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bloompompom · 10 months

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Safekeeping

Your brother's best friend learns you don't want to leave for college a virgin, and he thinks he might be able to lend you a hand.

✧ content: ~9.2k word count. 20 y/o eren jaeger x 18 y/o female reader. shameless porn without plot, older brother's friend trope, inexperienced reader/virginity loss, praise, spit, corruption themes, dry humping, guided masturbation, oral sex (f!receiving), protected PIV sex, reader's brother has a name, pet name ('baby'), passing mentions of alcohol/marijuana, explicit sexual content, explicit language, reader discretion advised. 18+ only. ✧ a/n: virginity is a social construct but this is smut so i’m gonna play into it. enjoy ♡ ✧ part two

You planned to move away to college at the end of the summer, finally. Your school of choice was a three-hour drive from home. To you, it was the perfect distance. Just far enough to give you some much-needed space, but still within reason for a weekend visit if needed. You wouldn’t know anyone there, but that was what you were looking forward to the most, actually. It would be a fresh start.

You never did get the ‘fresh start’ that everyone talked about. You know, the new beginnings that came with every school year. You always tried to be optimistic about it but each time, without fail, your teachers scowled when they saw your last name on their rosters. They all knew your older brother Collin—very well, unfortunately.

His reputation preceded you as a punk who was sent to the principal’s office for acting out in class time and time again. Out of the classroom, too—in the hallways, on the football field after hours. Even in the parking lot when he got into a fender bender with his English teacher his senior year. You were cursed with the same teacher last semester and learned the hard way that she had a habit of holding grudges.

But that was beside the point. What you were trying to say was: you were ready for college. More than ready. Giddy and practically vibrating with excitement, marking the days off on your calendar until move-in week. Until you could finally quit your lousy summer job at the ice cream shop, waiting on old folk that never knew what they wanted and didn’t bother tipping.

Still, there was just one teensy little thing you were hoping to get out of the way before freshman year. But now that it was only a few weeks away—twenty-three days, but who’s counting?—it was starting to feel more like a pipe dream.

At the end of the day, there was no point throwing a tizzy over going to college a virgin. Surely, you wouldn’t be the only one.

Right?

Your parents had left for their annual end-of-summer trip down to the beach to visit your grandparents for a week. It used to be a family event, but now that you and Collin were deemed old enough, you had more say in whether you tagged along or not.

Collin had skipped out the last two summers, but this was the first year you were allowed to stay home, too, now that you were eighteen. But what you didn’t expect was that his three best friends would be there with the two of you—for the better half of the week, at that. Apparently, since they had done it the last two years, it had become a tradition, as they put it. Honestly, you were just impressed Collin was able to pull it off without your parents catching on, considering he was never one to clean the house when you were kids.

No matter, though; it didn’t bother you much. They had been your brother’s friends since they were in the eighth grade. Having them around was nothing new to you. Of course, it was more fun when you were younger—back when you could play Mario Party together and force Collin to sit out. Now, there wasn’t nearly as much in common besides the occasional tormenting of your brother.

So, the four of them did their thing, and you did yours.

But therein lies the problem. Even while you minded your business, someone just couldn’t seem to mind theirs. He couldn’t prevent his thoughts from wandering back to you—couldn’t prevent his eyes from lingering longer than they should.

It wasn’t Armin. He would never dare to look at you that way, the girl he tutored in algebra. Nor was it Jean, hopelessly consumed with texting his classmate, still determined as ever to win her over.

No, it was Eren. 'The cute one,’ as coined by you and your friends once he hit his growth spurt and grew out his hair. Though Eren was unaware of the epithet, this would be the year he’d unknowingly return the sentiment, thinking of you as Collin's very cute sister.

Eren was gone last summer, away at an internship, so it had been a couple of years since he’d last seen you. And you appeared to have—ahem—really grown into yourself, to put it delicately.

Listen, it was harmless. It wasn’t like Eren planned on feeling this way toward you. He didn’t think twice about it when Collin said you’d be at his place, too. And there was no way in hell he’d act on it. He wouldn’t even dare to let the thoughts hang around in his mind, consistently shoving them aside before they could permeate. You were Collin’s—his best friend’s—sister. More than that, you were his little sister!

He thought he was being discreet about it, but man, did you have to make it so tough? Did you really need to lay out by your parents’ pool every single day? Jeez. As a matter of fact, when was the last time it rained? This had to be the longest they’d been without it, now that Eren was thinking about it.

Back to the point here: Eren was, in fact, not remotely discreet. Armin brought it to his attention as they went to grab another beer. You happened to pop into the kitchen at the same time, just to grab a snack, and damn it, why did you have next to nothing on? Like, yeah, the place was a little warm tonight, and it was your house and all, but seriously—tiny shorts rolled high on your waist and a tank top that looked extra clingy as you reached for a cup on the top shelf? Really?

“You can’t be serious,” Armin grumbled to Eren. Once you were gone, obviously.

Eren should have known what Armin was referencing, but he was dumb to it, wholly convinced he had been treading carefully. “What do you—”

“You can’t bang Collin’s sister!”

Who even says ‘bang’ anymore?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a second.” Eren innocently held his palms up, waving them as if he could shake off the wicked accusation. “That’s a little far now, isn’t it?”

Armin was getting ahead of himself again; even Eren hadn’t let his mind wander past that boundary… yet.

Armin gave him a look, like he knew better than to take Eren’s word at face value. “Well, it sure looks like you’re trying to bang his sister.”

“Who’s trying to bang who’s sister?”

Both Eren and Armin jumped at the voice, heads spinning like they were on a swivel to find Collin. He emerged from the basement, Jean trailing behind with a suspicious, low-browed expression.

“Oh,” Eren stammered. He had to come up with something fast because he wasn’t about to leave it to Armin, the notoriously awful liar. “Armin was just telling me about some porn he watched the other night.” Eren shrugged. “You know, where the guy tries to bang someone’s sister.”

Armin glared at Eren for throwing him under the bus but reluctantly went along with the lie. “Yeah, and then he, uh… bangs the sister?”

Idiot, Eren couldn’t help but think. Whatever, it seemed to work well enough. Collin stared back at them like they were no better than a couple of horny morons. Jean dismissed it, too. Or at least, it didn’t bother him enough to let it interfere with him going for another beer.

With the crisis only half-averted, the four returned to the basement with freshly-cracked cans of beer in tow, where they would spend the rest of the night playing video games until they eventually passed out.

Well, at least three of them did.

Eren couldn’t sleep, but that wasn’t anything new. He battled with insomnia from time to time. Tossing and turning on a wobbly air mattress didn’t make it any easier to fall asleep, and with the basement only marginally cooler than the rest of the house, he thought he might as well get a glass of water.

Unluckily (luckily?) for him, he was interrupted before he could do just that. The sight of you, simply existing, lounged up on the couch, startled him.

Someone’s jumpy tonight. You giggled when he cursed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What are you doing here?” Eren asked.

You lightheartedly taunted, “Last time I checked, I live here, don’t I?”

He made a face at you, lacking the amusement your voice carried. “You know what I meant. Why are you still awake?”

It was the first time Eren had bumped into you. Not the first time ever, obviously; you had been alone together on countless occasions. But this was different, never this late at night before, and it was the only time it’d been just the two of you since he’d thought about you like that.

“Do I need a reason?” you airly replied, almost on a yawn as you stretched. “It’s summer break, and I don’t have work tomorrow.”

He didn’t offer more than a nod of acknowledgment before moseying across the room, his hands shoved into his pockets. Unsure of where this was going, you reached for the remote and paused your show.

“What are you guys doing down there?”

“They’re all asleep,” Eren answered. He stood idly in the middle of the room because, like you, he was curious as to where this was heading.

“And you’re not asleep because…?”

No, he couldn’t think like that. This was going nowhere.

“I came to grab some water,” he hurried to say—or at least, you thought it sounded hurried—and disappeared into the kitchen right after.

You listened for a moment, fingers dancing on the button of the remote as you debated starting your show again. But when the faucet flicked off, he didn’t return to the basement in the apparent rush he was in. Instead, he stayed there, with you.

Eren sipped his water, thinking of what to say next. It was an uphill battle because there wasn’t anything to say. There was no reason he needed to start a conversation with you. And yet, there he was, leaned up against the wall, dumbly scratching at his midriff as he racked—

Wait. Were you checking him out?

If there was one thing Eren had learned at college—let’s be real here, he had a nasty habit of skipping class—it was that he did pretty well for himself when it came to girls. Decent enough, he’d say. He at least had enough sense to know when a chick was interested in him. And now that you had creaked that door open, ogled at where his hand had lifted his shirt to reveal his stomach, he didn’t really have another choice but to step inside and explore around. Just a bit.

Armin’s warning blared in the back of Eren’s head. As luck would have it, his conscience tended to have Armin’s voice. But there wasn’t anything wrong with casual conversation, was there? After all, he had known you for years.

“So, are you excited to leave for college soon?”

Nope. There was no turning back now.

You perked up in your seat. “Yeah, for sure. It’ll be nice to go somewhere new. Meet new people, make new friends—”

“Maybe you’ll finally find your Fabio.”

There was a joke there, unfortunately. One you hadn’t heard in so long that you cringed at the memory.

As Collin’s sister, his friends were first-hand witnesses to your boy crazy phase, all your dating flops. Perhaps they had even learned you were quite the hopeless romantic. And by that, you meant Jean had found a smutty novel you had stolen from your mom—yes, it even had the signature Fabio-esque cover, hence the joke. Anyway, he read it aloud in front of your brother and the rest of their friends until Armin snatched the book from him, which somehow made the whole ordeal even worse.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” you offhandedly chuckled. “I was sort of hoping that would happen before college, but you know—I’m sure plenty of people go to college inexperienced.”

Your voice trailed off there at the end, almost like the notion really bothered you. Eren scrutinized it, this thing you handed him. It was a conversational game of hot potato—something you had shoved his way and forced him to hold onto. Why were you bringing this up? Were you looking for his advice?

Eren set down his glass and moved to sit by you on the couch. The far side of it. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

“No,” you blurted out, embarrassed and kicking yourself for having said anything in the first place. But your abruptness sounded just as bad, so with a sigh, you said, “I mean, I guess. I don’t want people to think I’m a loser for being a virgin.”

Again, why were you mentioning this to him? Eren felt like he was playing with fire. He knew he was going to wind up burnt the longer he stayed, maybe even scorching everything around him, even you, in the process.

Still, he poked it, added some kindling because he was unwilling to let it die out. “I think there’s a fairly simple solution to that.”

“What, getting laid? I think I know that,” you scoffed. “And it’s easy for you to say that, looking like—” You loosely waved your hand over the length of him. “You. Believe it or not, I don’t exactly have suitors lining up outside my door.”

Okay, so he was picking up on something here. He wasn’t crazy. You said it then: you found him attractive. And he found you attractive. Extremely so, if that wasn’t obvious already. The answer was easy enough; he might as well go on say it outright then.

“What if I did it?” Eren suggested.

You didn’t know what he meant by it, his casualness throwing you for a loop. Surely, he couldn’t be talking about that.

“You know, took your virginity.”

Oh. There was no mistaking it now. He was, without a doubt, talking about that.

And why were you considering it?

Your brother’s friends, Eren included, had taught you all sorts of things before, things they probably shouldn’t have. They told you to flush the toilet to mask your squeaky front door if you planned on sneaking out. Taught you how to roll a joint, and how to take a proper hit after you confessed you had never ‘felt high’ when you smoked. So, would this be any different?

While you mulled it over, Eren took the far-away look behind your eyes as a horrible sign. He realized how insane the proposition sounded once he spoke it into existence. Before he could take it back, play it off as a joke—he had one too many beers, that’s all—you piped up.

“Really?”

He certainly didn’t expect that, stammering, “I—yeah. Why not?”

Another lengthy pause passed before you accused, “Are you just fucking with me?”

“No, no! I wouldn’t.” He started rambling then, a jumbled mix of ‘I just—’ and ‘I shouldn’t have—’ until you decidedly cut him off.

“Okay.”

“Huh?”

“I said okay. You can… take my virginity.” It felt like a strange way to say it, too formal. And to say it to Eren of all people, who would have guessed it?

Then again, maybe this was the most logical outcome. It wasn’t like you needed to make a big deal of losing your virginity. You weren’t looking for something romantic, with rose petals or a waterbed or any of that corny-porny crap. You were just looking to get it out of the way. That way, when you inevitably meet the love of your life in college (okay, so maybe you were a hopeless romantic), you wouldn’t embarrass yourself the first time you hooked up.

“Okay,” Eren replied on his inhale, a breath sucked through his teeth, like it was a sin to say aloud.

He scooted closer, sitting on the cushion that once separated you. You expected him to kiss you, even leaning into him with closed eyes, but your lips barely brushed into his. He didn’t come any closer than that.

Lowly, he asked you, “Do you trust me?”

You nodded. Your noses bumped.

“I need to hear it.”

“I trust you,” you said, even quieter than him. You could barely hear it over the sound of your heart, thumping so hard you swore it might burst into your throat.

Eren kissed you then, tentatively, with his hand cradling the side of your face. He didn’t move until you did, and when you returned the kiss, he followed while letting you take lead.

It didn’t last long, though. You jumped away from each other, back to the opposite sides of the couch, when the basement door squeaked open. The panic subsided when you caught the bright eyes of your family’s cat, her little head poking out from the shadows.

You held a hand to your chest, steadying your breath and trying to settle your rapid heartbeat, as if both were possible. When you met Eren’s gaze, he was already staring at you with a brittle sort of look. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Did he regret what he had done with you? You didn’t, and you prayed he didn’t either.

Before you had the chance to ask, he finally said, “Should we go to your room?”

“Good idea.”

He knew where your room was, but still, he followed right behind you anyway. At the top of the staircase, just before your bedroom door, you split. You turned to see Eren sneaking into Collin’s room. A minute passed while you listened to his rustling, but when he returned, held between his two fingers was that infamous, shiny foil.

You frowned, hard. “I’m not going to use one of my brother’s condoms.”

“Do you have one then?” Eren asked, already well aware of your answer.

“Fine.”

Eren had never been in your bedroom before. It felt foreign, and weirdly wrong, to have him in there. He looked out of place for it, too big, too mature, especially as you looked at all your girlish knick-knacks and old photos. You wished you could tuck everything away into some lonely drawer.

You avoided Eren’s eyes and fixed your attention on adjusting the lights. Your bright ceiling light was far too unforgiving for this, so you switched it out for your bedside lamp. The drone of the old bulb buzzed in the back of your ears, its light a fizzy yellow.

You were nervous. Eren didn’t need to see your face to know it was written all across it. Not that it surprised him, considering this was about to be your first time having sex, and it would be with him.

He felt his heart drop into his stomach, the sick feeling you get on a rollercoaster, but somehow you want to ride again. Maybe he was just as nervous as you. You had put your trust in him, enough to take your virginity. Handing it to him as if it were some sentimental treasure he could watch over, for safekeeping.

Sure, he knew the optics were bad. Not just bad but horrendous, actually. He was about to sleep with his best friend’s younger sister, a recently eighteen-year-old virgin. The whole situation sounded no better than a second-rate porno—like the one he had made up with Armin in the kitchen, ha!

This was as much a blessing straight from heaven as it was a curse. But he couldn’t care about the optics now, not with you taking a seat on the bed, looking over at him with these come-and-get-me eyes that may or may not have been intentional.

No, this wasn’t a curse at all. If it were so wrong of him, then why was it that he already felt his cock straining against his sweats at the mere thought? The thought of how delicate he’d be with you. He needed to be, for the last thing he wanted was to ruin your first time. He’d be the first to show you what pleasure could be with another person—what you were deserving of before going off and letting other boys touch you.

He set the condom on the nightstand and joined you at the edge of your bed, his knee barely grazing yours. He was about to ask if he could kiss you again, but you entirely side-skipped any conversation by picking up right where the two of you had left off.

Again, Eren relinquished control to you, but he did take the initiative to swipe his tongue into your mouth. You tasted him, the bittersweet flavor of light beer. He was nothing like the last boy you kissed. He didn’t ram his tongue down your throat but kissed you as though he wanted to taste you, to muse over and memorize you. And you let him, lips languidly caressing one another with little point or purpose, solely running on instinct.

You balled his shirt in your fist, twisted the fabric of it between your hands to have him close—closer. He hoisted you onto his lap with his hands at your waist, and you went along with him more than willing. You draped your hands over his shoulders, crossing them at the wrist, and didn’t let your lips break from his once.

He smoothed his palms up and down the small of your back until he eventually ventured lower. He gripped at your ass, pulling you down to grind over him. Just once, so you could feel him, how achingly hard he was for you. Then, you did it again all on your own. Lightheaded and teeming with desire, the pressure against your clit, even through your layers of clothing, was an addicting relief. You moved against him, again and again, until you were dragging yourself over him, practically about get off from that alone.

But Eren didn’t let that happen. Before you get there, Eren used his hold on your hips to stall you. His voice was a mumble against your mouth as he asked you, “How far have you gone?”

“This,” you professed. “This is the farthest I’ve gone.”

Fuck.

“Okay.” It was the word of the night. Eren breathed it out like he was talking to himself. The type of sigh you’d give yourself in the mirror when trying to calm down, which was precisely his goal.

