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munson-blurbs · 4 months

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Eddie Munson x Shy!Reader

Summary: Max and Lucas are tired of their friends silently pining over each other but never making a move, so when the Winter Formal rolls around, they take matters into their own hands.

Warnings: mutual pining, idiots in love, fluffy fluff

WC: 1.8k

A/N: Happy anniversary to the love of my life, @corroded-hellfire 💚 one year ago today, we met in person for the first time, and my life has been infinitely better ever since. Thank you for being my best friend. I love you more than Dustin loves his Weird Al shirt. Red, this fic is for you.

Divider credit to @saradika

“Kill me now.”

Three words uttered by none other than Max Mayfield, sliding her lunch tray onto the table and sitting down with an irritated sigh.

You look at her with an amused grin. “What is it this time? Bombed a pop quiz? Got detention for flipping off a teacher—again?” Her brazen, flippant attitude provided many entertaining moments, so long as you weren’t on the receiving end of it.

Max shakes her head, spearing a limp macaroni noodle with her plastic fork. “I wish.” She holds up two tickets to the Winter Formal. “Lucas is dragging me to this bullshit. ‘All the other basketball guys’ girlfriends are going,’” she mocks him in an octave much lower than his actual voice, “so I guess that means I have to follow suit.”

Bringing a hand to your heart, you jut out your lower lip in mock-pity. “Oh, no; your boyfriend wants to show you off at a school dance! How will you ever survive?”

Max doesn’t miss a beat. “You could go, too,” she says, blue eyes pleading. “Keep me company when the guys inevitably bail to get wasted in the woods.”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t need a date,” she insists, reading your mind before the words can leave your mouth. “I’m telling you, Lucas is gonna ditch me as soon as Jason and Patrick show up.” She takes your hand between both of hers. “Please? I’ll even tell Ms. Kelly the lengths you went to for your poor, troubled freshie.”

You exhale, knowing that she doesn’t need to go to all of that trouble. You’d started off the school year as her peer mentor, but just a few months later, you two have become close friends. “Fine, I’ll go,” you acquiesce, laughing when she pumps her fists victoriously. “But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

You return to your own lunch, completely missing the mischievous look that graces her freckled face.

Unbeknownst to you, a similar discussion is had at Hellfire Club later that same afternoon.

“Absolutely not,” Eddie scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. “Nice try, Sinclair, but I wouldn’t be caught dead at some lame dance.”

“Seriously,” Jeff smirks from his position across the table. “He’s never been to a single one in his ten years of high school.”

Eddie flips him off casually. “It’s only six, asshole. But that doesn’t matter, because I’m not dressing up in some penguin suit to drink unspiked punch with a bunch of shitty people.”

“C’mon, dude,” Lucas says, his tone bordering on a whine. “If you don’t go, I’m gonna be stuck with the jocks all night, and they just wanna suck face with their girlfriends.”

“And you don’t?” Gareth quips.

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Not in front of everyone. And I don’t need a front-row seat to their performances, either.” He turns his attention back to the Dungeon Master. “Look, I’m desperate. Mike’ll be visiting his grandma and Dustin’s grounded because of his D-plus in Spanish.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “What about Huey, Dewey, and Louie over here?” he asks, gesturing to the three remaining club members.

Their collective responses are jumbled excuses; Eddie swears one of them says he’s going kayaking—in mid-December in Indiana—but he doesn’t bother to sift through their lies. “You owe me, Sinclair,” he declares, pointing his forefinger at the underclassman. “Big time.”

The next few weeks leading up to the Winter Formal are spent meticulously making plans. For someone who seemed so disinterested in this dance, Max is paying careful attention to each detail.

You walk out of the dressing room in a velvet emerald green dress that hits just above the knee. Max is beaming as she adjusts the off-the-shoulder sleeves and smooths down any creases.

“You look really nice,” she says, nodding her head. She’s trying to temper her enthusiasm, but you can sense her excitement. “I can’t wait to tell Lucas.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Lucas? Why would he care?” He’s a nice kid—more in tune with emotions than the average fourteen-year-old boy—but that doesn’t constitute an interest in your fashion choices.

Max’s cheeks burn as red as her hair. “Uh, well, seeing you happy makes me happy, and seeing me happy makes him happy, so…everyone’s happy?” she finishes lamely. She clears her throat as if expelling the awkwardness from the conversation. “Anyway, let’s buy this dress so we can look for shoes.”

“Yeah, okay.” You’re not fully convinced, but you brush it off and steel your nerves to ask a question. “Is anyone else gonna be there that we know?” You really want to know whether Eddie Munson is going to be there, but you can’t say the quiet part aloud.

“Probably,” she shrugs, a bit too quickly, but she’s pushing you back behind the curtain to change before you can inquire more.

“Why does this stupid tie need to be green?” Eddie asks, sifting through the store’s selection with Lucas by his side.

“Uh, Christmas colors,” Lucas stammers, fumbling for a decent explanation other than the contents of his secret phone call with Max earlier today. “And, y’know, red is way overdone, so…” he trails off lamely, going back to the display table and hoping Eddie drops the matter.

They find exactly what they’re looking for—not without Eddie complaining about putting in too much effort just to be a third wheel—and make their way over to the food court. Eddie makes a beeline for the Pizza Hut when he stops dead in his tracks. “Shit, Sinclair; we gotta go,” he says urgently, clapping a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder and steering him away from the fast food.

“What the hell? I’m hungry!”

Eddie shakes his head, curls brushing against his shoulders. “Look, man.” He discreetly points to his left, where you and Max are giggling at the Orange Julius. “We can’t let them see us.”

“Dude, she’s like the nicest person ever,” Lucas rebuts. “Even Max likes her, and Max pretty much hates everyone.”

“That’s not the problem.” Eddie rakes his ringed fingers through his hair, wincing when he snags one on a knot. “The problem is that she’s gonna be all, ‘hi, Eddie; what’re you doing at the mall?’ And I’m gonna be all, ‘just picking out a tie for the Winter Formal.” And then she’ll go, ‘oh, who’s your date?” And then I’ll have to say, ‘I don’t have one; I’m just playing babysitter to some freshmen like a goddamn loser!” He hops back and forth to indicate each character change.

“First of all, ouch,” Lucas quips, “second, go hide in the bathroom if you want, but I’m getting something to eat.”

Eddie exhales an exasperated sigh, giving in and schlepping over to Pizza Hut, one of the few times in his life that he’s trying to be inconspicuous.

You pull into the school parking lot on the night of the Winter Formal and shift into park before killing the engine. Max is bouncing her leg up and down in the passenger seat, lower lip tucked between her teeth.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, mistaking her excitement for anxiety. “You know that Lucas would think you look beautiful even if you showed up in a potato sack.” You furrow your brow. “Where is he, anyway? Why didn’t he come with us?”

She mumbles something about not wanting her mom to ask any questions about the relationship, and you take them at face value. Her eyes light up when she spots her boyfriend walking into the school alongside…Eddie Munson?

“Eddie’s here?” you ask in a hushed whisper, feeling sweat prickling under your arms. You’ve been nursing a massive crush on him for ages–one that Max is very much aware of. And now he’s here, dressed in a black suit with his hair pulled back into a low bun at the nape of his neck. “Max, why didn’t you tell me? Who’s he going with?” The idea of him slow dancing with someone else has your stomach turning.

Max just shrugs. “I don’t think he had a date.” Too casual, too blasé–she knows something. “C’mon, let’s go in.” She swings the car door open enthusiastically, leaving you shell-shocked in your seat.

“Maxine Mayfield!” you hiss, using her full government name to drive home your bewilderment, but she just skips ahead. Damn your heeled shoes, slowing you down before you can catch up to her. When you finally do, she just grabs your hand and tugs you towards the guys.

She poorly feigns surprise, jaw dropping as she exclaims, “Eddie? What are you doing here? Oh, my gosh, this is such a coincidence!” She pulls you closer, smiling far too wide. “Lucas and I both brought our upperclassmen friends! What are the odds?”

“Yeah, so weird,” Lucas says, not as loud as Max but just as transparent. He looks at Max before regarding you and Eddie. “Okay, well, we’re gonna go dance–bye!” The two of them scamper off, leaving you alone with Eddie. If their stilted dialogue wasn’t evidence enough, the way Eddie’s tie perfectly matches your dress certainly clears up their intentions.

Eddie speaks first, shoving his hands in his pants pockets and nervously swiveling his body. “I, uh, think we’ve been set up,” he says with a small, awkward chuckle. “I swear, it wasn’t my idea. Not–not that it’s a bad thing, I just meant, like, if you’re uncomfortable with this, I don’t wanna be held responsible.” His cheeks burn red. “Shit, I need to stop talking.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with your own kind laugh, “we might as well make the most of it. Get some punch and make fools of ourselves out there?” You gesture towards the gym’s makeshift dance floor; the band has just started playing Journey’s “Faithfully.” Eddie’s nods, following you to an empty space, and you timidly drape your arms over his shoulders. Taking care to avoid an inappropriate touch, he rests his palms on the small of your back.

His voice is low when he murmurs in your ear, “you look really beautiful tonight.” He clears his throat and speaks again. “You always look really beautiful, though.”

The two of you sway to the music, swapping shy smiles and fleeting but longing glances. As the song ends, you look over your shoulder. “We’re being spied on,” you report, noting the way the two younger kids are watching you from across the room. You consider your next words before eventually deciding to go for it: “Did you talk to Lucas about me as much as I talked to Max about you?”

“Probably more,” Eddie laughs, bringing you a bit closer. “But I’m interested in comparing notes.”

You nod, staving off any lingering nerves. “Maybe after the dance, we can split a burger from Benny’s and discuss?”

Eddie presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Yeah,” he says; you can feel his lips move against your skin, “I’d like that.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

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kitmon · 2 months

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Get Into The Groove | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie finds you dancing while you’re home alone and, unsurprisingly, the sight has him careening into the bottomless gorge that is loving you all over again.

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things, 2022) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags: allusions to sexy times 18+ only, no actual smut, FLUFF cuz I’m a sucka for it, established relationship, reader is explicitly referred to as “girl” and “woman”

Author’s Note: Just an itty bitty thing that came to me a while ago that I jotted down in between work and school :P hope you like it! And if you’d like to enhance the experience listen to Into the Groove by Madonna and Wango Tango by Ted Nugent!

There are few things that Eddie Munson looks forward to in life: a well-planned D&D campaign, a perfectly rolled joint— the premium shit— and getting home to you.

He whistles to himself as he skips up the steps of his trailer, chains and leather creaking with each step he takes and every key he flips in his hand. The entire day he had been anticipating this moment, just as he does every weekday, where he can come home to a warm and secluded trailer, see you and kiss you the same way he did before he left to work— deep and passionate and long enough to make you dizzy— and sink into his worn-in spot on the couch with you under his arm. He smiles at the comforting thought as he pushes the door in, humming under his breath as he steps inside.

He drops his keys into the ceramic bowl near the door with a clink before he begins peeling his jacket and vest off. His arm is halfway in and out of his jacket as his ears perk at the music trailing down the hall from his room. He finishes shrugging his jacket off, tossing it over the La-Z-Boy before he stalks towards his room, taking care to cushion his steps. As he gets closer he can make out the faint synth and the clap of the drum machine; it’s Madonna, he realizes.

He dips his head to peek through the slit between the door and the frame, eyes glowing with mirth as a wide grin consumes his face.

Only when I’m dancing can I feel this free…

He hadn't expected to find this upon coming home. You’re usually stretched out across the sofa or his bed, mentally marking the bubbles of a quiz inside a Cosmo that Nancy let you borrow or smiling to yourself as you flip through the pages of one of your bodice ripper romances. Instead, from his vantage point, he can see you singing along to the tape that you’ve popped into his stereo, sipping a black cherry Tab as you skip around his room tidying up the cluttered space. You pick up discarded clothes from his floor, pinching that lacy number he stripped off of you that morning and dangling it over your pointer finger as you absentmindedly twirl it around before tossing it into the hamper.

Tonight I’m gonna dance with someone else…

As the song builds to its chorus you drop the clothes you're working with, take one more gulp of your soda and start bobbing your head and shaking your hips. With the way you sway, he can't help but admire how your frame fits under one of his ragged sleep shirts. Your legs are bare and enticing as you prance around with only your underwear on underneath, the reliable lilac pair that you wear flashing at him with every punctuated glide you make down your legs before flipping your hair back.

Get into the groove,

Boy you’ve got to prove,

Your love to me…

Your voice picks up in confidence and volume. Even if you're not classically trained, you make up for the wavering notes and shifting keys with your enthusiasm as you stomp about his room, shaking your head and shifting your hair as you swivel and cock your hips in a way that has Eddie swooning against the door frame. The door kicks open wider as he watches you, tongue licking at his canine in amusement and adoration.

Your singing subdues into little mumbled harmonies and a few enunciated riffs as you drag your hands from your thighs up your rocking body, your fingers catching the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your ass to offer just a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glimpse. You writhe like a charmed snake in a wicker basket, your hands meeting over your head as you slither in mesmerizing forms.

You fall away from your dance but maintain the skip in your step and the nod in your head as you bend over and snatch a pair of Eddie's boxers from the floor. You twirl in place, boxers held to your chest as you get lost in the music, shifting your feet to twist you around, eyes closed blissfully.

“At night I lock the doors, where no one else can see— AH!”

You scream, chucking the boxers at Eddie’s head as you’re startled. He ducks as the garment soars over his head and he laughs at your reaction.

“Jesus, sweetheart! You almost took me out with my own drawers!”

“Eddie!” You scold, with wide eyes and a small crinkle between your brows, “You scared the shit out of me!”

You’re clutching your chest with one hand as your breath relaxes but your eyes screw up in mild anger at the fact that he snuck up on you.

“M’sorry! Didn’t want to interrupt the show.”

You groan, your hands crawling over your face as you wince, “You saw that?”

Eddie steps towards you, soothing your embarrassment by rubbing at your arms.

“Mm-hmm, and, if I may say so,” he leans in to whisper into your ear, “it was very sexy.”

You sputter out a giggle at him before taking your hands and pulling at the loose thread along the collar of his t-shirt— perhaps you’re the reason all of his shirts have holes along the collar.

“Of course you would find it sexy,” you tease as your fingers migrate upwards to play with the ends of his hair. “You could watch me floss my teeth and get a semi.”

“Can you blame a guy?” He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist to draw you closer. “With a girl as smokin’ as you, it’s impossible to keep the little guy down.”

You snort, letting your head fall into his chest as he strokes your hair.

You bask in the silence for a moment, the two of you shuffling your feet and breathing each other in. The song’s ended by now and moved on to another poppy dance number that fades into the background.

“Think you can teach me some of those moves?” He questions into your hairline.

You hum, a smile coating the sound as you lean back to look into his eyes.

“I dunno, don’t think you’re limber enough to pull off some of these crazed gyrations of this rock generation.”

He smiles down at you, leaning close enough to nip at your lips, “I’ll have you know I’m a proper Johnny Castle, baby.” His smile gives way to a contemplative yet amused shape, “And did you just quote Ted Nugent to me?”

You nod your head as a wide grin splits across your face.

“Oh, you don't know what you do to me, woman!”

You squeal as he hoists you up and throws you onto his bed, your head falling back against his pillows as you laugh from the excitement of it. You fall into soft hums of laughter that slip past your throat as Eddie follows you down and climbs up your body, nipping at your calves and thighs, pushing his nose against the hem of your— well, his shirt— to reveal that worn lilac cotton that you make look like a whole Victoria’s Secret set.

“And I’ll show you dancing, I’m quite skilled at Zee Wango, Zee Tango.”

#I witerwy need him so bad #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie #eddie munson headcannons #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson stranger things

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dev1lm4n · 9 months

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lesson one: sensitive

ko-fi | series masterlist

pairing: porn star!joel miller x f!reader

summary: under several notable circumstances, mr. miller finally decided that he'd be the best teacher for your first debut into sexual activities. even when all of it is to prepare you for your successful date.

word count: 5.4k (i know.. i went a little crazy on this lol)

warnings: explicit (18+), set in 2013, pre-outbreak, age gap (joel in mid 30's and reader in early 20's), inexperienced but not dumb reader, fingering, he's kinda mean, check umbrella warning on series masterlist

notes: i had so much fun writing this! tbh this one is super filthy compared to the other one so.. forgive me 🤲 COMMENT n REBLOG if u liked it

“I could take you home if you’d like. Pretty girls like you shouldn’t roam the street alone.”

Simon, more commonly referred to as Robotic Class Guy or French Fries, was surprisingly not half as bad as you thought he would be. He had all the height of a man but none of the bulk. From behind he could be easily spotted as someone in their late teens to early thirties, mostly blaming his horrid graphic tee and skinny jeans combo, but when he turned that face was all boy. His caramel hair flopped over his eyes in the way no office worker could get away with and on his wrist were bracelets in woven leather.

At first, you accepted his awkward invite out of spite.

Just to rid yourself of a certain plague festering upon your head, feasting on your brain cells so that you’d think of nothing but Mr. Miller in all his glory. Him with his tight worn-out jeans, spread open enough that you could see a naughty peak of his bulge, while he watched the soccer game. Him with his shirt off, bathing in the summer-induced moisture, while he mowed the front lawn and edged the curb. Him with his thumb parting your lips, looking at you like he’s about to consume you alive, but of course he didn’t.

At least now that Simon came around, you’d have a new port to anchor your boat on.

“No, thanks, I’m alright. My..”

Who was Mr. Miller to you again?

Your.. father? Absolutely not. Even if he’s taken you in as a part of the Miller family, just like how he used to say, you would feel like it’d be morbidly repulsive to deduce him to that particular role. For fuckssake, you stick a finger up your cunt every single week to the thought of him fucking you like one of his girls.

Then would a family friend be better of a word? Or should you just say that he’s a guardian of yours? But that’d be confusing, wouldn’t it? You glanced at your watch, counting the hour and minute hand as if it’d give you a revelation on how to answer Simon’s pop quiz.

“Someone promised to pick me up.”

That sure did sound ominous.

With a promise to leave a message to his cell once you’ve returned home safely, you stepped out of the quaint local restaurant. It was warm outside and you weren’t particularly fond of that. Heat has always been your mortal enemy; something about the musty scent of middle school boys’ armpits after PE class mixed in with the pungent perfumes they use to try and hide it has left you permanently traumatized. Your once-cheery mood had long evaporated along with any semblance of coolness. You tugged at the hem of your sundress, fanning yourself with your hand in a futile attempt to find relief from the stifling heat. This is hell!

Where was Mr. Miller?

Mr. Miller must've read your mind, because a honk quickly resonated. He was on the very corner of the parking lot; his large pickup truck looked hilariously out of place when compared to the array of city cars parked by his side. You swore you could see him grin from behind the shaded tint of his window, perhaps entertained at your almost too obvious annoyance. The thought made your heart jump and maybe even did a front-flip. God, you’re helpless!

As you beelined down the sidewalk and on to him, the heat seemed to intensify with every step. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, causing your hair to stick in weird shapes. You just hope that his truck’s AC works.

“Hi.. Hi, Mr. Miller.”

“Hey, sweetheart. How was it?”

The nickname never ceased to exude so much power. ‘Sweetheart’ made you feel as if a tail had grown out right from the hilt of your ass and you had no other choice than to swish it around excitedly. You propped up one leg on the washed-off gray carpet, before swinging yourself into the vehicle in one go. The door closed behind with a loud thud. As you leaned back, you cringed at the feeling of your sweat-soaked dress clinging onto your skin. You felt like some marinated beef, sticky and in need of a quick shower.

“It was alright,” you hummed.

“Alright? Now that made me all the more curious,” he grinned, nudging your side with the edge of his elbow. “Com’on now. Tell me all about it, will ya?”

“Mr. Miller, are you trying to embarrass me?”

Mr. Miller’s soothing brown eyes that were stuck on the glittering street lights came flickering over to you, as if he’s actually afraid that perhaps he’s made you uncomfortable. His shoulders squared and his jaw slackened for just a split second as he tried to grasp for any nuance you’ve just given. You then smiled at him, relieving him of his worries.

It’s a little jarring to say that you think he’s quite cute. In the same way people find puppies cute, or those strawberry-shaped trinkets. He’s a little socially-awkward in his own way. Embarrassed to ask the waitress to bring his plate back, but would be confident bullying his cock into a tight cunt. Would definitely get kooky when asked to join a parents-teacher conference, but would whisper filthy things on the internet.

“I ain’t tryna make you embarrassed,” he huffed out. “I just wanna know you’re safe.”

How nice. If only he knew why you went on dates in the first place.

“He’s alright, Mr. Miller. Kind, decently groomed, respectful,” you replied, flicking through your Twitter feed mindlessly. “Better than most college guys.”

“Did he pick you up?”

Your forehead scrunched up. “I ordered a cab.”

“Did he at least get the door for you?”

“It’s not exactly the 1900’s, is it?” you quipped back at him.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for your answer.

“If you’re that curious, then no.”

“Well then, did he pay for dinner?”

“No, well.. I did offer for us to split it,” you reasoned.

“Well, sweetie, he’s not too respectful. Is he?”

“Yeah.. but he’s cute.”

He’s cute and you’re desperate to get over Mr. Miller. Terribly so. At first, the entire situation with having your pornstar crush be the head of your host family was hilarious, it’s a joke written by itself. But then the desires went through the roof in a matter of weeks and you’re sure that you’d actually jump him one of these days. He’s attached to the back of your mind like some ghostly presence. Everything he said and done carved at your brittle wall of determination and one day it’s all going to fall apart like broken glass. You needed to stop it from happening.

There was a minute or so where he didn’t have anything to say. He hadn’t let go of the handbrakes either, though he appeared to be squeezing the leather cover of the steering wheel tighter.

“Cute ain’t enough for a man, sweetheart.”

Mr. Miller finally pushed down the handbrakes and released the pickup truck from the small parking lot. His large hands skillfully turned the wheels to fit through the tiny gaps, guiding the vehicle towards the open road. You shut your eyes for a good minute, then you let out a weighted sigh. Almost as if you’re a deflated balloon.

The drive was going to be a long one, considering the restaurant you’re on was in the heart of the town and Mr. Miller’s humble abode was more towards the outskirts. Would he continue preaching about the importance of Southern manners and being a gentleman? Because if he did, perhaps you’d just shut him up with a kiss.

“I’m just a little nervous,” you broke the silence.

“Because of the boy?”

“Sorta, yeah. It’s my first time..”

You clicked your phone shut, stuffing it on the cup holder next to the car stick. The entire conversation was making you nauseous. You had to press on the button on your left to slide down the windows in order to take in fresh air. Through the open window, a gentle breeze tousled the top of your hair, carrying with it the familiar scent of Summer in Austin. As he drove closer into the outskirts of town, the lights gradually faded behind into a sea of twinkling stars.

“First time in what?”

“In all this,” your hand motioned the idea abstractly.

“You’ve never dated?”

An enthusiastic grin snaked its way to his lips.

“I have! But it’s not- it’s not real. It’s middle school romance. We meet each other in the hallways, hold hands and giggle about it, then go on pizza dates,” you tried to explain. “I’ve never dated properly.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you tousled your hair in frustration. “Just because, Mr. Miller. I’m not sure either. Maybe I’m just comfortable in my own little bubble?”

“Then this boy.. What’s his name again?”

“Simon.”

“Right, Simon. Are you thinking of dating Simon properly?”

“Maybe,” you muttered.

“Maybe I could teach you,” he paused. “Well, that is if you’d like this old man to teach you old tricks.”

Your hands tightly clutched the edge of your seat. A rise of bile disturbed your throat's peace as a knot of anxiety started to form in your stomach. This is what you’re working towards.

You didn’t want to admit it, because admitting means legitimizing what you had in mind, but you were hoping for him to offer you help in any way that he felt was right. Despite your.. odd relationship with him, he was your guardian and you’ve seen the way he dealt with all Sarah’s problems with soft-spoken words and fair actions. You trusted him to help you delve into this new world of adult romance, but it’s not like you’re expecting for him to agree on it. Shit, shit, shit! You couldn’t think straight.

“Com’on then. Tell me what you’re so nervous of.”

“You’re gonna laugh at me,” you groaned.

“I’m not!”

“You are,” you persisted.

“Fine. I promise not to laugh.”

You took a deep breath. The single word sticky on the end of your tongue.

