first few months were tough, coming into a city filled with strangers. Hell, even joining one of the most prestigious companies in Seoul gave you little to no reassurance or confidence. But luckily, as time went on, you came to have found a comfortable place to be, as well as having the best co-workers surrounding you on a daily basis. 

In fact, it was you who caught the attention of the one and only, CEO of Lee Corporation.

There was something so intriguing about you, even the man himself couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. The way you’re always so focused on your job, the way you smiled and giggled whenever you were talking to your co-workers, even the way you munched on your favourite bagel that you always got from the local bakery down by the street. 

You had everything a man wants: long silk light brown hair that always seemed so perfect no matter how you styled it, a pretty smile that would melt the hearts of the people around you, and a perfect sculpture, both facial and body-wise, that captivates the CEO himself. 

Lee Sangyeon was strongly attracted to you. He himself would like to say that he’s practically drowned in love, like a sailor to a siren if you will. Ever since you introduced yourself to him on your first day at work, something had felt strange to him, to the point he constantly get these little butterflies in his stomach since that day, even until now whenever he laid his eyes upon you.

At this point, his entire universe might as well revolve around you, but it was definitely not easy to come clean to his and his fiancé's parents about this since wedding preparations were already on their way. And to think of how both businesses would suffer if there were to be a scandal that comes to light because of a third party that is involved.

But what they failed to note was how persistent Sangyeon can be. When he lays his eyes upon something he truly loves, he’s prepared, by all means, to do what he must to get what he wants, even if it meant using his status to do so. 

A party was going to be held tonight at the Swiss Grand Hotel, one of the most well-known luxury hotels in Seoul. A lightbulb dings in his mind, knowing how he is going to make full use of this entire event that was going to take place tonight.

He was determined to let the world know that you were his.

You arrived with a cocktail dress you somehow managed to borrow from one of your co-workers. There was no way you were going to buy a new dress in the heart of Seoul when you were already struggling to pay your monthly rent. 

But the dress you chose for the night was still elegant and appropriate, which painted you in a totally different light. The Y/N you knew of who grew up in the village would’ve never thought to be able to wear such fancy attire, let alone attend one of the most prominent figures in Seoul high society's party in the city. However, you thought it was good for a change, and you were definitely going to savour this whole night of finally being able to let loose and enjoy it to the fullest.

As you entered the venue, sure enough, the entire room was decorated to be as extravagantly as possible. Gold confetti balloons were scattered throughout the entire room, and an all-you-can-eat buffet and bar were stationed on the far side of the room for all employees of the company to devour as much as they would like. 

“Rich people things,” one of your co-workers whispered to you in the ear, and you couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. 

You tried your best to blend in as much as you could, clearly, you were still unfamiliar with this kind of environment. You had a bit of a bite and a drink down at the bar, before the lights in the room started to dim, indicating that it was time for a dance between employees.

You weren’t much of a party girl, so you decided to watch from afar, by the door, with a glass of champagne in hand. 

That was until you felt someone grab your wrists and pulled you out of the room, dragging you down the dimly lit hallways and eventually into a dark, empty room. 

You were terrified, to say the least. Were you about to get kidnapped while in the midst of a company party? Whoever this was and what their intentions may be, you definitely did not want to know.

Before you could let out a scream, a palm was placed over your mouth, followed by a hush sound coming from the individual himself. 

“Shhh.. Y/N. It’s all okay.”

Wait a minute. You recognised that voice. 

That deep husky voice could only belong to one person, and you were hoping that it wasn’t the person you had in mind. 

You opened up your eyes and sure enough, you found your boss leaning into you while your back was pressed up against the wall. 

Holy smokes, this is Mr. Lee! 

You were panicking, thinking of the multitude of things that you might have done wrong at work so far to trigger your boss enough to take you into a private room to talk things out. That is, until your boss was the one who broke the silence. 

“Listen, Y/N. I know this may seem crazy and all, but you have no idea how much I’ve waited for this day to come.”

Wait. What on earth? 

“I can’t tell you how much you make me go insane, and how desperately I have waited for this day to come to truly make you mine.” 

No. This has to be a mistake-

You begin to talk through your muffled voice, which caused the man to let go of his palm that was still covering your mouth. “I-Umm… with all due respect sir, I mean, Mr. Lee, this can’t be real… I mean you have your fiancé here tonight-”

“No, Y/N. You don’t understand.”

Now, he leans further into you, taking both of your arms and pinning them above your head. He leans his head down close to you as he whispers into your ear. “You are the one that I’ve always wanted all along. It has always been just you in my universe ever since you came into my life. And tonight, I will claim you and you will be mine, and mine only.” 

And then his lips are on yours as he begins to devour you like you’re his last meal. Your eyes widen at the sudden move, your entire body frozen.

You were desperately trying your best to rationalise this entire situation you were stuck in. Because, heck, for one, he was your boss for goodness sake! And two, you were unfortunately too weak to fight against his strong grip over you. And three, you were at war with yourself—you weren't supposed to encourage this behaviour, but why did it feel so good?

Oh my god. Sangyeon was completely in heaven at this point because you had the most luscious, soft and warm lips he has ever kissed. And now that he has tasted your lips, he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.

Plus, the fact that you decided to spray on his favourite perfume, Mémoire d’une Odeur from Gucci. There was no doubt he recognised it right away for sure. The airy and musky scent that it produced, and how it always made him feel at ease. So every time you walked past the hallway, the scent seemed to linger and always made him anticipate your visits. Oh, how he enjoyed so much how the scent seeped into his lungs and suffocated him. 

He moved his lips down to your jaw and to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses all over your sensitive spots. In return, you elicit a soft, pleasurable moan, honey to his ears. 

“Y/N, baby. You sound so good," he groaned, lips inking the words into your skin.

Whimpering a little, you tried your best to mutter out the words that were stuck in your throat. “Ple-please… what do you want from me?”

“Oh, baby… I don’t even understand myself anymore at this point.”  

As he begins to suck on your earlobe, he frees one of your arms so that he is able to snake his hand under your dress, touching your soft and sensitive thighs. 

“I can’t control myself Y/N.” 

As you continued to whine as he begins to suck aggressively on your collarbone, you knew that this man was far from done with you.

“Oh my god. Mr. Lee… I-I can’t…”

“Sangyeon. Call me that, baby.” 

“S-sangyeon… please….” 

But your entanglement was interrupted when the doors burst open. An angry female voice boomed, and Sangyeon knew precisely who it was without having to turn his head back to take a look.

He quickly tucked your head down into his chest with his other hand, not wanting to expose your identity and to keep you safe. 

“How many times are you going to do this, Sangyeon. For God’s sake we have finally found you a suitable partner It’s about damn time you settle down and stop being stubborn!”

“No, Mother. For 27 years you and father have always been in full control of my life. Now that I have finally found the perfect partner for myself, I will not let you both rule over my life ever again. The wedding with Rachel is over.” 

Knowing how she is practically unable to win against her son, Sangyeon's mother huffed and stormed away down the hall to take care of the mess that was bound to happen now that the cat is out of the bag. 

Turning his attention back to you as he lifts up your head, he places another soft kiss right onto your lips again. 

“I want you to see me, Y/N. And in return, I will completely surrender myself to you. So have your eyes on me only, to the point of breaking.” 

Snaking his hand back into your thigh, he leans back down and whispers into your ear. 

“Next time, maybe consider wearing red lingerie instead. That would definitely turn me on even better.”  

a/n: ever since @sungbeam convinced me that sangyeon is most def into red lingerie it has been implanted deep in my mind i love hate you for that 😔

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @flwoie @hokupi @zzoguri @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 (join my permanent taglist here!)

#deoboyznet #kvanity #k-labels #kflixnet #the boyz #tbz #the boyz x reader #the boyz x imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #tbz scenarios #sangyeon #lee sangyeon #sangyeon x reader #lee sangyeon x reader #sangyeon imagines #sangyeon scenarios #the boyz suggestive #sangyeon suggestive

[funnylittlelad]

Back to School - Eddie Munson x gn!reader

re-edited (Feb. 2023)

Read on AO3 - Masterlist

summary: When Eddie starts working as the handyman for the high school in the next town over he isn't expecting to make any friends. He certainly isn't expecting to meet a kindred spirit in the form of a U.S. History teacher.

word count: 13.6k

tags/warnings: nothing but fluff, no y/n, clumsy Eddie, Steve and Robin being the worst best friends a boy can ask for, HEAVY on the LOTR references like I got self-indulgent not even gonna lie, post-graduation Eddie, Wayne is an angel, Eddie loves pussy almost as much as pussy loves Eddie (a cat it's literally a cat), mentions of weed in passing, nerds in love, strangers to friends to lovers, brief mentions of food, mentions of jail, mentions of death, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of family members drunk driving.

Eddie never thought he’d end up back in high school after finally graduating. If anything, he thought he’d be dead in a ditch somewhere before he ever let that happen. Yet, here he is walking into Jenkinson High for his first day of work. It’s in the town next to Hawkins.

 Even if he wanted a job as a handyman at Hawkins High he’s pretty sure they’d laugh in his face. Luckily, his reputation hasn't followed him to Jenkinson High. Only his skill with his hands and his resourcefulness that’s gotten him this far. It’s not a bad gig, Jenkinson is a well-off town full of well-off people. There are never any serious repairs needed. 

It’s an overall uneventful day. He would even hazard to call it boring. Eddie is sitting in the little office he shares with the custodians in the basement with his boots up on the desk. He’s tossing a blue rubber ball up in the air and catching it. He’s been finding different ways to pass the time until something needs fixing. 

The ball reaches its peak in the air when the phone on the desk rings. Eddie’s feet slam to the ground as he quickly sits up, startled by the sudden trilling. The ball bounces off the top of his head before bouncing across the floor. 