He lifted you with little effort, had you lie back into the pillows before he crawled on top of you. He kissed at your jawline, then placed another on the side of your neck. He left a few of them there. It was all lip, all wispy, like he could break you. Still, you felt each of them like a spark at the base of your spine.

His fingers trailed lower, tickling over your collarbone but stopping short of the neckline of your tank top.

“Is it all right if I touch you here?” he asked, punctuating it by running a hand down your breast, over your shirt.

“Yes,” you whispered with a shudder.

With the confirmation, he massaged lightly, his thumb caressing over your perked nipple.

He kissed you again, his tongue meeting yours while he rolled your nipple between his fingers. Your back arched instinctively, wanting more—needing more. He listened to your body, learning as he went, and tugged down your tank top. With nothing between you, he lightly pinched at your nipple, pulling a whine from you, one that didn’t get the chance to meet the air.

Eren kissed the side of your face. “Can I kiss you there?” he muttered, referencing your tits as he gave another squeeze. He pressed another kiss, lower, against your throat.

“Mhm,” was all you managed with a voice that was long gone, lost somewhere in the opened-mouth kisses he left along the dip between your chest.

It tickled a bit when he flicked over your nipple with his tongue—even more when he latched onto it with his mouth. You were wiggly beneath him, driving him wild, and you didn’t even know it. It was sweet how sensitive you were, his mouth being the first to kiss you there, to learn the taste of your skin. So soft. And warm, too, heating up the longer he sucked at your tits, anywhere he pleased.

Eren kept his hand at your waist, palming over your stomach but never risking any lower than that. His touch was heated, urgent, yet he only showed restraint.

He pulled back from you, letting his face hover inches above yours when he asked, “Have you ever touched yourself before?”

He was strangely calm for asking such a personal question, setting your face ablaze. Too rushed, you replied, “Of course I have.”

What did he think? That because you were a virgin, you hadn’t thought about sex before? Hadn’t ever watched porn? Yes, you hadn’t actually done it, but it wasn’t as though you were heading into the situation blind.

“Then—” You, the sight of you wriggling out of your sleep shorts, interrupted him. You caught the bob of his throat when he swallowed, but you weren’t sure he was trying that hard to hide it. “Show me how you do it.”

Eren sat back on his knees, just shy of sitting between your legs as you rested against the pillows. The only thing separating him from you was a thin pair of panties. You hoped he didn’t notice your jittery fingers as you slipped them beneath the band.

You started, “This is—”

“It’s not embarrassing,” he interrupted. It only made you more anxious, like he could read your mind or something. But he was genuine as he said it, assuring you even while struggling to maintain eye contact, his attention flitting from your face to between your legs. “Show me how I can make you come.”

How could he possibly be so open about this? There wasn’t even a shred of hesitation or shame in his voice. You wondered how many people he’d been with—how many times he’d rehearsed before he could speak with such confidence? Enough confidence to have you listening loyally and plunging your hand beneath your underwear.

You pressed the pads of your fingers against your clit and started to rub. Slowly at first, but already, just that smidgen of relief was enough to pull a flimsy sound from you. You were sensitive, throbbing, and so incredibly turned on that you didn’t hide even as he unabashedly stared at you with pure infatuation.

Eren rested a hand on your leg, sliding higher and reaching for your panties. “Can I take these off?”

You stopped only to help him work them down your leg, shimmying until he had them thrown to the foot of the bed. You were hesitant to spread your legs again, but he did it for you, placing one at each of his sides. He took your hand and returned it between your thighs, eager for you to continue. So you did just that.

There wasn’t any doubt he could see everything now—how wet you were, how it coated your fingers the longer you rubbed, the tighter your little circles became. But you were too wrapped up in it to care, playing with yourself just as indecently as you would if you were alone. You couldn’t even be bothered to stifle the chant of gasps spilling from you.

“Can you put a finger inside for me?” Eren requested.

You nodded and pushed one inside, felt how you pulsed around it. You moved it in and out, the same way you had done many times before.

“Yeah, like that,” he murmured. You heard the ‘fuck’ he cursed under his breath. “How’s that feel?”

“Good,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

“Try a little faster.”

You did just that and bit back a whimper.

“Add another.”

He needed you stretched. He needed you ready for him.

You took your second finger well; you had done that before, too.

“You’re doing so good,” he told you. He leaned into you, closing in. “Can I help you now?”

“Please,” you breathed. You slipped your fingers from you, giving Eren access to do with you as he wished.

But he didn’t reach for you. Not there, at least. He held his fingers before your mouth.

“Open up.”

You weren’t sure what he was after, but you obeyed, lusty enough that you found you were trusting him implicitly. He placed his middle and index fingers against your tongue, telling you, “Get them nice and wet for me.”

You sucked on them lightly. Saliva pooled on the back of your tongue as he pressed down. He pulled them from your mouth with a lewd sound and smiled at you. It made your chest swell a bit.

Eren returned to your side. His presence was engulfing as he wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. It surprised you, the intimacy of it, but you didn’t have any time for second-guessing before he urged, “Keep going.”

You returned to circling your clit as his hand met yours. He traced his pointer finger through you, and every muscle in your body tensed.

“Can I?”

“Yes,” you said, practically a moan.

He slipped it inside you, taking his time with it. His finger was much larger than your own, thicker, reaching deeper than yours had ever gone. Your stomach tightened at the intrusion, trying to adjust.

“That okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” It was better than okay. “More. Please.”

Eren chuckled warmly. He pumped his finger in and out of you, curving it just right to have you squirming in his arms. You were beginning to understand why he was holding you now. He wanted to keep you still so that, once he figured out what you liked, he could maintain his pace through your needy bucking.

He had a hand on your head, petting over you as he asked, “You close?” You couldn’t respond because he added a second finger. A hiss left you, but it melted into a satisfied whine. “Yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you whispered against him, his body dizzyingly hot even through his T-shirt.

It was becoming quite the task to keep your fingers moving, what with Eren’s fingers hitting a spot that you didn’t even know existed, over and over again. It had you—fuck—it had you coming. So hard that you thoughtlessly rode his hand, eyes screwing shut as you fucked yourself deeper on his fingers, prolonging the bliss however you could until you turned to goo in his arms.

You were panting against his chest, your body still twitchy, when he started to ask, “Did you—”

“Yes,” you said on a drawn-out exhale.

He pecked your forehead. You still felt the stamp of it as he moved to get back on top. He held himself above you with hands planted on either side of you, kissing you full on the mouth. Still hazy, you didn’t move much, letting him make out with you all he wanted until his lips traveled down to the dip behind your ear, then the delicate crook of your neck.

He bunched your tank higher up your chest until you both tore it over your head. With it out of his way, Eren continued kissing lower—even lower than before. His breath tickled over your nipples, leaving you a needy, rutting mess—for what exactly, you didn’t know, just more.

“Too much?” Eren asked, looking up at you with his big, green eyes.

“No,” you assured, your mouth agape and in awe of him. “I like it.”

He pressed his smile against your skin, kissing and licking his way down your sternum.

When he reached your navel, you asked, “What are you—”

“Making sure you’re ready.” He kissed your hipbone.

“It’s really okay,” you said, slightly wary. “We should just get this over with, right?”

“What if I don’t want to get this over with?” Eren kissed just above your slit. “What if I want to take my time?”

Eren wanted you as comfortable—as relaxed—as possible. And since he was already about to fuck his friend’s younger sister, with one of his condoms nonetheless, he certainly wasn’t going to dig around for his friend’s lube next. Luckily, there was another, more fun, way that he could ensure you were properly lubricated so as to avoid any pain that may arise from him splitting you on his—

Focus.

“I need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t,” Eren said, a reminder more to himself than for you.

You gasped, almost choked, when he kissed the top of your thigh, then the inner part of it.

“Can you do that for me?”

“Eren, I—”

“Please.” He licked a broad stripe up the crease of your thigh. That alone had your head thrown back against your pillow, a tiny ‘oh’ escaping you. “Let me. I want to.”

“You do?” you timidly asked.

“So badly,” he replied, but it sounded more like an admission. A white flag of surrender, like he was letting himself fully give in to his desires because, yes, he had thought about this before. There was no use in lying about it now.

“O-okay.”

On that, he returned to teasing his way between your legs, kissing from the delicate flesh of your inner thighs to—

“Wait!” you interjected. Eren immediately looked to you like he had done something wrong, but you quelled his worry with, “Can you get undressed, too? Like, at least your shirt.”

Your request didn’t sound nearly as self-assured as his, but he listened to you nonetheless. He sat back to peel off his shirt. He smiled at you softly. “Better?”

You scanned over his toned torso, sun-kissed and tanned from summer. Definitely better. “Thanks.”

He leaned over you, his mouth inches from your pussy as he murmured, “It’ll feel good.” Then he kissed your entrance, and the sensation of it jolted through your body like lightning. “Promise.”

Eren parted you with his fingers before licking through you, letting the newfound feeling sink in deep. His tongue was warm, wet, and exceedingly gentle—nothing like his fingers or even your own. You couldn’t begin to describe it, but that might be because, after a second lap of his tongue, you were already losing any and all coherency.

You made a few strained sounds, flowery and pathetic, but supported yourself on trembling elbows to watch. When you met Eren’s eyes, he only stopped licking at you to say, “Tell me what feels good.”

“Everything.” The word tumbled out of your mouth desperately. “Everything feels good.”

You felt his laugh just before he closed his mouth back over you. He continued having his way with you, sucking and licking at you, saliva and slick making a mess of his pretty face as he staggered kisses between his laps. Whenever his lips brushed against your clit, your legs would flex tight. He hooked his arms around them, laying them over his strong shoulders. You felt the way his fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, locking them in place while he circled his lips around your clit with more pressure than before.

“Ah—oh,” you moaned, your back leaving the bed to press your pussy further into his face, as if you could have him any closer—you know, until you’d have him inside you. But that would come soon enough.

Eren didn’t ask this time; he knew exactly how he was making you feel. And you were thankful for it because you couldn’t dream of him stopping. You needed more, lacing a hand through his locks and pulling lightly, encouraging him. He groaned against you, clearly liking it, so you did it again.

He was sloppy with it while still… thoughtful? That didn’t feel like the correct word for it, but even as he made out with the most intimate part of you, he did it with intention, doing that thing again, whatever it was, with his tongue pointed, because he had quickly learned you liked it. No, he showed you that you liked it. Loved it, actually; it was excruciatingly evident by the breathless sounds you made.

And when Eren paired his tongue with his sucking lips, swirling it against your clit, you came with your own hand clamped over your mouth. Your entire body gained a pulse of its own. It was much stronger than your first orgasm and longer-lasting, too. The muscles of your stomach wound and released while you rode out your high, Eren groaning against you just as pleasedly.

Only once you were no longer propped on your elbows but flopped against the bed did Eren let up. Your thighs were still trembling as he kissed a pathway back to your side. You both sat with heaving chests, though yours much heavier than his, and you were beginning to question how you were supposed to go for another round. You hadn’t even reached the—for lack of a better word—main event yet. Truthfully, you expected Eren to throw you to your bed, pop your metaphorical cherry, and be done with it. But now you had already orgasmed twice and he still had his sweatpants on.

You should probably do something about that, shouldn’t you?

“I wanna touch you, too.”

While innocent, it was the most you had communicated with him this far, so he didn’t stop you when you reached for him. He was more than ready for it.

You explored him a bit, tracing over his length and discovering what touches made him twitch beneath your touch, still as chaste as ever.

“Show me,” you purred.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to do—a hand job was far from rocket science. It was more like if you had to show him yours, then you wanted to see his. You wanted to watch.

Eren tugged his sweatpants and boxers down his legs. His cock sprung out, nearly slapping against the low part of his abs. Already, his tip was wetted, needy for anything after going untouched this long, even if it was his own hand.

He wrapped his fingers around his shaft, working his fist over his cock, faster, until he was jerking himself off for you. His breath, fanning just above your head, went from steady to ragged, his chest tight.

You watched him for a moment, already needing to touch him. You pushed yourself upright, perched so that your knees brushed against his thigh, ready to take him with both hands.

“Hold on.”

You glanced at him. He fidgeted, like he was about to say something but retracted it immediately. He sounded hesitant, looked even more hesitant, when he asked, “Can you—can you spit in your hand first?”

“Oh, um.” You looked at your open palm and tried your best to collect some saliva in your mouth. It was a little daunting, knowing he was watching as you did it, but he didn’t seem to mind.

No, he definitely didn’t mind. Not in the slightest. But he wouldn’t admit that to you right now.

You took him in your hand, mimicking how he did it, with a loose wrist and your grasp slightly firm. When you squeezed over his tip, you heard the sharp inhale it pulled from him, noted how his pelvis flexed. Eren’s hand closed over yours. He was going to show you exactly how he liked it.

Eren moved your hand for you, gripping it whenever you reached the head of his cock. His pinched breaths turned into groans, his brows hanging low over his keen eyes. That was when he started thrusting, fucking your hand, and nearly forgot where he was—forgot whose hand he was using like his own personal toy.

“Spit on it,” he grunted, that temperate side of him growing unrestrained.

He didn’t mean to come off so crass, not in front of you, not this soon. It was just that Eren couldn’t remember the last time he came from a handjob, but he was nearly there, with your hands so dainty and velvety around him. Not to mention the spit dribbling from your pretty lips before you spread it down his cock—he was about to lose his last smidgen of composure.

Thankfully, he remembered the reason why he was here. He had a much bigger agenda than fucking your hand. How could he have forgotten already that he was here for you?

“That’s—ah, shit.” Selfishly, Eren waited for another second before releasing your hand. You continued stroking him eagerly, and it felt wrong to stop you, but he did just that with his hand around your forearm. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep going.”

“Sorry,” you said, your hands now politely to yourself and folded on your lap.

With a short, huffing laugh, he told you, “You do not have to apologize for that. Believe me.”

His chuckle had you smiling again. That closed-mouth, coy smile that he was quickly learning might become the death of him. He straightened out, taking your chin between his fingers to kiss you again.

“Lay back for me,” he whispered.

You fell into the mess of pillows and tangled sheets, making yourself comfortable while Eren fetched the condom. You didn’t know what the feeling was—trepidation, anticipation, excitement, perhaps all three—but it bubbled in your stomach as you watched him rip the wrapper before rolling on the latex.

He pumped himself a few times as he reminded, “We can stop at any time if you need.”

Eyes wide and fixed onto him—specifically on his cock, which he’d soon gape you on—you asked, “Do we need a safe word?”

He laughed again, through his nose like earlier, but only because you were so agonizingly cute about it. “I think ‘stop’ will work just fine.”

You did that smile again, winding the knot in his stomach more than he even thought possible. Eren was so close to snapping—not like that! Not hurting you, never. More like coming undone, turning into a puddle of himself, finishing humiliatingly early—that sort of snapping. He didn’t know what had him feeling this way, but something about you made him feel like the virgin here.

He didn’t dare push inside yet, not only for your sake but for his. His eyes, now brazen and alert, scanned over you, staring you straight in the face like a silent check-in. And when you gave him the go-ahead, nothing more than a bobble of your head, slowly, he tilted his hips into yours.

With you unbelievably tight around him, he stilled with only his tip inside you. Even so, his breath had already hitched in his throat. He couldn’t hold back, he simply couldn’t. And when he gave you a little more, between his eyes flittering shut, he caught the scrunch of your nose.

There was a stretch, a certain fullness. It didn’t necessarily hurt, but it didn’t exactly feel like he belonged in there, either. It was considerate of him to take his time with you, prep you with his fingers and tongue. But even so, with his cock only halfway inside, you had your nails dug deep into his biceps.

“How’re you doing?” Eren asked.

“I’m—” You glanced at where your bodies were connecting. There was still more of him to take. “Okay.”

It didn’t appear like he believed you, which was fair because it was a shaky statement at best. “It’s too much?”

“A little,” you sheepishly admitted.

He pulled out of you, and even that made you wince. Your shoulders dropped back to the mattress, every muscle in your body easing up now that he wasn’t bullying inside you.

"Here.” Eren rolled onto his back. He guided you on top of him, set you so your knees straddled his waist, his cock resting between your legs. Somehow, it looked even longer like that, laid upon his abs. “Let’s try it like this.”

Like this? It felt incredibly vulnerable from up here, where he could see you—in all your glory—bouncy above him. Plus, you hardly knew what you were doing; you had just given your first handjob! If you were being honest, you thought you’d just sort of lay there and take it from him, and now he was expecting you to ride him? It was intimidating, to say the least, even if Eren tried to assure you it wasn’t.

“You have total control this way.”

That was the exact thing you feared. You didn’t want any control. What if you did something wrong?

Apparently, you didn’t do a great job at masking your worry because Eren immediately placed his hands on your hips, not taking them in his grasp but rubbing his thumbs encouragingly against your skin.

The entire point of this was to trust him. That was why you were doing this—losing it to Eren, someone who wouldn’t make fun of you. That way, when it really mattered, you wouldn’t royally fuck up. And after getting this far, there was no chance in hell you would end the night a virgin. Well, half-virgin.

Ready to try again, you drew a deep breath, lifting yourself to your knees. Before you reached for him, like the new sexpert that you were, you spat in the palm of your hand, not minding Eren’s eyes this time. You stroked over the condom, mixing its lube with your saliva, then lined his cock up with you.

Carefully, you sat down. He only reached as deep as before, but the pressure was nowhere near what it once was. You rolled your hips, testing different angles to see what worked best—how you could get more of him, all of him, inside you.