“Sex.”

The pickup truck swerved.

To your surprise, instead of howling and laughing at your lack of experience, he was quiet. Awfully so to the point where you think you’d rather have him laugh at your patheticness instead of giving you the cold shoulder. You rolled the window back up, giving him your full attention as you waited for him to do something. He looked tense; the grip he had on the steering wheel was so tight you could see the leather developing crescent-shaped marks. What was he thinking of?

“Do I.. do I have to give you the talk?”

“God, no! Mr. Miller, I’m not clueless,” you looked horrified that he even considered giving you the birds and the bees talk. “I am, but I know what happens.”

The hours you’ve spent analyzing each and every one of his videos surely made an impact on how you view sex. Perhaps not the most accurate one, since you were merely looking through a 720p video and not being present in the scene, but you knew how sex goes. How it starts, what arousal looks like, what appears to feel good and what doesn’t, and how good an orgasm looks like when induced by another person. Mr. Miller might not be aware of how much he’s taught you. Not directly, but in a cause-and-action kind of way.

“Then what are you afraid of?” he hummed.

“Making a mistake,” you muttered dejectedly. “Of it not feeling good.”

A beat passed.

“Do you..” he struggled to speak properly. “Do you want me to teach you?”

What were you thinking! It was one thing to harbor intense, disgustingly filthy feelings towards a man who perceived you as an addition to his family, but it was another thing to act on it desperately. Your mind reeled back towards the exact moment when you agreed on his proposition. How you agreed on it instantly as if it wasn’t even a question, how you nodded your head miserably as if you were afraid that you’d miss this one chance, how you buckled your knees at the thought.

God, how pathetic can you be! You didn’t remember much after such a cathartic turn of events. All you managed to compile in that pretty little head of yours was that he took a different interchange, then slipped onto a highway towards.. whatever this place was.

It was on the outskirts of town. Opposite to where he lived. Big trees grew tall and heavy as they provided a mystique veil for the trailer house. You remembered the shade of peeling paint covering the outside, sky blue. The lanterns provided ample lighting for it to be spotted from a distance, but not enough to attract rowdy attention. Mr. Miller told you to come inside first while he secured his pickup truck properly. He mentioned a thing or two about racoons or squirrels, but you were too high off adrenaline to even notice. Being in the property, you instantly knew where you were.

This was his lair.

Where he shoots his videos, where he invites all his pretty co-stars to make them moan and whimper about how good his cock felt and how deep it went, where he edits those striking millennial-core thumbnails. Your throat grew dry and you began to think if it’s time to bail. He’d understand, wouldn’t he? Mr. Miller would just take you home and forget about it. Then, by next summer, you’d be out of his hair and he’d never even think about it.

A creak sounded from the front door. You jumped.

“Hi, sweetheart. You okay?”

You nodded. Your entire body went cold, especially the tips of your fingers and toes as you saw him come close. One step at a time. Almost as if he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t scare you too much. Mr. Miller looked awfully big up close. You never seemed to notice this entirely when you see him around the house, but when he’s confined in this miniscule trailer house, he looked massive. His presence towered over every last bit of your confidence. It’s surely crumpling - your confidence - slowly dissipating into thin when he was flushed against your chest.

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller.”

He pulled a foldable chair from one of the open compartments, before taking a seat on it. He spread his legs, as always, and had this look in his eyes.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he paused, before resuming. “You could tell me you don’t feel like doin’ this anymore and I could take you home. Won’t talk about it anymore if you don’t wanna.”

“I.. I want to do this, Mr. Miller.”

“Are you sure? There ain’t no pressure in this. I’m simply here to help you, sweetheart, so if you feel like-”

“I get it, okay, I get it. I trust you. A lot. And I know you’d be the best person to teach me.”

What were you even saying? This was straight out of your wildest wet dreams and perhaps that’s why you’re so adamant about it. You watched silently as he contemplated his choices. Mr. Miller scratched his beard for a short while, his gaze focused beyond you and you could almost watch in real-time how his morals and values crumbled onto the creaky floorboards. He stood up from his small chair and headed right towards where you were standing idly. Is this what May felt like in those videos?

“Alright, sweetheart. I ain’t a vocal man so this is gonna be challenging even for me,” he chuckled gruffly. “Every man has their way of settlin’ with their ladies, but I like ‘em stripped off their clothing first. So will you be a pretty thing and do that for me?”

For a second, you were as still as a rock. Entirely not used to having the person who initiated many if not all of your orgasms giving you these orders in real life. He’s right there in front of you, flesh and bones, telling you to strip off your clothing. It felt like a fever dream. You must’ve had a weird look on your face, because a grin started to form on those chapped lips of his.

Conscious of the mistake, you quickly reacted. Almost skittishly in a way as you pulled on the zipper that’s located on your right ribs. Your fingers fumbled with one another, as if it’s been braided into one, but you managed to loosen it after a few attempts. You slipped your right arm under the spaghetti straps, before you slipped the other one. The only thing holding your modesty together was your one arm that’s holding onto the support-less front flap of your sundress.

“Com’on now. It’s just me. You can act shy and adorable around Simon, but not this old man,” he teased.

You nodded, hesitantly letting your arms fall to the side. The terribly warm weather encouraged you not to wear a bra. Although you wondered if 3 PM you knew that you’re going to be engaging in some promiscuous agenda this evening. You looked up into his eyes for some kind of guidance, in which he responded with a curt nod, before you tugged on the dress so that it’d slide onto the floor.

Now the only piece of modesty you’re wearing is your plain white panties. Your breasts were entirely exposed, cold nipples firming up as it reacted to the change of temperature. This is embarrassing! Mr. Miller was being incredibly methodical in the ways in which he approached the situation, lacking sloppy mouthy kisses and feverish touches.

“Smart girl,” he complimented, almost on instinct. “Let’s get on the bed, yeah?”

You moved adjacent to him. Mr. Miller was gentle when he patted the spot next to him, allowing you to settle down properly while he fixed a pillow behind your back. To think that you’re positioned on the same bed where you’ve witnessed him please an array of girls made you feel some sort of way. A hitch in your heart, a twitch in your hole. You’ve never witnessed him this gentle. He’s always fond of establishing the power he held on the dynamic he’s presented, always telling girls what to do in quick succession and calling them humiliating names if they fail to do as told. With you, he was sweet and rather funny.

“In my experience, one of the things girls like the most is to be withdrawn from control,” he spoke up into the thick air. You didn’t miss the way his eyes cruised along your beaded nipples, or the way it watched you with feral precision. “Of course, it depends on the person. But you. I think you’re a sensitive one, are you?”

You nodded obediently.

“Cross your arms behind your back,” he ordered and watched closely as you followed suit. “Lean back onto the pillow.”

You copied his order. Only then did your finicky brain finally compute that you’re limited off your movements now. With your body weight acting like paper weight for your arms, it’d be impossible for you to react in quick time.

“Good girl.”

His mindless comment made you tighten your thighs together.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay?” he whispered gently. You could watch how he’s slowly approaching you with much caution. His arms caged you in as it dug into the tangled sheets next to you. He’s testing the currents, making sure you’re fully consenting to the experience before he makes any mistake that might ruin your perception of sex. “Ask your little friend to touch you slowly. None of that frisky aimless touching. If he pulled on your nipples and called it a day, I’d leave his ass.”

This little routine he had, the one Wicked Fantasies had, was memorized into your head and to watch it take place right in front of you made you ecstatic. He caressed the side of your face. Gently even with those big, large fingers of his, he managed to take up a good portion of your cheek. Mr. Miller then made his way to your lips. He swiped it once over your upper lip, then another time over your thicker bottom lip. You’d anticipate for him to stick his thumb in deep enough so that he could see your uvula properly, but he didn’t. Instead, he settled on pressing down your tongue as if to pin it against the lower floor of your mouth. A good amount of saliva was collected that when he pulled away, a lewd string remained intact.

“Do you know why I like pinning a girl’s tongue down?” he queried to increase comfort in a way.

“No,” you whispered breathlessly. “Why?”

“It makes ‘em docile,” he muttered. “Encourages submission and I like a pretty girl who listens.”

Mr. Miller’s fingers dragged through the curves and texture of your warm skin, leaving goosebumps on his wake, before he finally reached your two perky nubs. Each one hardened before he could give them the treatment they both deserved, which in a way broke his routine, but instead of being irritated, he appeared to be pleased.

Girls in his videos weren’t as sensitive as you. They didn’t get riled up just by a little touching and teasing. Seeing you like this was a refreshing touch. One that made the wrinkles on his forehead ripple as his eyebrows quirked. He circled his calloused finger around where the pigmentation started. Once, twice. Right until he was merciful enough to press against the apex of your nipples.

You squirmed.

“So sensitive, are you?” he cooed. “Tell Simon to play with your sensitive little nipples, hm? You look like you could cum just by this.”

“O-oh please!”

“Please?”

You couldn’t respond. Not when he’s rolling the most sensitive part of your nipples between the pads of his thumb and the side of his pointer finger. Touching your breasts with your own nimble hands felt nothing like what he’s doing right now. You instinctually grinded your leaking pussy down onto the bed, almost like an animal in heat.

“Poor thing couldn’t even tell me what she wants. What would Simon think, hm? A girl with no self control like you,” he hummed. Mr. Miller quickly held onto your thighs so that you’d stop rocking onto the bed and getting off from pleasure he’s not offering. Your eyes met his, searching for help, but the sweet and respectful Mr. Miller wasn’t there anymore. “Alright now, sweetheart. You have ta make sure that you’re thoroughly aroused before thinkin’ of even touchin’ this place.”

“You’re new at this,” he hummed. His fingers slipped off the hold he had on your nipples before it slid down your stomach and settled precisely above your clothed clitoris. “It’s gonna hurt bad if you’re not properly lubricated. Sex is supposed to be fun, not painful so if some guy tells you that it’s supposed to hurt, don’t listen to his dumb shit.”

Mr. Miller was incredibly informative if you put aside the fact that he’s touching you in all the right places that it’s making you go dumb. He spent the time explaining why an action must be provided and how to perform it, when you know for a fact that this is not what he’s used to doing. Wicked Fantasies was known to be straight with words, using minimal sentences to provide his co-stars with just the right amount of information. You could tell he’s holding back the urge to be meaner, to act the way he likes, just for you to be more comfortable.

“Let’s take a look, shall we? You think I did a good job, darlin’?”

It’s dark out. There’s only one source of light that’s present in the room. A small bedside lamp in the shape of an elephant, Sarah’s favorite animal that’s grown to be yours as well. This session with him felt intimate; you’d expect for him to bring out the bright light panels and reflectors just like in those videos you watched of him, but instead, he mostly depended on the moonlight rays.

You were acutely aware of how those dark eyes of his mirrored your own. The way he studied you was unlike any other, not with an invasive intent, but rather with heed. You watched as he hooked his fingers on each side of your panties. Slowly dragging it down, only to stop to wait for you to ease your thighs upwards.

“Look at you,” he chuckled. “I’m right about you bein’ sensitive. Don’t think we need any lube when your pussy looks like this.”

By instinct, you brought your thighs together, shy that he’s observing you with such vulgar intensity. He hummed out a tone of disapproval and quickly placed his arms on both of your knees, prying the two apart as if he’s opening a stubborn can of bolognese. You bit your bottom lip, stifling the noise of embarrassment.

Anxiety bubbled up inside of you. You wondered if you looked okay down there - no other men had seen it besides him! - or if there was something strange that caused him to halt. There was a lewd string of sticky arousal pooling on the center of your panties. You silently watched as it stretched and broke as Mr. Miller pulled the thin fabric away.

“You’re soaked, sweetie,” he teased.

“Mr. Miller, that’s- that’s embarrassing..”

“You like to touch yourself, don’t you?”

Your eyes flickered towards his direction in fear. Has he discovered your incurable obsession for him and his erotic videos? That couldn’t be, could it? There’s no scientific correlation between being extremely aroused with masturbation as far as you’re aware, but the confidence he exude made you doubt yourself. Mr. Miller moved in a painfully slow tempo, taking his time to caress your inner thighs and stomach before even considering touching you where it ached. His calloused fingers felt different against your skin. It left a fiery trail in its wake.

“No, I don’t,” you lied with a breathless squeak.

“It’s okay if you like to touch yourself, y’know,” he whispered as if taunting you. “Girls who like to touch themselves understand themselves better.”

Mr. Miller finally touched you properly. His pointer finger probed against your clitoris, touching in the lightest feathery manner possible that you couldn’t have felt it if you weren’t concentrating. Your hips followed the brief source of pleasure, only to be disappointed when you notice that he wasn’t there. He pulled his finger close to his mouth and made a big show out of it. The way your arousal glistened under the pale moon rays, Mr. Miller teased you with his expressions and mannerism. He dipped the stained finger in his lips to have a good taste while keeping eye contact.

“Please touch me.”

“What was that, sweetheart?” he hummed.

“Please touch me again. It feels go-”

You were cut off immediately when he lazily drew a perfect circle on top of your hooded clit.

“Fuck, please, please, sir.”

Ah, he liked that. He liked the new name you’ve granted him. Mr. Miller was kind enough to resume what he was doing. His finger descended down onto your throbbing hole to gather a good amount of slick before he brought it up to aid his ventures.

“The best way to feel good is controlled pleasure. It feels better to be denied than to receive boring continual pleasure, so..” he paused his movement all together. “I’m gonna teach you a little game.”

“A little game..” you sounded like you’re about to cry from his sudden withdrawal.

“Count to ten, properly. Then I’ll reward you with more. If you fail, then we gotta start from the very beginning,” he explained. His warm breath fanning over your sensitive clit. “You think you can do that, pretty girl?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll start now.”

“One, two..”

You felt how he made his laps around your nub. It was much more intense than the pleasures you’ve initiated before. Compared to rutting against a pillow, grinding against a bedpost, or laying under the tub’s running water, this felt like an entire new experience. You fought to keep still, but it’s gradually getting harder when his finger starts prodding against your tight little hole.

“Three, four. Please, Mr. Miller. Oh god,” you whimpered by accident. He didn’t like that one bit by the look he gave you. There weren’t rules and promises to this, no dynamic the two of you have agreed on, but you couldn’t help but be terrified of his disapproval. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sir.”

“From the start,” he ordered.

“One, two, three..”

You could barely remember the numbers in your head despite encountering them almost every day of the week. You’re a smart girl, knows your ways around things, but being touched by Mr. Miller makes you go all dumb.

“Four, five, six..”

Your thighs began to twitch and spasm. You catched the way he pulled back the hood to your clit to get a more direct touch. It was working wonders as the sensation now is a lot more electrifying. Arousal dribbled down your twitching hole and onto the crack of your rear, wetting the sheets beneath you with the sticky clear substance.

“Seven, eight, n- nine!”

You jutted your hips out when his fingers brushed over your clit once more, the sensitive bundle of nerves extra aware of his presence, and he managed to hold you back once more. He’s forgiving. You knew he’d punish his co-stars if they couldn’t stay still like you, but he let this one slide. He continued rubbing slow, tight circles only to alter into an eight shape.

“Ten.”

The ultimatum. It has arrived, your key to heaven.

“Smart girl,” he cooed, never actually stopping. “This little hole of yours looks neglected, hm?”

“Yes, pleasepleaseplease.”

“Touch your clit slowly like I taught you,” he ordered. “You can do that can you, sweetheart?”

You nodded, distraught and ruined. With his sweet permission, you pulled one arm out from your back and rested it right above your clit. Slow and steady. Just like how he ordered. Mr. Miller on the other hand was slicking up his pointer finger with his tongue. Fuck, that looks so god damn hot.

He had pressed his sole finger deep into your warmth with no hesitation whatsoever. The combination of his calloused finger against your walls and the golden freckles inside his narrowed irises had you reaching out for his forearm. Your nails came in contact with his skin as you dug upon it, crescent shapes formed in pinkish shades atop his skin. You had to sit up as the only way you’re getting through this is by leaning on his sturdy arm.

“Oh, you like that, huh? Filthy girls like you love to get their holes filled?”

What you didn’t expect was having him press a second finger in. His one finger was thicker than what you’re used to, but two fingers? That makes you an overachiever for sure. You looked up to meet his eyes frantically. You knew he wouldn’t be kind enough to withdraw the action when his mind is already set on it, but it was worth the try. He cocked his head arrogantly as he pursued his plans. Mr. Miller’s middle finger was a tight fit. Barely able to slip past the ring of muscles. Though when he did manage to get himself in, a loud moan escaped your lips.

“Mr. Miller. I can’t- I’ve never- never taken two fingers!”

“I know you can do it, sweetheart,” his free hand went over to run over your sweaty hair, admiring every inch of you. “You wanna please that boy, don’t you? Little Simon?”

He was skillful with his fingers, perhaps from his job requirements. Although it’s still incredible how he managed to have you squirming, yelling how you’re about to cum in a matter of seconds. All he did was switch between pumping the two in you, creating the filthiest sounds, and reaching upwards to hit that certain spot of yours. You rubbed your clit with much concentration as you followed after his thrusts.

“Mr- oh.. Mr. Miller! I’m gonna cum, sir.”

“You’re gonna do that for me?” he grinned, pushing his fingers into you as deep as they could go. He maintained a steady pace, emphasizing pressure on that spongy spot up top that you’ve never managed to reach with your stubby fingers. “Pretty girl gonna cum from my fingers?”

“Yes, yes.. sir. Please.”

“Cum for me, darlin’” he whispered. “Show me how good you can be.”

Oh god, you're in a lot of trouble.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #the last of us #tw age gap

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marvelsswansong · 2 years

Text

tornado warnings

summary: out of all the girls Eddie could like, of course he'd pick Jason Carver's girlfriend. He kept ignoring the warnings, and now he's in too deep.

tags: Eddie x fem!reader, pining!Eddie, friends to lovers, requited love but both parties are idiots, Dustin trying to talk sense into Eddie, cw for Jason being a misogynistic asshole, song fic, pure fluff, slow burn ish, oneshot

☆ word count: 6.5K+ (she's worth it i promise) ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

It's sprialed out of control. Eddie knows that now.

It's as if he's been struck by lightning, the realization jolting him awake when your fingers deftly brush against his whilst you pass over the chemistry pop quiz. The touch lasts for less than two seconds, accompanied by a friendly smile and a quiet "good luck" thrown in, but it's enough for him to falter and almost let the paper slip from his fingers.

It reminds him of the first time you two met, late after school - you because of cheerleading practice, him because of detention.

Eddie was exhausted. Having shown up late to school with mismatched socks and his roleplaying notebook forgotten by the driver's seat of his van - not that it mattered anymore, considering he had to cancel tonight's session due to detention - he swore that the world was out to get him.

It was half past five and the spring rain was unrelenting, the pitter patter of water droplets against glass windows drowning out all other noise. Eddie scowled, not even the weather was on his side today. He'd have to make a run for it to his car, with nothing more than a floppy notebook to hold over his head.

His footsteps faltered, however, when he heard a feminine voice swear followed by the clattering of metal. Peeking his head around the corner, he was met with none other than the sight of you struggling to open up your locker, delicate fingers fumbling with the lock desperately.

"Oh for fuck's sake." you swore, trying the combination again and pulling the lock with all your strength to no avail. Dropping your duffel bag onto the floor, you tried again, this time grasping the metal lock with both your manicured hands.

No luck.

Sighing, you dropped your arms and fell forward onto your locker head first, before perking up and looking around for someone to ask for help - perhaps a janitor would know how to deal with this. Your eyes met Eddie's, and his eyes widened in an instant (fearing the worst, being caught staring wordlessly at one of the most popular girls in school) but your eyes lit up with recognition and joy.

"Hey! Eddie, right?" you called out, waving him over.

You knew his name? Eddie was simultaneously flattered and shocked, considering you two were separated by several stratospheres in the popularity pyramid. He was in your Advanced Physics class junior year before he dropped down to regular Physics, and even then you sat by the front row with the rest of the cheerleading squad whilst he doodled in his notebooks at the back.

"Do you think you could try opening up my locker for me? I left some important notes in there and my European History test is tomorrow, so I really need them." you sheepishly added, leaning against your locker. Eddie hesitated for a few seconds - was this a trick? Why were you being so nice to him? Why was the smile on your face so pure and so genuine, never once faltering?

Ignoring the sirens going off in his mind, he wordlessly nodded and walked up to your locker.

"The combination is 8-1-8-2."

He spun the dials around and tugged at the lock, but it remained stuck. He tried again, being extra careful to spin the numbers to the exact digit this time, but it still didn't budge.

"Nothing?" you questioned anxiously, peeking over from behind his shoulder. Eddie just grinned at that, hand flying to his jean front pocket to fish out an extra hairpin.

"Maybe not. Hold on."

Bending the metal pin straight, he fumbled with the little hole at the bottom of the lock, until a satisfying 'click' rang out. He was then able to finally unhook the lock and open it up to the contents of your locker - textbooks and folders spilling with notes neatly piled up at the bottom, with a Dior perfume, tube of lipstick and a jar of gummies sitting on the top shelf.

He was about to make a lighthearted joke about the gummies when the joke died in his mouth at the warm sensation of your arms wrapping around his waist, face buried in his shirt as you joyously embraced him.

"YES! Thank you so much, Eddie, you are a lifesaver!"

The sudden burst of affection was totally foreign to him and his senses were going haywire - overwhelmed at how your hair was tickling his exposed skin, your sweet scent (notes of caramel, honey and vanilla) evident but not too strong from this proximity. He fumbled over what to do with his arms, not knowing what was appropriate to do, before awkwardly settling on patting your back with his left hand.

"It's uh, no big deal." he managed to stutter out, small grin on his lips. A grin far outshined by the massive one on yours, bubbly laughter flowing as you quickly dug out the notes from your locker before slamming it shut and locking it back up.

There was another foreign sensation now beginning to register in his brain. Warmth, pleasant fires kindling in his lower stomach, an ache in his chest to have you close to him again. And his next sentence was blurted out before he could even think through all the repercussions.

"Do you need a ride home? Since it's raining and all."

"Yeah! That'd be great."

Following the locker incident, you began to wave at him and exchange quick greetings with him in the hallways. It was a minor change, a verbal acknowledgment instead of silent smiles and polite nods, but that didn't stop others from giving Eddie dirty looks. After all, why was the most popular girl in school giving any time of her day to the resident school freak?

Truth be told, he didn't understand it either. But he wasn't going to complain either, only returning the gestures wholeheartedly. This amicable state of acquaintance - knowing each other's names and being friendly, but never crossing the line into friendship - was broken less than a week later, when he was sitting in Mr.Wilson's office and being lectured about how he really needed to get his grades up.

"I've assigned you a tutor. She's one of my star students and she's kindly agreed to tutor you for free, so please do show up on time and try." the elderly man sighed under his breath, pushing his metal rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose before shuffling through a stack of papers.

"Her name's (Y/n). I'll leave the specifics of the arrangement up to the two of you, but the expectation is one session every week or two. Understood?"

"Understood, sir."

So here he was now. Standing in front of your house, double checking the address scribbled down hurriedly onto his notebook for the hundredth time, agonizing over what to do. Should he knock? Ring the door bell? He was a few minutes early, maybe it'd be best to just wait for you outside-

"Hi there!" you exclaimed, throwing open the door excitedly, making him jump back in surprise. "Come on in, we can go up to my room."

Your hands were preoccupied with drying your wet hair with a towel - it looked as if you had just emerged from the shower, the thought of which made his throat dry, a dirty sight he had to immediately scrub from his mind. Not that it worked particularly well, not when you were wearing an oversized black t-shirt that showed off your legs and the cheerleading shorts you had on hugged your thighs perfectly.

Carefully eyeing the living room and kitchen, he half expected for your parents to jump out and begin to interrogate him as to his identity.

"Are your... parents around?" he'd asked quietly, fingers anxiously twiddling by his sides. You shook your head sideways.

"My parents work out of state most of the time. My godfather drops by every few days though to make sure I'm fine though."

He raised his eyebrows at that, following behind you up the stairs.

"Doesn't that get lonely?"

You hummed, dabbing the last droplets of water from your forehead.

"I guess so. But Hopper - my godfather - has a lot of friends in the community so I get invited over to a lot of things. Plus cheerleading and school stuff keeps me pretty busy so it's not too bad."

You then pushed open the door to your bedroom with your shoulder, stepping backwards to let Eddie in first.