“Maintenance,” Eddie answers the phone.

“Yes, is Mr. Munson there?” a somewhat frazzled-sounding voice asks.

“Speaking.”

“Oh! Perfect! Would you be able to come over to room 218? My overhead screen is stuck and I’m afraid one of the kids will break it if any more of them try,” your voice becomes a little more distant by the end like you pulled away from the phone.

“Yeah, I’ll be right over,” Eddie says.

“Kevin, go sit down. We’re not trying to get the screen up anymore. No, Mr. Munson is going to come help so none of you end up owing the school hundreds of dollars,” you call out, away from the phone.

“Their parents can afford it,” Eddie mumbles without really thinking about it.

You snort, causing him to realize he said the thought out loud. Thankfully, you found it funny or he could have been in trouble. 

“Room 218,” you remind him.

“Room 218.”

***

The first thing that strikes Eddie is you sitting on your desk. Your legs are crossed at the ankles, clean black converse swinging slightly. You gesture wildly as you speak. Then your arms, clad in the forest green knit of your oversized cardigan, pause bent at the elbow. Your hands create finger guns that aim at the ceiling.

“Okay, question time. When was America first discovered?” you ask the class. 

A few hands go up. You point a finger gun at a kid in the front right corner. 

“Henry, right?” you ask.

It’s still the first week of class and you have a good twenty-five kids in those seats. Names are gonna take a while.

“Yeah, uh- 1776?” he answers, confidence waning.

“While that is an important year in US History, it’s not the one I’m looking for, Henry,” you tell him.

Then you point your other finger gun at a student near the back.

“Mara?”

“Yes, 1492,” she’s much more confident than Henry.

Eddie is sure Mara is right. Then you do the second thing that strikes him.

“I can understand why you think that. However, while that’s also an important year in U.S. History, it’s not the one I’m looking for,” you say and put your finger guns back to their starting position.

Any hand that was still up drops. You scan the room for a few moments to see if anyone else decides to take a stab at it.

“No one?” you ask.

No hands raise. You nod and pretend to holster your finger guns before resting your hands on your lap.

“The country we currently call America was invaded in 1492. There was a vibrant, rich, society that existed for centuries before that. Our first unit is going to be dedicated to unpacking the notion that the country was discovered in 1492, despite there having been flourishing communities populating it before that year,” you lecture in a gentle way as if you’re easing them into the lesson.

Eddie swallows nervously, realizing he's been standing in the doorway watching. He definitely doesn't remember a lecture like that during his time at Hawkins High. With a hesitant breath, Eddie gives a rhythmic knock on the open door with a single knuckle. You look over with a smile that makes him feel warm.

“Are you Mr. Munson?” 

“You can just call me Eddie,” he smiles back.

“Okay, Mr. Eddie, I think my overhead screen is jammed,” you nod over your shoulder where, sure enough, the screen hangs half rolled up and lopsided.

Mr. Eddie reddens his cheeks and softens his gaze. It brings up thoughts of Samwise and his Mr. Frodo. He’s tempted to make the reference, but the chances you know a niche set of books are slim to none. Instead, he just nods, feeling like an idiot, and goes to inspect the problem. It’s an unsurprisingly easy fix. He just had to remove the front panel of the mechanism to unbunch the screen. Once he does it snaps up and you clap. 

“Thank you! You're a hero!” you cheer. 

Eddie gives a dramatic bow.

“Why, thank you.”

You let out a little laugh. 

“No problem, Mr. Eddie.”

Eddie leaves breathing just a little harder. 

***

The next time Eddie sees you is in your classroom again, two days later. It’s lunchtime. All of the other teachers are eating together in the lounge, but not you. You’re eating your sandwich at your desk as you read a book. The midday sun drenches you in golden light from the windows lining the far wall. He takes a self-indulgent moment to stare before giving a light tap on the open door. You jump a little as you whip your head to look at him. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Just seeing if everything is alright,” he says, raising a hand apologetically.

“It’s okay,” you smile, “everything’s fine. Why did someone say something?”

Eddie catches your eyes darting to the empty hallway behind him.

“No, it’s just that I’ve noticed the teachers eat together in the lounge, but you’re uh… not,” he rubs the back of his neck suddenly feeling like maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. 

Maybe he should have minded his business.

“Oh, no I don't usually eat with them. They’re… Well, let’s just say there are some generational differences,” you explain tightly.

Eddie nods understandingly.

“I get it. They’re dicks.”

You burst out in surprised laughter. Eddie smiles as he watches your hands cover your mouth, concealing the bright smile you wear. When your laughter peters off, you seem to think about something for a moment.

“Would you like to eat lunch in here with me?” you ask with a shy smile.

His grip tightens on the little silver lunch box that once hid his inventory but now does its intended job. No one has ever asked him to sit with them during lunch. Jenkinson High is providing a much kinder high school experience to Eddie. 

“Sure.”

He pulls a chair up in front of your desk to be across from you. You use a receipt as a bookmark and plop the book in a desk drawer. 

“So, where are you from, Mr. Eddie?” you ask pleasantly.

“You can really just call me Eddie,” he chuckles.

Redness floats to the tops of your cheeks. Mild embarrassment crosses your features.

“Sorry, I thought your tattoo was… I was making a silly joke about these books-”

“Wait, my tattoo? You mean this one,” he points to the most recent addition on the inside of his right upper arm.

It’s the ring of power on the chain Frodo wears. Half of it disappears beneath his short sleeve. 

“Yeah, isn't that Lord of the Rings?” 

Eddie’s mouth falls open briefly before he snaps it shut. 

“It sure is. I didn't think anyone else around here would know anything about it,” he beams.

His smile encourages you to relax. 

“Are you kidding? Those books are a history buff’s dream. It’s high fantasy with real-life historical context and a rich fictional history that’s detailed. Plus, I think being a hobbit sounds peaceful. Y’know, when they're not being dragged on life-threatening quests,” you ramble excitedly. 

“I’m more of a Dúnedain guy myself.”

You squint and really size him up.

“I guess that makes sense. I can see you being a dark mysterious ranger like Aragorn. Does that mean I should call you Strider instead of Mr. Eddie?” You throw him a teasing smile and take a bite of your sandwich.

The action reminds Eddie he’s supposed to be eating too. He pulls out a sloppy PB&J he made himself in haste this morning. 

“I think I like Mr. Eddie better. What’s that make you then?” He jerks his chin up at you before biting into his own sandwich. 

A goofy smile takes over your face.

“Why, your gardener, of course.” 

Eddie feels his face heat up, but powers through it. Where the hell did you come from? It’s like someone made you just for him and planted you here for him to find. 

“So?” You ask expectantly.

“What?” He blinks still caught up in the idea of you and him.

“Where are you from?” You chuckle.

“Oh- Hawkins.”

“I go to the movies there sometimes!”

“Yeah?” Eddie smiles.

“Okay, well, in all honesty, I go once a week,” you admit shyly, “Friday is my movie day.”

Eddie nods as he makes a mental note of that. Every Friday you're in Hawkins. 

“What about you?”

A blush rises to the tops of your cheeks.

“I’m living here in town right now.”

“Are you from here?” Eddie arches an eyebrow.

You stare right into his eyes for a moment. Your eyebrows set and your mouth tightens as if you're thinking hard. Eddie’s own eyes widen under your gaze. 

“No, I’m not.”

Eddie nods again, choosing not to push further. Clearly, there's something there you don't want to discuss. Far be it from him to make you. 

“I still can't believe you know Lord of the Rings,” he switches the conversation back to a topic he knows is safe.

A wide grin breaks out on your face. You start digging around your lower left drawer. One by one you drop well-loved copies of The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and The Return of the King on top of one another. After another moment of shuffling things around you pull out equally loved copies of The Hobbit and even The Silmarillion . 

“I think we’re gonna be great friends,” Eddie decides with a nod.

You laugh but agree. It does feel like the start of a beautiful friendship.

***

Lunch at your desk with Eddie silently becomes routine. The two of you share extensive notes on just about every little detail LOTR has to offer. There’s some arguing, but mostly a lot of agreeing and adding onto each other’s theories. It’s the highlight of both your days. It’s the only time Eddie sees you for a while. Nothing in your classroom has needed his attention. He finds himself quietly willing things to break just to have an excuse to be in your presence for a few more moments.

Eddie is pushing an AV cart of busted equipment back to the maintenance office. He takes the scenic route, the one that takes him by your classroom. As usual, your door is ajar so your voice carries to the end of the hall. You’re lecturing on the process of immigrating through Ellis Island. He watches as you weave a story with your entire body, much like he does when DM-ing. As rare as those times are beginning to feel. 

He peers in from the hall as you act out a family going through Ellis Island. Only their name and, therefore, identity is changed. The family then has to figure out how to survive in a new place and a new language they don't fully understand. Watching you is almost like watching a movie. Eddie becomes so lost in your storytelling that he misses the few students who catch him through the door. Smirks and notes go flying as rumors spread about the seniors’ favorite history teacher and the cute maintenance guy.

Eddie lets himself slip into a dreamy trance, leaning against the AV cart, and propping his face up on his hand. The thing about AV carts is they're on wheels. Wheels Eddie didn't lock because he’s supposed to be walking it back to the maintenance office. As he leans against it, the cart slowly starts rolling. By the time he realizes, eyes going wide, the world is already toppling over.

You’re over him in a blink. Eddie is sure his face is about to melt off with how hot it is. A few students snicker, which garners scolding from you.

“Are you alright, Mr. Eddie?” You ask with knit eyebrows.

“Yep- good- I’m good,” he says quickly, scrambling back to his feet.

You give a small amused smile as he dusts himself off. The sight of it causes a smile to grow involuntarily on Eddie’s lips.