Eren curved a hand around the nape of your neck, cooing, “Come here.”

He brought you in for a kiss—more than a kiss—his tongue immediately licking into your mouth the second your lips crashed into his, tasting every one of your contented, little hums.

He snaked a hand between your legs, lazily thumbing over your clit until your lips were unable to match his fervency. It was more like you were moaning against his mouth, right into it, sharing each of his breaths until your cheeks sweltered. He melted you from the inside out, softening you up like butter until you were flush against his pelvis—as easy as that. Cautiously, you started rocking your hips.

“That’s it,” Eren whispered into the corner of your mouth.

With quivering arms, you held yourself up with your palms pressed into his chest. Perched proudly atop him, the tip of his cock reached deeper, filling you deeper than anything else had before. It stole your breath, almost like you felt him in your throat.

Eren admired how your mouth fell into an adorable ‘o’ before you started moving. As though a switch had flipped, you were suddenly rolling your hips against him—slowly, of course—repeatedly having him hit that delicious spot again as you indulgently chased after your third orgasm.

“You’re doing so good, taking me well for—for your first time.”

Shit. Eren remembered he was taking your virginity.

He inhaled sharply, hoping you wouldn’t notice how his voice gave way, or how his cock jolted inside you when he realized he was the first to have you like this. His cock was the first to fill you, stretch you, mold you to accommodate him. Only him.

“Do what feels good for you, baby.”

The pet name slipped past him before he could wrangle it back, but you didn’t seem to catch it. Or, at least, you didn’t mind.

No, you were too busy to hear him, more occupied with getting a feel for what you liked best. Eren let you use his cock freely because—what, was he supposed to stop you? Fuck no. He would let you continue forever if you desired it, so long as you’d continue gifting him with such lovely and lewd expressions—the sweet curl of your lip, the knit of your determined brows as your thighs had surely started to burn.

But, boy, it was quite the challenge, letting you have your way with him. You could only keep your pace for a moment or two before you’d take a break. Such a fucking tease, and you didn’t even know it. It was endearing how worn out you were from everything that came before this, and all Eren wanted was to dig his heels into your bed, pound away at that tight pussy of yours, and show you just how wonderful he could make you feel.

It was a test of strength for him, whether he could hold back or not, because finally, you looked like you were enjoying yourself on his cock. You took him with short strokes, a simple tilt of your hips back and forth once you realized you could grind your clit into his pelvis.

He could tell you were close, from the way you fluttered around him to the gasps getting caught in your throat from the added, and absolutely euphoric, pressure.

“Just like that. Keep going. Make yourself come for me.”

The gravel in Eren’s voice pushed you closer to the edge. There was a growl to it, and you could feel it vibrate through you. You tossed your head back with a cry loud enough to wake a neighbor as you shoved a hand between your legs, desperate to come.

Eren shushed you dotingly, but there was a grin on his face as he placed his sticky palm against your mouth. “Can’t let them hear us now, can we?”

He felt your heady breath as you panted, trying to reach your peak. When you couldn’t ride him any longer, your hips an erratic sputter, he beamed up at you, slack-jawed smile and all, and said, “Feel good? Need some help?”

Too overwhelmed, you couldn’t even nod your head. You babbled uselessly.

“Want me to fuck you, just a little? Get you coming on my cock?”

“Yes, please—oh, God, Eren.”

When he started to move, thrusting into you ever so slightly, you were already scratching your nails down his chest. It was no bother to him, though. He only wanted you to do it again.

When you came, you squeezed him so perfectly that he thought he might explode. It was taking his last bit of self-control to fuck you at such a steady and slow pace when, in reality, he only wanted to hammer into you. Eren felt like he was moments away from boiling over. His face was burning, and he could feel the sweat beading in his hairline from this aching, pent-up desire within him. After fingering you, going down on you—no, after days of fantasizing about you—he needed release.

Even you could see it—the unmistakable flush of his face now spreading to the base of his neck and spanning his chest. As blissed out as you were, limply collapsed on top of him, you mumbled against his skin, “Eren, I want you to come, too.”

And how could he turn that down? Now that you had come three times, he figured he could finally have his turn.

“I’m gonna go a bit faster now. You tell me if that’s okay or not.”

Before he could even flinch, you assured him, “It’s okay. I want you to.”

The soft laziness of your voice, the dreaminess seeping through it like syrup—it was too much.

Eren took you by the hips first, holding your body pliant for him to thrust into. He started with long drags of his cock, letting his tip kiss your entrance before stuffing himself back inside you. Each time he bottomed out, he bit back every vulgar curse he wanted to hiss into your ear.

Then, he flattened his hands against your back, folding you into him with his palms seared into your shoulder blades. Your face was smothered in the crook of his neck as he fucked up into you. The bed began to squeak, like a mockery of your tiny bleats.

“You all right?” Eren asked, his voice hoarse.

You only made an affirmative sound that got muffled as you burrowed against him. With your chest warm, like a tingling between your lungs, and your head stuck somewhere in the clouds, you took him in a speechless, almost surreal, bliss. How fiercely he needed you, if only for a blip in time, was intoxicating.

And in that fleeting moment, the sin of it, the forbiddenness surrounding you, had vanished. Eren was sure it would rear itself again, that was for certain. He could predict the ripple of guilt that’d course through him once he inevitably faced what he’d done. But even if it meant betraying his best friend, he couldn’t find it within himself to regret it.

Especially when he realized how fucking good it felt to come inside you. With his arms locked around your waist, your entire body smushed against his, he snapped his hips into you, as if he could possibly fuck you any deeper. He emptied himself into the condom as a groan tore through his throat, the hum of it against the shell of your ear like a final shudder down your spine.

He pulled out of you, faintly cursing as he did. You flopped at his side, entirely spent, and stared at the ceiling with fuzzy, unfocused vision. The rush of adrenaline was on a steep comedown, and you were already starting to feel it. Sore, but extremely satisfied.

“You should probably go to the bathroom—to pee and stuff,” Eren said, that familiar, boyish side already returning in full force.

Pee. Got it.

You only muttered a ‘yeah’ before you redressed and tip-toed off to the bathroom down the hallway. There, you wiped yourself clean, forced yourself to pee, and gave yourself a good long look in the mirror.

In just one night, you had hit every base. By definition, a home run, in your book—and with your brother’s ‘cute friend,’ at that.

You were shocked to see Eren was still there when you returned to your bedroom. He had on his boxers and tee already, stepping into his sweatpants as you opened the door. He gave you a soft smile as you hopped into your bed.

Then, even more surprisingly, he asked, “Do you want me to stay?”

Eren knew he should leave unless he hoped to get caught. Still, he thought it was the right thing to say.

You giggled, “I think my brother would kill you if he found you in here.”

He laughed along with you, but when it settled, he crawled beneath your sheets anyway.

Though you felt uncertain about it, he consoled it away with, “Don’t worry. I’ll just hang here until you fall asleep.” You at least deserved that.

He turned the light off and let you rest your head against his chest, your arm looped around his waist. You didn't know where the urge to cuddle came from, and neither did he, but he didn't question it. It was comfortable, even as he waited for that pang of guilt to hit.

But it never did. And once he heard your breathing taper to a peaceful drone, he slipped out of your bed and snuck back down to the basement. That stupid air mattress felt a whole lot more comfortable now.

Finally, Eren had scratched the itch he couldn't kick, just to get it out of his system. Now, there was absolutely no way he'd think of you again—not that kittenish little smile nor how you curled against him in your sleep—and definitely not while you were three hours away at school…

Right?

✧ continue to part two ✧

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut

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piece-of-the-pie-if · 7 months

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Demo! 🍑 Directory! 🍑 Trigger Warnings! 🍑

It's the first day of senior year and the people are itching for some drama... apparently.

When you get caught slacking by your best friend and staring off into the abyss turns out to be resident cool kid Dylan Quinn you're dragged under in to the cess pool of love-based-drama that surrounds NYC's McKinley High.

Just as you're forced into a love triangle by the school's resident queen of mean, Kinsley Grace–Cameron, for the mere rumour of your supposed crush on Dylan, your least favourite teacher assigns you babysitting duties with the new guy, Shay Walker and the rebel-without-a-cause J Montgomery for your year long finals project──landing you with the starring role in the latest gossip mill.

How are you ever going to survive the graduating class of '25?

There's no murder, there's no magic, there's no monsters or ancient societies, no sci-fi future apocalypse, no treasure to find or deadly goons... just high school seniors navigating romance and maybe an asshole teacher and potential conspiracy theories.

Features! 🍑 FAQ! 🍑

romance one (or more*...) of five love interests! are you in touch with your feelings? could you be non-committal? do you fall hard and fast and with everyone?

customise your mc! from your appearance to your gender to your personality and your family relations!

overcome your senior year of school at Jackson McKinley High! are you studious or a slacker? do you care for popularity or are you content as a relative nobody?

get a job! in your family's bakery or your local café or something more unorthodox!

be the object of the rumour mill! does it feel like unwanted drama is following you? or do you live for it and actively feed into it?

+with five solo routes, two poly routes and two love triangles you have a plethora of choice! love triangles include──dylan and kinsley as well as dylan and theo while poly routes are as such──the cool crush and the mean girl, #kinslan──the new guy and the rebel, #jayne!

──*please note that this is a romance focused i.f and as such no set aro/ace/aroace route is present.

engage in the conspiracy theory surrounding your school! is your least favourite teacher dating your favourite teacher? is there actually a cannibal on the faculty? is there a reason for the sudden spike of suspensions?

Key Pieces! 🍑 [ LI Introductions! ]🍑

[RO] The ‘Crush’!──Dylan Quinn [gender locked─they/them─12/01/2006]

━@.dylquill

comforting smiles, playful eyes, paint stained clothes, chipped nail polish, chest binders, chalk covered fingers, messy hair, cluttered rooms, sculptural clay, dark hair, friendly words, genuine popularity, intense loyalty, unspoken understanding but silent judgement too.

[RO] The New Guy!──Shayne Walker [gender locked─he/him─04/04/2007]

━@.onlyshay

cheeky smirks and cheeky winks, ruffled hair, english accents, comedic timing, wide smiles, loudly laughing, wilting in silence, heartache for home, missing friends, curly brown hair, warm brown eyes, younger brother, older brother, everyday adventures, discovering new people, new places.

[RO] The Mean Girl!──Kinsley Grace–Cameron [gender locked─she/her─11/21/2006]

━@.kgracecameron/@.kinsleys_

shades of green and white, sun bleached blonde hair, cold blue eyes, sunblock tanned patterns, sickly sweet smiles, eye rolls, longing glances, hesitation in silence, secrets behind closed doors, heavy shoulders with a head held high, craving difference, stubborn to a fault.

[RO] The Rebel!──Jaxon/Jasmin Montgomery [gender selectable─he/him or she/her─06/17/2007]

━@.m0ntjax/@.m0ntjas

stick and poke tattoos, cigarette smoke, uncaring attitude, strong and silent type, doesn't know what a shirt is, bloody knuckles, sunglasses collections, secret book worm, borrowed vape pens, complicated family relations, exploding anger, protective older sibling, almost alcoholic, androgyny, short hair, italian heritage, intellectual depth, no regard for authority.

[RO] The Best Friend!──Theo Wesley [gender selectable─he/him, she/her or they them─09/30/2007]

━@.yelsewoeht

hair care as self care, cat parent, not-so-subtle pinning, rooftop picnics, friend dates, jazz cafés, plant parent, eco nerd, photos as memories, dark skin, coiled hair, far sighted glasses, people watching, balcony lover, bookshop worker, essays about love, hugs as a love language, suffer in silence type, made of money but would rather they weren't, smoking weed but only on the weekends, indescribable feeling of loneliness in a crowded room.

The Bestest Friend!──Chris/Chloe/Charlie West [gender locked─he/him, she/her or they/them─02/14/2007]

━@.east_coast_cw

The ‘Rival’!──Valory/Vinny Williamson [gender selectable─she/her or they/them─10/03/2007]

━@.victorywills

The Cool Teacher!──Easton/Estelle Bharti [gender selectable─he/him or she/her─05/19/1992]

The Asshole Teacher!──Nolan Thorp [gender locked─he/him─11/26/1978]

©️ bonnie berry 2023──@moretinyideas 🍑

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive story #choose your own adventure #cyoa #piece of the pie #piece of the pie if #potp if

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slvt4lanadelrey · 10 months

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Looking for the pretty firefighter | Tara Carpenter

Part One | Pretty Firefighter

Warnings: swearing, jealous Tara, mention of sex

Part one | The pretty firefighter

Part Three

Tara groaned, her head leaning into her open palm. She was sat in her lecture, English literature was extremely boring, especially when her mind was far too consumed with the memory of you.

It had been a few days since she met you, since she kissed you, since she was cursed with the plagueful memories of your laughter.

"Miss Carpenter, am I boring you?" The older man asked, slapping his hand onto her desk. The man was short, almost as short as Tara. He had thinning hair, the only remaining hair on his chin.

"Uh. No sir, I was just- just thinking about Romeo and Juliette." Tara lied through her teeth, smiling sweetly at the man. His face was scrunched in a scowl, his face softened at the confession.

"Oh. What's your views on the love story, dear?" He asked, returning back to the front of the class. Tara sighed, knowing full well she didn't have an option on the 'love' story.

"I just don't think it'd an actual love story. I mean, it's hard- maybe even impossible to fall in love with someone in only a few days, also Juliette was only a kid, isn't that legally and mortally wrong?" The class roared with their own opinions, debating whether Tara's views were right or wrong. The teacher was happy to engage with such a passionate topic, thanking Tara before she left.

Tara walked through the dining hall, Mindy's shoulder nudging into hers.

"You know that party we went to?" Mindy started, her face full of an unknown feeling. She clenched her fingers around her backpack strings, swaying on her feet.

"Well, that girl I hooked up with Anika. She's in my eco class, she gave me her number." Mindy's eyes flashed, practically jumping on her feet.

"Wait. That pretty firefighter is Anika's-" Tara didn't get the chance to finish, Mindy pushed her finger onto her lips.

"I already asked Anika, she said that the girl you hooked up with wants you to find her, something like that" Tara was left with a gap in her mouth, she stared wide eyes at Mindy.

"Seriously? I can't even remember her name!" Tara whined, sliding into the open chair next to Chad.

"Dont be sad, Tara. Her names Y/N." Chad chirped in, plopping the final spoon of yogurt into his mouth. Mindy giggled at how Tara's face lit up, exitment already laced within her features.

"Do you know her number too?" Tara asked with hope, she bit her bottom lip. Chad glanced at Mindy who shook her hair immediately.

"Sorry, Tara, Mindy has spoken." Chad was a little scared of Mindy so he was very much quick to stop talking the second Mindy asked.

"I cant believe you guys, I'm literally in love and you won't even give me her number." The whole group stopped, staring through the notes from their previous lesson. Tara blinked, then laughed awkwardly.

"I'm not in love with her. I just want to kiss her again." Tara mumbled through a breathless sigh, her eyes dropped to the floor.

"Fine.-" mindy slapped her hands together, standing infront of Tara. Mindy pressed her hands onto Tara's shoulders; shaking them slightly before leaning forward.

"Y/N has Art right now, In room 206." Mindy blinked.

Tara was already gone, her backpack tightly tugged over her shoulder, sprinting through the halls.

Her hand tugged open the door to the room Mindy told her you was currently in. To her great horror, the room was in full silence; nothing but the faint sound of paint brushing Into canvases.

"Hello?" The women asked, slamming her hand into her desk. The older ginger women with thick glasses stared at Tara with flaming eyes, glaring through her annoyance.

"Y/N needs to come with me right away, it's an emergency." You looked up at the sudden call out of your name, hair brushed into your face when your head whipped to the side. Tara was standing like a deer at headlights, eyes wide with agap mouth.

You chuckled, knowing Tara had just ran to you; literally.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Leah, I think I need to go." Your bag slugged over your shoulder, brushing through your classmates and leaving the room with a small click of the door.

"Hey, Tara." You smiled at her, acting like the two of you weren't strangers. Tara sighed, revelling at the sound of your sweet and soft voice.

"Your number." Tara all but begged, her hand holding out. She knew you wanted to know her too, so she wasn't about to waste her time beating around the bush.

"How romantic of you-" your snarky reply didn't go over Tara's head, she bit her lip before speaking again.

"Y/N. My heart has been gaping, seeping in pure agony each moment I have spent with the lack of your presence. I honesly think if I don't have the ability to get to know you better, to understand you on a more intimate level I don't think my heart will be able to take the pain, the torturous thoughts that riddle my mind whenever you are not near."

You sighed, writing down on your piece of paper. You wrote down your number, handing it to Tara with a tight smile.

"There, miss Romantic. My favourite flower's are dahlias, and I don't like chocolate." You kissed her cheek, giggling before taking off.

"Im taking you out tonight!" Tara shouted through the empty halls, smiling when your body stopped. You turned on your heel, staring at her with a daring smirk.

"I already have a date. Surprising how quick people act when they actually want to see you." Tara's mouth dropped, a snarl leaving her lips the second your body left her eyeshot.

She hit the near by wall, cursing the way you swayed your hips.

You knew damn well that Tara wanted to find you. The day after your hook-up, Tara had asked everyone in all her lessons if they knew you. Most of them didn't, the odd couple did but didn't say anything to the pleading brunette. You and Anika watched with amusement at how much trouble Tara brought, all in order to find you.