He marveled at how well organized your room was: sunflowers potted by the windowsill, a collection of vinyls leaning against a propped up vinyl record player playing a slow Whitney Houston song. White wardrobe pushed against the wall next to pastel pink drawers, makeup and skincare products neatly placed one after another.

Your cheerleading uniform was ironed and nicely draped over a cushy velvet chair, a full length body mirror with polaroids of you and your friends stuck to its sides on the white wooden frame.

You led him over to your study desk, pristine and white, and gestured to the chair to your left. He was still drinking in the sight of your room as you closed the door shut and hung your towel over the frame of your bed - which was complete with frilly lace sheets, pink and yellow cushions, bumblebee patterns stitched into the fabric.

In summary, Eddie thought, the whole room was so damn... clean and cute. A stark and sore contrast to his messy room, unfolded laundry everywhere and his walls crowded with his guitar and various metal band posters. He was just grateful now that he had insisted on doing the first session at your place instead of his.

"Everything okay?" you questioned, noticing his silence and awed expression. He blinked at you wordlessly at that, mind blanking in an instant.

"Yep! Amazing. Awesome, really. Just very stoked to get started on this exciting English Literature." he boasted, tapping his hand down on the thick textbook. You giggled at that, leaning against your chair.

"Listen, I know that Steinbeck and Fitzgerald aren't as exciting as Iron Maiden or Black Sabbath, but I promise you that there's a charm to these authors as well."

"You know about Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath?" Eddie perked up at that, pleasantly surprised. You rolled your eyes playfully, as if it was common knowledge.

"Duh, what else would I listen to whilst I jog? I can't say I'm as big of a fan as you, but I do listen to a bit of everything and metal is a cool genre."

It was his turn to chuckle, leaning forward onto the table to rest his head on his palms.

"You know, (L/n), you're not at all like what I'd expected you to be."

"What'd you mean by that, Munson?" you challenged, quirking up your eyebrows teasingly, his heart skipping a beat at the action.

"Nothing bad, I promise! Just, I don't know, your friends aren't as friendly or as cool as you."

You click your tongue at that, faux frown on your glossy lips.

"But aren't we friends? And you're plenty cool and friendly."

Friends. The word felt heavy on his tongue, goosebumps rising on his skin. Plus, you'd called him cool and friendly - by far the nicest thing any popular student had ever said to him. All logic flew out the window at that moment, walls tumbling down faster than the next words on his lips.

"Of course we're friends."

It was dangerous territory, a quiet voice was nagging him in the crevices of his mind that this was totally new and treacherous - accepting the friendship of the most popular and desired girl in school. The sirens were blaring in his head, red warning signs clouding his vision.

But Eddie consciously chose to turn the other way, running farther into your embrace.

"Cool. Glad to hear it, friend."

Once the initial hurdle was jumped over, the label of 'friends' hanging over you and Eddie, everything fell into place. Weeks flew by with tutoring sessions filled with inside jokes and excited ramblings, with Eddie taking every chance to insert a dirty joke in somehow to make you laugh.

He walked you from class to class at your insistence, your sharp glare at any staring passerbys enough to shut them up. Conversation was never awkward, there was plenty to talk about. His D&D sessions, the latest Metallica record, the next football game that Eddie would begrudgingly turn up to (but ultimately always would, just to be able to hug you in celebration afterwards).

It was all platonic, he told himself. Sure, he thought you were pretty and fun, but that didn't mean anything. He had it all under control, he reasoned, no, insisted. He was feigning igornace, arguing with his inner voice that it was all just excitement and nerves over having a friend who was popular.

"A lot on your mind?" you asked him a few months later, tongue swiping across the top of your ice cream, legs uncrossing underneath your cheerleading uniform.

You'd insisted on celebrating his first A in English Literature by going out for ice cream - "it's on me" you'd added, making it impossible to say no. It was a sizzling hot summer day and both of you were seeking refuge under the shade of a large willow tree, sitting on the roof of Eddie's van with him only a few inches separated from you.

'Yes.' Eddie wanted to say. 'I can't stop thinking about you.' he wanted to confess. 'I hear your laughter whilst I fold my clothes. I see you in the corner of my eyes everywhere I go, laying on my sofa with your legs dangling off the armrest, smiling at me in the rearview mirror from the backseat of my car.'

But he didn't say that.

"Not really. Just still reeling from the fact that I got an A." he joked, choosing to suppress his inner thoughts.

"Aw, well, you're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for, Eds. This is just the beginning, I know it."

Humming, he shot you a quick wink.

"I'll take your word for it, doll."

Both of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, until a loud shriek was heard from inside the ice cream store. A girl Eddie vaguely recognized from one of his classes was nodding fiercely and hugging her boyfriend close, making his eyebrows raise in piqued curiosity.

"Oh, probably just a promposal for the dance next week." you commented lazily, tongue flicking at the top of your cone.

"Are you... going?" Eddie tested the waters, eyes cautiously picking apart your reaction.

"Yeah, I am! Jason's being really difficult about the color palette we're matching as though. He wants pink and blue, I'd rather we do yellow and blue or pink and white."

Eddie's vision flashed white at the mention of Jason's name, bone chilling cold seeping through his chest.

"Jason as in... Jason Carver?"

You nodded, and the pain he felt upon seeing the fond smile that spread across your lips instantly felt worse than a million needle pricks at his heart.

"That's him. He can be kind of difficult at times but... he's my boyfriend and I love him, you know?"

Eddie knew he'd never have a chance with you. He never deluded himself into that fantasy, but now it was confirmed, written in clear black and white: you were taken. Not only that, but you loved Jason Carver. He was your boyfriend.

It made total sense. How had Eddie not noticed it before? Perhaps you had mentioned it to him previously, an off the cuff comment here and there, but Eddie wasn't listening carefully. Too intoxicated on your quiet giggles, too busy admiring the golden sunlight kissing your hairline.

It was impossible to prevent the smile from dissipating from his face, a forced grin instead replacing his genuine warm smile.

"Yeah. Makes sense, I guess."

"How about you, Eds?" you excitedly asked, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Anyone caught your eye that you want to take to the dance?"

It burned his mouth to respond, heart throbbing, fingers strained by his sides.

"Yeah, but uh... I don't think I'll be able to make it, so I'm not going to ask her."

You frowned at that and there were a few drops of strawberry ice cream hanging from your lips, which Eddie reached out to wipe away with his thumb instinctively.

"S-sorry." he muttered out, retracting his hand quickly as if he'd been burnt.

"Yeah, you better be." Jason barked out from behind Eddie, making him straighten up in alarm, not having heard Jason's car pull into the parking lot.

The jock glared at Eddie as he walked around to wrap a possessive arm around your waist, pulling you right against his figure. Your widening smile was unmissable, so was the way you kicked your legs forward in delighted joy when Jason suddenly swooped down and pressed a harsh kiss against your lips.

Eddie awkwardly averted his gaze as Jason continued to glare at the metalhead from over your shoulder, deepening the kiss possessively, his vice grip only loosening from your waist when you patted him on the back indicating that you needed air.

"Ready to go, babe?" Jason asked, not even missing a beat. You nodded, scrunching up the paper cup in your hands and throwing it away to the nearest bin.

"I'll catch you round?" you asked cheerfully, linking your hands with Jason and shooting Eddie a hopeful smile. The smart answer to give would've been to make up an excuse, to cut the friendship there and for good - especially with how Jason was steaming with anger next to you, blue icy eyes narrowing in on Eddie's figure.

There was a storm brewing, toxic smoke billowing into the air. But Eddie stood there, unwavering, only nonchalantly rolling back his shoulders and winking at you.

"Yep. See you round."

Jason's hatred for Eddie only intensified as time went on - you'd tagged along to a D&D session once and the jock found you leaning over Eddie mid-dice roll, metal ring clad fingers on top of yours as he guided you. Eddie waited for you after school whenever you had late practice to drive you back home, only for Jason to then pop out of nowhere and insist on driving you home (though he lived in the opposite direction from you).

"I don't fucking trust you, freak." Jason once spat the moment you ran off to the bathroom, leaving the two men to be standing around your locker. "I don't know what the fuck my girlfriend sees in you, but you better not be dragging her into any of your shit."

Eddie clenched his jaw, fists grasping and ungrasping by his sides in an attempt to control his anger.

"Relax, Carver. We're just friends."

Jason just rolled his eyes at that, stepping forward threateningly.

"Yeah, friends. Just don't get your dick hard thinking she's yours. She shouldn't be wasting her time on you anyways."

Eddie's blood boiled at the way the basketball player talked about you, wanting to control and dictate everything you did.

"She's not property for you to fucking control, jackass." he retorted, only succeeding in causing Jason's nostrils to flare with fury.

"I'm back, and I- Oh." you paused, noticing the tension lingering in the air and the defensive postures. "Is everything alright?"

The boys stared at each other silently, hatred still tinging the air, but it all melted into fake smiles on both their faces when turning to you.

"Yep." they both affirmed.

"Everything's... perfect. Just as it should be." Jason slowly drawled, eyeing Eddie up and down. It was a threat, an alarm bell ringing right by his ears. It dawned on Eddie that this was becoming unavoidable now, the mess that he was in, his love for you an unstoppable tornado.

It was incredibly reckless to continue to be friends with you. But god, it felt so damn good.

So out of selfish nature or not, Eddie didn't pull away. He chose to clutch on to you tighter, grit his teeth harder, damn all the consequences that would follow. He'd wander closer into the eye of the storm, wholeheartedly and willingly, all for you.

Though Jason wasn't silent about his unhappiness over your friendship with Eddie, you never let it affect you. So Eddie continued to be your friend, maybe even best friend at this point after six months, what in between Saturday movie nights and late evening talks on the bleachers after practice.

Eddie forced himself to be content with being your go-to platonic company: of helping you pick out a dress for your date with Jason whilst leaning against the headboard of your bed, carrying your things for you at school as you rushed to class after cheerleading practice, laughing with you over a pack of cheep bear in someone's backyard during a loud house party.

It hurt - doing all the things couples did, but under the label of friendship and under Jason's persistent gaze. After all, Eddie was the one to hold your hair back when you'd had too much to drink at the end of year summer party, helping to wipe your mouth with a stray towel and gently guiding a water bottle to your lips.

Your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen, having ditched you the moment his fellow basketball players called him over. It made Eddie furious, how it seemed Jason only wanted you as a trophy to show off to the school before abandoning you in favor of his friends, but you seemed to be blind to it.

Besides, Eddie reasoned, who was he to intervene? Overall, you were happy, right?

The metalhead wasn't even in the bathroom with you for more than three minutes when Jason came pummeling through the door, chest heaving with anger upon having been told that you were seen stumbling into an empty bathroom with Eddie 'the freak' Munson.

The jock never said it - at least in front of Eddie - but it was clear that he suspected something more than friendship, you two always tilting dangerously close into romantic territory. Jason ordered Eddie out, insisting that you were in need of your boyfriend instead of him, and with a heavy heart Eddie sighed and wandered back into the party.

He still thought about you the rest of the night though, no matter how many jaegar bomb shots he downed.

Come autumn, and it wasn't just Jason who saw what was going on. At this point, you were beloved by everyone in the Hellfire Club and you'd even swung by Eddie's trailer multiple times. Wayne and the kids would all tease Eddie for his clear infatuation with you, which Eddie would vehemently deny, though he knew deep down they were right.

"So are you ever going to admit that you like her?" Dustin teased, knocking his shoulder into the older boy's.

They were sitting on the railings of the skate park, the boys having lost a game of rock-paper-scissors with Max to pick between going to the arcade or to the skate park. The redhead was busy coaching you on how to skate - your legs wobbly on the skateboard as Max held onto your arms, wide amused smiles on both your faces - whilst Lucas and Mike ran off to the corner store to get some water.

"What, (Y/n)?" Eddie tried to play dumb.

"Duh, who the hell else?" Dustin retorted, appalled that his friend would even try to feign ignorance.

Both boys picked up their heads at the sound of loud laughter, your back on the pavement as you seemingly fell, Max laughing so hard that she had tears in her eyes and was hunched over to clutch her stomach. The fond smile gracing Eddie's lips was instantaneous- you were always so good with the kids, they all adored you. The boys pestered you for gaming tips, Max and you bonded over music, Erica thought you were the "coolest adult" she knew.

It made Eddie fall even deeper for you, his heart now fully in the eye of the hurricane. You were ripping down all his walls, your laughter destructive and haunting. You left him dizzy and stumbling through the hallways, heart heavy with infatuation, lips aching to be on yours.

"There. Right there." Dustin commented, pointing right at Eddie's face. "You get that stupid grin on your face whenever she smiles or talks or shit, does anything really. We all have bets on when you're finally gotta make a move, so when are you?"

Eddie shoved off the curly haired boy, fingers scrambling to brush off the sleeves of his jacket in false boredom.

"For the millionth time, Henderson, she has a boyfriend. Said boyfriend, who by the way, hates me and frankly I don't feel like being a homewrecker." he spat, venom dropping from his voice at the thought of Jason. Letting out a short exhale, he flashed the younger boy a tired smile.

"Besides, we've been friends for like, what, over half a year now? The ship has sailed, I've got no chance."

"You're just saying that because you don't see the way she looks at you." the younger boy insisted. "Seriously. Friends don't look at each other like that."

Eddie had nothing to say to that, you looking up from the opposite site of the skate park to wave at the two boys with delight, which they both quickly returned. The fluttering in Eddie's stomach was easy to anticipate at this point, as was the heavy pang in his heart at the realization that Jason would be coming to pick you up in a short bit.

"She's just being nice, Dustin." Eddie muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair.

You looked ethereal whilst skating, so carefree, hair flowing in the wind as your knees bent and braced for the dip off the edge. Fading red orange sunlight accentuating the dip and curve of your facial features, autumn foliage stuck in your messy hair.

You'd come into his life, a tornado, and destroyed his whole being. He was wandering alone now, knees brushing up against green fields with nothing but trees surrounding him, but Eddie didn't mind.

So long as he got to continue to watch you smile like that.

Cut to the present, Eddie's mindlessly filling out the pop quiz, brain still fuzzy from your touch lingering over his skin, ghostly yet ever so present. The rest of the class flies by and it's the end of the school day, so Eddie quickly moves to shove his things into his bag, crushing all his paper notes with the haste with which he does so.

"Any plans for tonight?" you ask, tossing your bag over your shoulder.

It's Friday night, which to everyone else means parties and fancy dinners, but to Eddie it usually means going back to the trailer and watching a rerun of a shitty sitcom over a bowl of microwave mac and cheese. Not that he'll tell you that, though.

"Not really. Why, up for another spontaneous drive through town?" he teases, heart fluttering hopefully. You sigh and shake your head sideways.

"Can't - Jason's taking me out on a date, but... rain check for maybe next Friday?" you question, peeking up from your lashes.

"Sure, next Friday." the bitter smile and forced ambivalence to his tone is painful, but it's a dull ache he's made peace with at this point. "If anything changes, you know where to find me." Eddie jokes, cocking his head to the side.

And unexpectedly, things do change.

In the blink of an eye, it seems.

Eddie's mid-way through the rented copy of Evil Dead, hands stuck in a greasy bowl of popcorn as he lies chest down on the sofa, blue light from the television illuminating his tired face, until someone bangs against his trailer door furiously.

Jumping up at the sudden loud noise, he pauses the VHS tape, abandoning his bowl of popcorn on the couch before throwing open the door.

It's you, mascara running down your cheeks, arms crossed over your chest, clutching at your skin so harshly that the baby blue dress you're wearing bunches at your waist.

"I broke up with him." is the first thing you say, voice shaky, body still trembling. "He said some, fuck, awful things, Eds. Really awful things. I had no choice and I know it was the right thing to do but-"

Your voice breaks as another wave of tears overwhelms you.

"But then why does it still hurt?"

Eddie's quick to shush you and envelope you into his arms, not caring that your makeup is probably smudging against his shirt, his hands coming up to comfortingly cradle your head against his chest. Your body trembles with every sob that escapes your lips and Eddie presses a soft kiss to your hairline, wishing nothing more than to take your pain away from you.

His mind is whirring with a million different things to say to you, but your comfort is on the forefront of his mind above all.

"Hey... have you ever been to the park by Saint Street? You know, the one with the playground." he quietly suggests, pulling away slightly.

You look up at him, confused, wiping your eyes.

"I don't think so, why?"

Picking up the jean jacket thrown over his kitchen counter, he digs out his car keys from the side pocket and extends his left hand out for you to grab.

"Because. We should go. It's impossible to be sad at a playground."

It's a stupid thing to say, childish even, but it does the job of putting a smile back onto your face, your cold hands grasping his warm ones. It's a quick drive - no less than 15 minutes - but he can't help but look over at you at every intersection and red light, making sure that you're okay.

He jumps out first to open the car door for you before helping you climb over the metal fence - "no one comes by, I swear" he assures you - shaky feet meeting dead leaves and dirt, he's quick to tug you towards the swing set.

He refuses to let you talk - "play first, until you stop crying" - and he insists on pushing you on the swing as high as he can. He chases you down the slides then races you to the top of the jungle gym, drunk off of your bubbly laughter and the way your eyes twinkle in the moonlight.

Neither of you know how much time has passed before you two sit across from each other on the seesaw, ribs hurting from the lack of oxygen. You can faintly make out Eddie's features in the dark - moonlight illuminating his curls, amused grin on his handsome face (the same face you've been unable to stop thinking about for the past few months).

"So what'd Jason say?" Eddie asks, leaning forward. "But only if you wanna talk about it, of course." he clarifies.

You let out a slow exhale, nodding tiredly.

"No, no, you... you deserve to know. Jason was on edge at the restuarant - I didn't think much of it, he's always a bit on edge - but he just went crazy today. Like, the moment the waiter left he started screaming at me, accusing me of cheating on him."

"Cheating on him?" Eddie strains his neck with the speed with which he picks his head up to stare at you, wide mouthed. "You? You would never!"

You scoff at that, thumbs anxiously twiddling on your lap.

"I know. That's what I tried to tell him but he wouldn't hear it. Just kept on going and on about how I was clearly in love with-" you stop yourself then, the gravity of the situation falling into place like dominoes.

You just broke up with your boyfriend of nearly a year. You came to Eddie crying, showing up at his doorstep in a heartbeat. Now you two are staring at each other in the park, leaned over opposite sides of a fucking seesaw, pouring each other's feelings out into the chilly winter air.

"With who?" he furrows his eyebrows and you almost want to laugh at how oblivious he is. You suppose maybe you've been hiding it well - well enough for Eddie to not notice how your touch has always lingered a bit too long on his skin, how your head so easily found home in the crook of his neck, how you began to prioritize meeting up with him over your fellow cheerleaders.

But not well enough for Jason, eagle eyed and jealous, constantly hovering over your interactions with Eddie and deluding himself with the gossip around school that you'd gone further than that.

"You."

It's whispered, heart falling to the bottom of your stomach at the confession now lingering in the open, cold and heavy.

"M-me?" Eddie stutters, clearly taken back. You lick your lips, chapped and dry, your shaky breaths coming out in small whisps of white smoke.

"Yeah. Jason insisted that it was clear that I was cheating on him with you and that we were spending way too much time to be just friends, and he... he called me a lying slut. Straight up. Screamed that I was whore to my face, demanded to know how many times we fucked behind his back."

"W-we never even kissed!"

"Yeah, I know." you chuckle sadly, shaking your head sideways, blinking away new tears which spring to your eyes. "But Jason didn't believe me. I dumped him, left him with the check and... I don't know, didn't feel like going home to an empty house. And I just... all I could think about was how much I wanted to see you."

Eddie doesn't know what to say to that. So he takes the safe route, nodding sympathetically and flashing you a small grin.

"Well, I'm glad that you did. I hope me dragging you to the playground wasn't the wrong thing to do." he teases, attempting to lighten the heavy mood. It works, soft grin tugging at your face.

"Yeah it definitely wasn't. Coming here was perfect."

The night breeze blows against your bare shoulders and it hits you that you really aren't dressed for the outside. Even if winter is only beginning to slowly roll in, it's still chilly enough to see your breath in front of your eyes in puffs of smoke and you've been sitting still on this seesaw for a while. So Eddie steps off to shrug off his jacket, musky earth tones warming your senses as he places it carefully around your shoulders.

"Thanks." you mutter, fingers grasping the lapels of the fabric.

"Don't mention it." he responds, waving you off.

A few beats of silence pass and then you throw your head back, staring up at the night sky full of stars.

"You know, weirdly though, I'm kind of relieved."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Deep down, I knew it wouldn't last. Too many red flags, you know? I just keep on ignoring them because... I don't know, really. Don't like change."

"I get that."

"God, feelings suck." you chuckle, shaking your head sideways. "Don't they? Pining, infatuation, love."

Eddie hums, nodding along.

"I'm there with you. For example-" he pauses. He's staring the storm right in the eye now, he has to made a decision.

He's tired of running, he decides.

"The girl I've been fawning over for almost a year now has been totally blind to my love for her and I'm exhausted." he makes it a point to stare straight at you with an unwavering intensity. "But she's worth it."

It's a shot in the dark but there's a surge of courage and adrenaline pumping through his veins, and the dark makes him more bold. He blames it on the wind rush, the night high, how beautiful you look in that velvet blue dress.

"She sounds like a very lucky girl." you choke out, mind blanking unexpectedly. Eddie nods and walks up towards you slowly, your throat running dry under the intensity of his stare.

"Yeah, and she's incredible, too. Head cheerleader. Great English Literature tutor. So funny, so kind, so damn beautiful, especially in blue. Great with kids, loved by my uncle, and I just heard-" his left hand comes over to brush up against your cheek. "That she's single. Funny how things work out like this, huh?"

You nod wordlessly, entranced by his warm brown eyes.

"It is."

You stand up cautiously, never once breaking eye contact with him, leaning in closer and closer. Eddie's expecting you to pull away from him in any instant, disgust springing onto your face or apologies falling from your lips, but you remain still. Your lashes fluttering shut is the last sign he needs before he commits to closing the gap and kissing you squarely on your lips, knocking the cold air out from your lungs.

It's a cold night but his skin's on fire, left hand springing up to cup your chin, other hand supporting your neck as he tugs you in even closer. You taste like cherry chapstick and smell like French perfume, velvet fabric brushing up against his arms as he backs you up against a park bench.

It's a messy kiss, all teeth and tongue, but he can't give a fuck. Not when his heart is soaring, fingertips electric, mind hazy at the realization that he is finally kissing his dream girl after a whole year of pining.

"Holy shit." you manage to say when you two pull apart, hair slightly messied and lips wet and plump.

"I hope that's a good holy shit, princess." Eddie teases, the nickname causing your stomach to flutter with butterflies.

"It's a good holy shit. A really good holy shit." you confirm, nodding fiercely. You both laugh at that, warmth blossoming across both your chests.

"W-why didn't you ever say anything?" you stutter out, head still reeling from the passionate kiss.

"I wanted to. God, I wanted to so many times. I knew I was falling for you from the beginning, all these little indicators and signs and the intrusive thoughts. But I kept on ignoring them and by the time I realized I loved you, I knew you were with Jason and you two seemed happy. And I didn't want to be selfish and intrude on your happiness like that."

He tugs you down onto his lap, sitting both your bodies down on the metal bench. Your hands come up to carress his cold cheeks, trembling thumbs rubbing up and down his jawline, eyes admiring the freckles on his nose and the specks of moonlight in his hair.

"Well, no need to ignore those warnings anymore, huh?" you say quietly, voice heavy with adoration.

He just nods, head falling forwards to rest on your chest, hearing your soft heartbeat through velvet fabric.

"Absolutely."

Eddie ignored the tornado warnings.

But in the wreckage, you two found each other, hands desperately grasping each other's in the darkness.

Burrowing his head into the crevice of your neck, he's content to stay with you in the aftermath of the disaster, so long as you continue to grip onto him like this.

a/n: this was based on the song with the same title by Sabrina Carpenter! Please go stream and support her new album, 'emails I can't send', it is fantastic and there are so many other bangers on the album.

Speaking of which, the way that the metaphor of the tornado is used in the song is kinda different from how I used it here but idk, I thought it was a cute concept and the song motivated me to write it haha. Not sure how this fic will be received but I loved writing it :)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson #1k #2k #3k #4k #5k #6k #7k #8k

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

WIBTA for reporting my sister’s teacher to the school admin?