“Okay,” you nod, “good.”

“I’ll- uh… see you at lunch?” The question feels incredibly stupid coming out. 

You smile like it isn't, though. It calms some of his nerves. 

“See you at lunch,” you confirm. 

Eddie gives you a two-finger salute as he continues his trek. You disappear back into your classroom. Eddie can hear your lecture continue. He listens for as long as your voice will travel to him. 

***

“Are you sure this isn't like super creepy?” Eddie asks for the tenth time.

The blue and red glow of the movie theater awning barely reaches the tips of his white shoes. He’s huddled by a phone booth, anxiously trying to talk Steve into telling him to go home. Eddie truly never imagined he would be chattering away to Steve Harrington for dating advice . He can thank Dustin for this strange newfound friendship.

“I don't know if I'd say super creepy, but it might be like a three out of ten on the creepy-dar,” Steve answers with a shrug in his voice.

“Nope, I’m going home. This was stupid. I’m stupid,” Eddie shakes his head to himself.

“Eddie, will you just shut up and go watch a movie? It’s perfectly normal for a guy to go see a movie and run into a coworker. Stop overthinking this and don’t forget to bring me popcorn after when you come over to spill allll the details.”

“Tell Robin I’m not coming over to spill anything. If the two of you old birds want gossip, you’ll have to come see the movie with me,” Eddie tells him.

He can hear Robin’s groan in the background and smiles a little. 

“Nice try, Munson. No buffers, go see your damn movie,” Steve orders firmly.

Before Eddie can try to procrastinate any further, Steve hangs up. Eddie slams the phone back on the hook and sighs. Okay, he can do this… right? Right ? He’s beginning to think he should go home and ask you to hang out the next time he sees you like a normal person. Is that what you do with real adult friends? Ask do you want to hang out sometime ? or is there some other secret adult social cue he missed out on during his time repeating senior year? He doesn't get very long to explore the possibilities before your voice breaks him from his thoughts.

“Mr. Eddie?” You call curiously from beneath the lit-up awning.

Warm light hugs you, making you almost glow from where he is in the shadows.

“Oh- uh- Hey,” he stutters with a weak wave. 

You smile wide at him, causing a relieved breath to escape his chest. You walk over to him, leaving the light to place yourself right by him. Even though your smile remains, your nose scrunches up.

“It’s weird seeing you outside of school,” you chuckle.

He mimics your facial expression.

“You too, kinda,” he agrees.

The two of you laugh lightly as you take each other in. You aren't in your usual clothes. It’s then Eddie realizes that he’s only ever seen you in your work clothes. Nice pants, cardigans, and clean sneakers aren't necessarily your daily go-to's. If Eddie had to guess based on right now, you seem extremely comfortable in a pair of worn-in jeans, beat-up black vans, and a black Purdue hoodie. 

“Actually, it's perfect that you're here. I got these shelves for my classroom, but I could use help putting them together. Are you busy tomorrow?” You give him a hopeful look that makes it impossible for him to deny you.

“Not at all. I can meet you at the school around ten if that works?” He offers easily.

“Ten is perfect!”

The two of you stand there smiling at each other like idiots. You shift awkwardly on your feet. Your eyes drift to the entrance of the theatre and then back to Eddie.

“Are you busy now? I wouldn't say no to some company,” you smile shyly. 

Eddie’s own smile grows soft.

“I’d be happy to provide you with some company,” he says with a dramatic effect to his voice.

He bends slightly at the hips and offers you his elbow. With a chuckle, you loop your arm through his and let him lead the way toward the building. He pauses before the ticket booth and looks at you.

“Wait, what are you seeing?”

***

Some annoyed glares get sent your way, but you don't care. You and Eddie exit the theatre leaning on each other as you laugh in harmony. The two of you watched some god-awful horror film. The kind you spent the entire time making fun of, which the other viewers didn't quite appreciate. 

“I’m really glad you decided to watch that with me,” you tell Eddie as you come to a halt on the sidewalk.

“So am I.”

Eddie stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jean vest. Your eyes drift over the various pins and patches in the low light of the building. At school, Eddie is always in a plain, usually sweaty, t-shirt and a pair of work pants. His casual clothes feel a lot more natural for him. It’s like taking a peek into the mind and life of Eddie Munson that you don't usually get.

“If only the kids got to see this side of Mr. Eddie. All metal and cool instead of falling over AV carts in the hallways,” you throw him a playful smile. 

His cheeks heat up at the memory.

“That really damaged my street cred, huh?” Eddie chuckles and rubs the back of his neck.

You shrug.

“Probably with everyone else, but I still think you’re pretty cool.”

A goofy smile crawls across Eddie’s face.

“Yeah?”

“I mean… maybe not as cool as me ,” you tease.

“Oh, no, I don't think I could ever be as cool as my gardener.”

A small giggle tumbles from your lips. Your eyes find the toes of your sneakers. They're tattered and nervously squishing a leaf into the sidewalk. 

“Would you be willing to make this a regular thing? I usually just come alone, but I liked it better with you,” your nose scrunches up anxiously as you ask.

Eddie’s heart flutters. You liked a part of your weekly routine better with Eddie around. So much so, you’d like to alter it so he could always be around for it. Sure, it's just a movie, but it feels like so much more. It feels like the promise of things starting to grow. 

“Yeah, that sounds fun.”

You beam at him.

“Great! We can figure out what to see next week during lunch one day. I’ll bring in the paper so we can look at the showtimes,” you say excitedly. 

Eddie nods enthusiastically. A moment passes where the two of you bask in the joy the other brings you. Your friendship is still new, but being in each other’s lives feels so normal . 

“I should go if I want to catch the last bus back,” you finally sigh.

“Let me drive you.”

You blink at Eddie for a second.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“Yeah, just let me know where you live. My van’s right over there- that sounds really creepy, I’m hearing it now,” he nods at your amused expression.

“Lead the way to your chariot, Mr. Eddie,” you smile.

Eddie’s heart thumps. He’s so very sure at that moment that you’re made for him. He's sure someone dug around in his dreams and pulled you out. Jesus Christ, he’s terrified he’ll wake up and you won't have ever existed in the first place. 

His movements are frantic as he cleans up the front seat. A couple of fast food wrappers were scattered on the seat, but are now occupying the back instead. Eddie gives a sheepish smile as he gestures for you to get in. You do so with a reassuring squeeze of his upper arm. It’s such a small gesture, but it does everything to rid Eddie of his anxiety. At least about you seeing him as a slob.

“Are you taking the bus tomorrow?” he asks as he pulls away from the curb.

“No, the route to the school doesn't run on weekends. It should be nice, though. I’ll probably just walk,” you shrug. 

“Absolutely not,” Eddie shakes his head dramatically, “I’ll pick you up.”

“I walk all the time,” you chuckle.

“Not anymore. No gardener of mine is braving the elements when my chariot awaits.”

Heat rises to your face as you fight down a smile. The goal isn't to not smile, but to not smile so damn hard. You feel like you do nothing but smile like an idiot around Eddie. It’s so hard not to.

“You’re…,” you start, but struggle to find the right words.

Eddie stops the van at a red light.

“Amazing? Ingenious? Devilishly Handsome?” he leans in toward you with a wide smile. 

You can't help but chuckle.

“I was thinking incredibly kind , but I guess those work too,” you tease.

The red light washes Eddie’s face with color, but you swear you see the red deepen. He offers you a strangely bashful smile.

“It’s nothing, really,” he shrugs. 

The light turns and you’re moving again.

“I don't just mean tonight. It’s like you always happen to be there. Even when I don't realize I want you there,” you tell him while playing with the hem of your shirt.

“I went to the movies just to run into you,” he blurts the confession out.

There’s a beat of silence that Eddie swears is about to swallow him whole. His grip on the steering wheel goes white knuckle. 

“You can just call me next time,��� you tell him amused.

He glances over, needing to see what thoughts are crossing your features. You’re already smiling at him. 

“I don’t have your number.”

You grab an old receipt from the center console. Then you dig a pen out of the glove box. Without a word, you scribble down your phone number. You write your name above it with a smiley face then leave it in the frontmost cup holder. 

“Will you call me to let me know you made it home safe?” You ask.

Breathing is suddenly really fucking hard. Eddie nods in confirmation, not trusting his voice. It feels broken and he isn't even using it right now. He'd probably sound like a thirteen-year-old if he opens his mouth. All voice cracks, leaving no room for eloquence. The remainder of the drive is made in companionable silence. Far too soon, Eddie parks on the street in front of your little apartment building.

“Do you want to come up for coffee?” You ask, trying to shove down your nervousness.

“Coffee?” Eddie’s nose scrunches in disgust.

You laugh, causing Eddie to smile. 

“I don't know why I said that. I don't even have coffee. It just felt like the thing I was supposed to do,” you admit.

Eddie’s smile softens. Maybe you’re just as lost with this whole adult thing as he is.

“D’you ever feel like you're pretending to be an adult? Like you're just waiting for someone to realize you’re faking it and then you'll turn into three kids in a trenchcoat?” He asks thoughtfully.

“Only every minute of every day,” you answer without hesitation.

“You seem like you have it all figured out.”

“Thanks,” you breathe a laugh, “I spend a lot of time acting like I have it all figured out, but I’m terrified. I’m terrified all the time.”

“Yeah, me too,” Eddie offers you a lopsided smile.

You return it, your stomach coming alive with little sparks. There’s something so sweet about feeling understood.

“Do you want to come up for anything other than coffee?” You make a second attempt at inviting him in.

Eddie is tempted. Christ, it’s like there's a gun to his back. Still, he can't bring himself to agree. He can't yet step into a space that's unadulteratedly you. No distillation from the school environment, no holding back due to being in public, and no fear of ridicule. 