"Did you just punch a wall?" Mindy asked from behind Tara, watching with a worried face at how Tara was in such a sour mood suddenly.

"Fuck off."

#jenna ortega #jennaortega #lgbt #tara carpenter #wlw #vada cavell #lorraine day #Wednesday addams #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem #jenna ortega x fem!reader

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aireia · 2 months

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from the stars did your kindness bleed through. — you are a spy, he is a sorcerer, a student in the very place you plan on betraying, but he doesn't know that, because he'll fall for you, the same way you fell for him.

tw/cw: reader referred to with she/her. angst with little fluff. hurt no comfort. spy! reader. spying. mentions of blood. minor violence. blades. suicide/ self harm. death. injuries. lowercase intended. author's first language isn't english. wc: 7.5K

note: riko told me to rival her 6.2k word fic, so i'm pulling up with this. (i got carried away) —masterlist

entry snippet, september 5th.

gojo introduced us to a new student today. she seems a little bit like me, but she isn’t, at least that’s what our unreliable teacher told us.she hasn’t interacted much with itadori or kugisaki, even after their pestering. i’m guessing it’ll take a while for her to get used to the new faces. not that it concerns me anyway…

the sun didn’t shine very brightly the next day. grey clouds covered the skies, the winds were getting colder, the once green leaves on trees were turning into a mixture of yellows and browns. winter would be approaching in just a few months, which meant they’d soon have those nights again, where they’d get permission to stay at each other’s dorms and have sleepovers while trying not to burn the kitchen down by making ominous hot chocolate for each other.

that morning when the trio walked into class, they were greeted by you absentmindedly staring out the window at the falling leaves. no concentration to any surroundings, considering you didn’t even look at them when they came in. yuji was the first one to say something, loudly greeting you a good morning, followed by your name, hoping to catch your attention.

you looked over to the trio, trying to take note of their expressions.

itadori yuji, who seemed excited, waving with his arm in the air and a grin as if you were worlds apart and you wouldn’t have seen him if he didn’t.

kugisaki nobara, who waved with a smile on her face. the perfect mix of crazy and calm, you think.

and finally, fushiguro megumi, who had his arm raised in an attempt to wave, but instead looked like he was raising his hand to answer a question. his expression showed nothing, something between irritated and ‘why am i friends with these people again?’

he reminded you of yourself… in a way. probably not what you were thinking about him, but something about him. maybe it was keeping interactions at minimum with people he didn’t know much about… yea. you’ll keep it at that.

the hyper duo had walked up to your desk before you finished processing your own thoughts. itadori slammed both his hands on your table, causing some of your things to vibrate upon contact.

“so, y/n, where are you from? what grade are you?” he asked.

“i’m from osaka, and i’m a semi second grade sorcerer.” lies spilled from your mouth easier than when you breathed around them the day prior. being a spy meant having to detach your identity as a person, which also meant having to create layers and layers of lies about who you actually were.

right before the cheerful boy managed to get another question in, the door of the class flew open, and gojo walked into class with nothing but happiness and positivity surrounding his aura… he was about to send all of you on a mission. you knew, even if it was just a gut feeling.

a loud clap followed by details of a new case confirmed your suspicions. a simple investigation in shinjuku about an unidentified curse that had caused deaths and disappearances of innocent civilians, as well as injuring numerous others.

“i’ll be leaving the rest of the details to our trustworthy assistant director ijichi! he’ll be waiting for you at the entrance.” gojo finished his ‘speech’ before hurrying all of you out the door.

“that gojo…” ijichi silently sighed before beginning the mission brief.

“your task is to only collect information from the residents in a specific area of shinjuku, mainly the offices around schools.” ijichi stopped speaking, only continuing after a brief period of silence. “If you happen to run into any high grade curses, please don’t try to challenge it.”

“my heart can’t take this type of stress anymore…” ijichi sighed.

the four of you began the mission shortly after, around 10am in the morning. you began by questioning some of the residents. a lot of them seemed nervous the moment anyone in your group mentioned the curse, some even running away from you. most of them didn’t have any information either.

when noon rolled around and your efforts weren’t bearing any fruits, the four of you decided to split into two groups. nobara with yuji, you with megumi. after the split up, you and megumi continued the search for anyone that might have had any type of intel. you never expected him to speak to you first.

“l/n, right? let me be straightforward about this. why did you join jujutsu high school?”

“to spy on you, obviously,” but you couldn’t say that.

“to help others,” another lie slipped past your lips.

“...did principal yaga actually let you pass the interview with that answer..?”

“no, but i doubt you’d want to listen to the speech i memorised to get in. he told me to stop before i finished it,” you sighed, remembering the amount of struggle you faced a few days before the interview. you had to ensure you had a 100% chance of getting into the school, or you would’ve been a failure as a spy. who the hell failed a mission before it even began?

megumi looked at you with a bewildered expression, though quickly shook the look off his face as you approached an ice cream vendor near one of the high schools.

“recently, less and less people have come by to buy ice cream. a lot of those were kids who would come by to get a sweet treat after school, so i have noticed quite a few of those disappearances.” the vendor placed his fingers on his chin, thinking of the customers that he enjoyed speaking to, even if their interactions were limited.

“alright. thanks for your time,” you expressed your gratitude, even though the things that the vendor had said had helped you in your investigation in… absolutely no way possible.

just as you and the raven haired boy walked away, your phones rang. a message from yuji, reading, “we ran into one of the victims that managed to escape the cursed spirit!! apparently most of the victims are people who’ve lost or cut contact with their parents. they won’t tell us anymore about it.”

“that’s vile,” you thought to yourself.

“we should meet up with them and report back.”

“so, what do we do now?” nobara whined out of boredom. ever since reporting back, there hadn’t been much to do. you all had a free day, but nothing to fill said free day with.

“we should go watch human earthworm 4!”

“no.” nobara and megumi said in unison, wanting to avoid the movie at all costs.

“oh! y/n, we should go shopping together!” nobara suggested. and somehow against both yuji and megumi’s wills, you had all been dragged to go shopping.

nobara suggested that she helped you get a new wardrobe, which ended in you trying on multiple sets of clothes. nobara insisted that you got them, and forced megumi to carry your shopping bags even though you said it wasn’t needed and felt bad that he had to help.

the rest of the day went by with a blur, and you exited the mall after the four of you had a few photos taken in a photobooth.

“my child…” everyone was walking in front of you when you heard that voice. it sounded oddly familiar, and it was calling out to you. you whipped your head around to look for the source, but there wasn’t anyone there. the call of your names continued, and you strayed from the group to look for the source of the sound.

you were almost one hundred percent positive that it was the curse you had investigated the other day. why was it targeting you? and no one else in the group seemed to hear anything either.

eventually, you were led to an abandoned building. you could feel the cursed energy leaking from it, and there was a very pungent smell coming from the abandoned structure. you briefly wonder how no one has flagged the place for an investigation yet. maybe it was, and was ignored. who knows?

the voice continued to lure you closer to the building, eventually getting you into the building and up the slippery stairs, wet from the leaking pipes around the building. your footsteps echoed in the building, the sound of your breathing in your ears.

you walked up to a room with a closed door. a heavy stench seeping from the gaps of the door, even worse than when you were in front of the building. maybe coming here hadn’t been your best idea, but you were already this close, so why stop here?

you exhaled deeply before twisting the rusty knob open. you saw the dead. blood and corpses were by the spirit’s legs. its claws were digging into the flesh of the innocent, shaking the body as if trying to toy with it more.

the report you submitted was done a week ago, and the incident started way before this. these bodies had been rotting for weeks at least. assuming the cursed spirit in front of you killed all the people around it, you were going to be next.

you entered a defensive stance, hand on the handle of your weapon, ready to fight if it pounced on you. instead, you watched as it slowly turned its head towards you and walked towards you. your body tensed, but it didn’t seem to bear any hostility.

it held its hand out, taking one of your hands, and you found yourself unable to move. even when you screamed at yourself to get out of the way, you found yourself unable to resist as it dragged its fingers along your wrist, a thin line of red bleeding out.

“l/n, step back!” the familiar voice snapped you out of whatever trance you were in before the spirit in front of you was hit with a few nails.

“you’re just like fushiguro. you really should tell us more about yourself, you know?” nobara sighed, holding her hammer over her shoulder. “oi, i’m the one who noticed she disappeared in the first place,” megumi grumbled. you looked at his hands.

so that’s how they found you.

“if anything, she reminds me of when you first came to the city, kugisaki!” yuji chirped in, seeming laid back even in this situation. he turned to look at you. “you aren’t hurt anywhere else other than your hand, right?” you shook your head.

you looked at the spirit on the ground. it was a first grade at most, but it had been weakened significantly, probably even before you arrived. it wasn’t long before you exercised it, with some degree of resistance.

as the three of them prepared to leave, you walked towards one of the dead bodies and crouched down, placing your hand over them.

while yuji and nobara had already left, megumi was curious about what you were doing. you got up and exhaled when he asked. “i don’t know if it works on those who’ve already passed, but usually, my cursed technique allows me to grant people on the verge of death a better demise.”

“it overrides the brain and erases any and all memories they have in exchange for peace, and a painless goodbye.”

“those two are probably waiting for us. we should report back.”

when you got back to your dorm, you took the picture out and stared at it. more people that you couldn’t be friends with, but they had saved you earlier… maybe you’d get it framed just to decorate your dorm.

you looked at your injured arm, which had been bandaged, and closed your eyes.

yuji itadori is physically gifted, a guy born with a set moral standard. his mental game is easily shaken, but that might change in the future. he has a ton of room for improvement. that’s what makes him scary.

nobara kugisaki is strong-willed, a woman born by the countryside. she cares for others the way she cares for herself, and doesn’t like showing her affected mental state to the world. she’s strong in her own way, and that’s just the type of person she is.

weeks passed by quickly. you continued gathering as much information as possible, while growing closer to your classmates. yuji often told you to cover up for the pranks he pulled, nobara would invite you out to go shopping with her, and you and megumi enjoyed reading together.

one morning, you saw megumi sitting by the benches eating alone. right, yuji and nobara had recently been dispatched on missions. you realised early on that you preferred to be with megumi out of everyone.

maybe it was his personality that drew you in? the both of you were paired up on missions often, so maybe the fact that you were partners helped develop your trust in each other… when he shouldn’t be trusting you at all. or perhaps it was the way he put you first instead of himself.

megumi is a selfless person that might not seem caring at first glance, but actually does in his own way. he holds back a lot, and has a mind matured enough to compare to that of a man twice his age, though lets loose around people he can truly find comfort in. that was the conclusion you came to about his character.

you walked towards him, hoping to be able to make small talk with him. instead, you were called upon by someone right before you got to him.

“so this is the location?” you and megumi had been informed of a cave infested with multiple third and fourth grade spirits. your job was simple. take care of them and go home.

“yea. be careful,” you said, gripping your weapon tightly.

you and megumi stepped into the cave, almost immediately registering that there was something wrong. a veil was lowered. were such low grade spirits capable of such a thing? you gulped and looked around. just the herds of lowly graded cursed spirits around. no signs of anything else.

“be careful.”

the both of you managed to make quick work of the spirits. a few scrapes, sure, but you were overall uninjured. now, there was only one problem. every last spirit in sight had been exorcised by you and megumi, but the veil wasn’t lifting. something was still there, and you both knew.

something in your senses clicked. “fushiguro, jump out of the way!” you screamed at him. there was something underneath you, and megumi had dodged just quick enough to not be drilled and split into two halves.

a drop of sweat rolled down the side of megumi’s face. how would he deal with this? his first thought was to have you distract it while he attacked, but that would probably be useless and would put you and him in too much danger.

“fushiguro! focus!” megumi lifted his head up, and you were in front of him. you had blocked a direct strike for him. he needed to concentrate. this wasn’t like the spirit you had dealt with at the abandoned building, where it showed little to no hostility, and had been weakened.

“are you back in your game yet?” you breathed out, the tiredness from blocking the attack and dealing with the earlier curses starting to kick in.

megumi took one look at your expression and hummed. there was something about it he couldn’t read, but he can’t let his thoughts consume him now.

you aren’t allowed to die here.

the both of you observed the curse for a little longer while simultaneously dodging its attacks. it primarily dug underground to attack, which made it hard to predict where its location was. the only warning sign was the rumbling of the ground before it drilled back up, which made it just a little easier to dodge.

it could blast balls of pure cursed energy, and with each dodge meant the interior of the cave was crumbling. you’d have to look out for falling rocks and stray boulders.

its weak point was probably somewhere other than its head, considering it used it to dig into places.

you shot glances at each other before megumi summoned his demon dogs to attack it from behind. “i have your back.”

you and megumi took turns switching on offence and defence. the one on offence would deal attacks to the cursed spirit, while the one on defence would watch out for oncoming attacks and destroy any rocks that were falling from the ceiling of the cave.

the plan worked well for the both of you. the uncertainty of when the both of you would switch out confused the curse, making it more vulnerable to your attacks. once you felt that the curse was confident on when you’d switch, you and megumi delivered one final attack to it together, letting it fall with a thump.

“is it over?” you heaved, your hand over your chest. a sudden realisation hit. the veil hasn’t been dropped. that meant–

“l/n, look out!” megumi pushed you out of the way before he got hit by a shot of pure cursed energy. you hear the sound of his body smashing against the rough walls, and his coughing afterwards. you looked towards megumi and briefly saw him cough blood out. you’re hoping he didn’t take the impact head first.

you narrowly managed to escape another blow just when your eyes snapped back onto the weakened, but still active cursed spirit. it can be exorcised in a single blow.

you rushed towards it and drove your weapon through its body as hard as possible, twisting, and slicing right through it. it’s as good as dead. you stared at the splatters on the floor that used to be a cursed spirit. you don’t have time for this.

turning your head away from the remains of your enemy, you focused your attention to megumi who was bloodied and injured. he was resting against the stone walls of the cave, and you could hear his heavy pants and breaths. you gulped and looked at his leg. it had stopped bleeding, the crimson now staining his leg.

you ripped a part of your uniform before crouching in front of megumi to tend to the wound. your eyes showed almost no emotion in the face of the situation, yet your trembling lips gave yourself away. you weren’t supposed to care for them, and yet here you were helping one of your targets.

you only spoke up once you finished bandaging his wound with the makeshift bandage.

“why would you do that?” you had unintentionally let your emotions slip. megumi looked at you tiredly. “just returning the favour. i would’ve gotten hurt if you hadn’t blocked the attack at the start of our battle.”

“fushiguro-” you started, quickly being cut off by megumi. “i know what you’re about to ask me,” he coughed a few times before he continued to speak. “you’re assuming i’m going to die? you’re cruel, you know?”

you tried to find words to speak, yet all you could say was a “no, i’m not,” turning your head away to not meet his gaze.

“i would kill myself if i died on you now,” he confessed, closing his tired eyes.

“and besides, you’re all i really want to think of right now.”

megumi went completely silent afterwards, and you heard soft breathing coming from him, compared to the heavy breaths from just a few minutes prior.

the next time he awoke, you were asleep, your head in your arms by his bedside. he felt a little sluggish, but his wounds had been properly bandaged and he was fine, aside from some soreness. you on the other hand, looked exhausted. there were creases on your forehead as you slept, and dark circles under your eyes.

there was a plate of food wrapped up on his nightstand, with a note stuck to it. “we make a good team.”

only after did he learn from shoko that you had completely gone against her instructions of two days of bed rest, and spent the time taking care of him instead.

“you still couldn’t have brought something more digestible?” megumi eyed the three of you, who had brought pizza to him. something that probably wasn’t nutritious enough for a patient in recovery.

“if you don’t want it, i’ll help myself!” the pink haired male took a slice of the pizza and began feasting on it. “oh, and since we’re already here, let’s just have our sleepover at fushiguro’s!” “itadori, talk after you’re done eating!” nobara shuddered at the sight of the food in his open mouth, while megumi looked as if he were about to kick everyone out of his room.

“we are not having a sleepover in my room,” megumi said in a deadpan voice, though the annoyance was evident on his face. “we can’t have it anywhere else because you aren’t permitted to leave your room, fushiguro,” you joined in on itadori’s suggestion.

“hypocrite,” megumi thought.

“alright it’s settled, we’ll have it here!” nobara clasped her hands together in victory, earning a sigh from megumi. “i still haven’t agreed to this,” he grumbled.

december 21st.

it’s cold outside. the temperatures have dropped significantly ever since the day you stepped foot into jujutsu tech. currently, you, alongside two of your classmates, were camping in megumi’s room. you had to admit, with so many people, the room considered spacious for one person became cramped.

you were sitting on megumi’s bed with a mug of hot chocolate in hand as you watched nobara and yuji fight over what they wanted to put into each other’s drinks. you found their sibling dynamic entertaining. megumi on the other hand, looked at you with softness in his eyes. the both of you had grown a lot closer compared to the first day you met. you were grateful for that.

maybe not in the right way, but at least you knew he was your friend, right?

the night went on with both chaos and comfort. yuji had suggested playing cards at one point, and he lost just about every single round. monopoly was going great until megumi somehow dominated the game so hard that the banker had to borrow money from him.