Alright folks strap in this one’s a doozy. TLDR at the end.

My (19M) sister (17F) is a senior in high school and this year she’s taking AP English Literature and Composition (hereby abbreviated as ap lit). For my non American buddies, this is essentially the highest level English class in most public high schools. This is a notoriously difficult exam and my sister’s extremely nervous for it. However, her teacher (23F) is. Well. To put it bluntly, the most gen z #relatable tiktoker in the world. This is the first English class AND the first AP class she’s ever taught. The only other high school class she’s taught was physics (not even honors). Her only qualification to teach the class is that she got a 5 on the exam when she took it in high school.

She is demonstrably bad at her job. Her motivation to teach English this year was, quote: “Taylor Swift is SUCH a poet she’s one of the main reasons I wanted to be an English teacher” if that gives you the vibes. And yes, she spent two class periods making students analyze a Taylor Swift song.

To list some other offenses, she: encouraged the propagation of the Hellen Keller was fake conspiracy, recommended using Harry Potter as a resource for the AP lit exam (citing that it’s one of her favorite book series of all time), telling students she will not help them with college applications (despite this being a very common and expected thing for senior English teachers to do here), and telling students to watch the movie adaptations of recommended novels WITHOUT reading them, and then to use the Wikipedia summary to compare and contrast the two. She also regularly misspells things in class which is great for a language teacher.

And I wasn’t kidding about the tiktoker thing. That’s her main passion, posting outfit/makeup tiktoks. This includes doing it in her class about all her teachercore fits.

My sister complains about her constantly, and as someone who’s has to deal with seriously traumatic harassment from teachers in the past, my first reaction was that she should report her. However, the problem is, last time she caught a student complaining about her, she punished the whole class by making them take a ridiculously hard pop quiz because “her feelings were hurt”. A very responsible and adult reaction /s. So, my sister is worried that if I confront her or the administration, the class will be punished.

While I understand my sister’s fear, I just don’t think the teacher should be allowed to get away with her behavior. I understand that the teacher is young (she’s barely 4 years older than me!) and should be allowed to make mistakes, but starting off her English teaching career at the highest high school level of English classes. My sister is now having to seek additional tutoring because the class is massively under preparing her for the exam.

TLDR: My sister’s English teacher is really bad at her job and underpreparing her for a difficult national test. I want to tell the school about this behavior but my sister is worried that she’ll punish the class.

So, WIBTA if I reported her to the administration? And if so, people of tumblr do you have other ideas because I’ve hit a wall.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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monzabee · 1 year

Text

nonesense (social media au) - dr3

masterlist

Summary: The one where you and Daniel fall in love with a song, so you must share it with the whole internet.

Pairing: daniel ricciardo x actress!reader (model used: camila morrone )

Warnings: sexual innuendos, cursing?, daniel being a sweetheart, Sabrina carpenter's bbc lounge outro for nonsense (simply iconic), time-line doesn't match I know the incident happened earlier in the year but please ignore this thank you!!

Request: this was actually a message request sent to me, but since they want to remain anonymous i won't be tagging them!

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

yourusername

Liked by danielricciardo, ellefanning and 135,002 others

yourusername: had a date night with a certain mr ricciardo and he insisted i post the pictures he took afterwards.

ynoscarserawhen: come home, the kids miss you

thiccdannyricc: this is a yn stan account first, and a daniel Stan account second

view all 1,879 comments

danielricciardo: how quickly can you take your clothes off pop quiz

yourusername: i bet your house is where my other sock is and you still haven't thrown away your own socks in the hamper

danielricciardo: damn, sabrina why you had to do me wrong like that

daniel3.jpg

Liked by lando.jpg, yourusername and 217,202 others

daniel3.jpg: Smileys

lando.jpg: what is wrong with yn's hair

georgerussel63: great heavens

yourusername: this is why i support red bull

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yourusername just posted a story!

yourusername

Liked by isabellalombardini, danielricciardo and 42,255 others

yourusername: Day one in London talking all things Camila Dunne and (as @nytimes calls it) "the sharp edges of a love triangle." #daisyjonesandthesix Photos by @isabellalombardini

danielricciardo: i'm so fucking proud of you

danielricciardo: i will pick up my socks i promise

view all 1,043 comments

lorenzaizzo: Linda!!

danielricciardo

Liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 739,932 others

danielricciardo: slam dump featuring the missus. also, note to self that bbc means different things in different countries and sabrina cannot be trusted.

yourusername: proud of you for coming to that conclusion

sabrinacarpenter: sorry mom and dad

landonorris: wait, what?

view all 1,523 comments

sabrinarchives: wait until they here they hear about the drama

yourusername: @danielricciardo BABE WAKE UP, THERE'S DRAMA

danielricciardo: wait, there's more??

#monzabee #formula 1 x reader #paddock #social media au #f1 social media au #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #formula one x reader #daniel ricciardo social media au #sabrina carpenter makes an appearance

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writing-mlm · 3 months

Note

Idk if you take requests right now, but if you do, can you please write more damian wayne x reader 🙏

Sincerely, someone who has been scavenging for damian fics for days 😔

New Years, Same Words [D.W]

Summary: He's tired of hiding, but damn Damian cannot be subtle for the life of him. Pairing: Damian Wayne x male!reader WC: 8.8k

a/n: recs are always open :3

Back home, school was so different, almost every single detail was different. The way humans digested information was so slow and inefficient; back home students wore helmets and immediately got the knowledge they’d need. No need for lectures or turn and talks. They’re learning ideas and math that, quite frankly, a child back home would’ve already learned.

But, you enjoyed this style. No matter how stupid it was. Back home, you never really had a chance to bond with peers or enjoy any activities like art or music. It was telepathic lessons and then home, usually, that’s when the kids would play together. But the school-sanctioned together time was nice.

Everything else sucked.

The hallways were cramped and you had to watch extra carefully to not bump into people and break their shoulders. No matter how badly you wanted to.

“(Y/n)!” You hear from across the hall and look over, seeing your adoptive brother running down the hallway with his bag almost slipping from his shoulder. “I’m here!” He says, beaming as he stands next to you.

“You’re a mess,” You chide while fixing his bag and almost pick him up in the process. “Apologies.”

“You ready for class?” He almost groans as he says it. “I swear, if she gives us another pop quiz, I’m going to laser her!” He whispers the last part and you chuckle.

“No quiz,” You reassure him, turning down the hallway. ELA was at the end of the hallway, right next to the smelly staircase where kids go to smoke or leave the building due to a faulty alarm system. “I heard we have a project.”

“From who?” He says, voice raising several octaves. Jon has this thing, he doesn’t believe news from certain people, even if they’re later proven to be right.

“Marissa,” He stops walking and you can basically hear his thoughts. He’s so debating skipping class. “She said it’s not bad, c’mon!” Grabbing the back of his collar, you pull him after you as you hear the start of the warning bell. Quickly, you pull your headphones from around your neck to your ears and the bell rings.

It’s at a human volume with the headphones on, so it’s still loud but not nearly as loud as it would’ve been otherwise.

School back home also didn’t have bells.

Sliding into your seat, you drop your bag in between your legs while glancing around. Mostly everyone is in class, save for a couple of people. The teacher is late, but you can hear her running up the staircase— not the smelly one, one that’s going to take her at least two minutes to get to class. She never uses a different staircase.

Mrs. Elton is particular about that sort of stuff, her classroom never changes. She’s gone as far as to superglue the desks in a permanent shape around the class. There are three groups of desks, two in the front and one in the back. The one in the back is a straight horizontal line of seven desks while the front ones are arranged in an upside-down T shape. The vertical side of the T has eight tables, with four tables turned to face each other, while the horizontal side has four desks.

Your seat is in the front, on the horizontal line. While seats aren’t technically assigned, they totally are assigned amongst everyone else. Jon has the seat in front of you, and he can never see the board properly since he has to turn his whole body around to see it.

Mrs. Elton finishes her run up the stairs as the final bell goes off and the remaining students trickle into class. Amongst them is your other seatmate, the girl who sits to your right. She looks a little upset but she visibly calms down when she sees you.

“I thought you were absent,” She tells you as she walks around your chair to get to hers. “You weren’t in second period, what the fuck, dude?” She playfully hits you with her bag before it settles on her lap.

“I was late,” You shrug, watching her pull out her pink Macbook case with several stickers on it. “Why, what happened second?” She gives you a look before she slips her bag down to the floor and you raise an eyebrow, looking at Jon who shrugs.

“They were making plans to make a bomb for the winter dance.” She says. “Those two kids who always sit in the back, like that’s normal right?” You nod, the two kids in the back always talk about school shootings and whatnot but they’re typically harmless. “They talked about how their orders for materials came in and exactly where they’re gonna plant it.”

“Text me,” She nods and Mrs. Elton walks into the room, effectively silencing the class. She’s dressed like an English teacher, which you hadn’t known was a stereotype for the longest. You thought there were dress codes for each subject teachers.

Go figure.

“Good morning!” She smiles, her kitten heels clicking on the brown tiled floor as she heads over to her desk. Her laptop is already connected to the smart board so she only has to log back in. “How was everyone’s weekend?” There are some murmurs amongst the kids but she takes what she can get.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware, we have a project!” With her presentation on the screen, she turns to face everyone and clasps her hands together. “This will not be a group project, but there are many options to choose from.” She turns around again, fiddling with the keyboard. “Skipping the do now, let’s get right into it.” She pulls up a slide that’s blank for now. She does this thing where she presses a button and words pop up. “The Best Friend project!” She announces as it pops up on the board.

“This is different from your other projects since this is a project that’s a week long. You only get this week to do it and everyone will be presenting next week. We’ll do it by volunteer order, if no one volunteers then I will call you to go!” She explains and you glance over at Jon. His back is to you, but you can see him rubbing his forehead.

“As seniors, you need to understand how to present. But this is an easier one to do since I’m giving you so many options!” A list of options pops up as she says that. “Firstly, you can make a photo slideshow and explain your friendship; you can make a video collage with a voiceover, you can write a newspaper article and read it to the class, or you can bring the person in. But only if they do not have my class. So say Blake wanted to do his project on say… Michael, he could not bring him in. But if Blake wanted to do his project on his neighbor, he could bring them in. Understand?” Everyone nods and she moves on.

“Pick the way you want to do your project today,” She says, looking over the class. “After today, we will not be working on this during class, we will continue to read Salvage the Bones.”

“Go ahead! Start!” She smiles and turns on the class playlist as everyone turns to their laptops.

“Who’re you doing yours on?” Amira asks, already on a blank slideshow document.

“Not you,” You laugh and she fake scoffs. “You don’t know him, though.” She hums in acknowledgment.

“Do I?” Jon asks and you look at him, head tilted and lips pulled into your mouth. “Ohhh!” He nods. “I’m doing mine on Jay!”

“Fun,” You offer a smile and look over the options.

Writing in English is not your strong suit, it’s why you weren’t allowed into AP classes. You were amazing with working on stuff but you were still learning English, despite living on Earth for four years now. Kara says that’s normal and it took her ages to get to your level of speaking and understanding English, but you feel stupid struggling with the words.

You pull out your phone and open your messages.

would u come to my school next week

4 a project

What type of project?

‘best friend project’

Is this like Show and Tell?

idk what that is…

I’ll explain later.

But I’ll agree, explain it to me tonight, okay?

kk :3

Closing your phone, you set it face down on the desk and look over the “bring a person in” section. It says you can either give a completely verbal presentation but you’ll need to create a transcript for it, for proper grading, or you can create a presentation in which the two of you explain what’s happening. You opt for the second one.

There are some requirements, though. Each presentation needs to be at least ten minutes long; which you think is absurd, there cannot be any cursing included, and visual aids are required for all but the verbal presentation. Videos cannot be longer than two minutes, and only a maximum of two videos— each of them gives an extra five points to your grade.

“Imagine someone does Damian Wayne.” The local Gothamite, Rebecca laughs and you share a look with Jon.

“I totally am!” Her friend, Mariam jokes. “We’ve been dating for ages, darling!” Her group shares a laugh and your mind is settled on doing yours on him.

—

Meeting Damian during his patrols had become somewhat of the norm since you started dating. For many reasons, but mainly since Batman doesn’t have super hearing, despite what the general public and some heroes may think. While you’re not entirely out of earshot of Kal-El, being in Gotham meant that he would have to focus a bit more on listening to you instead of doing whatever he was doing back home. Sure, sometimes Damian came to Metropolis, but that was rare. Only one of you could get to and from in three seconds, after all.

“So,” You start as you slowly lower yourself down to the roof he's standing on, it’s on the outer side of Gotham, away from any of the normal patrol spots. “You’re dating someone else?” Robin frowns and crosses his arms.

“Ya albi, never.” He says in the most reassuring tone you’ve ever heard him speak in while slowly pulling you close. “Where’d you hear this?” It’s hard continuing the charade and you give up, a grin spreading across your face. It lets him immediately know and his frown goes into an unamused glare.

“These girls were joking about dating you during class,” You explain as he pushes you away and rolls his eyes. You smile and pull him back towards you, he crosses his arms and makes a point to keep a distance between the two of you.

“Moving on,” He fixes your cape before wrapping his hands around your shoulders and pulling you down to his height. Leaning in, you watch his eyes close before he kisses you and you let your eyes close. Pulling him closer, you dig your fingers into his hips and smile when he smiles.

“I was thinking,” He says when the two of you pull away. “We should go to the New Year’s gala together,” You pause, standing up straight and looking over the Gotham skyline before back at him.

“As us?” You ask and he nods, his eyes searching your face for any signs of… anything really.

“We could go as us for the one father is hosting and then as Robin and Rao for the Justice League party.” He suggests and he means it. He’s just as tired of kissing in corners as you are and you smile, big and bright before calming yourself.

“Are you sure? This is an incredibly big step, there’s no taking it back.”

You’ve thought about this moment before. Even before you started dating, you’d daydream about the world finding out Robin and Rao were dating. About the world finding out that Damian Wayne is dating the adopted son of Lois Lane and Clark Kent, the world's best reporters.

It wasn’t always the best in your head, you thought of the villains and the press. The jealous fans and suddenly you’re no longer just that kid in school.

And you didn’t care. You’d thought of every single bad scenario, every scenario that almost made Clark and Lois break up; but it didn’t matter. You… you were in love with Damian, in every way. All of him, whatever he came with you were down for. You’d kill for him— you have killed for him. Not that he ever has to find that out.

“Rao,” He says in a stern voice, pulling you back to him. “I… I want you forever. Why would I take any of this— of us back?” He asks as if you’ve offended him, his eyes darting between yours as he speaks. He’s talking as if you had thought so little of him as to think he wasn’t in the relationship a thousand percent. That you weren’t the best thing in his life and he’d do everything to not lose you.

“I dunno,” You shrug, letting go of him but he grabs your hands to stop you from moving. “What if you want someone else one day? Someone who can’t hear the fact that your heart is racing and your blood is rushing? Or the fact that Batman is trying to reach you right now.” From several streets over, you can hear Bruce speaking into his comm trying to reach Damian. He’s asking Barbara why he isn’t responding, worried for his son.

“I will never want someone else.” He promises, squeezing your hand and clicks his earpiece to turn it back on.

“Yes, father?” He takes a step away but doesn’t let go of your hand.

“Robin, where have you been? We’ve been trying to reach you for ten minutes” You hear Bruce tell him, worry lacing his voice.

“Sorry, father. I accidentally turned it off.” Damian gives you a look that screams not to laugh.

“There’s a robbery close to you, it’s just Catwoman,” Bruce explains and Damian sighs, saying he’s going on it. Better than to have his father go and have sex on the roof again.

He still couldn't get the picture out of his head when the gossip pages found them one day. He almost moved out after that.

“Call me,” You smile as you begin to hover above the roof. “I still gotta explain the project to you.”

“Yknow, this could go by faster if you helped.” He offers and you laugh.

“Is Robin asking me for help?” He scoffs and lets go of your hand before walking to the edge of the roof. You watch him, already knowing your answer to his request but you wanted to see how long it would take him to say something.

“Let’s go!” He calls and you grin, flying over to him and he lets you scoop him up before heading over to the bank.

—

A week comes and goes, you’d finished your presentation the same day you had told Damian about it. Clark and Bruce insisted on getting it done as quickly as possible— you’d just take any excuse to spend the night in a fucking manor.

“Good morning!” Mrs. Elton smiles as the final bell rings. “I’m so glad some of you signed up to give your presentations, uhh—“ She looks at a notepad on her desk, reading over the names. “Today we have (Y/n), Rebecca, Julie, and Jesus!” A little confused, you try and think if there’s another (Y/n) in your class. But you’re the only one in the entire grade. And you sure as hell did not sign up.

“You signed up?” Amira whispers and you shake your head.

“I absolutely did not!” You whisper back, pulling your phone from your bag to text Damian. God, it would probably take him at least half an hour to get from Gotham to Metropolis. But as you open your phone, you realize there wasn’t a mixup with the volunteers.

I’m in the office, about to head up.

The text had been sent two minutes ago, and when you look up you can see him at the door. He sees you see him and ducks out of view before anyone else can. You should’ve listened harder, you could’ve spotted his heartbeat sooner.

“Oh, you’re doing a buddy presentation?” Mrs. Elton says as she looks over your slides. You nod, your heart hammering in your chest. “Are they here?” Again, you nod and she smiles. “Excellent! Bring them in!” Standing up, you head to the door and step outside.

“One second, Ms!” You say before the door closes. Damian is leaning against the wall opposite to the room. He’s dressed a little fancier than he normally is, a turtleneck and slacks. But he’s wearing a pair of thick, black boots. Are those yours..?

“You asshole!” You whisper, ignoring the boot situation and he looks at you, faking a confused look. “I’m shitting myself, dude! Oh my god!” You rush over to him, running your hands over your face as you talk.

“Habibi,” He places a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll do fine, it’s nothing compared to fighting Lex, right?” Sighing, you nod and calm yourself. You’d given speeches to entire countries before, this is a walk in the park comparatively. “Good, now let’s go.” He turns you around to face the door and for some reason, talking to the President was easier than walking into that classroom.

Nope. Not fine.

But he guides you back into the classroom and you stand at the open door.

“Come on in!” Mrs. Elton encouraged you with a smile and a gentle wave to usher you over. Licking your lips, you head inside and Damian steps in after you. Immediately there are murmurs throughout the room and several eyes land on him. Mariam gasps and slaps Rebecca’s arm. She’s been on her phone, mostly uninterested for the most part but when she looks up her eyes go wide.

“You may start,” Mrs. Elton hands you a remote that lets you control the slides and you thank her, fiddling with the remote as you and Damian stand off to the side of the screen.

“My best friend is Damian,” You start, trying to shake off the feeling of absolute dread over you. Not that it works. “Um… I met him what— two, three years ago?” Time is hard for you, times blend together and merge, sometimes stretching to points where they couldn’t have possibly happened. But Kara thinks it’s the lingering effects of the Phantom Zone.

“Four,” He corrects and looks over at you. “I was there when you arrived.” That’s right, you’d forgotten when you crashed into Earth. Bruce and Damian had gone with Clark when the Watchtower got a reading of a spaceship entering Earth's orbit. You’d crashed into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and almost sunk to the bottom of the sea.

You nod, looking back to the class. “Four years ago, when I was adopted, I met him. I think he hated me back then, though.” You chuckle, pressing the slide to pictures you have where the then fourteen-year-old Damian was either attacking you or clearly yelling. In all of the pictures, you’re unbothered or confused, still learning the language. “Can’t imagine why, probably because I’m black.”

“It’s because you kept breaking my stuff,” He corrects quickly. “I went through five phones, six doors, and I think twenty windows that first month.” He lists and you want to defend yourself, imagine suddenly being so strong that a simple nudge could send walls toppling down but you can’t say that.

“Don’t remember that,” Shaking your head, you click to the next slide and look at it. You’d forgotten all about that trip.

“This was when my father took the Kent’s on vacation to The Netherlands,” Damian says, looking at the picture of you looking out of the plane window. You look unamused and you remember saying I can see this all the time, why would I get the window seat? And you ended up switching seats with Jon. Another picture is of you and Damian sitting on the windowsill of the hotel, it’s nighttime and you’re both watching the stars.

You remembered talking to him about your home and he’d talked to you about his.

Another picture is Damian, Jon, and you at a creek. You and Jon are knee-deep in the water but Damian is sitting on a tire swing, clearly disgusted about the idea. He’s yelled about bugs, parasites, and fish pee infecting the water. Jon wanted to throw him in, but you talked him down.

“We spent a week there,” You explain, looking back at the class. “I think that’s when we actually became friends.” He agrees, giving a small nod and you click to the next slide. It’s a video, and from the thumbnail, it’s set around Christmastime.

You’re in the woods, wearing a jacket Lois had gifted you; Damian is holding the phone from what you remember.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Damian’s voice is the first thing you hear as the video starts. It’s different from his voice now and you wonder when the change happened.

“I’m good!” You dismiss and pick up your pace when you see the thing you’ve been looking for. It’s a little embarrassing hearing your voice, especially how you sounded back then. But it’s still a fond memory.

In the middle of the forest was a lake, and it had frozen over. Clark had wanted to give it a couple of weeks to get to a proper thickness and you felt you’d waited long enough. It had been four weeks already, and you heard Alaska got pretty cold.

“Do not,” Damian warns as you hold onto a tree, lowering yourself onto the ice. “(Y/n)!” He sets the phone down on a fallen tree and goes into view of the camera, following after you. But his point was to get as close to you as possible without getting onto the ice.

“I’m fine, Damian!” You wave him off, putting a foot onto the ice. “It’s slippery!” You gasp, putting your other foot, and struggle to find your balance for a good second.

“It’s ice.” He reminds, still holding his hand out. “Now, c’mon! That’s dangerous, even for you.” Looking at him, you hold your hands on your hips and grin. Your balance is much better now that you’ve gotten your bearings.

“Nothing bad ever happens to me!” You declare and take a shaky step further into the lake. It’s more difficult than just standing and you’re tempted to just cheat by flying a little bit.

“You’re an orphan for a reason,” He sighs and you loudly boo at him. You must’ve booed him for a good five seconds, both your thumbs pointed down and he rolls his eyes.

“One bad thing happened to me!” Taking another step, you almost fall and he lunges to grab you but you’re able to remain upright.

“See,” You look at him and he shakes his head, carefully inspecting the ice. His body language changes when he does and he takes a mini step closer, holding his hand out with a sense of urgency.

“Off the ice, now.” He demands and you look down. You can hear the cracks forming and there are white lines starting to appear. But you’d assumed the noises had been from the woods. “(Y/n),” Looking up at him, you grab his hand and he pulls you towards him.

The ice lets out a sharp crack and you remember watching the ice fall into the water as the two of you fell back into the snow, your heart swelling with some feeling. It wasn’t even the fact that you’d almost fallen, you were more than sure you would’ve been a-okay; it was the fact that he had cared that much about your safety.

“I could’ve flown,” You whisper, looking at the spot you’d been standing at. The video doesn’t pick it up, but you remember what happened. How the two of you had fallen back and he held you tightly until that point.

“Doesn’t mean you can be so reckless,” He says, standing up before pulling you up. “Let’s head back to the cabin, be glad Lois isn’t here to scold you.” He picks the camera up as he speaks and you roll your eyes.

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell her either way.” The video ends and you look towards your classmates again.

“That’s an example of why I’m the best,” You announce, faking being serious. “But in my defense, it was my second winter ever and I was very excited.” Back home, the weather was just… not cold. At least where you lived.

“And stupid,” Damian mutters and you nudge him, hiding your grin. He nudges you back and you’re about to start a stupid nudging war when Mrs. Elton clears her throat.

“When was this?” Mrs. Elton asks, motioning to the video.

“Two years ago,” You answer, looking back to the video that’s stuck on a still of Damian and you walking up, a cheesy grin on your face while he’s less than impressed. “Clark and Lois rented out a cabin in Alaska, I invited Damian. We spent the weekend there and he never did tell Lois about the incident.” But Clark surely did hear, so when you returned there was some discussion about safety and caution.

“That same day, (Y/n) decided it would be a good idea to try and befriend a wild bear,” Damian says and you scoff, going to the next slide.

“Me and Jerry did become friends,” You grumble.