“I should get home before my uncle declares me a missing person,” he offers an apologetic smile.

Your own expression doesn't falter. Any disappointment is covered by understanding.

“I’ll see you in the morning?” 

“Expect me laying on the horn at nine fifty-five sharp .”

You grimace.

“Please don’t honk your horn before noon. My neighbors would kill me.”

“Guess you just gotta make sure you’re outside then,” he shrugs.

“Have a good night, Mr. Eddie,” you smile as you slide out of the van.

“Have a good night.”

You definitely make sure to be outside by nine fifty-five the next morning.

***

The sunlight seems to drip across any exposed skin Eddie has. His arms, a strip of his lower back as he bends, and the back of his neck beneath where his hair is being held up by a black scrunchie. You study the focused knit of his eyebrow as he screws the metal shelf together. It’s possible you could have done this on your own, but as you watch him you're glad you didn't. Watching Eddie exist is quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes.

“What’s the next lesson on?” Eddie asks without taking his attention off what he’s doing.

You’re sitting on top of your desk, legs crisscrossed, as Eddie takes up residence in your chair. 

“Well, next class we're finishing up the Ellis Island unit with essay presentations. After that comes the introduction to urbanization as a concept and a curse,” you tell him happily.

“A concept and a curse?” He laughs.

“Yeah, y’know, what it is, why it came about, and the ways it's weakening our communities.”

“I’ve never met a teacher like you,” Eddie shakes his head with a smile.

Blush burns across your cheeks. Your shoulders rise as you shrink into yourself.

“Is that a good thing?” 

He looks at you with those big brown eyes, wide and full of sincerity.

“Are you kidding? It’s the best! I wish I had a teacher like you in high school. Maybe then I would’a only done senior year once.”

“Well, personally, I’m glad I have you as a friend rather than a student.”

Eddie is ready to melt on the spot. He’s ready to become nothing but a whining little puddle on the linoleum. It would be incredibly nice to be able to kiss you right now, but Eddie shows more restraint than he thought he could muster.

“Probably for the best. I was terrible to have as a student,” he chuckles.

“Somehow, that doesn't completely surprise me.”

His hands fly to his chest and he falls back into the chair dramatically. Eddie’s head lolls to the side, tongue sticking out. You can't help the laugh that comes out. You don't miss the way his lips quirk up at the sound.

“You wound me,” he tells you, one eye open.

“Oh, I’m so sorry , Mr. Eddie. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?” you lean toward him with big puppy dog eyes.

Both of his eyes open and he sits forward again with an amused smile. Eddie’s face comes so close you can smell the mint of his toothpaste.

“I think I can find forgiveness in my heart this one time.” 

“Thank you Eddie the Forgiving, Eddie the Kind Hearted- Oh , Eddie the Merciful!” your face brightens more with each name you come up with.

“ Eddie the Merciful sure beats Eddie the Freak ,” Eddie chuckles and goes back to his work.

“ Eddie the Freak ?” you ask curiously.

He stiffens, the screwdriver faltering in his hand. Sometimes it's easy to forget that his reputation begins and ends in Hawkins. Sometimes it's hard to remember you don't know about him.

“Uh- yeah, it’s just something assholes in high school called me… and pretty much the rest of Hawkins,” he explains sheepishly.

A frown plants firmly on your face.

“Sounds like a bunch of idiots who don't know what they’re talking about,” you decide.

Eddie glances at you with warm eyes. The corners of his mouth pull up just a bit, just enough for you to know you made him feel better.

When the shelf is complete you cheer and throw your arms around Eddie. He absorbs every molecule of you he can through his clothes. You silently do the same. It’s over too quickly, yet not quick enough for friends and coworkers. The shelf stands behind your desk, off to the side so as to not block the blackboard. You begin to load it full of books that have been cluttering your desk, both the surface and the drawers. Eddie moves to help you but stops when he sees your wide-eyed stare.

“What?”

“Nothing… I just… It’s just that I have a system, is all. It’s not time for those yet.”

Eddie nods, examining your suddenly anxious form.

“Tell me what comes next and I’ll hand it to you,” he says. 

You smile softly. The two of you work in perfect harmony. It’s an effortless task to work beside and with Eddie. 

***

“Is Mr. Eddie stopping by today?” Mara asks from the back of the class before you can get started for the period. 

“Not unless you plan on breaking something in the classroom,” you answer amused. 

“Well, he comes by just to listen to the lecture sometimes,” she shrugs.

Your face is on fire.

“He does?”

Some light chuckles rumble through the room. Your eyes scan your students. It feels like all of them are in on something you aren't. Which is a terrifying feeling when you’re dealing with a room full of teenagers. 

“Yeah, he stands by the door for a minute if he’s going by,” she tells you casually.

Another couple of chuckles let you know that this isn't a new topic of conversation for these kids. 

“If he does, I’m sure he’s just checking in on his colleague,” you say.

Jeffery, who sits near the middle, raises his hand. It causes his jacket to scrape against itself.

“Yes, Jeffery.”

“Is that s’pose to do that?” He points at the ceiling behind you. 

You turn your head with furrowed brows. 

“Oh- fuck ,” you curse hastily.

A chorus of ooooooooo ripples through the classroom. You’re too busy trying to push your bookshelf out of the way of the stream of water pouring from the ceiling. How did I not hear that? you question in your head. 

“Mara, I need you to call Mr. Eddie. Extension 1892,” you order as you continue your effort.

She rushes over to the phone to do what you said. It becomes clear fast that moving the entire shelf isn't an option. Your priority now is salvaging your books. Three, or four books at a time you rip from the topmost shelf. They make wet slapping noises as you toss them on your desk. 

Once the top shelf is cleared, the water begins slipping between the metal cracks of the framework. The water slows to a stop, but you don't stop removing the books. Each time you survey the damage your stomach twists. Eddie is rushing in a couple of minutes later, red in the face and out of breath. 

He sees the distraught on your shoulders as you face away from him. That’s when he sees the pile of soaked books on your desk. His own heart tears in two when he sees your Tolkien collection amongst the most damaged. 

“I turned off the water to the floor, so only use the bathroom downstairs. You should probably move class while I… deal with this,” he says gently.

Eddie sees your arms move to rub at your face before your turn to him. Your eyes are hollow, your face crestfallen, and your breathing is still a little erratic.

“Y’know what, kids,” Eddie claps his hands together and turns toward the class, “I think that pipe just bought you a free period in the library to study.”

None of them dare to groan. They can tell how upset you are. The kids in your classes respect and like you too much to feel anything other than sympathetic. There's the creaking of chairs, the shuffling of bags, and then steady footsteps exiting to the hall. You don't see any of it. Your eyes stare, but all you can register is a single thought. What am I going to do?

“Hey,” Eddie prompts softly once the room is emptied. 

He lightly tugs on your elbow when you don't respond. Your eyes focus on his worried expression.

“Hey.”

“It’ll be okay. There's a heat gun downstairs I can-”

“No,” you shake your head.

“No?” he asks, confused.

“It’s too late, Eddie. The pages will fall apart if we even try opening them right now. They’re… gone. They’re just gone.”

The lack of Mr. in front of his name lodges a pit in his stomach. 

“We can still try t-”

“Please, just, don't try to give me hope right now. Those books were all I came to Indiana with, literally. I need a moment to process this,” you tell him quietly, arms hugging yourself.

Eddie keeps his mouth shut. He lets you stand there staring forlornly at the ruined pile of the things you prized the most, and apparently the longest. He gets to work on the pipe. The ceiling tile is ruined. It crumbles once Eddie’s fingers touch it, causing more water to pour down. The pipe itself will need to be replaced, but he can patch it up with tape until that can get done. At least so the water can go back on. 

You expect him to leave when he’s done. Like he should. It almost startles you to hear him starting to clean behind you once he was done with the pipe. He’s mopping up the water with… the American flag.

“What are you doing ?” You screech, hands flying out to stop him.

“What, I didn't have anything else!” He protests, hands flying up in surrender. 

To Eddie’s utter shock, you start laughing.

“The flag can’t touch the floor and I really don't think it can be used to clean something up.”

He looks down at the soaked flag, then back up at you. He shrugs.

“It is right now.”

“I’m talking about the Flag Code,” you chuckle further, but the hollowness is still present in your eyes.

“The what ?”

“Alright, Mr. Eddie, I guess this is the first lesson you aren't auditing from my doorway,” you tease, “there are a set of rules on how the American flag should be handled, displayed, and treated.”

Heat tears across Eddie’s face.

“You’ve noticed that, huh?” He asks sheepishly.

“No, but my kids have. I think they like you.”

His eyebrows shoot up. High school kids liking Eddie? That’s a new one for him. You sigh a little and look back to the sopping mess on your desk. Slowly, you sit down on your chair. It’s as if your legs physically couldn't hold you up anymore. There is so much tied to those books for you and they're just gone. 

“In my defense, you really are a great teacher. You make everything feel more alive,” he smiles softly.

Your eyes move up to him. The faintest hint of a smile nudges at the corners of your lips. 

“Thanks. I think you and the kids are the only ones who think so.”

“Then we’re the only ones that matter,” he decides.

The smile nudging your lips grows.

“Yeah, I guess you are.” 

“Can I finish cleaning up the water or are you gonna call the army on me?”

“You're safe for now,” you breathe a laugh.

You listen to the sound of Eddie cleaning up the remnants of what just destroyed your life. Okay, you could possibly be being dramatic. It really does feel like you lost someone important, though. In a way, you have. Those books were all you had from before you ran. Before Maryland couldn't be your home any more thanks to a dangerous man and an even more dangerous system. 

“I should go to the library,” you sigh.

Eddie finishes soaking up the water. He rings the flag out the window and hangs it over the nearest chair to dry. You haven't moved an inch when he turns back around. When you register the movement in your peripheral, your eyes move to him.