“i’m telling you fushiguro, it’s just this once! i’ll pay you back!” “you’ve said that about three times, itadori.”

you certainly weren’t in any place to laugh, and neither was nobara, since the both of you were basically hanging onto a thin thread, and if by any chance you landed on anyone’s property other than your own, you would’ve been out of the game from bankruptcy.

but you laughed anyway.

the night ended with all of you (except megumi) in your respective sleeping bags with extra blankets in case it got cold. it was quiet. too quiet, even with yuji’s snoring and nobara’s breathing. maybe that’s why you couldn’t fall asleep.

you slowly sat up, careful not to make too much noise. you looked at the clock on megumi’s nightstand. 11:47pm, thirteen minutes till midnight.

“can’t sleep?” a quiet and soft voice invaded your ears, and you looked over to megumi. he was lying down on his bed, staring out into the bushes and trees, which had been covered in a thin layer of snow. as a response, you shook your head and got up to sit on his bed. the both of you sat in silence for a while before you spoke up.

“fushiguro, you like the stars, right? wanna go stargazing on the roof?”

“are you crazy? it’s freezing outside.”

“we can use blankets.”

“have you forgotten that my leg’s still injured?”

“i’ll carry you up.”

that was how you found yourself sitting on the rooftops with a thick blanket around your shoulders. the stars shone brighter tonight. the cold winter wind that breezed by you every once in a while made you shiver. you looked up at the moon, it was full tonight. although the moon didn’t have an expression, you were sure it was smiling down at you and the raven haired boy sitting next to you.

come to think of it, even without exchanging a lot of words, you’d argue that you were closest to megumi out of all your classmates. when you first met him, you saw him as the moon, someone like yourself. yet you realised over the months that if you had to describe him, you’d have to say he were the stars. so pretty, yet disregarded by many as something outshone by the moon.

“y/n,” megumi’s voice broke through the comfortable silence, and you looked over at him. he had a small smile on his face. you felt him shuffle closer to you. maybe it was getting cold? the wind was getting stronger, afterall.

“yes?” megumi looked at the moon once more, then back at you. “the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” the words reached your ears, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “and what of the sunset?” you questioned him back, feelings hidden behind your eyes and the convincing smile you put on your face.

“the sunset? i dislike it. the rays of the sun blind me too much for me to appreciate it as much as others do.” the sound of your soft laughter reached his ears again when he finished his sentence. “is that so…” you rested your head on his shoulder and looked towards the skies, some of the stars now covered by clouds. “really? i think the moon is beautiful too, but i’m the opposite. i prefer sunsets over moonrises.” you continued, one of your hands inching closer to him and eventually resting on top of his hand.

you exhaled deeply before lifting your head up. “fushiguro, what time is it?” he looked at you with confusion before answering. “a little bit past midnight, i’m guessing.” “oh.”

“may i kiss you?”

your question caught megumi off guard. it was expected, considering it came out of nowhere. a familiar warmth creeped up his face, and the hand on top of his now seemed to weigh heavier as you looked at him, awaiting an answer. he slowly nodded, and you leaned in to press your lips against his. the kiss was short and sweet, the light of the stars shining down upon him as you did.

“fushiguro-”

“don’t call me by my last name.” you smiled when he said those words.

“happy birthday, megumi.”

nobara eyed the both of you suspiciously, looking you up and down. “you guys could at least try to keep it down when you’re climbing onto the roof. i need my sleep,”

“i thought i was being quiet. my bad,” you apologised sheepishly. the brunette looked clearly annoyed before she sighed and let it go.

“sorry,” megumi said to you. “why are you saying sorry?” you shot him a confused look.

“we would’ve been quieter if you didn’t have to carry me.”

“oh, thaaattt,” you dragged your words out. “don’t feel bad. you were worth it.”

“how about you come with me to the cliffs sometime? maybe in the next few days? there’s a great view of the ocean and sky from there, and it’s more secluded.” the invitation fell from your lips before you even processed it.

a rare smile appeared on megumi’s face. “alright.”

“what are you two doing?! we have a mission soon, hurry up!”

he kept to his word. you and megumi ended up going stargazing together so often that yuji and nobara started questioning if you were going on dates. to them, it was blatantly obvious that you two liked each other. hell, even the both of you knew. it was just that none of you had confessed yet.

megumi always felt warmth when you guys would go together, pointing out constellations and shapes of the clouds when you did.

you on the other hand, felt the spark between you grow stronger the first few times. you tried your hardest to suppress the rising guilt. afterwards however, you spiralled deeper and deeper into the guilt you felt as a spy. you were never supposed to fall in love with him, and yet you couldn’t help but do exactly that.

you wanted– no, needed to get rid of your feelings for him. you would never want it, but you’d need it in order to get over him.

you began growing more distant. it was hard, slowly excluding yourself from hangouts and ignoring them more and more, day by day. you felt terrible. every second away from them felt agonising. you’d push them away, dismissing their help.

the fact that they noticed your distance made it feel even worse. you were going to betray them, and everything you had built up for four months, their trust, friendship, it would crumble.

you’d complete your mission and switch identities again. anyone you’ve met here won’t matter anymore once you disappear. that’s what you reminded yourself.

january 25th.

“oh, you’re here,” you approached megumi from behind, sitting down beside him. the skies were dyed with violet and orange hues, the sunset that megumi had once described to be too bright.

“i was waiting for you. you’ve been quite distant lately.”

“i thought you said you hated the sunset?” you asked, changing the subject to avoid the question. “don’t try to change the subject, y/n. answer me, please, tell me what’s going on.” you could hear the alarms in your mind go off. you wanted to get up and run away. hell, you should’ve never succumbed to the burning feelings in your heart over your mind.

“it’s really nothing. i’ve just been more busy lately, i guess,” a lie rolled off your tongue again.

megumi sighed. he could tell you were lying, but he didn’t want to push it. “you said the sunset was pretty. i thought the other day that maybe it was because i never took the time to appreciate it, but…”

“hm?” you hummed, looking at megumi.

“i still can’t see why you like it that much. i still prefer the night skies better.”

the soft laughter you let out afterwards had goosebumps pricking on his skin. he watched as the light of the sun glowed on your skin, and you looked at him. “i personally prefer the sunset…”

“but if you like the stars that much, i’ll be sure to hate the sun and love stars the next time i’m reborn.”

a light shade of red appeared on megumi’s face, and he turned to look away from you. in reality though, he’s glad. there’s the girl he fell in love with. “you don’t have to do that. we can like what we want.”

“and i want to be able to truly love the stars.” you said, your tone sullen.

night fell not long after, but there was no moon that night. the waves underneath you didn’t seem calm either. it was especially cold this winter night, and you and megumi found yourselves bidding goodbye to each other in front of the dorms earlier than you expected.

mental entry, january 25th.

i wasn’t planning on seeing megumi at the cliffs today, but he was there. i was planning on spending the last day at jujutsu high alone. megumi and i really are alike. It’s a fault on my part, i guess. i grew too attached to them.

i don’t want to do this anymore.

you gulped, and just before he was out of earshot, you called out to him, grabbing his attention. he turned around to look at you, only for you to mumble a “nevermind” before quickly apologising and running back to your dorm. you couldn’t bear to tell him.

megumi was confused. why’d you suddenly call out for him? he decided not to dwell too much on it and went to bed. and the more he thought about it, the more he felt as if he had lost the chance to speak to you about something important, because you disappeared the next day.

you stopped going to classes, training, and you weren’t responding to texts either. any calls were immediately sent to voicemail, and other than the picture that the four of you took at the mall months prior, which was framed on your nightstand, your dorm had been completely emptied out.

megumi was the last person to see you.

the week following your disappearance, it was raining every day. although the higher-ups had confirmed to have launched an investigation for you, megumi was sure that they were looking into things much deeper than just your status as a missing student. he just wasn’t sure what it was.

the first day you were introduced to them, he felt that you were different in a way. was this connected to it?

the higher-ups had also told the first years to not worry, and that they’d take care of it. as if they’d ever listen. they had discussions every single day about where you might’ve gone, if you were okay or not, and why they couldn’t see signs of this earlier.

they got confirmation shortly after that there were no signs of cursed energy from your dorm. it was as if you had never existed, and had it not been for the pictures you’d taken together, along with the texts you’d exchanged with each other, he probably would’ve believed it.

february 26th.

JUJUTSU HEADQUARTERS NOTICE

one, y/n l/n has been confirmed to be sharing confidential information to third party sources. she has hereby been expelled from both jujutsu high and the jujutsu realm as a sorcerer.

two, the penalty of the crimes committed by y/n l/n is death. the execution will be carried out promptly.

three, second grade sorcerer megumi fushiguro will serve as the executioner for y/n l/n’s death penalty.

a full month after your disappearance, a notice was released by jujutsu headquarters.

megumi’s head was pounding. he had just returned from a meeting with the higher-ups, and throughout the entire time he was in front of them, he wished for nothing more than for whatever you were accused of to be false. he was hyperventilating, his face in his hands. megumi swore he heard loud footsteps outside his room before loud knocks echoed through his room.

“fushiguro, open up!” the familiar voices of his classmates rang in his ears. no. as much as he wished to find comfort in his friends, he didn’t want them to see him in such a terrible state, so why did his legs move to help him stand and walk towards the door?

megumi doesn’t know whether to regret or to thank his decision of opening the door. his mind couldn’t register that it was yuji who placed his calloused hands on his shoulders and told him to snap out of it. even when they questioned him for details about you, whether he knew about your intentions, and if it was the reason you had grown distant the few weeks before you vanished, he answered vaguely. all he could think of was that it was over. you’re gone, and you’re never coming back.

megumi wanted to run into the pouring rain and let it wash his soul away so he wouldn’t have to face reality. he wished he’d wake up and realise it was all just a dream, and he could still see your face when he walked out of the dorm in the morning. he remembers the words of the higher-ups so clearly, he was to carry out the execution without delay. he wants to be selfish and give the responsibility to either nobara or yuji, yet the better part of him stopped him from doing so. he can’t do that to them. for once, megumi wished that he would stop loving you.

that night, megumi had trouble falling asleep. he found himself tossing and turning in bed, his head constantly clouded with the many things that would follow this incident. it felt like hours before he managed to go to sleep.

he saw you, right there by the cliffs. you were looking at the sunset again. now that he thought about it, how many of the things you’ve told him were lies?

megumi walked towards you, standing beside you as he watched the sunset with you.

“megumi, i understand why you dislike the sunset now,” you said to him, earning a puzzled look from him. “i thought you loved the sunset?” he asked. the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks reached his ears, and you turned your head to look at him.

“it really is too bright. it doesn’t suit me.” you replied.

“megumi, have you regretted it yet?” you questioned him back, and he gulped. “regretted what, exactly?”

“us.”

megumi wanted to say yes. he did regret it. he regretted that he loved someone whose purpose was to eventually betray and leave him. yet, his answer was stuck in his throat, and he said he never did. not for a second did he feel that you weren’t worth his time. he looked towards the horizon, where the sun had now fully set, then at the sky, where the moon was supposed to be, and finally, back at you.

“you made me fall in love with the moon.” you chuckled at his answer.

“i thought you loved the moon from the start.” a brief silence ensued. one that felt comfortable. something he couldn’t feel for the past month when you were brought up.

“would you let me substitute the moon in your sky?” your voice pierced through the silence, and he responded almost instantly.

“always.”

a content smile appeared on your face. “i’m glad.”

megumi’s eyes fluttered open, the sun shining in his eyes. the male rubbed tried to rub the sleep in his eyes away, only to be met with a damp feeling. tears? what was that about? his mind was hazy, and he swore he dreamt, but he couldn’t remember what it was about.

he could remember the curve of someone’s lips. yours? yea, it was. even if he went through hundreds of lives, he doesn’t think he’d mistake someone else’s smile for yours.

he didn’t have time to think about that. through the hours of lost sleep, he had convinced himself he was ready to serve his role as an executioner, and he had a feeling in his gut he knew where you were already. at the place he had refused to visit. his mind told him that you had been going there every single day, waiting for him.

“you’re finally here.” megumi could feel his heart clenched as he heard your words, and the eerie silence that followed creeped him out. you had a smile on your face, arms behind your back as you looked at him.

“why aren't you moving?” you turned your body to look at him and spread your arms out. “you need to do your job, megumi.” the smile on your face dropped when you noticed he wasn’t going near you. there were no signs that his shikigami were active either.

one step, two steps, you walked towards him instead. a part of you felt as if you were walking towards your death. you felt him flinch when you used a hand to cup his cheek. his skin felt cold and slightly damp to the touch. he had been sweating. you looked down. his blade was just inches away from your stomach.

you took his expression in, and you couldn’t help but hold back your laughter. megumi’s eyes widened when you suddenly laughed. he felt guilty for loving it. was it genuine? or another one of the things you did as a spy to toy with his feelings?

“megumi, you’ve grown attached too, huh?” it only dawned on him then that you felt just as guilty for everything you were.

“do you know what would’ve happened if you sold us out?” megumi spoke with poison laced in his tone, and a lump formed in your throat. “the world would’ve weeped for your sins, y/n.” your expression dropped completely. “i know that better than you do, and here i am, giving you a chance to end my life. yet, you’re hesitating,” you retort back.

“so hurry up already.” you looked at him with sharp eyes, looking for any signs that he might finally give in to the orders given to him. megumi’s hands trembled as he tightened his grip around the handle of his sword. “it’s not that easy to just…” he groaned loudly.

“megumi, do you want to know why they chose you to execute me instead of anyone else?” you sighed and stared directly into his eyes. “they knew i would have resisted had it been anyone else but you.”

your hands went to wrap around his. then, you slowly pry his fingers off his blade and inspect it for yourself. “you sharpened your blade. were you hoping to finish me off in a single strike?” megumi almost choked on air in response, and nodded.

your eyes softened. “how nice of him,” you thought.

“how about this?” you stepped further away from him and pointed the sword at your skull. “i’ll be the one to carry out my own execution. then,” you pointed your finger at him. “you won’t have to bear the burden of killing me.” you could hear megumi’s heavy breaths. it seemed that reality had yet to crash into him when he first found you here. “megumi,” you whispered as you took one final look at him, “i think you know better than i that i wasn’t trying to give you an option.” you gripped the sharpened blade and winced at the pain as your hands bled, then flashed him a quick smile before you slashed your eyes.

you groaned, holding back the scream threatening to release itself in an attempt to sooth the pain in your eyes. you had no right after all the hurt you’d caused. you couldn’t open your eyes. it hurt like hell, but you didn’t want to see the look on his face either. you convinced yourself it was worth it.

megumi felt as if he were frozen during the entire duration of your encounter with him. what was he doing? he was spiralling into his own thoughts, and here you were, handling your own execution because he was too much attached and too much in love with you.

every nerve and muscle in your body seemed to scream at you as you gripped the handle of megumi’s sword tight. even then, your ears couldn’t mistake the heavy footsteps of your beloved as he ran towards you just as his blade pierced your abdomen. his scream rang through your ears when crimson spilled from your wound.

ah, it seemed that blinding your eyes wasn’t enough to keep yourself from thinking of his panicked expression and guilt ridden face.

then, everything went black. you weren’t sure how long you were out for. a few seconds, perhaps a few minutes? your entire body stung, as if you were laying in a tangle of thorned roses. one thing was for sure, you were dying.

you felt something soft under your head instead of the grassy surface the rest of your body laid on. “megumi…?” your voice sounded tired and hoarse. “is that you?” there was a brief period of silence that made you doubt his presence, but a hum from him confirmed that he was indeed still there. a smile tugged at your face even through all the ache.

“i can’t see right now. look up.” megumi looked up, and realised today was the beginning of a new moon. he could barely see anything. “could you tell me what the moon looks like?”

“a blood moon. it looks as if roses had bloomed on the moon.” liar.

“it’s not good to lie, megumi. but it’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“very.”

you didn’t exchange any words to each other for a period of time after that. by now, your breathing had calmed down, and everything around you seemed hot and cold at the same time. something in you told you to let go of your consciousness, and another part wished you’d stay awake longer to feel megumi’s touch. be a little selfish, you told yourself.

you shakily reached your hand up towards the skies. you balled up your fist, a part of your childish mind hoping you had caught a star.

megumi could hear his heart thumping in his chest, and he pulled your body closer to him. he thought to himself, even if there had been that satellite in the sky, his moon was going to stop shining soon. he couldn’t help but wonder if the stars in your sky had burnt themselves out.

maybe all of them, except for the one that willingly let the moon outshine it.

“y/n, can’t you use your technique to give yourself a better death?” megumi asked, his hand supporting the weak, quivering fist you held up, his thumb brushing your knuckles.

“i can,” you replied back without hesitation.

“but i’d have to erase everything that’s in my mind. and besides,” you flashed him a pained toothy grin.

“you’re all i really want to think of right now, megumi.”

by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.

fun fact: i actually invested sm into this fic i made sketches of the one of the curses

#signed by aireia!#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi fushiguro #jjk x reader #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk imagines #megumi fushiguro x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #this took 11 days to write believe it or not #also the first thing i uploaded in 3 weeks #how is everyone :D

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i-am-baechu · 9 months

Text

♬ Summary: Jungkook is proud that Y/N is his girlfriend and he of course lets the world know how much he loves her.