“This is for my birthday last year,” Damian says as he looks at the picture that’s in an apartment Bruce rented so Damian could have a small party with just his friends. He saw Billy, Cassie, Bart, Wally, Jackson, Nika, Jon, Courtney (who he didn’t really know, she was more your friend since he had no interest in Stargirl), Jaime, and you standing around a table with him in the center. There’s a birthday cake but most of it is hidden by the several bodies in front of it.

He has a ridiculous paper party hat on and there’s some frosting on his nose. He looks less than amused but you remember he put up no protest to any of the things that happened that night. Although Wally said it’s because it was you doing it and had it been anyone else, they would’ve lost an arm.

And he agreed!

There’s a green Happy Birthday balloon banner behind him and in a different picture, it’s the two of you standing in front of it. You’re both holding sparklers, which was incredibly dangerous according to basically everyone else. But it’s an apartment filled with teen superheroes, a little sparkler was not going to be the thing that caused damage.

“It was a group sleepover,” You announce, staring at the picture Jaime had taken of everyone sleeping on the large couch. There are several blankets over people so no one’s really huddled together for warmth until you see you and Damian in the corner of the couch.

You’re still awake, on your phone but Damian is knocked the fuck out, his head is on your shoulder and if you squint, you can see his legs wrapped in yours under the cover. Your arm is around him, keeping him from rolling onto someone who’s sleeping close by.

“I didn’t think you’d put that one,” You whisper, admiring the picture. When making the presentation, Damian had suggested that you each get ‘secret slides’ and the others were not allowed to look until the day off. Your slide was the ice video.

“Nika considers it a soft launch, whatever that means.” He grins and you smile.

There’s another picture, but it’s a picture of a picture. Taken on those handheld cameras that were really popular in the early 2000s. It’s of you, Damian, and Nika. The three of you are in the kitchen, sitting on the kitchen island with Damian in the middle.

You’re eating cake, surprised that someone was going around taking pictures while Nika is blowing a kiss to the camera and Damian is actually smiling for the picture.

There’s a picture right next to it where you’re actually posed. Your back is to Damian and Nika copies as the two of you fake holding guns, acting as his bodyguards. He’s playfully rolling his eyes, and there’s a wider grin on his face in that picture. It was actually your screen saver.

Honestly, when you first met Flatline, you were kinda upset. She did kinda kill him and then they became best friends? It was confusing as all hell but whatever, you warmed up to her and she was actually really cool.

“The cake was super good,” You note as you press the next slide. It’s another video, and it’s still from the birthday party. “I don’t remember this,” You admit, looking at the thumbnail. It’s when he’s being sung Happy Birthday.

“I do,” He smirks as the video plays. You could hear his heartbeat pick up a little bit and you’d have to admit you’re a little worried about the video.

“-irthday to you, happy birthday to you! Make a wish!” Everyone says and Damian takes a second. His thinking face only appears for a second before he closes his eyes and blows out his candles. They go out and everyone cheers as he stands up tall.

“Try the cake!” Nika shouts from the back.

“Come, aynii,” He tells you and you emerge from the small crowd as he wipes frosting onto his finger. You remember this exact moment and you blink, a slow and long blink as you smile. Damian notices and his heart picks up even more. He tries his best to look composed but Jon can see you unraveling in that moment.

The class watches as he wipes the frosting onto your lips quickly enough that you don’t have time to react before he kisses you.

And it’s an absolute riot when he does. Cheers and shouts take over the room. The kiss doesn’t last long as in the video, the people in the video are also cheering and you pull away, clearly flustered with so many people watching. He presses a quick final kiss to your lips and then licks his, fake-tasting the frosting while you wipe the frosting from your nose.

“Tastes lovely,” Damian tells Nika as the video ends. It ends with you turning away from the camera and Damian pulling you closer to the table and him.

“It was vanilla flavor,” Damian tells the class as they settle down. “That’s the last of the pictures,” The ten-minute requirement isn’t up yet, you have about two minutes left so your teacher suggests answering some people’s questions and you just know they are not going to be about anything other than the video.

“How long have you been dating?” Mariam asks.

“Two and a half years,” Damian answers without hesitation, his hand slipping into yours. You feel his pulse settling down against your skin and run your thumb across the small, barely visible scars littering the back of his hand.

So much for a soft launch.

—

It turns out that the student was not live, but he did in fact post the video online. Very publicly, as it was viral absolutely everywhere. It even reached Worldstar, which you thought died out several years ago. You’d seen it across all your feeds, you’d been tagged a bunch and even sent it directly. News outlets have even contacted you and there've been some vague threats for your life, but nothing you haven’t seen before. It’s just a headache seeing so many new messages you end up making entirely new accounts and setting them to private.

Clark and Bruce had both sat the two of you down when they saw it— which was immediately after it was posted. Seeing as one of them is a high-profile billionaire and the other is a high-profile reporter married to another high-profile reporter and journalist. There was an extremely long talk about… relationship stuff, and it was a little awkward when Bruce asked about some private information. Damian shut it down, though. Giving vague but concise answers to their questions while you tried to bury yourself on the couch.

They ended with basically; you’re both 18, so you’re old enough, blah blah blah, wrap it and tap it, blah blah blah, at least there won’t be pregnancy scares, blah blah blah, no more sleepovers.

That part wasn’t going to be in place for long, though.

All in all, the worst part to come out of the situation thus far was the sudden attention on your back.

People in school suddenly knew your name and while no one was acting strange, it was weird that people would suddenly be nicer to you. But at least no one was homophobic, that was something you were not going to complain about.

“So,” Rebecca and her group of friends swipe the seats around you as you’re finishing up some of your work during gym class. “Damian Wayne?” She grins, sitting next in front of you.

“That is my boyfriend.” You hum, slowly closing your laptop.

“Good!” She grins. “Because we used to go to school together and I’ve never seen him so happy before! Everyone called— fuck it, probably still calls him Arab Psycho.” She imitates his public resting face, albeit very poorly and you think for a second. It’s that human movie. Tim talks about it.

“American Psycho but he’s Arab…” You ask and she nods.

“Always felt racist but those rich white fuckers didn’t care.” She explains and you hum.

“You’re sweet,” She says. “Has he asked you to the winter dance yet?” Rebecca grins, her nails tapping against the glossy floor. “Oh my god! You two would totally be Winter formal royalty!”

“I’m not going.” She frowns and her friends make awww sounds. It’s kinda hard to explain you’re gonna spend the night as Rao, making sure kids don’t try and blow up your school. Not to mention the fact that you really did want to go, but shit happens and you’ve been to every other school dance. And there’s still prom. “But he did ask.”

“You’re stronger than me.” Kirara shakes her head. “What’s your Instagram, by the way?”

—

The day of the dance rolls around and you’re stuck with Damian on the roof of the building across from the school. Forced to listen to the music and watch people dance with their dates, just waiting and watching. He notices, of course. But he doesn’t know what to say, or what to do. He’s always avoided school dances, they felt trivial, beneath him. But you enjoyed the American school traditions like those.

He remembers whenever you’d hang out at the manor you’d insist on watching some high school movie, especially if they had dances. Apparently, they weren’t a big deal back home.

You can’t move from the roof until you’re sure there’s no bomb. Your super-vision didn’t show anything and you scouted the place the two kids talked about but nothing. Jack shit popped up. But the two kids aren’t home, so there’s a chance they might show up and do it later. A mix of Carrie and Heathers, you suppose.

It’s about midway through the dance that something happens. You recognize their dingy car— think a rusted car that is literally duct-taped together and one wind gust from breaking apart. The two of you slink into the shadows and you watch as they open the trunk, grabbing the bomb.

“At least this wasn’t for nothing,” You mutter and fly down, landing about four paces behind them. Robin lands in front of the car, his arms crossed and head tilted up.

“Planning something?” You ask and they spin around, the taller one slams the trunk shut while the shorter one stuffs something into his jacket pocket.

“Just a dance…” Short laughs, tucking his arms under his chest.

“And a bomb?” Robin asks and they spin around to see him. And it’s like the absolute life had drained out of them when they realized they had two vigilantes on them. One with a sword and the other with fucking heat vision.

“We’re sorry!” Tall shouted, getting on his knees, and his hands were in the air within seconds.

“Dude…” Short grumbles and removes the poorly made bomb from his shirt and places it on the ground before getting on his knees. “Fucking pussy.” He glares at his friends while Robin calls for the cops to pick the two up.

You pick up the bomb, looking it over. It’s about the size of a football and fairly heavy. But the intent was clearly there, you doubt it would’ve worked. They didn’t connect the wires properly. Seems they must’ve missed a step in their plans.

The cops arrive soon after along with the bomb squad. They say the bomb is safe and the two kids get locked up. Before, they used to hound for you to go back to the station to make a statement but they know you’ll show up soon and leave with a quick thank you.

“Cops in Gotham never thank us,” Robin huffs, watching them drive off.

“We’re nice here,” You shrug, looking at the school. “Wanna go to the Titans?” He looks at you and your barely hidden frown and then at the school. He’s sure his dignity isn’t as fragile as it seems because the decision isn’t a hard one to make.

“We could go inside.” The frown turns into a smile and you rush inside, your cape bellowing with how fast you move. He rolls your eyes but follows you towards the music.

Of course, the two of you cause a stir in the gym as everyone sees Rao and Robin at their shitty high school dance, slow dancing to the cheesy song playing but that’s perfectly fine. Everyone sorta returns to their own devices when they remember you’re two teenagers who probably just want to experience a dance.

“Thank you.” You whisper to him as the night wraps up. Mariam and some dude who wasn’t her date were voted as the Winter Formal Royalty, despite them trying to give the crowns to the two of you. “This was fun. Very human.” You laugh at the last part, watching as kids get into their parent's car and head on home. You see Jon is waiting for Clark with Jay, he has a strict rule of not interacting with you when one of you is out of uniform. Something about being a horrible liar.

“It was my pleasure seeing you smile.” He says, settling on the railing of the steps. “I’m just sorry you couldn’t enjoy it normally.” He adds, his eyes flickering to the large S symbol on your chest and then to your masked face.

“Please,” You huff, sitting next to him. “We stopped a bomb. It was a… bad bomb, but still.”

“You’re still here!” Mariam gasps when she sees the two of you. She has her heels in one hand and her phone in the other so her date holds the door open for her. “Good! Here—here, take it!” She hands you her crown and the other crown. Apparently the king didn’t care for it and gave it to her. “Don’t say no, either.” She shakes the crowns for you to take and you laugh, grabbing the king's crown while Damian takes the queen.

“Okay, thank you.” The plastic crowns are but paper to you, so you take extra care not to break it.

“Put it on!” She urges, taking some steps back, and points her camera to the two of you. Robin looks at you and takes your crown from you, setting the crown on your head before putting his own. “Y’all are too cute!” She gushes and takes about ten pictures. You’re posing, of course, about three different poses and she’s hyping the two of you up beyond belief.

“I’ll send these to you, bye-bye!” She shouts, running down the stairs while her boyfriend gets in the car.

“Bye-bye!” You call back.

“Clarks here,” Robin nudges your hand and you see Jon get into the car.

“Break has officially started!” Someone shouts from the parking lot. “See yall mother fuckers next year!” You laugh, and float up, pulling Robin up with you. He latches on immediately, looking at you as you shoot into the air and over to Gotham. He’s a little more careful to make sure your crowns stay on than you are and he promises to keep it safe in Gotham. That honestly sounded like an oxymoron.

“What’re you doing for Christmas?” He asks as you take your masks off in the Batcave.

“Mrs. Kent invited us to the farm,” Throwing yourself into the chair, Damian sits on the table while taking his gloves off. “We’ll probably be there for the entire weekend. Unless there’s some emergency. You?”

“We typically do a small gift exchange and not much else.” He shrugs.

“Y'know…” You trail, pushing the chair closer to him. “Martha has been wanting to meet you.”

“She’s met me.” He says, fixing your hair into something that doesn’t make it obvious you had just been flying around.

“Yeah, but not as her grandson’s boyfriend.” He cups your face as you speak, staring at you with this soft gaze that makes you like putty in his hands.

“He’ll go,” Bruce says as he enters the cave. Damian grumbles and drops his hands to his side while you spin around to see him. He’s not in his Batman gear, though. Just his nightwear. “Clark invited all of us yesterday.”

“Fun!” You turn to Damian who’s not too happy about the fact he still has the spend the holiday with his siblings.

“My siblings are going to cause your grandmother to have a heart attack. I’d advise you to fool-proof the house.” He warns you, getting off of the computer and pulling you up from the chair.

“It’s Kryptonian proof. They can’t do much damage,” You call him a name he’s heard a bunch. It’s this word in Kryptonian but you won’t tell him what it means and he doesn’t know the language enough to piece it together. But he likes it. It just feels right.

“That’s what you think.”

But despite his warnings and swearing up and down about his family ruining the day, Christmas went smoothly. Save for the embarrassment of introducing your boyfriend to your family and such, of course. The gifts were wonderful, but what you loved the most was Damian’s recreation of your home, you hadn’t thought he’d remembered so much detail from when you talked about it but he was spot on. You’d gotten him a special sword, made of alien metal and carefully carved with his initials. He said it was too good to use, that something of that marksmanship should never see bloodshed. But his eyes sparkled when you pulled out a set of new charcoal and paints for him.

He spent the rest of the night drawing.

With Christmas wrapped up, the time for the New Year’s party rolled around. Of course, Bruce had formally invited the Kents to the gala that was being hosted at some fancy building in Gotham. You’d been all but attacked by Dick to get a matching suit with Damian. Not that you minded, of course.

“Your first public appearance as a couple, congrats.” Duke grins as he sees you standing next to Damian, the two of you fixing the final details of your suits. You peer up from your cufflinks and see he’s in a fancy yellow suit. He paired it with a soft blush pink undershirt and silver jewelry.

“Thanks,” You smile and check your sleeves. Still nicely pressed and the cuffs shine against the silky brown suit.

“Nervous?” He asks, stepping into the room as Damian hands you the dahlia brooch the two of you were going to wear. Damian knew more about flower symbolism than you, but you just knew the flower meant something about the two of you that he wholeheartedly agreed with.

“Far from it,” Damian responds, pinning his own brooch to his suit. He makes it look so damn easy, but that’s probably because he doesn’t need to worry about breaking the brooch. “Yellow clearly suits you.” He tells Duke who in turn, compliments Damian’s suit.

“Oh, you two did henna?” Duke asks, seeing your deep orange-stained hands. He’s too far away to see the exact details, but he knows henna when he sees it.

“His idea,” You grin, looking at the designs on your hands. “We still have to find our initials, though.” Your eyes flicker to where Amira’s mother had hidden the letter D on your hand.

“In private.” Damian adds, his hand finding reprise in your own. He doesn’t need to look at Duke for him to understand that Damian is telling him to leave and close the door. The clicks closed as he guides you to his bed. The two of you sit together and he looks first.

“These designs are lovely,” He utters, his fingers ghosting over your skin as if you were a delicate artifact he was trying so desperately to keep safe. There were a lot of small details, hardly any of your skin was showing and it just looked like a lace you’d wrapped around your hand. His eyes flicker from left to right, as if he’s reading words in a book trying to find the letter D somewhere in the henna.

He’s far from frustrated, though. He absolutely loves that you’d agreed to do this and even more so that you clearly didn’t half-ass in getting it done. You’d even let the henna sit for two hours extra, just in case your genes made the stain fade faster.

“Here,” He points to one of the curves along a flower, his finger tracing over the hidden D.

“That was fast,” You look up at him and he just can’t look away from your hand. You call him, using another Kryptonian pet name and he looks at you.

“I’m perceptive.” He hands you his hands and you gently take them.

You suppose you’re cheating, but your eyes are naturally gifted and you can zoom in. Even so, it does take you longer than him. You’re looking between his hands, almost stressing about finding out.

“There,” You point to your initial resting on his ring finger, right above the second knuckle. He smiles and nods and you pat yourself on the back. And then he says something— something that’s surely a promise. He says it in a way that’s clear he’s thought about it for so long that nothing is to change his mind about it and you stare at him with wide eyes and an even wider smile.

“It’ll be harder to find when we get married.”

—

The gala is nice. The two of you arrived after your families just two hours before midnight, hand in hand. Perhaps it was on purpose, but you’re holding the hand that has your initial and he’s holding the hand that has his. Maybe that’s his way of keeping it between the two of you; intimate.

There are a lot of people, as is expected with galas. A lot of rich old people, a bunch of shitty reporters trying to kiss ass to Clark and Lois, and their older children. No one under sixteen is ever allowed to gala’s, a rule that came into place when Jason was taken under Bruce’s wing. You were surprised to hear the rule wasn’t because of Dick, but apparently Dick didn’t attend enough gala’s for the rule to be needed.

It’s your first gala seeing you’ve always declined the offers to go but there wasn’t room to say no in this situation. But it’s calm. You were more nervous about your presentation than about this. You and Damian mingle together for around an hour and a half before you see Kara at the snack table and excuse yourself.

You’re talking to Kara about school and she’s talking to you about her job. It just sounds like a bunch of human adult stuff you’re probably going to have to do in five years and honestly? That sounds like hell. But she makes it sound fun.

“Mother.” Damian says from across the room. Your head snaps over to where he is and you see her. Holy shit. You should run. “What’re you doing here?” His head turns to find you in the crowd but you see that Thalia is already looking directly at you. At least she’s smiling, that’s good… right?

“His mothers here?” Kara whispers, having heard that too. She’s been big on meeting the woman who raised him, apparently hearing how Bruce and Damian talk about her isn’t enough for her never-ending curiosity.

“I’m gonna piss my pants!” You gasp, looking at her. “Oh my god, she’s gonna kill me. i— Kara!” Your eyes widen as she tugs you after her. She barely weaves past people and you have to awkwardly apologize to them and let this crazy woman drag you over to your boyfriend and his assassin mother.

“Hello, Ms. Al Ghul.” You gulp as Kara makes you stand between her and Damian.

“Ah, so this is your partner.” Thalia looks at her son and then at you. He’s not upset, but he’s cautious. He’s purposefully slowing his heart rate and you hear the subtle sounds of his joints moving. He’s ready to take you and run.

“Yes, this is my significant other, (Y/n).” He introduces you with a hand on your back. “And his aunt, Kara.”

“I’ve heard a lot about the boy who my son has fallen in love with.” She bluntly says and you don’t know if you should smile or hide. Neither of you has actually said the L word before.

“Mother…” He whispers and she tsks.

“What does he call you?” She asks you, ignoring her son's plea to stop taking.

“Uh…” You trail. “He says: ya albi; habibi, hobbi, and ya hayati. There’s some more but I can’t remember…” When you say them, she takes a deep breath in and turns to her son. He’s a little red but not from anger.

“And do you know what they mean?” She asks, her eyes flicker to you.

“No, ma’am.” You answer honestly and she grins. That’s where he gets it, oh my god.

“He’s professing his love for you. My love, my darling, love of my heart, and my life.” She explains.

“You call him the same things!” Kara points out, slapping your arm and Damian looks over, the embarrassment off of his face and now he’s confused.

“Kara…!” Your eyes widen as it’s your turn to be embarrassed.

“He calls you…” She waits for Damian to tell her the pet names and now you’re embarrassed that he’s repeating them. She doesn’t hide her excitement or her expressions like Thalia had and openly gushes. “The first one is: my only love. Then he says: my life and my reason.”

“Your reason?” He asks and you turn your face from him. If you weren’t surrounded by people, you would’ve flown away.

“Where we’re from, to have someone as your reason is the highest form of love. You’re living for someone, you’re devoting your life to them and their happiness.” You carefully explain and Kara nods, a hand over her heart as she gushes again.

“Let’s leave the boys to their devices and chat,” Thalia smiles at Kara who nods and loops her arms with the literal assassin.

“So…” You trail but the lights turn off and you hear the countdown start from one of the speakers around the room. Geeze, the night had gotten away from you.

“Shall we?” He asks, stepping in front of you. New Year's kiss. Okay, holy shit. This is. Okay, you got this. You hear them say three and you get ready, cupping his face in your hands. You figure this is the best time to say it. Hell, you both have practically been saying it for years now. Just now it’ll be in a language you both understand.

“I love you.” You whisper as everyone shouts Happy New Year around the two of you.

Kissing him, he holds you close and you’re sure you’re about ten seconds into the new year before he pulls back from the kiss.

“I love you, too.”

#x male reader #x reader #damian wayne x male reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x black reader #x black reader

183 notes · View notes

clarks-letterman · 3 months

Note

Wally anon new request 4: Bottom!teacher!reader x Top!Wally where the reader happens to walk in on Wally cranking one out very. loudly in the school's most isolated bathroom & has an inner debate about saying something. They proceed to accidentally make noise, prompting Wally out of the stall (his pants poorly concealing his erection) & trying to turn on his charm before taking the opportunity he has to dominate the reader (& he gets very. sloppy with it) cause he notices how distracted they are from the entire situation.