“Would you… take care of this for me? I can’t…,” you trail off.

“Don’t worry about it. I got it.”

You nod, which is how you realize tears have started falling. They hit your forearms where they rest on your thighs. Eddie sees them drip off your chin. He’s around your desk in an instant. His arms pull you into him. You remain seated, head buried in Eddie’s shirt, and arms around his waist. He stands, arms around your shoulders, and gently delivers hushed it's okay's . 

“I got you,” he whispers reassuringly. 

Those words swell your heart until you think it may just explode. I got you. You don't doubt that for a second. Eddie has got you. He has you in his arms. You have him in your heart. As he squeezes you into him further, you understand just how much you’ve grown to like Eddie. In some ways, he feels like another aspect of you. In others, he feels so otherworldly that you can't help but want to know more, and explore every unknown he has to offer. 

Seeing you like this tightens Eddie’s chest until he’s sure he’s going to stop breathing. He doesn't know why the books are so important, but he understands it. He understands the way he would feel if he had to helplessly watch his guitar be destroyed. He understands leaving what you know behind with nothing but a few possessions and the hope of something better on the horizon. That's how he arrived on Wayne’s doorstep all those years ago. He just wished there was more he could do to help. He wished he could provide to you what Wayne was able to provide to him. Stability, comfort, and the most real version of love he’s ever experienced.

“Thanks, Mr. Eddie,” you whisper as you pull back.

He watches you stand and collect yourself. With a deep breath, you fix your face into a calm smile and nod. Eddie observes the way you put up the facade, the part you need to play in order to do your job. He isn't sure he’d be able to do the same. He’s sure you’re the bravest person he knows for that. You walk out of the room.

“Anything for my gardener.”

It takes Eddie the rest of the day to fix everything up. He makes an attempt to save your books with his heat gun, but you were right. The moment he tries to gently peel open the books his fingers go through the softened paperback covers. The pages themselves are already adhering to each other. It gives his stomach a sick twist, but he ends up throwing them out. Some of the books on the second shelf were salvageable. The ones lower than that were safe thanks to the others taking the brunt of the damage. 

As he looks down at The Return of the King in the bin, he makes a decision. If four halflings who do nothing but smoke weed and eat can save all of Middle Earth, then he can fix this. It won't be the same. The books themselves won't be the same ones physically, but he hopes he can at least ease the pain of losing them. There’s just one problem. There is only one person he knows of that could possibly help him get what he needs. Reefer Rick.

***

“Ah, Munson, you're funny , man,” Reefer Rick drawls. 

He’s sitting on a park table, where he agreed to meet Eddie. Eddie is sitting on the actual bench part of the table, back pressed into the hard edge of the table. 

“I’m not joking. Can you help me out or not?” Eddie questions shortly. 

Rick blinks at him in surprise. He leans onto his knee, leaning in toward Eddie. 

“You want first edition Tolkiens? Do you have any idea what that’ll cost you?”

“A few hundred dollars?”

“Try about a month’s rent just for Fellowship ,” Rick scoffs at Eddie’s ignorance.

Eddie runs a hand down his face. The metal of his rings leaves a trail of biting cold on his skin. He has a decent amount of savings from when he was still dealing and the new steadier income that’s been adding to it. He knows he could swing it and still have money left over. Unless the van needs work, which it almost always does. Or the trailer needs work, which it almost always does. 

“Can you get them or not?” 

Rick leans back and strokes his chin thoughtfully. God, this guy’s a prick. He’s only become more insufferable now that Eddie isn't competition anymore. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Eddie sighs exasperatedly.

He pushes himself up from where he was seated. Before he can get more than a few steps, Rick speaks up.

“So, who's sucking your dick?”

Eddie snaps around and stares down Rick. Rick just sits there with a smug grin.

“What?”

“Someone’s gotta be giving you some real good head for you to go through all this,” Rick shrugs. 

“Yeah, your mom.”

“Fuck you, Munson.”

“Fuck you, Rick. Just get me the books.”

With that, Eddie stalks off to where his van is parked in the gravel lot. Bills should be on his mind when he buckles in, but they're not. He’s not even concerned with the amount of money this will cost him really. He’s only concerned with seeing you smile brightly again. 

Eddie pulls up to your apartment not much later. He announces his arrival with three short honks. It’s Friday, or as he calls it: his favorite day of the week. You’re outside a few moments later jogging up to his van. His eyes are trained on your hoodie as you hop in.

“Is that a Hawkins hoodie?” He asks, pointing to the green letters on your gray hoodie.

You look down at them too.

“Oh, yeah, I got this from the store down the street from the movie theater. It gets really cold in there sometimes and I don't always think to bring something with me,” you explain.

Eddie reads HAWKINS in large green letters and indiana in smaller green letters below it. It feels strangely personal, seeing you in that. It isn't his hoodie, but it still feels like you're wearing part of him. He really fucking likes it.

“Alright, you ready?”

“Sure am.”

He takes off back to Hawkins. You update him on some of the drama you’ve overheard from the kids. How Mara has a crush on Chris, but Chris is dating Jenna. Then there’s the dispute between the notorious best friend duo of the school that are always seen together. He listens happily, asking questions and making comments. 

“What about you?” You ask.

He glances over at you. Your body is angled so you’re facing him as much as you can while buckled into the passenger seat. 

“What about me?”

“Anything new?”

He thinks for a moment. 

“Wayne got us a new microwave,” he says finally.

“What happened to your old one?”

“I kinda set it on fire,” he tells you sheepishly.

You burst out laughing.

“ How ?”

“In my defense, I was really high and-”

“You put a fork in there didn't you?”

“ No, ” he scoffs defensively, “it was a spoon. I left it in the bowl of mac and cheese I was heating up.”

Once again, you’re laughing. The sound makes Eddie smile. Laughter and smiles haven't been lacking in the few days since you lost your books. They just haven't quite been the same. Usually, you reach a radiance setting of ten. Lately, you’ve maxed out at a five.

A beat of comfortable silence passes as Hawkins begins to appear around you. 

“Would it be okay if I ask you something personal?” You inquire quietly.

Eddie’s eyes shift to you quickly. You're no longer facing him, but the windshield. Your head is leaning back on the headrest and your eyes are trained on the side view mirror.

“Yeah, shoot.”

“Why do you live with your uncle?”

A thick lump forms in Eddie’s throat. He swears you must have been able to hear the way he choked on your words. There’s a panicked moment where he considers lying, convincing himself you’ll never see past the story he has to tell. He swallows that panic with the lump in his throat. He pushes through.

“My mom skipped kinda early on. Guess she realized dad was a sleazy piece of shit around the third stolen car he sold. I think she thought I was a lost cause and left me behind. When I was twelve, dad got arrested. Last I knew he was still in there, but,” he shrugs. 

The time it takes you to process the story Eddie uses to torture himself. He’s so sure his family history has stained him like coffee on paper. He’s brittle, wrinkled, and discolored. Unusable, unlikeable, and impure. 

“My dad got out of prison my senior year of high school,” you tell him.

“What was he in for- uh- if you don't mind me asking.”

“Manslaughter. He went in when I was a toddler so I didn't even remember him when he came back. I grew up with my grandmother while he was away,” you explain softly.

A sick relief cracks open Eddie’s chest and relieves the pressure there. Maybe he is stained, but you are too. Perhaps between the two of you, there's still some paper left that can be used, some bits untouched by the warping of your similar pasts. 

“Shit… That’s heavy,” he breathes, feeling dumb once it comes out.

You chuckle.

“Guess it is. Yours isn't exactly light either, though,” you point out.

He nods thoughtfully.

“We both got some heavy shit.”

“Mine… mine might get heavier than what I’ve said,” you admit.

You don't know why you do it. All this time you’ve kept it tucked away, hidden from where anyone could dig it up. Yet, in Eddie’s van, driving through Hawkins, surrounded by a gentle understanding conversation, you don't want to hide anymore. Eddie has done nothing but see past the bullshit. He’s done nothing but look past whatever is around to see you . After he took care of you in your classroom, after he held you the way he did, you’re ready for him to really see you. 

“It’d probably be rude to ask, huh?” Eddie attempts to lighten the mood a touch.

“Probably, but I’m willing to answer.”

“Alright… How does it get heavier?”

“My dad killed my mom in a car accident. He was drinking. When he got out of prison he showed up at my graduation. I totally freaked in front of everyone . I ran away, I ran home, but he followed me. He wouldn't stop following me for weeks . I called the police, tried to get him for stalking, but that didn't work. Then my grandmother died and a few weeks after that it was time for school.”

Eddie lets out a low whistle. He parks the van on the street of the movie theater, but neither of you moves to get out. Instead, Eddie looks fully at you. His eyebrows knit in concern.

“Wait- if the cops didn't arrest him for stalking you what happened to him?”

“He kept showing up randomly. At my house, at the store, the mall, anywhere. I kept running away. I wish I could say I even wanted to believe he was different, but I could tell he was still drinking. So, I left a week before school started. I only took the books my grandma got me as a kid. I didn't have much else worth taking.”

“I’m sorry,” he says mostly because he doesn't know what else to say.

He does mean it, though. He’s sorry you had to go through any of that. He’s sorry you went through it alone. He’s sorry you had to leave home and never look back.

“Kind of a bummer conversation to have before watching a movie, huh?” you chuckle.

“Yeah, kinda,” he chuckles back.

“If you don't want to anymore, it’s okay.”

“Do you still want to?”

You shrug noncommittally. Your eyes are trained on where you're picking at the skin around your fingers.

“I don't care what we do. I just want to hang out with you,” he admits.

Your eyes shoot up to him, wide as can be. Your eyebrows are raised curiously.

“Are you sure?”