♬ Pairing: Established relationship; Jungkook x reader

♬ Rating: Explicit (18+)

♬Genre: Established relationship, comedy, angst?, fluff, and smutish

♬ Warnings: Smut angst(ish) and fluff (lol)

♬ Part of, ‘ His Fan Girl

♬ Authors note: Time jump like I know the story isn’t here yet but I couldn’t help myself lol

After being with Y/N for a while, Jungkook already knew her reaction to the song. Y/N always got mad (flustered) at him for sharing things with his members about their love life but she also thought it was cute. When Jungkook told her that he was working on his solo album, he lied to her. The lie wasn’t big but he just said he was going to do a love song for her and she couldn’t help but fall for him more. The song had two versions to it, normal (for Y/N) and explicit (for Jungkook); problem solved. The only thing he wasn’t looking forward to was Y/N scolding him.

Y/N sat in the studio watching Jungkook sing away in the booth and she couldn’t help but smile at him. She loved watching him sing because of how passionate he was about it. He opened his eyes and gave her his bunny smile letting her know he was truly happy. He put his headphones on the stand and walked outside. He gave her the hand motion to come here and she tilted her head at him. She placed her laptop on the couch and said her sorrys to the producers who just gave her a smile. She stood under Jungkook and gave him a confused look, “Is everything okay?”

He nodded his head and leaned down, giving her a quick kiss, “I just wanted a kiss from you.”

Her face felt hot and she glanced at the producers who weren’t even paying attention to them, “Yo-You can’t just kiss me in front of them...”

“Why? You don’t want my love?”

She slapped his chest gently and crossed her arms over her chest, “T-That’s not what I meant and you know that.” She looked over his body to look at the stand and a soft smile appeared, “You're doing a good job. Your English has improved, I’m proud of you.”

He kissed her forehead at this and nodded his head, “It was all because of you. You're a great teacher, you know.”

“I-I tried my best...Are you almost done?”

“Almost, can you wait another hour?”

“Of course, I can. I just need to look over the reports from work.”

He nodded his head and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m sorry you have to wait for me.”

“Eh? It’s okay, Kook. I’m glad I can spend time with you.”

Another reason why he loved Y/N. She was always patient with him and just wanted to be with him regardless of what it was. He also knew she struggled in her life. She had clinical depression and there were days when it was so hard for her to function. It hurt him to see her like that because no matter what he did, she stayed the same. She always felt bad for doing this to him but he understood.

“Baby, are you okay?”

Y/N looked up from there to give him a small smile, “I will be...”

He gave her a small frown and sat on the bed. He grabbed her hand, rubbing her knuckles gently, “Are you having another episode?”

She sighed and nodded her head, “I am...I don’t know why though. I know you wanted to go on a date today but I don’t know...I don’t know if I can. I-I’m sorry.”

“I wish I could take the weight off of your shoulders.”

She gave him a small smile and leaned into his body, “I love you...”

“I love you more.”

Her shy nature made intimate moments between the two even better. Jungkook still couldn’t believe that she was a virgin when they met and that she didn’t really have experience with a boyfriend. It made his heart flutter to know that he was her first and her last. It was an honor that he will carry for the rest of his life. There were moments when she had to push Jungkook out of bed to go to work or even to stop him from having another round. He just couldn’t get enough of her. How could he? She was everything he wanted and more, a blessing even.

“Yo-Your fingertips are cold...”

“Let me warm them up then.” He slid his hand down her stomach to her entrance. He shoved two fingers in and she arched her back off of the bed. He looked down at her red face and couldn’t help his heart beat faster. She looked so cute even though they were doing something sinful.

He brought his head down to her breast and started sucking at her nipple making her moans even louder. He backed away and grabbed the condom off of the bed but she noticed he was different tonight. He looked nervous and she kind of knew why. She gently brought his head into her chest and kissed the side of his head, “Kookie~, It will be okay. I know your solo will be good.”

He pulled away and looked down at her and gave her a soft smile, “I love you.”

“And I love you more.”

He placed the condom on his cock and gave her another smile, “I don’t think you understand...I love you so much.”

He intertwined their fingers together next to her head and thrust into her. She let out a moan and he leaned down letting her moan into his mouth, “Kook~!”

Their tongues swirled each other and he opened his eyes to peek at her. Her face was so red that he could feel the heat off of it and with her eyes closed, it made her look so innocent. He kept thrusting into her as he placed kisses on her neck, “You give me strength...”

Today was release day. Y/N and Jungkook were in New York for him to perform at Good Morning and she was so excited to see it. She was going to be in a special area making sure no one could see her. This was the second thing on her mind, the first thing on her mind was just seeing him perform. They sat in the hotel with her laptop on the bed as she looked at him with a smile, “Are you excited?”

He gave her a nervous smile and laugh, “I’m not sure...”

She leaned forward placing a kiss on the tip of his nose, “I’m excited. You didn’t let me come with you to the filming...I’m still upset about that, you know.”

He rolled his eyes and brought her in to sit on his lap with her laptop in hers. He kissed the side of her head and chuckled, “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You know I don’t like surprises...”

“Too bad.”

She glanced at the time and looked up to see him already looking down, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I am.”

She pressed play and she watched it as he played with her fingers. She laughed at some parts and rolled her eyes. When the video was over, she turned her body so she could straddle his waist with a goofy smile, “This just shows how clingy you are...”

“Clingy for you only baby.”

The autoplay on youtube went to the next song and she glanced to see what was playing. She turned her whole body and she squinted at the screen, “JUNGKOOK! WHY DOES THIS SAY EXPLICIT!”

He felt sweat forming on his forehead as he let out a small laugh, “I-It’s nothing.”

I'll be fuckin' you right, seven days a week. She glared at the screen with her mouth open and her face blazing. She shut her laptop and let out a groan as she brought her hands to cover her face, “Why did you make that!?”

He pouted at her and wrapped his arms around her waist, “Because I love you, plus the world knows I have a girlfriend. They know I’m talking about you.”

“Th-They don’t know it's me! OH MY GOD, THE GUYS ARE GONNA LISTEN TO THIS AND KNOW!!”

Jungkook let out a laugh and kissed her cheek, “I kiss your waist and ease your mind..”

“NOT NOW JUNGKOOK! SINGING WON’T GET YOU OFF THE HOOK!”

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts jungkook #bts namjoon #bts seokjin #bts taehyung #bts jimin #bts yoongi #bts x reader #bts hoseok #bts #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #his fan girl #bts social media au

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he-goes-down · 4 months

Text

MASTERLIST 🫶

REQUESTS: OPEN

Very slow request finishing as school is starting up and tests are hectic

might take ages cus i procrastinate

English aint my first language

I go by what im feeling that day for writing requests sorry.

I ALSO NEVER EDIT FOR SHIT

Fics:

There Was A Time - GNR

Something Stupid - GNR-shortstory

Estranged - GNR - fantasy -an idea

Shit posts:

Guns ‘n Poese - GNR - might be made in like 2 years time

Gnr mermaids - guide on how to do it - on hiatus for about maybe 2 years max

Requests:

Over 40 😥requests in the making (some not shown here cus im lazy)

Chosen by spin the wheel

Smut

Angst

Fluff

Although I mostly do smuts as they’re easier to write

Will:

- male reader cus im one too

- threesomes, foresomes, whole ass country (jokes)

- harder things like bondage ect

Wont:

- dont do ships just cus they aren’t my thing

Axl Rose:

Human Nature

Speedin’ Back To My Baby

Please - in drafts

Big Man With A Gun - in drafts

Wichita Lineman - in drafts

Thriller - in drafts

My Kinda Lover - in drafts

Burning Heart - in drafts

Slash:

Love Lies

Cant Fight This Feeling - in drafts

Underwear -in drafts

Give me Love - in drafts

Gimmie More - in drafts

Highway Tune - in drafts

Duff Mckagan:

Turbo Lover

Break On Through

Tenderness

Need you tonight - in drafts

Within you - in drafts

Sunspots - in drafts

Black Velvet - in drafts

Water - in drafts

Slither - in drafts

S&M - in drafts

Cum On Feel The Noize - in drafts

Crazy in Love - in drafts

For Crying Out Loud - in drafts

Izzy Stradlin:

Photograph

Too funky

Run to you - in drafts

Come On Now Inside - in drafts

Big Love - in drafts

Hot For Teacher - in drafts

Girls on film - in drafts

Hard to get away I’m sorry/ get away - makes me wanna die inside from sadness so might take time

Steven Adler:

End Of The Night

Addicted To Love

Obsession

Excitable - in drafts

Out Of Touch - in drafts

Bad Medicine - in drafts

(I Just) Died In Your Arms- in drafts

Multiple:

DuffxrxIzzy:

Wild Child

Pretty Tied Up (wild child pt2) -in drafts

My Best Friend’s Girl - (Turbo Lover pt2) in drafts

DuffxrxSlash:

Our Last Summer

IzzyxrxSteven:

Sweet Surrender - in drafts

Allxr:

In The Still Of The Night - stumped

Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah) - in drafts

Fantasy:

V! - vampire W! - werewolf

Blood That Moves The Body -V!IzzyxrxW!Slash

Lullaby - V!Izzy

The Walk - V!Axl

-in drafts

Lovesong -V!Steven

-in drafts

Crossover:

IzzyxrxJulianCasablancas:

Reptile

IzzyxrxDaveMustaine:

Rock You Like A Hurricane - in drafts

Others:

Warren DeMartini - Dancing On Glass

Julian Casablancas - Relax - tryna get thru the gnr ones

Jon Bon Jovi x r x Tom Keifer - Shake Me - in drafts

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theloveliestembrace · 5 months

Text

Let it happen. | CL

Charles Leclerc/Reader

f1 masterlist

crossposted to ao3

Summary: The five times you meet Charles Leclerc. (The four times it doesn’t work out, the one time it might,)

Warnings: Non-explicit (but definitely inappropriate) teacher-student relationship

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Reincarnation au

W/C: 2.7k

A/N: What’s good people, I’m back again. This fic was very cinematic in my head (it still is), so I hope the writing captures that. Enjoy~

The first time you meet Charles Leclerc, he’s a barista at the coffeehouse down the road from your interning job. It’s a brief stint in the industry as you wait for a university acceptance letter, so you don’t expect to stay for long.

He’s sweet, beaming at you from over the counter nearly everyday, remembering your order before you’ve even asked for his name.

“Charles,” he says, sweetly accented, “my name is Charles Leclerc.”

That day, the flowing script of your name on the takeaway cup is accompanied with a ‘have dinner with me?’ and a smiley face. You picture him, eyebrows scrunched and eyes squinted in concentration, trying to write neatly on the curved surface, and smile.

As it turns out, Charles Leclerc is also waiting for a university acceptance letter, to a prestigious place in the United Kingdom for the study of Liberal Arts. He laughs awkwardly as he confesses, “My English is not so good yet, so I am worried they won’t find me so elegant.”

You bat it off as nonsense, pulling him in for a chaste kiss, whispering sincerely against his lips. “They’ll be foolish not to accept you, cheri.”

He’s a sweet relief from the bustle of your internship, where you’re surrounded by presumptuous old men and women who expect their coffee orders and bottles of perrier on their desk before eight. Your work in the fashion industry is not as glamorous a job as made out in the novels. The twelve centimeter heels you’re forced into daily pinch at your toes, and all your coworkers are size-zero hyenas, vying for a position. It takes all your energy to keep up.

Just the sight of him, though, waving cheerily in the morning as you run in for coffee pickup, hands in his pockets as he waits for you to get off work, the soft kisses when he walks you home. It’s easy to get lost in this, lost in him , fingers slotted between yours and a glass of wine shared between interlocked fingers. It’s a romance out of a metropolitan chick flick, something about finding love in the middle of modern day bustle, finding quiet in the loud city.

Everything falls apart when you get your acceptance letter. You haven’t talked about the inexorability of the end, not really. Sometimes Charles will bring it up half-heartedly, and so will you, but the inertia to dealing with your very real future is too great, and you both end up kissing on Charles’ sofa instead of facing the truth.

It culminates in one big fight, your fingernails pressed to draw blood, Charles bracing himself against the wall to prevent himself from losing his temper.

And it goes like every other fight in the movies, things like i was always going to go anyway and why don’t you just fucking go then, if you have nothing to stay for , and don’t hold me back just because you don’t have the certainty of getting into your course, Charles spinning around and saying i already got in, i’m hesitating because of you and the pressure in your chest growing so large it’s all you can do to stop your tears from running.

The movies lied to you. This is the part where Charles apologises and you hug and make up and you stay for each other. That’s the love story.

Instead, you say, go then, if staying for me burdens you so . And he goes, your apartment door slamming behind him.

You spend days wallowing in self-pity, avoiding the coffeehouse, running through the motions, thinking about the last ten months of your life, and make the decision when your hand reaches for a coffee cup that isn’t there.

You’ll stay, for Charles, because you love him, even if it isn’t like the movies. Because it isn’t like the movies, and you’ll love him even when the post-credits have rolled.

It is this that makes you run to the coffeehouse the next morning, forgoing an umbrella in your haste, soaking your blouse straight through. You yank the door open, waiting for the head of curls at the counter to look up so you can beg for a chance. Just one.

Instead, the older lady who owns the place, looks up and smiles sadly at you. “I’m sorry, kid. He flew off to the UK yesterday, he said you never called.”

And again, this doesn’t happen in the movies. The main character doesn’t step back out into the rain alone, heels soaked against the pavement, nor do they spend the next week waiting for the love of their life to call.

You hit reply on the acceptance email, and change your number to a local one when you land in America.

Somewhere on another continent, a call doesn’t get connected.

On the sixteenth of October, the people of Monaco are blessed with an announcement. A prince is born, the news reports.

Charles, they named him. Charles Leclerc.

In another ward down the hallway, another woman gives birth to a girl. The royal family hasn’t realised it yet, but down the hallway, is their future pr manager.

Your first day on the job is fraught with just about every roadblock you could face.

At four in the morning, one of your neighbour’s ridiculous scented candles tips over and sets enough things on fire to trip the fire alarm. Management ushers every single person in the vicinity out of the apartment building, where you stand shivering in your bathrobe.

A few hours later, your coffee machine breaks down before your espresso even finishes running.

Then, five minutes after you leave the apartment to catch your Uber, your heel breaks, so you’re forced to change your shoes and foot the late arrival fee on your car.

When you finally find the meeting room fifteen minutes after you were supposed to reach, you're very much on the verge of tears.

You’re met with a frowning Charles Leclerc, whose expression instantly evaporates into fondness when he recognises who’s at the door. He stands to bring you into a hug, as if you’d been friends since you were children. (You had been, of course, but you didn’t forget that he was a literal prince. Hugs are not commonplace.)

It’s an odd feeling, standing in front of the boy you’d known from birth, tasked with covering up his scandals and manufacturing relationships to keep him in the public eye.

It’s even odder to fall in love with him all over again, especially while you’re both poring over staged Instagram posts of him and Monaco’s richest bachelorettes. But Charles is so— good, easy to fall in love with, like those princes from storybooks. He laughs at exactly the right moments, cracks jokes that have you gasping for breath, charms you so thoroughly it’s almost embarrassing.

It falls into place like poetry, too many moments without supervision, secret smiles over the table, quiet mornings in the palace, hidden in his room. You pick up the closeness of your youth near flawlessly. Falling in love has never been this easy.

(It’ll never be this easy again.)

The end comes knocking in the form of his mother. Marriage. You almost choke on the enormity of it, caught in the noose of your own stupidity. Because that is your job, isn’t it? The prince is almost thirty, you are almost thirty, and this has always been the final point, of your job, of his scripted relationships.

You don’t even fight, which is kind of the worst part. A choice is presented to Charles, and he chooses.

It’s a special kind of cruelty, to stay. To sit with the photographers and videographers and event crew and wedding planner, poring over fabrics and angles, as if it’s your fucking honour to plan what’s set to be the greatest union in Monaco for the next decade.

You were wrong. The worst part is standing at the fringes, in your blue dress, watching the love of your life slide a ring onto another finger and speak the vows that were meant for youyouyou . The worst part is knowing the photos will be beautiful, because you planned them yourself.

The worst part is knowing there is no universe where he chooses you.

Your new French Literature professor is… really fucking hot. You’re not just saying this because he’s a decade older than you, or because he’s at least three decades younger than the guy who used to teach the class. He’s just, objectively of course, a really attractive man.

The way his accent rolls off his tongue when he says “Charles, my name is Charles Leclerc.” definitely doesn’t help. In your periphery, you see the girl seated next to you furiously typing on her phone, with caps and exclamation marks and sweating emojis. You can’t even blame her.

And it’s almost criminally obvious, the way he looks at you, eyes darting to your open polo, the way he lingers on the syllables of your name when he calls on you to answer in class.

It’s subtle enough to not warrant any accusations of misconduct, but not subtle enough to avoid the envious stares of the girls (and boys) in your class. You’re unbothered, of course, given that he hasn’t actually made a move, but also the fact that he wears his wedding ring all the time.

And if you start wearing tighter shirts and shorter skirts to class, just to see his breath hitch when you uncross your legs just so, well that’s nobody’s business but your own.

It’s almost cliche, the way your little game unfolds. You make sure to book the latest possible consultation slots with him, in a cute ensemble and flawless makeup, toting a copy of Les Miserables as if you’re actually struggling with the material.

It’s fun, to rile him up, watch his tongue slide against his lower lip as he looks at you from across the desk. You don’t typically make a habit of seducing professors, especially the married ones, but you figure it’ll probably make a great story for your grandkids, or something. He holds out much longer than you thought, so much so that the illusion of needing aid in your best subject starts to grate on you. Still, the sight of his forearms when he rolls up his sleeves, or the line of his throat when he sips water during lectures keeps you hooked.