A.D.I.D.A.S. | alive!wally clark x teacher!male!reader

a/n — yes, the title is a Korn song. sue me (please don't) fun fact: grammarly said this had 150 "premium errors"🤓☝️nerds. if i say it's late at night will that make me exempt from blame for the probable grammatical errors

summary — check the ask! basically the same build-up to the smut

warnings — smut (sooo 18+), teacher/student pairing, facefucking (Wally receiving), rimming (Wally receiving), anal sex

words — 4.7k

~~~

Only people who had nothing better to do skipped class, so that’s why Wally skipped lunch instead. At a time when he would be scarfing down the scarce protein found on the high school lunch menu and rushing to finish whatever homework he forgot to do the night before, he chose to negate all of his troubles for something more enticing. Smudges of graphite were smeared on the back of his left hand from writing an essay for your class all night and left his hand feeling sore, his head feeling too occupied to conjure up a fantasy before hauling into overdrive to stage each production required for his dreams. The underside of his hand complimented the rest as he stroked his dick, the bristling bundle of his dark pubes sprawling out over the undone flaps of his jeans pressed against his hand every time he reached the base and traveled back. It was done with the same fiery passion he had for you when you paired him with someone he openly disliked in class for a group project—for the times when you wouldn’t give him an extension because he had football or family matters. For the times when he thought that you were too stuck up and needed a hefty dose of dick to get the stick out of your ass. So now he was relieving himself in the men’s bathroom, it only seemed like a fair trade. If you got to fill his nights with readings, assignments, and studying for the next pop quiz, he got to let you take up the space in his head. He got to dampen the wad of toilet paper in his hand with the results of his endless thoughts about you.

The bathroom was expectantly dingy, painted in yellow from the incandescent bulbs buzzing out waves of it. Wally’s vibe proved to be combatant to the do-what-you-need-to-and-leave-as-fast-as-you-can mentality that this restroom evoked. It was the last one on the list for Split River’s renovations, and therefore the place that people went to the least. Cascades of shadows form a sloped line against the wall of the stall like the setting sun unevenly tilting through a set of blinds, the wall climbing higher than the black hair on Wally’s head as he leaned back against it.

He could still smell the pencil shavings on his hand, the woody scent hiding under his fingernails as he brought a hand up to his mouth, stifling a moan from releasing. He needed to tear his gaze away from his dick, his hand acting as a surrogate for either of your holes. Wally had worked himself up to the point that picturing your lecturing lips stretched wide around his dick or your hole taking all of his abuse. He became uncontrollable, ready to finish this as fast as possible. Like he was running a race on foot, only a few more steps until he was past the white and blue finish line. His feet shifted and his sneakers squeaked on the glossy finish of the floor. Another moan escaped his lips, going far beyond the white cement bricks of the bathroom and out into the hall, where you were passing by.

Hall sweeps were a common thing at Split River, and you were stuck with the west end of the building. It was already on the opposite side of the school from where your designated classroom was. You barely knew this side of the school, so you had no clue who’s classroom was supposed to be occupied and who’s wasn’t. Some people liked to duck into classes to hide from teachers, making noise that you had to assume was acceptable and just part of some class you weren’t familiar with. Thankfully, it seemed that everyone in the hall was at lunch, none of the classes offered were in session for the time being. There was no one to report on the walkie-talkie attached to your hip. At least you got to learn of bathroom locations, also known as the main hub for in-school skipping. The faculty bathroom was a few doors down and on the opposite side of the hall from the student bathrooms, the men and women’s entrances being separated by a thick brick wall but still in proximity to each other. But as you walked by them, taking your mental notes of where everything was in this corridor and which teachers resided in it, you heard a guttural moan. It was quick and quiet like a kid saying a swear word before cutting themselves off in fear of being heard, but you heard it. The moan had a tremble to it, a shakiness that sounded like desperation. You knew it was deep enough to come from the men’s bathroom, but you really didn’t want to confront a student for doing something of the sort. But it would be more awkward to let them finish and walk out, only to reveal yourself as having known about it for however long it would take them to walk out.

You had to go in, and you kept your steps light. Maybe you were wrong—you wanted to be wrong. Your eyes flew to the sinks on the left, then the urinals on the right. Nothing, no one was here and maybe you had just heard something. But then, you looked at the two stalls in the back with a sliver of space on the one side to swing open both doors and enter them. It was the space underneath showing their white and orange Nike’s that gave them away, making it clear that they had no intention of using the toilet for its intended purpose. They were backed away to the wall of the stall, and you knew that you had to beckon them out. You held your breath, thinking about what to say and if you even wanted to say anything. Would it just be better to turn around and leave? They weren’t hurting anyone but…

Before the debate could come to a conclusion in your head, your walkie-talkie rung out, filling the bathroom with an echo of the grainy voice of another teacher. This bathroom must have been far off from the rest of the school, now that you thought about it. The kid in the stall probably wasn’t even skipping lunch, he was probably skipping a class on the other side of the school. Multiple periods for lunch overlayed with other classes to fit the entire student body into one cafeteria, you had to remind yourself, so it wasn’t a far cry from being reasonable.

Something else that was expected was the teen in the stall finally accepting that he was caught hopefully clean-handed. You could hear fabric shifting and a soft plink ring out from something being thrown in the toilet. He flushed it and then there was the sound of a zipper being pulled back into itself. The lock on the stall was the next noise, the door swinging open after a beat. Out came Wally, a student in one of your later classes of the day after every lunch period is said and done. You considered him to be a decent student, most of his papers and in-class work earning him low B’s and high C’s. Maybe you were a harsh grader, but you really didn’t have a grasp on it yet due to this being your first year of teaching. Regardless, you didn’t expect him to be the one to walk out. You only had as much knowledge of him as he was willing to give you through fifty-four-minute classes, five days a week, for the past fifty-or-so days, but he would never do something like this. He would never be stupid enough to walk out with his boner so prominently forming a line in his jeans, either. But he kept walking towards you without letting it hinder his movement, the same swagger present in his step that he had walking into your class.

“Mr. Clark,” you sighed, taking the responsibility as it was your job to confront him. You tried to stay combobulated as he went for the sink, turning to the side to show the real size of his tent that the front couldn’t show. Crossing your arms, the pressure put on your chest exhumed the words stuck in your throat, “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

He didn’t look like he was worried about being caught, in fact, he was ready to lie his ass off. The faucet handle squeaked when he turned it off with one of his wet hands. He didn’t bother going for the paper towel dispenser less than a step away, instead, he turned to you and made the intentional choice to rub his palms over his denim to dry them. It was only for a moment, but he made sure to let his hands ghost his crotch in their proximity.

“I was just finishing up,” he decided to say, a slight shudder slipping out at the obvious satisfaction he got from his hand going over his covered shaft. Keeping it simple was the easiest way to skate by you, if you were willing to let him. Wally went to go around you, but your hand found his chest and stopped him in his tracks. His Nike’s scuffed the floor and let out a high-pitched squeak when he stopped, the dissonant symphony continuing as you used a little force to guide him back into the middle of the bathroom. He may have been on the football team, but he was in no position to fight you, not when you were closer than you had ever been to him.

“Finishing up what? Come on, be honest and it’ll be easier for you,” you had to quote some late-night cop show for the coercive words you angled at him. You never had to do something like this—maybe you should have taken him in silence to the office. But even the quiet drawls of each breath reminded you of his visible frustration during the tests he took in your class, the consequences of his emotion you wanted to be the victim of. He had the right tools to jackhammer away at your stone-cold treatment of him, but that was mostly to act professional. You could never make it to the office.

“I think you know what it is. I don’t have to tell you.” He laughed. He leaned in closer, pushing against your hand that still hadn’t left his chest. The fabric of his plain white t-shirt underneath his staple letterman was thin and flimsy and let you feel the light definition of muscle underneath. He wasn’t a beast but he was still young, still had time to bulk up. At this moment, though, it was everything you needed it to be, “What are you gonna write me up for, Teach?”

You looked into his soft eyes, “Nothing. Just… get back to class.”

“No way, you’re staying to learn with me,” he was the one to pull away from you even if he was leaning into this absurd turn of the conversation, doing a quick turn on his heel in disbelief and gratification. He refused to leave even though you stepped aside to let him pass. “I’ll give you something to write me up for and help out my favorite teacher. Get on your knees.”

“Mr. Clark,” you protested. Speaking his name so pure and so isolated would probably make you forget about your position and that he was your student. You could get fired for this, but Wally continued regardless. It’s not like this would make him look bad. If either of you were caught like this—which was slim to none given how out of the way this bathroom was, but the mere sliver of a chance was enough to make you believe it was more than likely to happen—would boost his social credit and be spun into a sob story for him, making you look like the monster in this situation. You had power, the power to stop this and send him walking to the office and having him return to class with a lifetime’s worth of detention, but you could be Wally’s little mistake for the next twenty minutes.

“No talking while class is in session. Don’t you usually say that? It sounds so fucking stupid,” he laughed again. Wally pushed the sides of his letterman jacket behind him to open the gate for easy access to his jeans. The dark jeans had a golden button that he fooled with for a second before undoing it, and then the matching brass zipper followed in his haste. His hands were a little shaky as he did it like he needed release from working himself up beforehand. He parted the flaps of his jeans to show off a pair of solid white tights encasing his massive erection. It filled the front of his briefs to the point that it looked like it would flop out any second, and he had a dark shrub of curly pubes peeking over the waistband. There was precum leaking from the tip that caused the white fabric to become see-through and cling to the tip of his dick. It confirmed your long-forgotten suspicion that he was in the stall, masturbating. “I don’t listen to what you have to say because I want that mouth to be used for something else…”

If you hadn’t fallen to your knees by this point, the sight alone would have made you too weak to stand. You were eye-level with the tent he formed and it protruded much more than when it was hidden in the dark behind his jeans. His relaxed and casual clothing contrasted the more formal ones you had to wear, the cotton dress pants doing little against the hard linoleum. You could feel bruises already setting into your knees before the fun had even started, wondering if the purple would leak through the fabric of your pants like his precum.

“For our first lesson—we’ll be going over how to handle a big piece of meat.” His thumbs hooked into the elastic of his underwear, stretching out as he half-circled around his thighs to push down his underwear. Somehow, his dick looked bigger now that its shape wasn’t hidden by his tent. His girth matched his length to create something of a beast, something they should confiscate from him for being too dangerous. No wonder he struggled to hide it when he came out of the stall, there was no possible way to not show it when he was fully hard.

His steps toward you were a lot smoother, and a lot more coordinated now that the stiffness in his pants was finally free. It swayed from side to side with each step, drawing your attention like a teacher rounding up the class. Your entire school of thought was out the window at the hypnotic sight, all streams of consciousness flowing towards the idea of him—it was all you could think about. When he neared you, the length of his dick was the same as the distance between you. He took it into his hand, pointing it up towards the ceiling and moving closer before letting it fall down on your face and bob around.

“I know you’re new to this whole thing.” He smacked his dick over your face by holding the base. He pulled his shaft up and carelessly let it fall against your face. “But you need to learn what runs things around here, Teach.”

It was rare that Wally found himself at a loss for words, always having a remark that needed to be said—most likely in your class—but here, he had nothing to say when his dick was on the tip of your lips. The heat was pouring in and melded with your equally warm mouth, adding a wetness that could have made Wally cum then and there. His cheeks filled with air and he expelled it with disbelief. He didn’t expect your mouth to feel so good, or for you to be so good at taking him. Never would he have guessed that a teacher could be such a slut.

He guided you slowly down his length, not to let you learn its curves and ridges and to let your mouth get used to it, no, he had to take it slow or else he would burst. He had spent a good ten minutes tugging on his dick without lotion, just the dry touch of his hand and a little spit that took him a long way and now he wanted to enjoy the massive step-up from his hand and vivid imagination to the very real feelings and sight of you sucking his dick.

“Fuck, yeah,” he moaned and bit his lip, watching you finally bury your nose in his pubes. Looking away when you looked up at him with eyes that eagerly waited for his command, his hand slid into your hair to grab a fistful of it. He kept you at the base of his dick, softly grinding himself against your face. He needed to bury himself deeper but he was as deep as he could go.

There was a still moment where his shaky breaths matched your quick ones ruminating over his crotch, warmth that matched what he radiated out. He reeled himself back, you could hear the imaginary tick, tick, tick in your head as every inch escaped your mouth before sliding back in faster than the first time he did it. The way his hips slowly backed away from you felt like the fleeting hope when you reached the top of a roller coaster with a steep drop, and it was plunging right into the pit forming in your stomach. He did it until a rhythm of hip swings and moans swelled. The cherry on top was the way your mouth started to fill with spit and spill out as his cock forcefully brought it out with it, only to slam some of it back in and leave the rest spilling over your chin and the sides of your mouth. You couldn’t help but get hard at the treatment, at the way he stretched out your mouth alone.

Wally heard your belt’s buckle clink against itself as you fiddled with it, being thrashed around a little too much by his fast thrusts to properly undo your belt. He stopped you just as you pulled the end of the strap out, the leather stiff and still wrapped around your waist even without it looping through the hole in the belt to tuck itself away in.

“Don’t touch yourself, dude.” He said plainly, there wasn’t a hint of teasing behind it. It was a command. His hand lightly tapped the side of your face as a reminder. It wasn’t a full-on slap, but it felt like the precursor to someone readying their aim before really committing to it—a warning. You felt just like him, your dick straining against the looser fabric of your pants. It must have been painful to be so worked up and have to tuck it away in such an awkward position, and now he was returning the favor by not letting you find relief.

At a certain point, when your jaw started to ache and you could tell that your lips were fed up with the abuse, he pulled himself out of your mouth with a snicker and an “Oh, fuck.” He didn’t do it for you, though, he did it because one more slip into your throat and he would have coated your throat in cum like a parent trying to force cough medicine down. He knew you would’ve sputtered and probably sent him to the office regardless of this extracurricular going so well, so he had to be careful even if he wanted to defile you. Maybe if you looked more like a mess than you already do, that option would be out of the window. Your hair was ruffled by his hands raking through it and there were stains on the sides of your face—what exactly was spit caught in the crossfire of Wally’s throatfucking and what were tears at the occasional gag was unknown.

“Now, for the next lesson.” He continued to assume power over you, letting his sloppy cock hit you in the same way as before. It left a line of your own spit across your face as if he was obsessed with waving it in front of you. He stopped fulfilling his addiction to making you a mess quickly when he turned around while keeping you in the same position, introducing you to his ass that you would also have to get acquainted with.

His jacket covered some of his butt, but he pulled it up with one hand so you could see the full thing. The thick trim at the bottom was the school colors, rounding off the curve from his ass to the small of his back and reminding you that this was an ass you would still have to see in the halls, one that you couldn’t look away from. You’d have to pay more attention at the football games, because Wally was sure to drag you to them from now on, and this was more of a sight than his front side had been. He was rather modest in size and mostly hairless around the back, a light tracing of hair revealing itself when you used your hands to part his cheeks. They filled out your hands, his ass being firm yet squishy enough to almost seep through the space between your fingers. There was more than enough to play with, but you were interested in his untouched hole.

Just like yours, Wally never had anything inserted into his hole. That is, from what you could tell. You were too busy rimming him to ask and he was too busy enjoying the feeling to give you a proper answer that wasn’t a hastily blurted-out profanity or half-slurred plea to keep going. Your jaw couldn’t seem to get a break from his torment, having to subtly move every time your tongue extended to lick around his hole. The sounds of him welling up spit in his mouth to make his dick extra slick could be heard from the other side, though you couldn’t see it happening.

You noticed that one specific movement—particularly where you flicked your tongue up, stretching Wally’s hole and continuing to lick all the way up to the divot where his tailbone was—sent shivers down his spine. His head tilted back and his raven black hair bunched up at the collar of his jacket from above. You tried a few other tactics like licking in the opposite direction until you reached his balls, using his taint as a bridge between his hole and sack to travel down with your tongue, and laying your tongue flat over his hole to stimulate the ring of nerves in one go.

When Wally deemed his dick to be lubed up to his liking—and totally not because he could have cum from your amazing work—he pulled you away from his ass.

“Come on, I know you’re not done after that,” Wally sneered, turning around to see you, a bit breathless with sweat forming on your forehead. Your formal clothes were really doing you no favors with how your dick was trapped and you had to keep all this heat in without taking anything off. “Time for lesson number three, buddy: don’t fucking interrupt the teacher.”

He hooked an arm under your elbow and brought you to your feet. The sudden rush was enough to make your head spin, or maybe it was the way he turned you towards the sink and was quick to lift you up onto its surface. He positioned you between the two sinks, your thighs making contact with their white porcelain as the space was barely enough for you to fit without some overlap. Finally, he let you have some freedom of movement down there. He was the one to undo your belt and pull down your pants and underwear while doing all the work for you. He sat you up against the sink, the counter having more than enough room to let you sit—and lean back—on it so that your back was touching the mirror.

Your ass was scooted forward, allowing him to do all the lining up that was required to easily slide himself in. Given that it was your first time, the pain was very real, and the solid countertop and mirror made your writhing when his tip pierced your ass feel restrictive. He treated it the same as your mouth, slowly sinking in like he was inching himself into a pool with frigid water, the shock making him lose all composure in the best ways possible. And when he was buried as deep as he could be, he stood there, one hand on your hip and the other against the mirror. His face was impossibly close to yours, his soft eyes darkening in the shadow of the yellow light above. It cast a dark shadow to make what would usually be unassuming eyes look dark with intention.

But then, his lips pressed to your puffy ones. They stung at the contact but the pain detracted from his gradual movements. While it started slow, it quickly became a rough fucking that rocked you back into the mirror. Wally could only take so much build-up before he could no longer hold himself back. There was another motivation too—your teaching style. Some of his thrusts were intentionally rough, and most of his actions had derived from when you paired him up with someone he found annoying and you refused to let him swap partners. For all the homework he had to begrudgingly sit down and finish instead of jerking off or doing anything he actually liked. This was his own lesson for you, and you had to sit back and take it.

This is when you were at your most vocal. He managed to stretch you out just like the syllables coming from your mouth, half-formed and incoherent and held longer than they needed to be. But they strung themselves together on the thin lines of ecstasy. He was so painful in the way that he fucked you against the mirror like you were trapped between a rock and a hard corner. Short strands of his hair separated from the rest as he bowed his head, looking at his work from above and finding pleasure in how he jackhammered into you. It was enough for you to finally shoot your load and hands-free at that. It primarily shot up at your stomach, missing your formal top by a minuscule gap.

Wally didn’t last long after seeing you lose your composure and you found it to be adorable. He seemed like he was going to keep going—he had fended himself off long enough from cumming, but he pulled out and side-stepped over to one of the sinks on your side. You watched his hand just barely reach his dick in time to aim it into the sink and spray his load out in strands all over the shiny white surface. He kept pumping, drops of white dribbling over his dick and into his hand with each tug.

The bell rang and that let Wally know that his lunch period was finally at an end. Forty minutes had never gone by so fast for him. He fixed himself back up and left you weak on the counter, presumably to clean up his mess that was left in the sink.

“Your homework is to clean that up for me. And make sure you look good for later today.” Wally smirked and patted your thigh, “See ya in class, Teach.”

His squeaky shoes stopped once he reached the hall and you heard the pitter of his steps fade away. And you were left in the bathroom with a voice fighting through the grain on your walkie, announcing that the lunch period had ended and you were needed to supervise the next group of students having their meals. At least you were more than satisfied with the five-course meal you just got handed and your hall-sweeping duties were over.

#wally clark #wally clark x you #wally clark x reader #x male reader #x reader #wally clark x male reader #school spirits #school spirits x male reader #milo mannheim #milo manheim #milo manheim x reader #wally clark x male!reader #x male reader fanfic #gay #teacher x student #student x reader

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saffronwritesstuff · 2 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐲

Summary: When your slight gift of prophesy shows you an ugly future you’re faced with an impossible choice;kill the man you love or watch your world burn. Which will you choose?

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Apollo!Reader (gn! I think)

W/C: 3.12k

Genre: Fluff + Angst

Warnings: blood? A little violence✨ Luke might be ooc. Lack of capitalization.

A/N: HI EVERYONE! Welcome to my debut fic! I hope you all like it! Please lmk your thoughts if you don’t mind! I’d love to know how I did🫶

As a child of Apollo you’d been both blessed,and cursed, with the gift to see a few minutes,hours,days or weeks into a person’s future just by touching them .you never knew which it was,just that it was their future. And from an early age,you'd learned to keep it a secret from your peers,claiming that you knew the questions on the pop quiz only because you'd done them on some quiz website and such. But the moment you'd come to Camp Half Blood and been claimed by the God of prophecy himself,it’d been harder to conceal your ability.Especially when the futures you'd seen weren’t particularly pleasant. There’d been multiple occasions where you’d bump shoulders with an unsuspecting ares kid only to see yourself and your team getting your asses absolutely hands to you in capture the flag.But Luckily you hadn’t seen anything life threatening yet.No deaths,No fatal injuries.Just Little (not so) Fun Facts About The Future.

But all your secret keeping had come to an end the moment you'd met Luke Castellan. Both you and the brown (blue) eyed son of Hermes had come to camp at around the same time and while spending time in the Hermes cabin,waiting to be claimed,you’d forged a strong friendship.Both you and he had come from similar backgrounds,what with your mother being a raging alchoholic and his being schizophrenic. You bonded over the experiences of having an unreliable parental figure and having to raise youselves.However the way in which your stories diverged was that while he ran away from home,you’d been kicked out for being a ‘leach on your mother’s resources’ you’d gladly left and although you struggled to survive alone,you had found your way to Camp with the help of a satyr who also became your close friend.

The day you’d been claimed was both the worst and best day of your life,You’d hit a bullseye on a moving target on your first try during archery practice and Luke has pointed to the glowing lyre floating above your head.The other kids of the Apollo cabin who’d been close enough to witness the event ran over to hug you and welcome you to your,rather extensive,family.You’d Moved your things the very same night and while you now spent a little more time with your half-siblings,you and Luke still spent your free time together,you shared your dreams and aspirations witrh each other,his being to go on a quest to prove himself to his father,Hermes, and yours being to be a world class archer.As weeks became months and months became years,the two of you grew closer and closer.

He eventually confessed to you after you’d just beaten him in one of your sparring sessions. At first you thought he was joking,but the longer you watched the look of slight hope in his eyes,you knew it wasn’t in fact a joke.You dropped your sword and helped him up,all the while watching as he seemed to deflate at the fact that you’d blatantly ignored his confession.You turned to leave and just when Luke has started making his way after you,you tackled him to the ground and kissed him saying, “look ya long enough scar”

you’d started calling him by that particular nickname after you’d both watched the lion king 2 together. You had remarked how you found kovu’s scar kinda hot. At the time he’d asked you if you found him hot for his scar and you merely shrugged it off,hitting him with the remote and it’d just become a sort of an inside joke. But you were the only one he ever let bring up the little trophy he’d earned on his quest,anyone else who even tried to comment on his scar only ever got a glare,which said enough about how he felt about it.

After you accepted his confession the two of you basically became the power couple of the camp,the best swordsman and the best archer,a deadly combo on the field and an adorable couple on the daily.

But the day a kid called percy Jackson had come to camp,you’d begun to see a subtle change in Luke’s behavior. Sure,to the untrained and unassuming eye,he seemed to be himself,just plain ‘ol friendly Hermes cabin counsellor Luke Castellan.But you noticed how he seemed to be just a little more jumpy,a little…scared? You were worried to say the least,but you didn’t really say anything.Your mind went to your ability…could you use it to see what was bothered him? “no…seeing his future probably wont tell me jack…” you’d told yourself while sitting in your usual spot under a tree near the strawberry fields.You were re-reading your copy of the odyssey,a present from Luke for your 1 year anniversary,how he’d gotten it,well you didn’t need to know. As you waited for him,the seconds turned to minutes and the sun had begun to set.Tonight was capture the flag and you figured he was just telling the new kid how it was all going to go down. So, closing your book you walked back to your cabin to get ready.