“You kidding? I don't care about the movies. I do this to spend time with you,” he throws you a lopsided smile.

You smile back.

“I-” whatever you're about to say is cut off by a rapping on the driver-side window that causes you both to jump.

Eddie snaps his head around to see Steve and Robin standing outside the van. Both of them smile and wave. You look at Eddie curiously. He curses under his breath as he cranks the window down.

“Munson! Fancy seeing you here on a Friday night,” Steve drawls with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

He leans against the door where the window is open. One arm is supporting his body on the door while the other has his hand placed on his hip. 

“Harrington, Buckley, what are you doing here?” Eddie questions, attempting to tamp down any irateness. 

“We’re just on our way to see a movie and noticed you parked over here,” Steve shrugs casually.

“Is that the teacher you won't stop talking about?” Robin asks cheerily from where she stands just behind Steve’s shoulder.

Heat races up Eddie’s neck. He gives Robin a flared-nosed warning look.

“I believe I am. Well, I’m a teacher anyway. I don't know how many those Mr. Eddie hangs out with,” you say with a smile from your seat. 

“Just one, as far as I know. Isn’t that right, Mr. Eddie ?” Steve flashes a shit-eating grin.

“Yeah, just the one,” Eddie grumbles.

“So, what're you guys seeing?” Robin asks, bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet.

“We were just leaving, actually,” you reply apologetically. 

Robin lightly hits Steve on the shoulder.

“I thought you said they usually come around six,” she pouts.

Steve glares at her over his shoulder.

“Rob, shut up,” he hisses.

Her face becomes an apologetic grimace.

“Sorry,” she whispers, but it's no use.

You’re all too close to each other to not be heard on a quiet Hawkins night.

“So, are you going to actually introduce us?” You give Eddie an amused smirk.

He stammers as he introduces you to the two troublemakers, and them to you. You offer them a small wave in greeting.

“You’re really heading out?” Steve asks.

“Yup,” Eddie says.

“Where are you going?”

“My place,” you answer knowing Eddie didn't have one.

Steve glances at you with a smirk and then turns his teasing gaze to Eddie.

“Really, now?” 

Eddie is tempted to throw the van in drive and speed off with Steve hanging onto the window.

“Goodnight, Harrington,” Eddie says shortly. 

“Hey,” Steve points a finger at Eddie with raised eyebrows, “don't do anything I wouldn't do, okay?”

Eddie flips him off, earning him a round of chuckles. He cranks the window up as fast as he can manage. Steve steps back when he feels the glass rise against his arm. You shout a goodbye before the window can close all the way. He pulls away, careful not to run over any feet. Even if he really really wants to. 

“Your friends seem nice,” you comment.

“We have different opinions about them right now,” he sighs. 

You let out a hearty laugh. 

“Do you really talk about me all the time?” You can't help but ask.

“If it’s weird, no. If it’s endearing, then totally,” he replies nervously.

“It’s definitely endearing,” you assure him.

“In that case, I talk about you even when I don’t mean to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like the conversation could be on anything else and I still somehow end up talking about you. Shit, one time Steve was talking about basketball teams and I started going on about our argument over which Tolkien book is the best,” he chuckles anxiously.

You squeeze your hands together in your lap as you consider your next words. 

“I talk about you to my cat,” are the words you decide on.

A crooked smile breaks across his face.

“You have a cat?”

“Yeah, Cookie. She’s a calico. She’s also my best friend, as sad as that is.”

“High praise if you’re talking about me to your best friend.”

“It sure is.”

The van falls into a companionable silence. Both of you let it wrap around and comfort you. Words aren't always necessary. Sometimes it's just nice being in the same space.

***

Cookie is purring and rubbing against your legs the moment you're through the door. You chuckle and as you crouch to scratch behind her ear. When you move forward and begin taking off your sneakers, Eddie enters hesitantly. He’s afraid of breaking the seal. Afraid to disturb the symbiotic feeling relationship you've established.

Once he’s through the door, Cookie is purring and rubbing against his legs too. His muscles ease as he smiles down at the cute little calico. He bends down and scoops her up. She lays purring in one of his arms like a baby. Eddie scratches her belly, causing more purring to pour out of her. He looks at where you were removing your sneakers. Except now you’re standing upright staring at him with wide eyes.

“What?” he asks.

“She doesn't even let me pick her up,” you gape.

Eddie grows a smug smile.

“That right? I must be special. Am I special, Cookie?” He coos as he scratches under her chin.

You get closer to pet Cookie. Only, when you reach your hand out to pet her belly, she attaches herself to you. Her front arms wrap around your arm as her teeth gently nudge into your skin and her back paws kick at your hand. You give Eddie a deadpan look, at which he laughs. 

“Traitor,” you mumble with a smile.

You extract your arm from her. Eddie puts her back down. You’re expecting her to dart away. She usually takes up residence on the low vintage cabinet beneath the windows. Only she stays and continues purring against Eddie’s legs.

“Would you like anything to drink?” You offer.

“Sure, as long as it's not coffee,” he says with a teasing smile.

“I would never,” you scoff dramatically.

Eddie chuckles, causing you to smile. He’s sort of beautiful when he laughs. He’s sort of beautiful in general. You lead him down the short entrance hall. Your walls are warm-toned but relatively empty. Some prints of landscapes hang here and there, but not much else. 

The hall opens to the small open living space. Your old, but cushy couch faces the television. From your perspective walking in, you’re met with the arm of the couch as it faces left. Behind the couch is a small wooden table with two chairs. Then there's the small kitchen. Your fridge is less of a fridge and more of an icebox. It’s yellow with those big silver hinges and handles on the rounded door. 

The vinyl flooring is cool against Eddie’s socks. Citrus and honey twirl together in the air creating a sweet, but tangy scent. His eyes find another short hall branching off the living room with three more doors. One of them has to be your bedroom, the other the bathroom, but he’s unsure about the third. Two windows let in the street light on the far wall. The low cabinet beneath them has the handful of salvaged books piled on top of it.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” you say insecurely as you make your way to the fridge. 

“It’s great,” Eddie assures you. 

“Water, milk, apple juice, or sprite,” you list off as you peer into your fridge.

“Apple juice, for sure.”

You laugh, but take out the apple juice. You dig a hard plastic cup from the nearby upper cabinet and proceed to fill it. Eddie accepts it with a smile when you offer it to him. 

“Make yourself at home,” you gesture to the couch. 

When Eddie sits he does so delicately. He sinks into the cushion a comfortable amount. Another sip of his drink and then he’s placing it on the wooden coffee table in front of him. You sit beside him. There’s enough distance to still claim friendship, but you’re close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s bodies. Cookie curls up between Eddie and the arm of the couch.

“I think you’re my best friend,” you tell him quietly.

He gives you a warm smile. His big brown eyes feel liquid and ready to draw you in like a siren’s song.

“I think you’re my best friend too.”

You return his smile with a soft one of your own.

“You might be Cookie’s best friend too now,” you chuckle looking at your cat who is purring gently.

“Nah, I’m just the shiny new plaything.”

“I promise, I’ve never seen her so attached to a person she’s just met. Usually, she just ignores visitors,” you shake your head.

“You get a lot of visitors, then?” Eddie quirks an eyebrow.

Your face becomes ablaze. He looks back to Cookie to scratch behind her ear.

“Not really, no. My friends from college are all out of state at this point. We talk on the phone and they’ve visited a few times, but not often. They’re all a lot busier than me,” you explain.

“Adult friendships kinda suck,” he nods.

“Not all of them.”

“No, not all of them," his eyes turn to you carrying a smile, “Since we’re best friends now, I guess we have to hang out more,” he sighs like it's a chore.

“Oh, darn,” you chuckle.

Eddie chuckles. His eyes trail ahead and stop on his cup. He watches a droplet of condensation dribble down the hard plastic surface. The only sound is Cookie’s continuous purring.

“What were you going to say before Steve and Robin harassed us?” He doesn't look away from the cup. 

“I haven't been interested in a single movie we’ve seen for at least a month. I've just been doing it to spend time with you too.”

You watch his features closely. His mouth tugs up creating the softest and most endeared smile you’ve seen him wear. Making him smile like that sets butterflies loose in your stomach. 

“I… really like you,” he admits softly.

Your eyebrows furrow and your mouth smirks in amused confusion.

“I really like you too. We’re best friends, remember?” You nudge his shoulder a bit.

His smile falters. Eddie’s rings dig into the skin of his other hand as he squeezes them together between his knees. He’s sure his stomach is on the ground and about to crawl away. Maybe you didn't feel the way he was beginning to convince himself you do. Maybe he’s completely misread everything. 

“Right, best friends. We’re a regular Sam and Frodo,” he gives a half-hearted smile. 

“I’d follow you into Mordor.”

Eddie’s smile grows goofier as he finally looks at you again.

“Yeah?”

“Without a doubt.”

“We just need our Merry and Pippin.”

“I think Steve and Robin might fit that bill,” you chuckle.

Eddie laughs a little too hard.

“Holy shit, that’s perfect ! You’re a genius!”

“I try my best,” you shrug.

You and Eddie spend a few hours talking and laughing about anything. He tells you stories about his friends, even the kids that sometimes make him think he’s going to lose his hair. You regale stories from your college days and the small group of friends you made there. As you talk, something feels different. 

The air around the two of you feels purer. It’s lighter, easier to move around in. You don't hesitate to share. Neither does Eddie. Eddie is so caught up in you, the rest of the world could be on fire and he wouldn't notice. For the first time since picking up his first cigarette, his lungs feel clean. Every breath is rejuvenating. You're enthralled by every aspect of Eddie. The way he talks, gestures, and laughs. The way his hair is as unruly as he is. 