When he finally bends you over his desk, you’re almost disappointed that the game has ended. The imprint of his wedding ring stays on your waist for days. Your friend tuts nervously when you return back late, murmurs something about morals and regretting your decisions and something else you tune out.

Un brin de folie egaye la vie, right? Some madness will brighten your life. You continue ignoring her.

It’s only after months of your routine that you can form the all-important question, perched on his lap in his (locked) office, “Why cheat on your wife?” And the room is instantly suffused with silence. You expect him to tell you to get out or something of the sort, but instead he hums thoughtfully, shifting you further onto his thighs.

He’s silent for a few seconds, running fingers through your hair, “Why do we do anything?” You snort at the obvious deflection, raising an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“On n’aime que ce qu’on possède pas tout entier. Proust says we love only what we do not have entirely.” You giggle a little at that, “you love me because you cannot have me?” He sighs against your cheek, “something like that, yes.”

In the end, it ends much cleaner than affairs like this tend to. You graduate top of the class, watch Charles and his beautiful wife at the ceremony, and laugh a little meanly at how oblivious her smile is. How he watches you, still, as you give the valedictorian speech, the smirk on his face as you thank your professors with false fervour.

And then, one last time for the road, in the handicap bathroom where the bustle of the hall isn’t quite muted, breaths mingling hot in the stale air. A kiss, almost chaste, and you leave.

Your grandkids howl with laughter at the story, nearly seventy years down the road. You smile, think about green eyes and rolled up sleeves. Another life, maybe.

You’re still not used to the wag lifestyle. It’s one thing to be recognised in Monaco, another to be Il Predestinato’s girlfriend. It’s almost obscene, the red that greets you down every hallway, the way you bite your tongue and watch the team fuck him over every weekend. The way the crowds chant his name; Charles, they scream, Charles Leclerc.

It’s not like you haven’t earned a place in the paddock. You’ve done the work, the pr activities, the carefully curated soft launches, the jet lag, the helmet kisses and the careful, careful styling. You’ll always be silent and pretty, always smiling and skinny and happy for him, existing to prove something.

The point is, it isn’t that you don’t love Charles anymore. It isn’t that he’s neglectful and distant (he is), or that you’re unhappy with the constant scrutiny and ever changing time zones (you are). You can swallow these things, breathe deep and let it settle.

Mangia questa minestra o saltar questa finestra; eat the soup or jump out of the window. Accept things for what they are, don’t hurt over things that cannot be changed.

And it really does feel like nothing will ever change, watching the man you love turn into a beating husk, consumed with his want. A championship, a victory, draped in enough red to drown you both, a hundred years of history. Nothing will change, you will always be the girlfriend, the girl in-the-pictures. You can feel the shadow of Charles’ name as heavily as he feels Ferrari’s. That will never change.

The championship is a hollow victory, when it comes. You and Charles have devolved across the year into a state of a perpetual tense silence, intercut only with the curl of his fingers around your waist when the cameras come flashing, and drawn out, passive aggressive conversations.

You begin to fly out less and less, blame it on the job you pretend to hate for Charles’ sake. Slowly, you learn to be on your own, find your way around loneliness, spaces within yourself previously occupied with your boyfriend. You toss about the idea of him cheating on you while you miss his races, and find the thought less impossible and less painful each time.

By the time you see him again in Abu Dhabi, the Monacan flag wrapped around his shoulders, fingers pointed to the sky, you only feel affection for the man you would’ve given everything up for a year ago. The knowledge squeezes painfully in your chest.

You reach for him in the cooldown room, wince at how unfamiliar his hands are to you now, look him in the eyes, “It’s been over for a long time, hasn’t it, cheri?” Tears rise unbidden within you when he nods, eyes wet. You clasp his hands tighter, relish the feeling of his fingers against yours one more time, “I want you to remember the best parts of us,” you sniffle lightly, attempt a smile, “not the end. I want you to remember that I am always proud of you.”

The room is quiet. He leans against your shoulder, for a moment you are both twenty-one again, guileless. The enormity of what you are losing has settled in your bones.

The soup is unassuming on the table. You choose the free fall from the window.

The new doctor is cute, in a puppyish sort of way. Charles watches the way you interact with all your new coworkers, smiling and shaking hands, the way you laugh at a joke Max just made.

You come up in front of him, and falter, tilting your head like a startled animal. “Have we met?” The deja vu hits him so hard his head spins, shaking his head at your question anyway.

He kisses your outstretched hand, soft under his lips, revels briefly in your furious blushing. His mother likes to tell him; doctors only date other doctors. He intends to test the theory.

“My name is Charles,” he says, “Charles Leclerc.”

#f1 angst #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut

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haesunflower · 1 year

Text

mobile masterlist

⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆

⤷ petty fights ⤷ them as your classmates ⤷ nicknames you call each other ⤷ they're not your one-pick ⤷"what are we?" (texts) ⤷ why you break up ⤷ meeting the parents ⤷ random bf things ⤷ "best friend's brother" ⤷ drunk boyfriends (legal line only) ⤷ mentions you in their live (edits) ⤷ being cute when they're mad at you ⤷ they break something you gave ⤷ other members think you're dating ⤷ "my ex texted me" (texts) ⤷"she's busy bro" (texts)

⤷ pov zb1's english teacher ⤷ how zb1 would play the mafia game ⤷ members broke something you gave ⤷ pov you're close to yujin

✎ kim jiwoong ୨୧ ⤷ jiwoong's not girlfriend | friends with benefits ⤷ jiwoong's 'shared' friend? | friends with benefits/threesome ✎ zhang hao ୨୧ ⤷ written in the stars | royal au love at first sight/forbidden love ✎ sung hanbin ୨୧ ⤷ the way he loves | he prioritizes everyone but himself ⤷ be careful, don't fall | clumsy reader ✎ seok matthew ୨୧ ⤷ jiwoong's not girlfriend | pining/crush on friend's gf ⤷ jiwoong's 'shared' friend? | friends with benefits/threesome ✎ kim taerae ୨୧ ⤷ giving it a chance | almost breakup ✎ shen ricky ୨୧ ⤷ the stars lied | royal au love triangle (series) ⤷ to hell with the stars | royal au second chance love (series) ⤷ thank the stars | royal au ending (series) ✎ kim gyuvin ୨୧ ⤷ pink peonies | unrequited love + love triangle ✎ park gunwook ୨୧ ⤷ don't let the ice melt | he asks for forgiveness ⤷ pink peonies | love triangle

✎ written in the stars (hao / ricky) chapter 1: hao love at first sight/forbidden love chapter 2: ricky love triangle/childhood friends chapter 3: ricky courts reader/hao angst with oc chapter 4: the ending

✎ soulmates? (multiple member) series masterlist

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⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

xdinary heroes

⤷ gifting them flowers

all works are mine. please do not repost or translate without permission

#zb1 imagines #zb1 scenarios #zerobaseone #kpop masterlist #zb1 masterlist

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bouncybongfairy · 6 months

Note

Literally love you, hope you're taking requests! Could you do the bayverse boys with a goth stoner?

Smoke Sesh

TMNT x Fem Goth Stoner Reader

Summary: After ditching class for a smoke break, you're approached by two men with bad intentions. The TMNTs help you escape the alleyway you're cornered in, you guys have a smoke sesh in their van.

Word Count: 1.0k+

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was second period and the monotone voice of your English teacher was putting everyone to sleep. Even the teacher wasn’t into it, just reading aloud from the book while sitting at her desk. Not even bothering to look up as she did so. You picked up your bag before quietly walking out of the classroom. As long as you were quiet, the teacher didn’t care or notice if anyone left. There were a couple of security guards that you had to pass, you would feed them an excuse about going to the nurse’s office and usually, they bought it. As you walk past the front gates of your school, you pull your black cardigan closer to your body. You didn’t realize it was so cold outside, your nose was becoming sensitive and runny. Stopping in a narrow alleyway between two apartment buildings, you rummage through your bag.

Your older sister woke up late for work this morning and was only able to take a couple of puffs out of the blunt she rolled before leaving. You took advantage of this and hastily threw it in your bag before leaving. Luckily it wasn’t bent or damaged to the point of being unsmokeable. After you finally find the lighter you put it into your blunt and take the first drag. It was like you could feel the weed pushing the anxiety out of your body. The rain was getting heavy but it didn’t bother you one bit. Not only were you being kept dry from a fire escape above you, on colder days, but your make-up also lasted much longer because it wasn’t exposed to extreme heat. You were wearing a long black maxi skirt and a thin long-sleeve, both in black; along with black riot boots. Not being able to resist, you take a couple of pictures.

“I bet those pictures came real nice,” a voice growled from the left of you. You jumped and whipped your body to see who spoke. Feeling your heart drop into your stomach, you slowly start to back up; trying to gain as much space between each other.

“Oh, my dad is actually about to pick me up, I have to go,” you lied as you began to walk away, you were walking backward because you were scared to turn your back to him.

“So soon, I’m sure you can be a little late,” the creep said, starting to charge you. As he did so you turned but were stopped by a truck that broke directly in front of you.

“Get in,” one of the passengers said as the sliding door rolled open. You didn’t even look at who was in the vehicle, you were so desperate to get out of the current situation that you didn’t think twice. You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself down but it was hard considering the severity of what could have happened. After a few moments and tears, you looked up and realized who was in your company. When you saw the turtles you passed out momentarily. When you came to, one of them was fanning you. You immediately sat up but Donnie asked you to calm down.

“Woah woah, don’t sit up too fast. You had a vasovagal response which means you lost consciousness due to a lack of blood flow to the brain. You are totally okay though and your vitals are normal. Did anything happen in the alleyway that might cause you to need medical attention?” Donnie said, lifting his goggles up so you could see his eyes.

“No, I’m just shaken up a bit,” you said, sitting up on a seat in the back of the van.

“I’m sure, glad everything turned out okay,” Donnie said.

“Yeah because you’re way too hot to die,” Mikey said, plopping down next to you.

“Mike! Sorry, he has impulse control issues,” Raph said as he drove.

“Dude! Don’t say that in front of my new hot, spooky, witch girlfriend,” he whispered, blocking your view of his mouth in an attempt to stop you from seeing what he said.

“Is it okay if I smoke in here,” you asked? The van got quiet, the boys looking around at each other without saying anything.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Leo said.

“I don’t know, she just went through a traumatic thing. If she’s used to smoking then maybe she needs it to help her calm down, you know?” Mikey said.

“What about contact high?” Raph asked.

“Technically the effects would not be significant unless she was blowing the smoke directly in your face or the car filled with a dense enough smoke,” Donnie explained.

“So is that a yes?” you asked, putting the blunt into your mouth and waiting for a response before lighting it.

After nobody disagreed you lit it again and took a drag, you laughed when you noticed that they were all looking at you. They looked away for a second but it didn’t take long before all their eyes were on you again. At this point Raph parked the van and opened the windows. You were making subtle conversation, asking them if they ever smoked before. As expected, they all haven’t and were surprised when you offered them the blunt. Mikey went to grab it without hesitation and Leo stopped him. After a little persuasion, Mikey grabbed it and took a drag. The blunt in your hand was still pretty big but in his hand it looked like a tiny little twig. He immediately started coughing which made his brothers look around in a worried way. The effects were immediate and he started laughing and joking more than usual if that’s possible. This hummored his brothers, lightening the mood of the situation.

“I just want to thank you guys again for saving me from that situation,” you said again, putting out the roach.

“No worries girl, I'd always be there for my goth girlfriend,” Mikey said, wrapping his arm around you.

“I appreciated that,” you joked back, giving him a kiss on his cheek; leaving a black lipstick mark.

#fanfic request #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt bayverse #bayverse tmnt x reader #tmnt request #short fanfic #bayverse tmnt

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daintyshu · 19 days

Text

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

x. heeseung's firsts (1.99k written)

heeseung remembers it like it was just yesterday.

it was the second year of high school and apparently a new girl had just moved to this school —this city, even— and into his class. he watched as your teacher introduced you to the class and if he never believed in love at first sight before that day, he then did for the first time ever.

"hello, i'm jung y/n. i just moved here, please be nice to me. i hope we can be friends," you shyly introduced yourself and everyone welcomed you warmly. your teacher was about to say something before someone else had cut her off.

"y/n? is that really you?" you look up from your fiddling hands to find the source of the voice. a bright smile fell upon your lips and heeseung melted at the sight.

"jay?!"

heeseung didn't know who 'jay' was but he watched as his friend, jongseong, nodded excitedly, mirroring the smile on your pretty face. so he's jay. funny how they've been friends for a year yet he never knew jongseong had an english name.

your teacher smiled at this interaction. "well, it seems you know her already, jongseong. you can show her around so she can settle down easy. y/n, you can go ahead and sit next to him,"

he watched as you smiled timidly at everyone you passed by on your way to jay's desk. his heart stopped when you smiled at him before sitting next to your friend, sharing a quick side hug before paying attention to the class.

"hey, new girl!" you hear as you walked through the fairly empty hallway during lunch. you turn to see a group of girls leaning against the lockers, scowling. you notice they were one of the less friendly ones in homeroom.

ah, crap.

it was lunch and you were coming from physics class while jay had biology. the plan was to meet at the cafeteria. you were hoping to have a peaceful first day at your new school but it seems these girls had other plans for you.

"how do you know jongseong oppa?!" one of the girls questioned, roughly shoving you against the lockers. it's funny they call him that because you remember your homeroom teacher mentioning you being the only one in your class to jump a grade.

"we grew up together," you answer with a blank stare, not knowing what reason they had to even ask that.

"yah! what's with that face?! you got a problem, little girl?!" you frown when another girl grabs your face. you try to push her off but as quick as that hand had grabbed you, it was quick to disappear as well.

you look up, confused when you see a guy standing between you and the girls. it's jay's friend. you remember jay introducing you two before you two parted ways for science.

"what are you doing to her?" you felt shivers down your spine when he spoke. he sounded so cold that you did not want to be on the receiving end of it.

"oppa! w–we were just getting to know her!" one of the girls lied, voice way too high pitched to even pass off as natural.

"didn't look like it," he answered sharply. "next time i catch you guys pulling a stunt like this to anyone, see what happens. let's go," he gently taps your arm to show that the statement was directed to you before walking off, you following and catching up to walk beside him.

"you didn't have to do that. i could've handled it myself," you told him as you two walked to the cafeteria together. it's true, you weren't some damsel in distress who needs someone to save her every time, you just didn't have time to react before he did. you wonder if he had watched the whole interaction from the beginning or only when the girl touched you.

"sorry, i just hate that girl. she pisses me off so much," he rolls his eyes and you can't help but laugh at him. "well, thanks anyway, my knight in shining armour," you tease him and he groans. "that's probably gonna stick, huh?"

"it is, now let's go, jay's waiting," you link your arm with his and drag him along with you to the cafeteria where your childhood friend was waiting.

first love. that's what you were to lee heeseung; his first love.

at age 17, he first learned what it means to have romantic feelings. he found out that he liked the feeling. it didn't matter to him if you reciprocated or not, as long as you were happy, he was happy too.

he didn't mind watching you reminisce the past with jongseong or laugh at silly little inside jokes you had with the american. he enjoyed seeing the smile on your face and if jongseong was the reason behind it every time, so be it.

love was foolish, but God, did loving you feel so good.

at age 17, he first learned what it means to be selfless. it wasn't that he had been selfish all his life, but to be selfless is to put others before him. to put your happiness before his.

being friends with you was the best thing he had ever done in his 17 years of life. he had never met anyone so caring, so understanding and so pure. it was like heaven lost an angel and she landed in his school that first day you appeared.

but you can't blame him for wanting more.

often, he would lose himself in thoughts of what it would be like if he could finally call you his. if he could carry your bag for you as the three of you walked home together. what would it be like if that teokbokki you were chewing on right now was fed by him, and not jongseong?

right, jongseong.

he watched as the boy wipes a napkin on the side of your mouth, you only grinning at him as you continue eating. he looks away and down at his own plate, mindlessly poking his food as a bitter smile grazes his lips.

you'd be happier with him.

at age 18, heeseung finally learns to not be afraid of taking chances. it was their final year of high school and things were getting more real with discussions of college and graduating. it was now or never for the boy and although he was scared shitless, he did it anyway.

he asked you out.

at age 18, heeseung finally learns what it means to finally call you his.

and so the year passes by with the three of you maintaining the same dynamic that it's been since the start. surprisingly, nothing much changed despite you and heeseung dating. he couldn't believe you even liked him back.

you and jongseong were still close as ever, attached at the hip as everyone says. people would never believe when you tell them you have a boyfriend and it's not jongseong. and if those comments bothered heeseung, he would never mention it to you.

everything was comfortable for you and you were very happy. heeseung was amazing and he never complained about anything. even when he was stressed over studies, he never really showed it. so maybe you should've seen it coming.

at age 19, heeseung finally lets it all out. having studied his ass off for college and not getting the results he wanted took a toll. or maybe just his pent up emotions from the past two years.

having to find out he wasn't going to go to the same college as you while jongseong still has the privilege was making him go crazy. at the end of the day, jongseong always wins. even if he doesn't, he still does in heeseung's eyes.

it was graduation, it was supposed to be a happy day for everyone. except you and heeseung.

"i'm sorry, y/n. i can't do this anymore. i want to break up. i'm tired of being second place to jongseong every time. it's not fair to me," heeseung had told you after bringing you to the rooftop to speak in private.