After you were fully decked out in your armor,you headed down to the pavilion and took your place beside Luke,ruffling Annabeth’s hair and saying hello to Percy in the process.Luke bent down to give you a kiss on the cheek,causing you to turn a slight shade of red, before placing his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. Thank the gods the Apollo and Hermes cabins had allied themselves with eachother this time,you hated having to fight against Luke although that didn’t mean you held back when you found him to be your opponent. As Chiron was explaining the rules you looked over to Percy, he looked a little nervous and you reassured him that he might not get that badly hurt,though you could make no promises. The game started and you and Luke took off in the direction of what you thought was the Ares flag. You wove through the forest,trying not to make a sound. And when you finally found the flag you silently disarmed the flag bearer using an arrow while Luke rushed in to grab the flag.You hi-fived eachother and sprinted back in the direction of friendly territory. As you followed luke,you were suddenly tackled by a burly Hephaestus kid.Luke turned to defend you but you stopped him. “GO! I’ll be fine!” He hesitated but nodded and kept on running. Jumping to your feet you pulled out your dagger and expertly fought your opponent,using your ability and hoping on your father that it showed you the kid’s upcoming moves and not his future life.Luckily,it worked and you were able to predict his attacks and push him to the ground. You silently thanked your father before turning and running in the direction in which you’d seen Luke go.

Upon your arrival you heard your team’s ruckus cheers. You all celebrated and when you turned to Luke to give him a sweet victory kiss,you were stopped by a loud howl ripping through the sounds of celebration . And suddenly,you were all firing arrows at a hellhound. “How’d that get in here!” you called over to your half-siblings who all shrugged and kept firing arrow after arrow. Eventually the hound fell dead but Percy was badly wounded,Luke was at his side in an instant and with him so were you. You watched as percy stepped back into the creek and his wounds just vanished. “there’s no way…” you said,your voice trailing off. You looked over to your boyfriend to see him looking just as surprised as you felt, “looks like there is.” He said. And when you turned back over to percy,sure enough there was a smokey green trident floating above his head. Chiron came forward and said aloud what you had all been suspecting,after which you all knelt before Percy Jackson;the Son of Poseidon.

After that day Luke seemed to be overly nervous.he fidgeted more and his mind drifted off more often,sure these were signs of his ADHD,hell you had them too,but something felt wrong.

When Percy,Annabeth and Grover got sent on their quest you and Luke sent them off,him giving Percy the winged converse his dad had given him,and you some extra mortal cash for their journey. You then sent them off with wishes of good luck and safe travels .

After that your lives just went back to normal.

One day,while under the tree in your regular spot,your head resting on Luke’s shoulder,you asked him the question that’d been running through your head for the past few days. “Hey Luke?” you began, he hummed in acknowledgement and you took it as your sign to go ahead. “has anything been bothering you lately?you've been kinda scattered…more than usual actually” at this he suddenly went stiff before relaxing and replying, “just stressed these days love,that’s it”

“wanna talk about it? You know I’m here for you if you need to talk right?”

“I know…it’s just that…ive been having nightmares again”

You sat up straight at this and looked him in the eye,concern painted all over your face

“again?? When did it start? What are they about? Are you okay? Are you in danger? Can I help???” you let the stream of questions leave your lips before you even had a second to process them.

He let out a little laugh,a sad look suddenly coming over his eyes. “don’t worry y/n,nothing I can't handle. '' he joked,squeezing your hand. You weren’t buying it.

“Come on Luke.you can tell me…” you cupped his cheek and looked into his eyes,searching for a clearer reason for his pain.

He placed his hand over yours and leaned into your touch,kissing your palm.

He sighed,“can we talk about this later? Please? ” he sounded pained but you gave him the space he needed. You trusted Luke with your life;you trusted him to tell you the truth “sure” you said.

When he was ready,you’d be there for him not matter what.

A few days later when you were sparring together he got an iris message from Annabeth,Percy and Grover, he accepted and you both said hi to the trio of kids they told him of their adventures and how they knew who the lightning thief was. At the sudden mention of that last fact,you saw him go slightly pale.Not much,but you noticed. You stayed silent watching their exchange,and when percy said it was Ares,Luke visibly deflated. ‘no…’ was all you could think. There was no way Luke had anything to do with Zeus’ Master-bolt going missing…you simply refused to believe it. Suddenly you couldn’t breathe and your head was spinning. It was suddenly hard to breathe and that’s when you noticed Luke was at your side,his hand on you back propping you up and asking you to lie down,asking you if you were okay and what happened.You just rushed to wrap your arms around him .You held onto him for dear life and started sobbing.he hugged you back but pulled away when he noticed you were crying. “hey..hey are you okay?? What happened? What did I say?” and for the first time you did it. You used your ability on Luke and what you saw confirmed your suspicions.

You saw him setting a pit scorpion on Percy. Admitting to stealing the bolt,admitting to summoning the hellhound.you saw him leaving Camp Half-Blood behind.You saw it all.

In that moment you knew that you should let him go. Push him away and kill him for being such a traitor not only to you but to the entirety of camp. But you just held him closer,tighter,impossibly so. You didn’t want to believe it.Your Luke,the only true family you had other than your Apollo siblings. The man you loved,was a traitor. But you said nothing. You put on a brave face and spent the next days with him as though nothing was wrong.you

You savoured the next few days,went on picnics,sparred together and when he inevitably asked you if you were okay, you just told him you hadn’t slept well.He dropped the subject pretty quickly. And when the night of his betrayal came,you were ready. You left your siblings to practice and made your way to where you knew he’d try to leave from. And sure enough he came running out of the forest with a sword different to the ones you'd seen in the armoury and the forges. This one was two-toned,one side seeming to be steel and the other the celestial bronze you knew well. The moment Luke saw you he looked almost relieved,but when he saw the arrow you had drawn,his smile quickly faded. “y/n,” he chuckled, “wha-what are you doing?” you kept a straight face,tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

“how could you luke! How could you betray us! Betray me?!” you choked through your tears and his face went completely blank.

“you don’t want to do this y/n..just put the arrow down and we can talk about this”

“like hell we can! I’m not letting you set a pit scorpion on me too!”

He looked almost hurt as you said those last words but he just sheathed his sword and held his hand out for you to take.

“come on y/n.do you really want to be a slave to the gods forever? They don’t even care about us.Join me.Join me, and Kronos will let us rule the new world together.we can make our parents pay for abandoning us,we can get justice”

You looked at his outstretched hand,it looked so tempting .You wanted nothing more than to drop your weapons and run to him. To say yes and rule the world with him.You didn’t care about the gods and about this world,all it had ever done was hurt you and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to see Olympus burn sometimes,but you caught yourself . Just as you began lowering your bow,you remembered your siblings.your friends at camp.what would happen to them? Would they just be casualties to him? Would Luke spare them on your request?

You were many things but a traitor was not one them.

You dropped your bow to which luke smiled and made his way to you. He wrapped you in a warm hug and for a second you felt like everything was good in the world. You hugged him back,tight. “I love you” you said, giving him a teary kiss,which he returned.

Then,as quick as you could you unsheathed your dagger and stabbed him.

he grunted in pain as he was hit with the sudden realization of what you’d done. He staggered back,blood beginning to stain his shirt. You began to cry out. You didn’t want to do this. It felt like you'd been stabbed yourself and that’s when you looked down to see he was holding out his blade as well,and it’d cut you in your side,deeper than you’d gotten him.You fell to your knees and when you lifted your head,he was gone.You lay there on the grass,bleeding and crying.you shouted for help as loud as you could before your vision grew blurry and you passed out.

When you woke up you were met with the sight of the infirmary’s ceiling.

You tried to sit up but the searing pain in your side kept you down. You groaned in pain before turning your head to the patient in the bed next to you. It was Percy and he was passed out cold.

All you could manage was a strained,“Percy…” before a firm hand held you down.

“Rest.” You heard the familiar voice of one of your half-brothers,Tom.

“What happened?” you whispered out,but it was just loud enough.

“Luke happened. He set a pit scorpion on Percy and then he stabbed you” he said softly. He must have known how it’d affect you.

At this information you began to tear up again. “so it wasn’t just a bad nightmare?” you asked. Tom sighed before replying. “unfortunately not…” he squeezed your hand and asked you to rest.

You fell back asleep sobbing.

In your dreams you found yourself standing in a shallow pool of water,luke was standin in the distance and you,without thinking,just ran to him. You wrapped him in a hug and he did the same. You looked up to him with tear stained cheeks and teary eyes and kissed him. “Im sorry” you choked out.

He kissed you back before placing another kiss to the top of your head. “I know y/n…I am too”

“Will I ever see you again?”

“yes…”

“but we’ll be on,”

“on opposing sides…yeah”

you both sighed and just stood there,holding each other.

“Then this is goodbye isn’t it” you said this time more clearly,you were finally beginning to believe how real this all was.

“it is…good bye y/n. oh and, I love you,please rememeber that.”

you nodded and with that your dream faded to black and you woke in the infirmary once again.

Everything had changed so fast,but the one thing you were sure of was simple. There was a war coming. And you had to be ready to fight the love of your life.

You had to kill Luke castellan.

#🌾saffron writes #percy jackson #pjo #percy pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x apollo!reader #luke castellan x you

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astermath · 11 months

Text

the harrington way･ﾟ☆

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve won’t stop distracting you from studying for your midterms. to soothe your frustrations he uses his own, supposedly more effective way of quizzing you.

word count: 3.1K

tags: kinda mean!steve, reader is in college, established relationship, oral (f receiving), a bit of a breeding kink lol, reader is a bit of a brat, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it guys) minors dni!

notes: inspired by this ask that @stevenose wrote out for me, tysm for the inspo <3 i'm a history major so I sprinkled some history trivia in there lol

please let me know what you think!

Midterms had been positively kicking your ass. You’d been working harder than the devil, spending half your time awake in the library or at your desk, stressed out of your mind. And your boyfriend was well aware of this too.

He’d tried countless times to coax you out of your room for a date, even just to go get dinner, but to no avail. You felt bad, of course, you didn’t want your relationship to suffer under the circumstances of your education. But college is a privilege, your parents both worked very hard to help you achieve your dreams, and you weren’t about to let them down.

So, you’d compromised. You let him stay in your room while you went over your last chapters for premodern history. It was supposed to only be an hour before you’d finish up and the two of you could watch a movie, but the words weren’t sticking in your mind whatsoever. Maybe you’d overworked yourself, your stress levels way beyond anything anyone could consider healthy, but you were determined to keep trying.

You groan, flipping your glasses up to rest on your head while you rub your face. The sound made Steve rise from your bed to his feet, popping up behind you.

“You ‘kay sweetie?” His large hands settle onto your shoulders, concern only growing when he feels how tense they are.

“No,” you lean your head back, and you could see his brows furrow worriedly at the sight of your eye bags, “I’m going to explode if I have to read about another another dynasty…”

“Well, don’t,” he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, “I prefer to have you in one piece.”

“And I love you Stevie,” you lean back forward, hunched over the dozens of papers on your desk, “but I prefer to pass this course. I seriously cannot retake this.”

He sighs, hands gripping a little tighter at the taut muscles of your shoulders. It was like you were an elastic band, stretched so thin you could snap any moment. You were grumpy, and it wasn’t your fault, he knew that, but he missed spending time with you. He’s not used to spending this much time apart, even if it for the sake of your studies.

“Come on,” his thumbs press into your shoulder blades, “let me help you out a little, at least.” He starts making circular motions, and you bite your lip to suppress a groan at the contact. “Let Steve’s magical hands to their thing.”

You could just hear the smirk in his tone, but there was no possible way you could be relaxing when you hadn’t even properly revised yet. “Steve, I—“ you interrupt yourself with an accidental whine from his impromptu massage. “I can’t relax right now, I haven’t even used my flash cards yet.”

His eyes flit to the pastel cards placed on your nightstand. Clearly you’d been revising a lot before bed, which wasn’t exactly helping your sleeping schedule either.

“I can help with those.”

“You?” You lean your head back again, expecting a joking grin, but instead being met with a genuine smile. Steve wasn’t exactly what one would call an academic weapon, but you’d be rude not to let him try and help at least. “Hmm… Fine, I don‘t see why not."

He gently brings you up off your desk chair, unable to keep his hands off you now that he's started. His strong arms wrap around your waist, and he senses your hesitation at first. "If I'm gonna quiz you, ya gotta loosen up a little honey," he leans his head down slightly, "plus, I'm gonna quiz you my way."

"Your way huh?" You decide to take his bait. Though he isn’t in college like you, and he never really scored too well in high school, you were intrigued nonetheless. And you weren’t immune to your boyfriend, after all. You were bound to cave to his advances eventually.

"Yeah," his lips ghost over yours, "the Harrington way."

"Alright," you grin, "color me intrigued."

He takes that as his cue to close the distance between you two and press his lips to yours. Usually he'd start off slow, ease you into it, but truth be told, Steve had been deprived of your affection for long enough. The kiss is a lot more passionate than usual, teeth clashing slightly as his tongue slips into your mouth, eliciting a soft whimper from you.

You stumble backwards onto the bed with him on top of you, albeit less by accident and more as an advance. His hips settle between your thighs, and you could feel the reason for his urgency pressing against your heat. Even through a layer of underwear and tight jeans, the shape of him was so clear to you.

"Steeeeve..." You whine, transitioning into a giggle as you drag out his name. His lips move to your neck, pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your sensitive skin. "This all-- fuck-- part of your technique?"

You could feel him smile into the crook of your neck, hands slipping under your shirt, nudging it up.

"Yep, just let me do my thing baby... All part of the plan..."

At this point it was nearly impossible to deny Steve anything. Not just because you felt bad for your distance as of lately, but because your mind tended to go blank with his hands on you like this. You'd already succumbed to his touch, too late to turn back to your desk now.

Your shirt was discarded onto the carpeted floor, his own following soon after. He works on unhooking your bra while leaving feverish kisses all over your chest, nipping every now and then. His breath hitches when it’s discarded, and he’s met with the sight of your bare breasts. It didn't matter how many times he'd seen your tits, he'd never get tired of it. Ever.

He wastes no time in latching onto your nipple, rolling the other one between his fingers. His tongue kitten licked over the sensitive bud, hazel eyes peering up at your expression, which was growing increasingly desperate.

His lips drag over your skin, leaving tingles in their wake as he moved over your stomach. He halts when he reaches the waistband of your shorts, eyes flicking up at you for a moment before he started scattering teasing kisses right above the hem.

"Stevie..." You sigh his nickname, propping yourself up onto your elbows so you could watch him. You knew he was teasing you, lips remaining so close yet so distant from where you needed them to be.

"Impatient?" He questions, hands coming up to settle on your hips, thumbs skirting just over the edge of your bottoms.

"Look who's talking..." You scoff, the cockiness in your voice disappearing as soon as he traces his fingers over your clothed pussy. "O-Okay, jesus, quit... Quit teasing baby--"

He refrains from rolling his eyes at your attitude, knowing you were quite pent up yourself. You'd usually never go this long without fucking, so he understood the sexual frustration. Luckily, that was his exact field of expertise.

He hooks his fingers around your shorts, and you take his hint to lift your hips to help him pull them off, along with your panties, joining the rest of your clothes scattered on the floor. He smiles at the sight of your slick coating your folds so beautifully, proof of just how worked up he'd gotten you by just kissing you and touching you a little.

"Fuck, you're soaked baby," he leans down onto the bed, arms hooking around your thighs and pulling your heat closer to his face. He runs a teasing finger up and down your slit, coating it in your juices. "Jesus, she's just begging for me, isn't she?"

Your hips buck at his dirty words, whining softly. You’re so close to just grabbing his hair and grinding against his face, but you know the payoff to his teasing would be worth it in the end.

He leans down and licks up your cunt, stilling at your clit, flicking his tongue over it a few times. His brown eyes peer up at you, watching you lose your composure over just the faintest of touches. He adores watching you become undone for him like this, melt underneath his touch, loosen yourself up a little.

He continues working on your needy clit, groans sending vibrations through your core that make you grip the sheets beneath you. If your mind wasn't so hazed with what he was doing to you, you might have noticed the hand coming down to his pants, palming himself. He tended to get off on your arousal like that, your moans and whines only spurring him on further.

"Sh-Shit-- Stevie!" You cry out his name, fingers gripping his chocolate locks when his lips closed around the sensitive bundle of nerves. You weren't going to last much longer, and he could tell with the way you were bucking your hips into him.

He wanted to ask you if you were close, in that teasing, cocky voice he knew you secretly loved, but he’d rather die than tear his lips away from your cunt at that moment. So he just kept going, tongue lapping away at your sweet juices, eyes fluttering shut as he loses himself to the sound of your moans.

The coil in your lower stomach snaps, and you moan his name loudly as your orgasm crashes through your body. Your fingers pull at his locks, earning a groan from him as your vision goes white with pleasure. You continue to ride out your orgasm against his face, whimpers falling from your lips with every roll of your hips.

Steve, a bit reluctantly, pulls away from your core, catching his breath. He looks so beautiful, lips swollen and pink, lower face just covered in your slick, hair all messy from your the firm grip you had on it.

He wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand, grinning at your fucked out expression. “You ‘kay honey?”

You nod, a sweet, dazed smile adorning your face in response. “Yeah… Not quite done with you yet though.”

He smirks, sitting up to undo his belt, eyes not leaving yours for even a second. “Good,” he continues to pull off his jeans and boxers, “because that was only the first step of the Harrington way.”

You roll your eyes, almost having forgotten about the fact that he was supposed to be quizzing you. “You serious?”

He replies by leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Do I look like I want my girl to be failing college?”

You nibble on your bottom lip, shaking your head slowly. You can feel his cock rub against your thigh, and the contact alone is sending tingles of pleasure through your body.

“Good.” He wraps his arms around your waist, almost manhandling you on top of him. You squeal from the sudden change of positions, giggling from the spontaneity of it all.

You’re already reaching down for his cock, ready to line yourself up with him and slide down so painstakingly slow like you usually would. But he grabs your wrist before you get a chance to, and the expression on his face is a lot more stern than the one you saw just moments ago.

“I’m serious about this, so you gotta be too, okay?”

“Yeah, I am, god, just— I need you inside me Steve, like right now.”

“I know sweetie, and you can, if…” He reaches for the flash cards on your desk, picking out a random one and reading over the question. “You can tell me who was widely credited with publishing the first ever printed Bible.”

You whine out of frustration, trying to think back at all of the subject matter you’d crammed into your head the past few weeks. “Shit, baby, you’re kinda putting me on the spot here…”

“C’mon,” his hand reaches down to grab his cock, running the head over your folds and gathering your slick onto him, “think sweetie, you got this.”

You bite your lip, resisting the temptation to force your hips down onto him. You peer down at him, his eyes meeting yours in an expectant gaze. “I-I, uhm… Gutenberg, it was— it was Gutenberg.”

“Good girl,” he coos, and finally pushes up his hips to slide inside you.

“Fuck!” You moan out, louder than usual. You suddenly realize your dormmates are in for quite the treat that night.

You try to move your hips, but his right hand on your hip stops you from doing so. Even with you on top of him, he’s still in full control of you, it was honestly pretty impressive.

He fucks into you at a slow, lazy pace, feet planted flatly onto the mattress to ground himself. His cock drags deliciously over your walls, and you can feel every curve and ridge of him inside you like this.

You whimper when he stills his hips, already opening your mouth to protest before he interrupts you by holding up a finger and taking out another flash card. “I’ll continue if you can tell me when Queen Elizabeth I reigned.”

“W-What… I don’t— I don‘t know, uhm…” You’d never taken the expression “fucked stupid” seriously, up until that point. He was being so mean, so teasing, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't loving it. Maybe this was his payback for being away from him for this long.

"Don't tell me I've already fucked the answers outta you," he smirks, and it makes you whine, clenching down onto his cock. You liked this side of him, so mean, even if you knew he was just going to shower you with kisses and praise after.

"N-No, I--" you furrowed your brows, "uhm... 1558... t-to..." you could feel his cock twitch inside you, and it almost makes you lose your train of thought, "1603, I think-- fuck!"

He wastes no time in driving himself deeper inside you, your treat for answering correctly.

"So smart, look at you-- shit-- my little academic..." He coos, hand coming down so his thumb could play with your clit. You begin moving your hips to meet his halfway, the obscene, almost pornographic sounds of skin slapping skin filling the room.

You almost didn't notice that he'd grabbed another card, too busy chasing your orgasm now that he was finally giving you something more to work with.

"When did Luther post the 95 Theses--"

"1517!" you cry out, hands coming down to rest over his hairy chest, supporting yourself as you worked your hips over his throbbing cock.

He looks up at you, trying to keep his own composure, but it's getting harder by the second. You look so beautiful, tits bouncing, lips parted as his name falls from them after every other whimper and moan. He's doing his best to keep up his strict tutor persona, but he feels his own orgasm creeping closer by the second, not being able to stop his hips from rutting into you.

"A-Alright--" He almost drops the stack of cards on the floor, trying to grab a random one as he reads it aloud, "Which scientist-- fuck-- f-formulated the laws of... of planetary motion-- holy shit baby--" his brown eyes find yours again, unable to hold back the continuous groans and whimpers you're earning from him.

You feel that familiar heat building up in your stomach, your thighs burning from making you bounce over his cock the entire time, but you ignore the strain it has on your body. All you want to do now is cum, feel him fill you up to the brim until it's leaking out of you.

He can tell you're not even thinking about the answer, so, although a bit reluctantly, he starts to slow down. You open your eyes, looking down at him with a pleading gaze. You're about to start sobbing, tears already watering up your vision as you bite your lip. "I-I-- Uhm, fuck, Stevie, I--"

"Come on," He taps your ass lightly to encourage you, "that pretty mind's gotta be good for somethin', think, baby."

A stray tear rolls over your cheek, thoughts of everything you'd been studying running rampant. Your eyes widen, and in a sort of eureka moment, you yell out a name. "Kepler! I-It was Kepler!"

"That's my girl," he groans out, throwing the card besides him and reaching out to fully envelop you in his arms. He starts to piston himself into you at a pace your hips couldn't possibly keep up with, instead holding onto him as tight as you could, moaning his name over and over into the crook of his neck.

"'M gonna cum," you manage to mumble between your pleas, thighs starting to tremble.

"Me too baby, gonna fill you up so good-- shit-- gonna give you your reward-- fuuuck!" He groans loudly, pulling you flush to his chest as he paints your walls in his sticky warm cum.

You follow right after, clenching down on him and milking his cock for every last drop, your body going limp against his from pure exhaustion. Your orgasm ripples through you, the aftermath rendering you completely fucked out, but blessed with the euphoria of your release.

The two of you continue to lay there for a bit longer, catching your breath and enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies. Eventually, Steve pulls out, and you sigh at the emptiness without him inside you. You feel some of his cum dripping onto your thigh, making a mental note to ask for a shower together later. In a moment, at least. When you'd regained your ability to walk.

You pull away from his neck to look at your boyfriend, who seems to be pretty satisfied with himself. "You did so well sweetie," he leans up to press a gentle kiss on your lips, "you're totally gonna ace that exam."

You'd almost forgotten you had an exam the day after, but surprisingly enough, you weren't that stressed. If you could come up with the answers while he was pounding into you, you could write them down in a lecture hall no problem.

"I'm pretty fond of studying the Harrington way, actually," you smile, reaching out to brush some stray brown locks away from his face.

"Really? Huh," he doesn't mention the fact that he didn't even look at the answer the last time. He was way too eager to make you cum, and besides, you're a smart girl. You're going to ace that exam either way. "Well, if you want," he glances at the clock on your nightstand, "I think we have time for another round of revising."

"Hm..." You pretend to mull it over, "in the shower?"

"In the shower."

let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content!

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#aster writes stranger things #stevemath #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem #stranger things fan fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve stranger things

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luvfae · 2 years

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POP QUIZ

summary: you and eddie, a surprising pair, secretly do stuff in an empty classroom.

fandom: stranger things

parings: eddie x f reader

warnings: smut, swearing, choking, oral (eddie receiving), fingering, public sex

Eddie didn’t know what to do with you. He had never had a girl who was interested in him, especially not in a sexual way. Yet here you were on your knees in an empty classroom, sucking the soul out of him.

Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off of you, watching as you took his entire length, eyes rolling into the back of your head, mascara running down your cheeks, face glistening with saliva.

He was mesmerised by you and the things you could do with your mouth and why the hell someone like you wanted to do anything with him.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Eddie whispered. You hummed against him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. Eddie groaned as you pulled away from him, your hand replacing your mouth.

“Better hurry up, Munson, the bell rings in five minutes and I have a pop quiz,” you smirked.

Eddie was about to speak when you shoved his entire length inside your mouth again and all he could muster up was a relieved groan. You grabbed his hand, placing his fingers around your throat, begging him to choke you and he obliged.

You moaned against his cock and he sighed shakily as he felt himself getting closer and closer to his release, his grip tightening around your neck.

It didn’t take long for him to finish, hot cum shooting down your throat, you swallowed every last drop, opening your mouth to prove you had swallowed him. Eddie chuckled, pulling you up from your knees and kissing you roughly.

Eddie glanced over at the clock. “You think you can cum in two minutes?” He asked, hand slipping up your dress, pushing your soaked panties aside and waisting no time as he shoved a finger deep inside of you.

You gasped loudly, eyes rolling back as he began to curl his finger, hitting that spot. “S-shit, Eddie.” you stuttered, hands gripping onto his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

“Can you take two?” He asked, pushing a second finger inside of you. You bit your bottom lip. “What about three?” He smirked, adding a third digit. You moaned loudly, your grip on him tightening. “Of course you can take three,” Eddie said.

You looked at him, pushing your lips against his as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you whined, as the school bell rang.

“But what about your pop quiz?” Eddie teased.

“Fuck the pop quiz,” you groaned, a knot building in your stomach as you got closer to your sweet release.

Eddie moved his fingers faster inside of you, covering your mouth with his free hand as chatter piped up in the corridor and students walked past the locked door.

You cried out and Eddie pushed his hand harder into your mouth as you came, body shaking uncontrollably, pussy throbbing against his fingers. Eddie smirked, riding out your high and pulling away from you.