It’s not until you hug him goodbye that it clicks. When it clicks you feel like an absolute idiot. Your palm connects with your forehead with a slap . Eddie was trying to tell you he likes you. He has feelings for you. How are you supposed to bring that up now? Oh, by the way, I know I’m stupid, but I finally get what you were saying. Me too. Yeah, no. 

You'll have to wait for your own opportunity to share. You’ll have to wait for the right time to tell him how you feel. And you feel so fucking much.

***

Eddie’s bank account is sore, but not down for the count. That’s the important part here. The van will have to keep making that weird rattling noise for another week, but he can live with that. 

The books are smooth when he runs his hands over them. He never thought he’d hold first editions in his own hands. He really never thought he would willingly give them away. Yet, here he is placing them in the old box for his combat boots. Once the top is back on the box he places it tenderly under his bed. He plans to give them to you on Saturday. The two of you have plans for Eddie to come over and show you Back to the Future. Apparently, it's blasphemy that you haven't seen it yet.

Until then, the books will stay safe next to his stash. Hopefully, they don't start to smell. Hopefully, if they do it just reminds you of him instead of a skunk. He smiles at the memories of the times you’ve poked fun at him smelling. Can’t you even try to cover it? you’ve laughed. Maybe I should call you Pepé Le Pew instead of Mr. Eddie , you’ve teased. It always makes him smile and not just because he’s high. You don't criticize or ostracize him for smoking pot. Hell, he’s definitely done worse stuff than weed, but when he stopped selling he calmed down. 

Graduating has put some things into perspective. Selling drugs to teenagers was just one of those things. Now, he only buys weed for himself. He doesn't stock up or distribute. He doesn't need to, he has a half-decent job. If he hadn't spent the money on those books he could’ve moved out on his own within a month. Wayne has talked to him a few times about moving out. Not that he was rushing Eddie, but he knew his nephew was getting his life together. He wanted to know what the next step for Eddie was. 

Eddie made the mistake of telling Wayne that he could probably move into a small apartment around December. Well, that just got pushed back. November’s end is drawing nearer and Wayne is getting more curious. Annoying is more aligned with how Eddie’s feeling about it, but Wayne means well. He always does.

“So, you find a place?” Wayne asks him over dinner. 

They’re on the couch with TV dinners. A gameshow Wayne likes to watch sometimes is on. Eddie sighs knowing he’s going to have to tell Wayne that the plan to move out is going to take a little longer. 

“About that… That might actually take a bit longer than I thought.”

“Why’s that?” 

Eddie clears his throat a little. It’s his attempt to make talking through his suddenly dry throat easier. It doesn't work.

“You know that friend I made at work?”

“Well, I know of them. You haven't brought’em around here for me to meet’em,” there’s a hint of criticism in Wayne’s voice. 

“Right, well, some books that were really important to them got ruined. So, I bought them new ones,” Eddie explains vaguely, poking at the rubbery meat on his plastic tray.

“A few books set you back that much?” Wayne’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“They weren't just any books.”

“What were they?”

Eddie sighs knowing Wayne won't let him use vagueness to get out of this one.

“They're a five-piece set of first-edition Tolkien books. Y’know, Lord of the Rings .”

Wayne lets out a low whistle.

“You must have one good friend there,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, I do.”

“You’re a good friend too, kid,” Wayne tells him before taking a sip of the beer on the coffee table.

“Thanks,” Eddie looks down to hide his blush. 

“Don’t feel like you need to rush to get out of here. This is your home as long as you want it to be,” Wayne says softly.

“I know, Uncle Wayne.”

“Don't be making a habit out of buying friends things that probably cost more than this trailer,” he adds with an amused tilt of his head

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“It’s a special circumstance.”

Wayne takes another sip of beer.

“I'd like to meet this special circumstance sometime,” he smiles at Eddie. 

Eddie can't help smiling back. His uncle means well. Eddie knows Wayne just wants to be involved in his life. He isn't being nosy or prying. He’s just doing what he’s done since Eddie was a kid. He’s just being his dad. 

“You will soon, I promise.”

Wayne nods. The conversation dies there. It doesn't need to continue. They sit and watch the show. Wayne occasionally guesses the right answer. Eddie jokes he should go on and win them money. Wayne laughs as he tells him he’s seen this episode before. Eddie laughs too. He loves nights when Wayne is home. The trailer feels warm and alive. 

***

Eddie shows up during your planning period. No students are in sight, just you and your grade book. He says knock knock rather than actually knocking. You’re smiling before your eyes even make it to him.

“Hey,” you greet.

“Hey,” he smiles, “I figured I’d come by and fix the closet door during your free period.”

“The closet door isn't broken,” you tell him amused.

“You said it was making a noise that was bothering you.”

You blink at him for a moment. That was something you mentioned two days ago. One of the hinges is loose and makes an obnoxious squeaking whenever you have to open the door. 

“That doesn't mean it's broken ,” you chuckle.

He shrugs and makes his way to the closet door. It's in the corner adjacent to where you sit at your desk. 

“Bottom hinge,” you tell him as he sets his toolbox down. 

He sits crisscrossed on the linoleum beside the hinge in question. You observe his hands as they inspect the metal. His fingers deftly test out where it's loosest and he leans in closer to see why. He catches you staring when he turns to get the screwdriver from his toolbox

“Like what you see?” he smirks.

Your face goes red.

“Shut it,” you grumble and go back to your grade book. 

You work in tandem silently for a few minutes. There comes a point where you think that's how the entire time will go. You should know better with Eddie around, though.

“My uncle wants to meet you,” he tells you suddenly.

You look at him mildly surprised.

“Really?”

“Yeah, figures I talk about you enough. He should probably know what you look like,” he chuckles. 

“I’d love to meet him. I can make dinner for us next week.”

“That'd be metal.”

“What kind of food does he like? Oh- and what drinks should I get? I want to make a good impression.”

Eddie turns to you with a feather-soft smile and siren-call eyes.

“He’s gonna love you,” Eddie assures you.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“How?”

“Because I- uh- I- erm- Because you're my best friend,” he flounders.

The unspoken Because I love you hangs heavy in the air. Both of you can feel it there. Neither of you is brave enough to acknowledge it though. You offer him a small smile.

“I still want to make something he likes,” you move on with the conversation.

You're both hesitant to move on. One foot in the conversation and one foot out. 

“Pork chops and beer.”

“Pork chops and beer it is.”

***

You got some things in preparation for Eddie’s visit. Popcorn has been freshly popped, two cups of coke have been poured, and blankets have been draped over the back of the couch. You’ve always enjoyed wrapping up in a blanket when watching movies at home. There are two that you brought out. One is a soft yellow throw blanket. The second is a hand-knit one your friend made for you one Christmas. Both are warm and cozy.

The knock on the door has your heart racing. Today is the day. Today you’re going to tell Eddie how you feel. It might not happen until after the movie. Once you’ve had time to sike yourself up, you’ll look him in the eye, and tell him you like him. You really like him. You something close to love him. 

“Hey!” You greet with a smile as you open the door.

Unsurprisingly, Cookie is already at his shins purring. You roll your eyes at her as Eddie shuts the door behind him. He wears a nervous smile. A large shoe box rests in his hands. 

“What’s that?” You ask curiously.

“Nothing- it’s just a gift. For you.”

He holds it out jauntily. You take it. It’s heavier than you’re expecting. You cock an eyebrow at him, but he just nods to the box. Eddie wants you to just open it right there, but you don't. You bring it into the living room. He takes in the setup as you sit and place the box on your lap. 

“Are you going to sit?” You give an amused smile.

Eddie nods and sits next to you. Once again, he’s far enough to claim friendship if need be. Yet, the heat of your body permeates his clothing. The anticipation has his heart thumping against his chest. What if you don't like them? What if you get mad and think he’s just trying to replace a material thing, not a symbol of something more? He just hopes this can still be that symbol and more. 

You gasp when you open it. Eddie’s breathing stops completely. The plain dark green binding is slightly textured under your fingers. There’s a golden embossed drawing of Smaug on the bottom corner of the cover. The spine has more golden embossment reading The Hobbit . Your mouth hangs open a bit as you flip it open to the publisher page. When you get to the piece of information you're looking for, you snap to look at Eddie.

“These are first editions,” you breathe. 

Eddie nods.

“Eddie… I-I can't accept these. They must have cost a fucking fortune. There’s no way I can-”

“I know they can't replace what the other ones meant to you, but… At least this way you still have a really kick-ass collection with some meaning,” he interrupts you softly. 

Your eyes begin to well up with tears. Eddie found and bought you first edition Tolkien books. This is likely the kindest thing anyone has ever done for you. Every atom is on fire causing you to sit there overwhelmed with emotion. If it wasn't love before, it definitely is now.

“Eddie…” you trail off as words fail you. 

He stares at you with those goddamn liquid eyes that threaten to drown you. The book is back in the box before you know it. You take hold of his face. His skin is softer than you imagined. With no resistance, you pull him in and crash your lips together. 

The kiss is rushed, and a little messy, but you swear fireworks are exploding in your stomach. Eddie is everywhere. He’s everything. There's nothing else while he’s on your lips. You pull back because you have to look at him. You have to finally spit the words out. His eyes are darker than ever, his lips plush, and his breathing a little erratic.

“ I love you ,” the two of you say in unison.

Laughter fills the air around you as you fall into each other. A loose embrace of tangled bodies on your couch. Eddie’s hand finds the back of your head. He places a gentle kiss on your temple. You smile into his neck. It’s so simple, but you can feel everything in that little kiss. 

“I can't believe you got me these books,” you breathe into his neck.

“Let’s leave these ones at home, though,” he chuckles.

“Definitely.”

***

Funnily enough, it seems like Wayne is just as nervous to meet you as you have been to meet him. Eddie has assured him he looks fine about ten times. He’s never seen Wayne like this before. 