You fixed yourself up, pulling your cheerleader dress down and tightening your high ponytail.

“Tell anyone about this and-“

“And i’m dead, I know the rules by now, Y/N,” Eddie said, looking at you in amusement.

“Good,” you said, pulling your backpack on. You went to leave, freezing mid way and quickly turning back around. “Thank you,” you smiled, kissing him softly.

“See you tomorrow,” Eddie waved as you left the room. He sighed heavily, staring at the now open door. “If only she wasn’t popular...” He mumbled, as if he really cared about that. He stood up, getting ready to go to class.

#stranger things #netflix #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut

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beyondspaceandstars · 6 months

Text

Relationship Quizzes

Relationship: Carol Danvers x Reader Warnings: fluff!!!! Summary: Based off a random prompt: Person B and Person A taking couple quizzes on the Internet. A/N: I just saw The Marvels today and I am HAVING THOUGHTS. This is a short little thing. I was a little tipsy when I wrote this but I had fun. Also - I did take these quiz titles from actual Buzzfeed "relationship" quizzes I found so if they sound fun, they are out there. and it just so happened to work out really cute. You'll see. And I'm not lying about the quiz result in this one shot.

Masterlist

"What are you up to?" Carol asked as she approached your sitting form. She had just finished some maintenance on the ship while you were cuddled under the one blanket on the bed in her ship. Your laptop was sprawled up on your lap.

"Did you ever used to take those couple quizzes that would come in magazines?" You asked while your eyes remained on the webpage in front of you. You had been browsing some social media when you came across one of those silly but cute Buzzfeed-like quizzes. An idea immediately popped in your head

When Carol asked if you'd like to spend some time in her world, you had eagerly agreed. When you met your girlfriend you hadn't been ignorant to the fact that she wouldn't be like the other girls you had been with and you were constantly amazed by her skills and dedication. So, taking some time off Earth to really see everything, see the galaxy, you were so pleased. But a couple of hours into your adventure you realized you were missing something: WiFi. The internet. Connection. It had taken you a hot minute to figure it out but you got it. And you were quite proud. Carol was a wizard with fancy space technology but when it came to your dedication to the internet, she didn't quite get it.

"Couple quizzes?" Carol repeated and thought for a second. "Like, those ones you'd take to figure out if you and your crush would be together?"

You nodded, eagerly. "I found some online that looks fun." You shifted over on the bed to make room beside you. "Come take a few with me."

Carol laughed and threw down a dirty towel she had been using during her ship maintenance. "What, are we twelve all of a sudden?"

You rolled your eyes and patted the space next to you on the bed. "Babe, come on. Humor me."

Your girlfriend sighed and finally caved. She slid under the blanket, your legs pressed against one another. You shifted the laptop so it was half on your thigh and half on Carol's.

Carol immediately started reading the page pulled up on the computer screen. Her brows furrowed. "'Create An Outfit From Urban Outfitters And We'll Reveal What's Missing In Your Relationship.' Honey, are you being serious?"

You couldn't help but laugh a little at your girlfriend's expression. "Yes, I know it's silly but come on, it can be entertaining."

"Fine, fine," Carol sighed as she took the helm and clicked the 'Start Quiz' button. The first question popped up.

Question 1: Let's start off with picking out a bra.

"Seriously?" Carol smirked.

"You read the title," you pointed out. "You know what you were in for."

"Fair enough," your girlfriend agreed. "Let's go with the white one. Keep it simple."

You agreed and made the selection.

Question 2: Pick a pretty dress.

"Oh, that's cute," you said as you pointed to an off-the-shoulder multi-colored dress.

"It's not bad," Carol agreed, "but you'll be able to see the bra straps and I don't think it'll work with those patterns. We should go with the white one, it has thick straps and it's flowy. Could be comfortable."

Your jaw went slack as you processed Carol's words. "You're taking this seriously now, huh?"

Carol laughed. "If we want to know what's missing in this relationship—as the quiz promises to tell us—we gotta be realistic here."

"Alright, alright," you caved. "White, flowy, thick-strapped dress it is." You selected the photo and moved on to the next question.

Question 3: Won't you need a jacket? Pick one.

"I don't know, will we need a jacket?" Carol asked in somewhat disbelief.

You shrugged. "Maybe it's fall time in the midwest. They didn't really set the scene for this outfit. I say we go with the leather jacket."

"I won't argue with that."

Question 4: Pick some comfy bottoms.

"What? Are they going under the dress?" Carol asked in confusion.

"I mean… Maybe?" You frowned at the computer. "These aren't very scientific."

"I need to manage my expectations. Go with the jean shorts, they should be fine."

You agreed and clicked the high-rise jean short photo.

Question 5: Of course, you can have the shoe of your choice.

"Oh, how nice of them, of course I can have shoes," Carol laughed.

You scoffed. "Stay focused, it's almost over. I think the black slide-ons will work."

Carol nodded. "Ties in with the leather jacket."

Question 6: Lastly, accessories make the outfit, so pick one.

"We are in the homestretch," you announced. "I think we should complete the look with sunglasses."

"Not the purse?" Carol asked.

"We have pockets on the leather jacket."

"You're so smart, babe."

You blushed as you selected the sunglasses and held your breath dramatically for the reveal… And there was nothing.

No results populated. It was blank. Whoever had made the quiz had apparently missed a crucial component.

Carol gasped. "We did all that for nothing?"

You bit your lip to stop yourself from bursting out laughing. "Maybe it means…nothing is missing. We're perfect."

Carol sighed and turned to face you. "My little optimist."

You giggled. "Well, what did you make of these results? Or lack thereof?"

Your girlfriend shrugged. "Maybe it means we're both cursed."

Now you could laugh again. "I actually think we're perfect."

Gently, Carol leaned in for a kiss, which you happily reciprocated.

"Should we try one more?" You asked after your lips separated. "These are really ridiculous."

"But you were right, they are kind of fun."

You smiled. "Awesome, one more it is then."

Carol agreed and gave you a full reign of the laptop. You typed and clicked away with Carol watching you closely. She liked your laptop, probably even like the idea of having it on board, but she never really used it when you offered it up to her.

After some browsing, you finally settled on a neutral but interesting-sounding quiz. "This one could be fun: What Relationship Type Do You Have With Your Partner?"

"There are different types of relationships?"

You nodded. "The quiz says so."

"Well, if the quiz says so," Carol smirked and motioned toward your laptop. "Let's go."

Question 1: How much do you and your significant other talk?

You and Carol both skimmed the options. And settled on the exact same one.

"We talk at least 100 hours a week."

"I can't get enough of you," you admitted and made the selection.

Question 2: How far away does your partner live?

"Oh, this was so not made for us," you laughed.

"Hey," Carol said in faux defence but she started laughing as well. "We make it work."

"Would you say we're in a long-distance situation? Or do we just live far apart but make time to see each other?"

"We make time, right?" Carol asked. Her tone dropped significantly. "I make time to see you."

You gave her a soft smile. "Of course you do, babe. You go beyond what I expect. I mean, I'm in space, right now. For you. With you."

Carol grabbed your hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

Question 3: What do you and your partner have in common?

"I want to say loyalty. Or everything."

"Yeah," you nodded, " but you don't like my music taste. Or my food preferences."

"I'm sorry I'm not into jazz or eating ketchup on scrambled eggs."

"Loyalty it is," you decided.

Question 4: What's one thing you'd change about your partner?

"Kind of a rude question," Carol mumbled. "Absolutely nothing, right? Unless you're going to take this as a chance to admit to me what I don't want to hear."

You shook your head. "Nothing." You could worship Carol. "Nothing at all. I'll take all of you. Flaws, perfections, and everything in between."

Question 5: What's something you'd leave your partner for?

You both read through the responses.

"Communication could ruin us," you pointed out.

"You're always right, babe."

Question 6: If your significant other was sad, how would you cheer them up?

You let out a light laugh at the options under the question. "You either shower me with so much affection when I'm upset or don't know what to do."

Carol lightly bumped her shoulder into you. "I like the more flattering option. You also shower me with affection. I almost have to peel you off me."

"You never peel me off you."

"I love you too much."

Question 7: Your significant other is working themselves way too hard. What do you do?

"Oh, this is so you," you point out to Carol. "All work, I swear."

"I am not-,"

"I am in your bed and you spent hours working on this ship."

Carol humphed. "Well, I'm here now."

"I would say I try to express to you how concerned I am about your…working habits."

Carol agreed, reluctantly. "You are allowed to express them."

"I am. And I will."

Question 8: Oh no – your S.O. is sick! What do you do?

"Soup," you decide as you read the options. "You do like to me soup when I'm sick. And watching movies. I love watching movies with you even when I'm sick."

You saw Carol's cheeks get rosy. "Do you enjoy my soup?"

"Your soup?" You smirk. "I didn't know you owned Campbell's Soup."

Carol laughed.

Question 9: How well do you think you really know your partner?

"'I feel like I know every facet of,'" you read off the webpage.

"Yeah," Carol agreed. "That one."

You placed a quick pack on her cheek. Her skin was still rosy and pink.

Question 10: And lastly, do you see a future with this person?

"Of course," you whispered. "I never want us to be apart even for a second."

Carol said nothing but gave your thigh a tight squeeze. You could've pounced on her then and there.

As you made the final selection, you once again held your breath and waited on the edge of your seat for the result.

This time, it actually worked. A confetti animation decorated the screen as your quiz result populated.

"'The super-love relationship,'" you read off the computer screen, "'Wow, your relationship is like one of those whirlwind Hollywood romances that everyone dreams of having! It's like some sort of fairytale, but it's clearly not fiction.'"

Carol let out a surprised but pleased yell at the results. "We actually are perfect," she noted. "You were right."

You hummed in agreement. "Like some sort of fairytale. That sure does describe how I feel."

"Really?"

You nodded. "Sometimes I can't believe you're real. And that I'm here. And you're mine."

Carol subtly intertwined her hand with yours. "I'm always gonna be yours, babe."

"We're so cheesy," you muttered. "I love us."

Carol smiled. It was so genuine and intriguing. "I love us, too."

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queen-of-the-avengers · 6 months

Text

Secret Admirer

Pairing: Peter Parker x Teen!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: jealousy, minor angst, mostly fluff

Summary: Peter always has to one-up you in everything he does. He always finishes a quiz before you. He gets better grades than you. It's infuriating. Then you catch him doing the one thing that makes you rethink how you feel about him.

Squares Filled: pretending not to care for @spider-man-bingo

Author’s Note: i didn't specify which peter parker is here, so you can imagine any of the three for this story!

Class could not go by any slower than it is now. It feels like you have been in here for hours even though it’s only been thirty minutes. Math is your favorite subject because you excel in it, so you’re confident to raise your hand when the teacher asks a question.

“Yes, Y/N?”

You open your mouth to answer when you hear someone chime in from behind you. Pete fucking Parker. The bane of your existence. The boy who makes your blood boil. The boy who thinks he’s too smart to be there.

“Fifty-three?” Peter answers like the teacher called on him or something.

“Thank you, Y/N,” the teacher says and turns around to write on the whiteboard.

You look behind you at Peter with a glare. He always has to chime in and give the right answer even though you know it. It’s like he wants to prove how smart he is with his stupid crooked smile, his bright eyes, and his shy exterior. He’s doing this on purpose. He has to be.

“Alright, kids, it’s time for a pop quiz. You know the drill. Turn in your test at the front and wait for the bell to dismiss you.”

The teacher passes out a pop quiz for all the students to take, so you turn around and focus on your test. Your teacher likes to give pop quizzes every Thursday, so is it really a pop quiz if everyone knows it’s coming? You scribble your name on it and start with question number one. You circle the right answer, going down the line until you get to the next page. You think you’re going at a good pace until you hear a chair screech signaling someone is getting up.

It better not be him. I swear to God if it is… Peter walks by your desk and places his finished test in the bin where the teacher wants it. You gasp silently at the thought of him being done only minutes after receiving the test. Sure, the test is easy and everyone passes them, but he can’t be done that quickly… can he? Peter catches your eyes with a smirk when he walks by you, and you roll your own out of annoyance. You’re not so annoyed at him being smart. You’re annoyed at the fact that Peter used to be so different before. You’re annoyed because you can’t figure it out.

After class is over, you head to the lunch room to meet our best friend, Amy. She is already at a table reserving your seat next to her. You grab the lunch special of the day and make your way over to her with a not-so-happy smile on your face.

“It’s Peter again, isn’t it?”

“He finished the pop quiz in minutes!” She shakes her head and stabs her salad with her fork. “Amy, you should have seen how cocky he looked. God, I wanna wring his neck.”

“Have you ever asked yourself why he gets on your nerves like that?”

“Yeah, because he’s fucking annoying, that’s why.”

Peter walks in after grabbing his lunch from his locker and meets up with his best friend. You forgot his name. They talk all the time but you’re not really interested in his friend. Peter is stuck inside your mind as you try to figure out what’s different about him. Your eyes are locked on him, studying his every move, trying to figure out his next step. He looks the same. He talks the same. He has the same friend. Yet there is something different about him, something more dangerous.

“You’re doing it again,” Amy nudges you.

“Something is up with Peter. Something is different. He’s different.”

“Stop stalking your crush and eat your food.”

“Ew, he’s not my crush.”

“Mmhmm.”

You grab a carrot stick to munch on while keeping an eye on Peter. He walks with his friend to the table they want to sit at, trays of food in their hands. Flash is at one of the tables joking with his friends when he sticks his foot out to trip Peter, expecting his food to go flying everywhere. What no one expected is Peter to catch every fucking item back onto his tray like it never left it at all. The angrier you get, the more you gnaw on your carrot stick. Peter used to be so clumsy but it’s like he got an upgrade, and you need to know how he did it.

“You’re telling me you’re not the least bit curious as to why Peter got what looks like powers?”

“Not really,” Amy shrugs and keeps eating.

After lunch, you two make your way to your lockers which just so happen to be next to each other. You might have bribed your way into getting a locker next to hers but it’s worth it. You two can gossip in secret without anyone hearing.

“Do you think there will be a flower in there today?”

“Probably like there has been for the past week.”

You put your code into the lock and open your locker, staring at the beautiful single flower resting against your textbooks. Every day for the past week, a single flower has been left in your locker by someone anonymous. It’s always been a different flower that has not yet been repeated. There is no note, no indication of who put it there, or why. Yesterday, there was a pink rose and today it’s a purple carnation.

“I think it’s romantic. Someone has a crush on you,” Amy grins.

“What do I do? I have to find out who is doing this.”

“Well, when did it start?”

“Last week on Monday.”

“Isn’t that when the new flower shop opened in town?”

“Yeah.”

“Stalk that place. Whoever is getting you flowers has to be getting them from somewhere, and my bet is it’s from that place. See who stops by there after school, see what they buy, and if that flower shows up tomorrow, you have your answer.”

“This is why I keep you around. You’re the smart one.”

“Street smart. You’re book smart.” The bell rings to signal the next period, and she slams her locker closed. “I gotta go. Tell me how it goes!”

The rest of the day goes by without a hitch, probably because you don’t have another class with Peter. If you had, you’d be spending all your time obsessing over him. God, you sound like a desperate girl. You’re not. You’re just obsessed with finding out what’s different about him. Why hasn’t anyone else noticed this about Peter?

As soon as the final bell rings, you rush out of school like a bat out of hell. You want to get to the shop before the other students have a chance to leave, If you’re going to find out who is doing this, then you have to be the first one there. As if the universe is on your side, you’re the first one inside the flower shop. No one else is browsing which means it’s the perfect time to find a hiding spot.

“Hi! Welcome in! Do you need help finding something?”

You look up and see the friendly female cashier.

“No, thank you. I’m just looking.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do!”

You walk around the flower shop and admire the different kinds of flowers as you wait for someone to walk in. A few people come in over the next two hours but no one young enough to be in high school. You’re about to give up when the bell on top of the door rings to signal someone walked in. You look between two flowers and see none other than Peter Parker. You quickly hide in hopes he didn’t see you, and by the looks of it, he didn’t.

“Hey, Peter!” the cashier greets.

“Sandra. How are you?”

“Good! Are you here for another flower?”

“Yeah. Something different. Something I haven’t used before.”

“I saved a good bunch for you.” She walks to the back and retrieves a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Instead of handing him the whole thing, she takes a single flower from the bunch and hands it over to him. He takes out his wallet to pay but she waves him off. “It’s on the house.”

“Are you sure? I’d like to pay some time.”

“You can when you get the girl. Did she find your other flower?”

“Yeah,” Peter nods shyly.

“Are you ever going to ask her out?”

“I don’t know. I think she hates me.”

“Well, after she sees this flower, she won’t,” she winks.

Peter takes the yellow flower and leaves the store. If you don’t get home now, your parents will be mad. You sneak out of the shop and run all the way home, excited to see what kind of flower you’re going to find in your locker tomorrow. When tomorrow comes, the first thing you do is go straight to your locker. Amy is already by hers, putting her books into it and grabbing the one she needs for her first class.

“Hey, did you stake out the flower shop?”

“Yeah. Peter walked in and got a yellow orchid. A single flower. He and the cashier talked as if they had known each other for years.”

You open your locker and gasp when you see a yellow orchid sitting at the bottom of your locker. You grab it with delicate fingers and admire the bright color against your skin. Peter thinks you hate him. You don’t. Peter and his friend round the corner and head in the direction where you and Amy are. Maybe you can get over your obsession with finding out why he’s different and just enjoy his company. Peter looks up and sees you with the yellow flower he picked out yesterday with a huge smile on your face. You wait until he passes by you to say what you have to say.

“This is my favorite flower. I really like it.”

You don’t have to look at him directly to see the smile that comes onto his face. Different or not, Peter is still as cheesy as he was when you first met him.

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asimperingswannsong · 6 months

Note

Request: fluff with Larissa where Rissie is having sad girl minutes and Reader cheers her up, please

🤗 Thank you for the ask! I can certainly try! This was my first attempt at a Reader insert. It was a fun challenge. Hope you like it! 🙃

Another Dismal Dance

Larissa Weems x Reader

Notes/Summary/Warnings: Just fluffy stuff. Larissa has another disappointing Rave'N and reader tries to make it better.

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

You were standing with Ms. Ingram, the other rookie teacher, by the punch bowl at the Rave'N chaperoning the students as they arrived. She was busy mindlessly speculating on who might be dating who and whether any of the speculative couples would be making an appearance together as official items, but your attention was elsewhere. You were trying to be subtle about it, but it was difficult because the object of your affection was positively radiant this evening.

From the moment you'd interviewed with her and bonded over your shared interest in Outcast History, her former subject, you'd been enamoured by Principal Weems. This was your first teaching job and she had been an amazing mentor, always ready with words of encouragement or offering an ear for you to vent. And when she'd begun to confide in you during your fireside chats in her office, you couldn't have been happier. She'd been having a tough time this year with the monster attacks and Wednesday's constant need to solve the mystery surrounding them. You'd become increasingly worried about her as you could see from the windows of your rooms how many evenings, she'd been working late into the night doing damage control for Wednesday's latest antics.

But you'd been able to cheer her up anytime she expressed frustration with things just by mentioning the Rave'N. She was so excited about the preparations. She wanted everything just right for her students to have a memorable experience and her enthusiasm was one more thing about her that you found so endearing. You'd been having little cautionary chats with yourself lately just to check in and remind yourself to respect boundaries since this was your boss and making an unwanted advance toward her could be a huge mistake but it was hard to keep your resolve everytime you saw her flitting through the halls. She was so beautiful and so elegantly put together. And her personality matched her appearance, charming and perfect. It was a struggle not to be a complete simp.

Especially right now, she was stunning in her knee length silver dress, and she looked so happy seeing all of her hard work come to fruition. She had done an incredible job on the themed decor. It was nice to see her have this perfect evening after all the stress she'd dealt with recently. Now, if only you could work up the courage to go over and tell her as much. "Right?" Your eyes widened as your realized you'd become so engrossed in Principal Weems that you'd completely checked out of the conversation with Ms. Ingram.

"Sorry?" "Coach Vlad." She was met with a look of confusion. "I said he thinks his track suit is formal wear apparently. Crazy huh? Are you alright, Y/N?" "Huh? Oh yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about Monday's lesson plan and whether to include a pop quiz," you lied trying to cover for the actual reason behind your inattentiveness. Ms. Ingram rolled her eyes dramatically and grabbed you by the arm shaking it, "We're off work. It's a dance. Loosen up and have a little fun, Y/N." "Yeah, I'll try…"

You managed to excuse yourself from Ms. Ingram's gossip train and finally made your way to Larissa. "Ms. L/N! You look lovely this evening darling. That dress is so pretty!" she greeted you happily. You blushed noticeably at her compliment. "This is amazing Principal Weems. You should be so proud. And you are a vision. Perfection." "Really?" her turn to blush noticeably. "I love it. And the gloves, the jewelry, and the hair, they're all absolutely beautiful." She smiled still blushing, "Flatterer." "Just facts." "Ms. L/N?" You heard Ms. Ranier, the other history teacher, call from behind you.

You reluctantly started to turn away from Larissa to acknowledge Ms. Ranier, but she reached out gently and took your hand to draw your attention back to her for a moment. "Ms. L/N?" You turned back with a look of inquiry. "Before you go…" "Yes?" "I just wanted to ask if you'd like to stop by my office later? Maybe for a celebratory drink? I'm so happy with how everything came together." "I would love to. That sounds fun," you said beaming at her. She smiled in return and winked at you, "See you then, Y/N." The wink has caused your stomach to abruptly relocate within your body. You turned and floated away.

Everything was going so well…until it wasn't.

You were standing against the wall with two other teachers deeply engaged in a terrible dance battle with each of you showcasing your cringest of moves when you felt a droplet land on your shoulder.As you looked around trying to find the source of the leak you noticed the droplet was red. "What the hell?" And then there was two, three, four. "What's going…" And then the sprinklers opened fully and rained down red.

People started to scream as their formal attire they'd spent weeks choosing became stained all over. Then they started to try to get away and began slipping in the mess. You immediately started trying to help students up and direct them to the exit, but it was chaos. And then you heard a loud scream and you turned to see Larissa having a full-blown meltdown in the center of the room and your heart broke in two.

She'd wanted this to be perfect so badly and she'd already dealt with so much this year and now she and her beautiful dress were stained from top to bottom. She was breathing deeply and shaking. She seemed to be having a panic attack or hyperventilating. You tried to make your way toward her, but you kept getting caught up in the on rush of the exiting crowd. Over and over again you were thwarted from getting to her. Eventually you were pulled along by your fellow teachers who all just wanted out.

In the aftermath you stood and looked frantically around for Larissa. You just wanted to make sure she was okay. Unable to find her, you hugged and comforted crying students encouraging them gently to return to their rooms and get cleaned up and apologizing for their dance being ruined. Finally you spotted her, but she rushed by on her phone and you heard her addressing Sheriff Galpin. She'd recovered from her earlier panic and now she sounded furious.

Realizing this was not an ideal time to try and speak to her you returned to your own rooms and cleaned yourself up. You paced your room using baby wipes to clean the stains from your face and out of your hair as much as possible before changing out of your ruined dress. You could see Larissa pacing furiously in her office and gesticulating wildly at the other occupants.

You determined when you had a chance you would try to intervene and do what you could to comfort her in some way. You grabbed a large basket and began filling it with items, baby wipes, cloths, a blanket, a candle, a bottle of red wine you'd bought after trying it in Larissa's office one evening, and finally a small bouquet from your pink hellebores. You made your way over to the main building and saw Sheriff Galpin and Mayor Walker leaving as you entered. You made your way upstairs.

As you entered while knocking you saw Larissa hastily try to wipe the tears from the corners of her eyes as she stood from her desk. "Y/N? Are you alright? I'm so sorry for what happened?" You came in and placed the basket on the couch. "Am I alright? I came to check on you. I know how much you were looking forward to this. I'm the one who's sorry for the way it turned out." She'd been making a valiant effort not to cry but she lost the battle and started to weep openly. You rushed over and hugged her tightly. "Oh no sweetheart. Don't cry. I'm so sorry."

She clung tightly to you and sobbed loudly. You held her tightly in return and rubbed soothingly on her back trying to bring her some comfort. As her sobs lessened slightly you placed your arm around her lower back. "Come here, sweetheart," you said gently leading her toward the couch in front of the fire, "let's sit down together for a minute." You brought her around to the couch but she hesitated. "I don't want to stain it," she sniffled still wearing her ruined dress. You moved quickly over to your basket and removed the blanket, unfolding it and holding it open like a towel. She continued to hesitate.

You wiggled it at her invitingly, "Come on. I brought it just for you. Feel free to stain it all you like." Larissa smiled through her next sniffle and moved closer to you. You wrapped her up into a red burrito and hugged her once more before encouraging her to sit. She did and you removed the candle and flowers placing them on the table and lighting the wick. Larissa smiled and wiped a strand of stained loose hair from her eyes. "What are you doing?" she asked curiously.

"Me? I'm currently in the middle of an impromptu and somewhat desperate attempt to provide some small modicum of comfort to you after what was an unmitigated disaster perpetrated on the most undeserving of creatures." Finishing your quick mood setting decor, you reached over producing the bottle of wine and holding it out to her. "May I interest the madam in a glass of the house's finest Beaujolais Nouveau?" you said in your corniest French waitress impression. Mercifully she chuckled as you poured her a glass.

Darling, you didn't have to do any of this." "I wanted to. I felt terrible seeing you crushed like that." You held up a baby wipe. "May I?" "Please." You placed a knee on the couch beside her and bent forward over her wiping the stains from her face gently. She gazed up into your eyes with a look of gratitude that made you weak. "Thank you," she whispered as you continued to wipe away the red. "Of course, sweetheart."

When you finished cleaning as many of the streaks from her face as you could, you sat down next to her on the sofa and poured yourself a glass. She held hers out for a refill and you both sat and stared into the fire for a while. You felt her hand lay over the top of yours and you turned yours over. She entwined your fingers together and you continued to watch the flames. "Are you going to be alright?" you whispered. "Yes, darling, don't worry about me." "But I do," you said after a pause. She caressed your hand gently and smiled.

#my fic #fluff #gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principal weems #larissa weems x reader

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