“I don't want to embarrass you, is all,” Wayne explains in the van when Eddie finally asks.

Eddie spares a glance at Wayne as he drives. He’s a little dumbstruck that his uncle could think he’d ever be embarrassed by him. 

“That’s literally impossible, Uncle Wayne. You two are gonna get along great,” Eddie assures him.

“It’s just- It’s one thing to meet a friend of yours. It’s another to meet the person you’re dating,” Wayne blurts out.

“It’s the same thing. Just because we’re dating doesn't mean we aren't still best friends.”

“It’s a new experience, is all. A good one, but new. I’m happy for you, kid. I’m happy to see you happy.”

Eddie can only smile at his uncle. He's afraid any attempt to speak will be fruitless. Nothing but incoherent noise would come out. His uncle is so strange. One moment he’s gruff, the next he’s soft and even nervous. Eddie knows it’s because he doesn't want to fuck this up. He doesn't want to fuck up welcoming you to the Munson family. He doesn't want to fuck up Eddie’s potential future. He won't, though. Eddie knows he won't.

You open the door with a wide smile. The smell of well-seasoned pork chops wafts through the air. Cookie is purring against Eddie the moment he steps through the door, to the shock of no one. Except maybe Wayne. Eddie leans in and gives you a quick peck on the lips in hello. Your face flushes at the PDA in front of his uncle/father figure. 

Eddie introduces the two of you easily. You offer Wayne your hand. He takes it, giving you a firm shake.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” you tell him with a smile.

“Yeah, me too. Although, I’m still a little confused on whether you’re a teacher or a gardener,” he says.

You laugh.

“I teach U.S. History at Jenkinson High.”

“Very well, I might add,” Eddie interjects as he kicks off his shoes. 

Wayne follows his example. You shoot a playful glare at Eddie. He sticks his tongue out at you briefly, earning a chuckle from you. 

“I made pork chops and there’s some beer in the fridge. I… don't have enough chairs for all of us around the table, but we can just sit on the couch. If that's okay,” you stumble through your words embarrassed. 

Wayne actually looks a little relieved. 

“Couch is just fine,” he nods.

Eddie sits in the middle. Cookie is at his feet. Wayne’s eyes are trained on the golden embossed spines atop the low cabinet. You lean down and scratch Cookie behind her ear the way she likes. 

“Nice books,” Wayne comments with a knowing smile.

“Oh, thank you! Eddie actually got them for me. I had a set my grandmother got me as a kid, but they got waterlogged,” you explain happily.

Wayne’s eyes flicker to Eddie’s. Eddie knows Wayne isn't one to tell his adult nephew what to do with his money. Still, this explanation made things a lot more clear. There’s a softness behind his eyes when they meet Eddie’s.

“I still think you can sue the school for pain and suffering,” Eddie says.

“I’ll call my lawyer tomorrow,” you laugh. 

The night goes smoothly. As expected, you and Wayne get along extremely well. Eddie didn't have to facilitate a conversation between the two of you. You discussed different game shows you both watch, debated which hockey team was the best, and even complained together about some character death on a medical drama. Watching you two talk fills Eddie’s chest with pure light. 

Cookie is on Eddie’s lap before the end of the night. He runs his hand over her soft fur absentmindedly as he talks to you. Wayne watches with curious amusement.

“Never knew you were a cat person,” Wayne gestures to Cookie with his beer bottle.

Eddie looks at the purring ball of calico fur on his lap, then at his uncle. 

“It’s more like she's an Eddie person.”

“I think she likes him more than she likes me and I feed her,” you chuckle. 

“Let's me pick her up and everything,” he boasts.

“I still can't believe that. Last time I tried to pick her up I ended up with scratches on my hands.”

“It’s my natural charisma.”

“Sure, that's what it is.” 

Wayne watches the two of you go back and forth with a soft smile. He can tell his nephew is in good hands. What a comforting thought. 

***

Eddie looks around at the empty walls, cleared-off dresser, and barren floor. It’s strange seeing his room like this. Empty. It's a somewhat sobering sight. The rest of Eddie’s life is laid out in front of him, but he can't help looking at the road behind him for a moment longer. 

“It’s not gonna be the same without you,” Wayne’s voice comes from over Eddie’s shoulder.

He stands in the doorway, hands in his pockets. Eddie offers him a small smile.

“Not getting rid of me that easily. We’ll be over. We can do weekly dinners,” he suggests.

“Under one condition.”

“And what's that?”

“They cook.”

Eddie lets out a loose laugh.

“I think that can be arranged.”

Wayne pulls him into a tight hug. Eddie squeezes back just as tight. It’s truly not goodbye forever. It’s not even goodbye for that long. That doesn't make it any less of a goodbye, though. 

He walks Eddie out to his van. They hug one last time. Wayne places a warm hand on Eddie's shoulder. 

“I’m real proud of you, kid,” he tells him with absolute sincerity. 

“Thanks,” Eddie says weakly, his voice nearly failing him. 

The entire drive back Eddie wears a smile. He’s not just driving to your apartment. He’s driving home. A home where you are. He bounds up the stairs with the last of his stuff in a box in his arms. Opening the door takes an awkward sideways lean so he could take hold of the knob while still balancing the box in both arms. 

“Oh, honey, I’m home!” He calls out like a sitcom from the 50s.

Your laughter rings out from somewhere further in the apartment. Eddie kicks off his shoes around Cookie, careful not to hit her as she purrs against him. He puts the box on the couch for the time being. You’re in the hall, digging around the linen closet. 

“Welcome home,” you greet over your shoulder.

He comes up from behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. 

“Whatcha looking for?”

“I wanted to change the sheets, but I can't find the flat sheet that matches this fitted one.”

Eddie plants a kiss on your temple.

“Don’t,” he states simply.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t bother changing the sheets.”

“Why not?” You turn in his arms to look at him curiously.

He shrugs with a playful smile.

“We’ll just have to change’em later.”

You laugh and close the closet door. Eddie cups your jaw and brings you in for a kiss. It’s slow, loving, and fills you with a warmth you can feel in your toes. You could spend the rest of yourself trapped in a kiss like this.

Eddie thinks about how you told him you would follow him into Mordor. He knew even then he would follow you too, without a doubt. However, here he is instead. Instead, he’s happily followed you home to the Shire.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #munching on munson #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #funnylittle writings #steve harrington #robin buckley #wayne munson

[shuttershocky]

"accidentally"??

So in highschool, once a year they would make us go to these retreat places for a few days (all Catholic retreat places, but since we were a public school the activities were more about palanca writing and group bonding instead of praying).

Our third year retreat went rather disastrously due to the property damage (and more) wreaked by a couple hundred bored and hormonal teenagers made to sleep in one place for three days while talking about their feelings. It was so bad that our school and everyone in it got banned for life from the place—there were broken doors, a broken toilet, someone somehow managed to steal a whole mattress, underwear was stolen, and some monster of a highschooler managed to create the scariest thing ive ever seen in a bathroom: the poopsnake (but this is another story for another time)

So in our senior year, they went for a place that had a whole lot of little houses so the students wouldn't all be gathered into such large groups, and the houses with the more mischievous students (like yours truly) would have to stay with a teacher for a chaperone, and an Actually Responsible student, just to be sure.

Now the teacher assigned to stay at the same house as me and my friends was our physics teacher, an educator of incredible restraint and unlimited patience, honed by the endless hours they spent trying to teach dumbasses like me how magnets worked. They had also been assigned to chaperone my friends and me in our third year and we actually didn't get into any trouble at all unlike the rest of our classmates, so they probably thought chaperoning almost the exact same set of kids was going to be no problem.

However, my third year retreat had only been uneventful because I had nothing prepared. For the fourth year retreat, my friends and I bought a sari-sari store's worth of satchets of Milo and Tang for reasons I don't even remember anymore (I don't even like Milo really). We had so many powdered drinks we could barely fit them into the empty suitcase I brought.

Anyway, once it was nighttime and lights out was enforced, my friend and I got bored and decided to play a game called Don't Wake Up A, where A was the responsible student assigned with us in our house. They and our physics teacher were both sleeping in two beds up on the indoor balcony, while the rest of us slept on mattresses in the first floor. The goal of the game was to throw a sachet from the first floor up into the balcony, and get as many as you could as close to A as possible without waking them up (which we assumed actually hitting them with the tossed sachets would do). Once we'd run out of sachets we would sneak upstairs and tally the Milos vs the Tangs, only counting the ones that landed close enough to A to have risked waking them up. If we actually woke up A though, then well... We'd be in trouble.

Amazingly we did this for a good chunk of the night without making too much noise, and we actually ran out of sachets to throw. When we snuck up the balcony though, I was in for a shock.

My aim was both a little too good, and yet completely off target. I had been throwing all my Milo at the wrong bed assuming A was in it. Instead, our physics teacher had been buried under sachets of Milo, but had not woken up at all.

This meant two things: 1) my friend won by default, and 2) we were fucked. We picked up all the sachets that we could and brought them back downstairs, but we couldn't do anything about the Milo our teacher was still happily snoozing under, since if they woke up from us picking Milo sachets off their face there would be no explaining that.

So a few hours later (morning), our teacher woke up with Milo sachets all over them, their bed, and their luggage. Needless to say, they were very confused, but with like 10+ kids in the same house and seemingly no one with any knowledge of how that could have happened, they weren't going to bother worrying about it.

A though, A gave me the stern glare of "I know what you fucking did I just don't know how to even begin explaining this and what could possibly have compelled you to do this" look. Ultimately there was no property damage or even harm done so there was nothing really I could actually get in trouble for, it was just really, really fucking weird and nonsensical.

Even I don't know why my friend and I suddenly decided to start tossing powdered drinks up a balcony. We were simply compelled to be annoying.