"what are you talking about, lee heeseung? you're not making any sense," you frown at the older, one hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

his eyes looked tired and you wished that the day would be over quickly so that he could sleep. you've seen how hard he's worked the past few months.

he circles his hand around your wrist and gently pulled it away from his face, trying to keep a steady hold on it but failing as you noticed how extremely shaky his hand was. "what's wrong, hee? can we just talk first?"

"i'm talking right now. and i'm telling you that i want to break up with you," he lets go of your hand and it drops limply by your side. it was then your frown softened and all that's left on your face is a dejected expression.

"but.....why? are you not happy?" the crack in your voice tugs at his heart and all he wants to do is pull you into his arms and tell you that it's all a joke. oh, how he wished everything was just a joke.

at age 19, heeseung finally learns what it means to be selfish. he loved you so much but it was destroying him. he was finally putting himself above others.

"i'm sorry. the past year has been amazing but i can't help but feel like i'm always second to jongseong. it's always 'jongseong this' and 'jongseong that' with you. if you wanted him, you should have never agreed to date me. you played me, jung y/n," heeseung was angry. you've never seen him angry before.

"i didn't play you, heeseung! jongseong's been my best friend since little so of course he's gonna be a big part of my life! believe me, if i wanted him, i would've done something about it a long time ago but i chose you! i love you, lee heeseung. is that so hard to believe?" you were in tears by now but heeseung has had it.

"you sure have a shitty way of showing it," he scoffs. he didn't mean it. he was just angry. he didn't mean it at all. although you were his first ever girlfriend, you were probably the definition of the perfect girlfriend to him.

if only jealousy wasn't a green eyed monster.

seeing the tears falling uncontrollably down your pretty face was pulling at his heartstrings. how are you still so beautiful even like this? he had to stay strong. he was doing this for himself, after all.

maybe he should've listened to the internet when they said trios never work. maybe he should've listened to the voices that told him not to get too close or he'll get hurt. maybe. but if he had, he wouldn't have such fond memories to look back on in the future. maybe in the future, he'll learn that when something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

"i love you, jung y/n. i'm sorry it had to end this way. i hope you have a good life and i hope when we meet again in the future, it'll be under better circumstances," and with that, he walked out the rooftop door and out of your life.

it was then everything finally processed. you break apart in the vast expanse of the rooftop, crying under the darkening sky with such despair your whole body shakes with the violence of each sob.

and if heeseung had stayed by the door, listening to you break down, he would take it to his grave. he wipes his tears away before ultimately leaving despite all the alarms ringing in his head to turn back and engulf you in his arms.

and so at age 19, lee heeseung experienced his first and last ever heartbreak.

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synopsis. in which you work at odd atelier cafe and can only make hearts in your lattes, causing a certain boy to misunderstand your intentions..... then he brings his friends and chaos ensues.

taglist (open): @semisemirin1i82 @txtmetonight @ilyjxdz @miniature-tragedy @n1k1mura @t00miee @manooffline @aerivrs @saranghaohoshi @woninluv

#enha smau #enha x reader #enha x reader smau #enhypen smau #enhypen social media au #enhypen texts #enhypen x reader #enhypen x reader smau #enhypen #enha

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mathanlin · 8 months

Text

// mentions of bullying & abuse

Foster AU where Tommy’d been emergency fostered by his English teacher, Mr. Watson.

He’d only had one perfect week before he’d been dumped into a long-term placement, forced out of the Watson’s home.

So it’s agonizing to see them at school every single day.

Techno, waving to Tommy in the hallways. Wilbur, beaming at him in band class.

And of course, Mr. Watson, teaching class like Tommy’s not withering in the back row.

“How’ve you been?”

Tommy freezes in the classroom door. Mr. Watson smiles, like it’s just a normal interaction. Like it’s not Wilbur’s sweater Tommy’s wearing (hasn’t taken off), like he’s not still clinging to everything he can keep of them.

“Fine.”

He can tell the man doesn’t believe it.

(He sees Tommy’s dropping grades firsthand, after all. Surely he doesn’t know it’s because of *him,* of how Tommy almost sobs each time he reads some stupid dad joke on an assignment.)

But there’s nothing he can do.

Except cling, of course.

He still sits with the twin at lunch. Still listens to Mr. Watson’s lectures when he can’t sleep. Still begs Techno to tutor him (even if it’s just in the library, not back home).

It’s fine.

Until Wilbur gets suspended for him.

“I’m calling your father.”

The secretary’s words are directed at Wilbur — fists still red from full-on punching a bully. But Tommy can almost pretend it’s for him, too.

Until Mr. Watson actually arrives, and the only one he looks at is Wilbur.

“Wil—”

“It was for *Tommy,* Dad,” Wilbur says, glaring defiantly. “Don’t start talking about your fucking job, I don’t care.”

Tommy’s gut somehow plummets further. *His job.* Could Mr. Watson *lose it,* because of him?

…and if he could, how angry would he be?

“I’m sorry,” Tommy whispers. Finally, Mr. Watson’s eyes fall on him. “I didn’t—”

“Have they called your parents?” he says — and for one, blissful second, Tommy’s confused. *What do you mean? You’re already here.*

But he can barely call Mr. Watson, “Phil.”

Let alone, “Dad.”

They don’t even say goodbye before leaving. Tommy stays, still bleeding, staring at his bruises.

He’s not ready to go ‘home’ to *worse.* This time, Wilbur won’t be able to protect him.

And if he’s pissed Mr. Watson off enough, maybe he won’t be able to see them at all.

“If this keeps up… you’re going to fail, Tommy.”

Mr. Watson’s trying to meet his eyes. Tommy avoids them, ducking his head and staring at his report card instead.

He shouldn’t have.

Because Mr. Watson’s eyes fall to the bruises on his wrists instead.

“Tommy.”

Tommy jerks back, startled by the teacher’s sudden concern. “They’re— they’re from those bullies,” he lies. “A while ago. I haven’t been fighting, I swear.”

The second part’s true, at least. Tommy’s never raised a hand to defend himself against any foster parent.

Mr. Watson’s eyes narrow, still impossibly soft.

But all Tommy can hear is Wilbur. *Don’t start talking about your job.* Like Mr. Watson could lose it, because of him.

That, even if he hadn’t loved Tommy enough to keep him, he could still *hate* him.

And Tommy can’t take that.

So he’s glad when Mr. Watson doesn’t report the bruises.

Even if it means he just has to hide more of them. Even when Mr. Watson stops packing him lunches, busy with end-of-semester work (and he didn’t have to do that in the first place. Tommy just starves quietly without them).

His grades keep slipping. He goes hungry, day after day, patches up his bruises. Falls asleep in class (even if he’d never admit it’s from the safety of Mr. Watson’s voice).

Mr. Watson doesn’t push.

But the twins do.

“You’re coming home.”

“What?” Tommy says, jerking awake. Techno looms over the library table where Tommy’d fled for lunch, no longer sitting with them.

“You wanted tutorin’, and I’m not doin’ it here. Come on. We’re goin’ home.”

Tommy scrambles up. “No. No, no, it’s the middle of the day, I have class, *you* have class—”

“We can skip them once,” Techno says, still walking. “You’re more important.”

“Mr. Watson—”

“—would do the same,” Techno finishes.

He’s wrong. So wrong.

Wilbur’s waiting in the car.

Tommy bears each worried question on the car ride, answering quietly or not at all. *What happened to you? Why are you pale? Why aren’t you eating with us? What’s /wrong?/*

But then the house comes into view.

And Tommy starts sobbing.

“Please. Please, I can’t be here.”

It’s not just fear. It’s grief, torn up by seeing the home he wanted to spend forever in. He’s not sure how long he panics, twins trying to comfort him.

But it must’ve been too long.

Because Mr. Watson’s car pulls in behind them.

“What do you think you’re *doing?*”

It’s fury, as Mr. Watson storms up the driveway, eyes locked on the twins as they rush out of the car. Tommy stumbles out the other side, hoping to slip quietly away.

But Mr. Watson sees him. His fury falters.

And then roars back full-force.

“You took him, too?!”

“Dad, quit it,” Wilbur yells. “For fuck’s sake. Be quiet for a second, okay?”

“He’s already failing class,” Mr. Watson yells right back. “You can’t do this, Wil, you’re getting him in trouble.”

*You’re getting /me/ in trouble,* Tommy hears. *My job’s in danger.*

“He’s sick, Dad,” Techno says, a little bit shaky. “Something’s wrong. Look at him.”

They do. All three of them, watching him cower, their home hovering in the corner of his vision. Taunting.

And then Wilbur’s eyes fall to the bruises on his wrist.

But unlike Phil, he does the opposite of ignoring them.

“What the fuck is that?”

Tommy jerks back. Not fast enough. (Never fast enough.)

Wilbur snatches his wrist, yanking the sleeve down. His grip is the only thing that keeps Tommy upright as the Watsons stare at every fresh, violet bruise hidden beneath Wil’s old sweater.

Silence.

Mr. Watson’s the first to speak, breathless. “You said… you said it was those bullies.”

“He *told* you?” Wilbur practically screams.

“And you believed him?” Techno cuts in, voice low. “Those are new. And we haven’t been letting any bullies near him.”

That’s too much to process.

Even before Mr. Watson whispers like he already knows, “Tommy, who’s been hitting you?

He can’t speak. Can’t reply.

Not even when Wilbur wraps an arm around his shoulders. When Mr. Watson quietly murmurs, “Let’s get inside.”

Or when they guide him through the door. Onto their familiar, soft couch. He’s back home.

Even if it’s only for a little while.

#mcyt #dsmp #dsmp au #sbi #sbi au #threadfic #tommyinnit #technoblade #wilbur soot #philza

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sunflowergirl522 · 1 year

Text

She Moves in Her Own Way

Pairing: Rickstar!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie gets interviewed and he answers questions about his love life while reminiscing.

Word count: 1932

Eddie Masterlist

“So Eddie,” the interviewer says, crossing her leg over the other where she sits across from the rockstar, “people are dying to know what your mystery girl is like. You’re rarely pictured with her and no one can seem to get you to say who she is.”

Eddie sits up straighter in his seat as you become the topic of conversation. He had been starting to get a little bored, slumping a bit. He didn’t even want to do this interview for some teen magazine he’s never even heard of. He only agreed to it because when he brought it up to you you got all excited because apparently you used to read them throughout high school.

“Yeah, I like to keep her to myself. I don’t want to see a bunch of lies about her in the media, y'know? I’ve seen it happen to enough people in my line of work.”

“Do you think you could tell us what about her caught your eye?” Eddie wants to laugh at the question, he figured this was what whoever was interviewing him would want to talk about, his love life. Why else would he be getting interviewed, surely teen girls don’t care about what got him into music and why it means so much to him. But then again you did, you always did.

“She started as my best friend back in high school. She was always sticking with me and up for me even after she graduated and I failed.” Eddie gets a goofy grin on his face as he starts talking about you. “One thing led to another and she’s been my everything since.”

You and Eddie had been acquaintances in elementary and middle school and became closer in high school when you got paired up for a project freshman year. You claimed him as your best friend after he punched an older kid for making fun of you. You’ve even returned the favor before by getting into a fight with the girl who first started calling Eddie a freak. He had to be the one to break up the fight by pulling you off of her.

You’ve always supported him too both with the club and when he started his band back up with Jeff, Gareth, and Adam. Even though with practices, meetings, and your college classes after you started them the two of your schedules almost never matched up to hang out. You still made it to each and every one of his shows most of the time just to talk to him afterward.

“So you’ve been together since high school?”

“No, it wasn’t until she was almost done with her major that I finally worked up the nerve to say anything. She was helping me get ready to leave for the band's first small tour and I had a feeling of it’s now or never. And then she made me wait until we got back to give me an answer.”

The urge that he had to ask you now before anyone could scoop you up while he’s gone came while he watched you laugh at something Gareth had said while you were saying bye to everyone. The last thing he wanted to happen was that boy from your English class getting to see you laugh like that and falling in love and next thing Eddie knows he’s being invited to your wedding.

“I can’t believe you’re choosing school over us Sweetheart.” He teased while wrapping you up in his arms causing you to laugh.

“Maybe if it was just a week Eds, but I don’t think my teachers will like me being out for a month. I’ll miss you though, it’s gonna be weird not having you around.” You buried your head in his chest squeezing him tighter.

“You’ll get along just fine without me distractin’ you from all your studies. I’ll miss you too though.” He just held you to him for a while before speaking again. “You wanna go out to a movie or get a nice dinner or something when I get back?” You pulled away just enough to look at him and give him a playful smile.

“Edward Munson, are you asking me out?”

“Uh yeah, yeah I am.”

“Well it’s about time.”

“Is that a yes?” Eddie quirked an eyebrow smiling down at you. You hummed and tapped your chin in mock contemplacey.

“Hmm, I’ll let you know when you get back. You gotta go or you’ll be late.” You reached up to kiss his cheek before stepping away completely. “Bye Eds, love ya!” And you waved as Jeff called his name and he had to climb into the bus.

“What’s she like? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” Eddie smiles at her words every other interviewer that has tried asking about you just basically demanded the information and he had immediately shut them down without thinking twice.

Even if they had asked like this he would’ve said no because he was never sure what you would think of having the world know stuff about you but this time he knew you didn’t care. When he was contemplating doing the interview and you got excited he complained about how the questions would probably mainly be about his love life. You had just shrugged and told him to do it anyway and that you didn’t care about everyone finding out about you as long as he didn’t care.

He did care but this time he was asked so nicely that he would give as much information as he could without giving away any details that would lead people to figure out who you are.

“I love her because she moves in her own way. Her fashion sense is god awful because she dresses like a muppet. Almost all she listens to is disco and she has the most bizarre movies memorized. And she’s probably the kindest person I’ve ever met who’s always watching out for the ones she cares about.” Especially the kids in your life. When you met Dustin and the gang you had immediately hopped into older sister mode and had them imprinting on you like ducklings.

And you’re one of the best teachers Eddie’s ever seen. He was lucky that you agreed to tutor him that last senior year even though you had your own classes to focus on because without you he probably would’ve failed again and he honestly would’ve just dropped out at that point. And you’re constantly helping the kids with their school work when they need it. When Will and El moved back to Hawkins you had helped catch them up with what was being taught there because their school in Cali had been behind.

Watching you interact and help El is something else really. You’re so patient with her and constantly helping her catch up to kids her own age since she’s so behind because of being stuck in the lab her whole childhood. She’s made amazing progress thanks to your help.

And he’s seen how you interact with your students at Hawkins middle school. Each one gets a special form of special treatment and you almost always make yourself easily accessible during school hours, staying late in your classroom during the after school activities in case one of them needs you. Dustin compared you to his old teacher Mr. Clarke and your face lit up like the fourth of July before saying thanks and told him all about how he became your mentor since you started teaching.

“She sounds wonderful! What was it that made you realize you were in love with her?”

“I think I was for a while before I said anything to her. But I realized it myself after a couple months of us dating. Our schedules weren’t really lining up because she was having to study and go to class and at that point the band had started really picking up some traction. So she would come to the shows just to hear about my day or week depending on how long it had been since we were able to see each other.” The goofy smile Eddie’s had the whole time he’s been talking about you gets bigger as he thinks about how he’d see you in the crowd waving at him with a big smile on your face. It makes him want to finally get home to you because even though he’s only been away for a few hours for this interview, it’s a Saturday and he should be enjoying your day off with you. “I’m sorry, is this interview about done?” He didn’t care much if it came out as rude.

“Yeah, thank you for your time and answers today Eddie.”

“Yep, you’re welcome.” He waited as she gathered her things and held the door open for her before rushing out of the building because that was the polite thing to do. But then he was speeding home to you.

A week later the magazine with his interview hit shelves and you came rushing home from the store with it in your hand.

“Eddie, you made the front page!” He looks up at you from his spot on the couch as you excitedly wave it around.

“Cool, do you need help with the groceries?” He starts to get up and you physically pause suddenly remembering why you had been there in the first place.

“No, I forgot about those when I saw this. Whoops. But look at this!” You basically shove the magazine in his face causing him to laugh and take it from you before sitting down and pulling you onto his lap.

“Alright, let’s see what this is all about.” He holds the magazine out for the two of you to see the front. “Rockstar Eddie Munson opens up to us about his lovely mystery girl. God people actually read this crap?” You giggle at the bewildered look on his face and nod. “Who cares?”

“The entire female population probably. You’re a total babe, babe. Now go to your interview. I wanna read it.” He rolls his eyes but goes to it nonetheless, handing you the mag and resting his chin on your shoulder. “There’s some questions about how you got into music Ed’s what are you complaining about? It’s not all about your love life.”

“They were basically the same questions I’m always asked. I was so bored.”

“Yeah I see that in the notes here. Eddie had begun looking bored until I started asking him about his girlfriend when he sat up straighter and started getting into it.” You read it out loud, eyeing him. You’ve talked to him about faking interest in the past. About how these people are just doing their jobs and asking the questions probably provided to them. Before he can defend himself you read another part out loud.

“Sorry to say it ladies but the one and only Eddie Munson is so much in love with his girl that you can see it in his eyes when he talks about her. The thought of how he probably looks at her has me swooning and I haven’t even seen it.” You put the mag down before turning so you’re straddling him, his hands wrapping around your back. “You hear that, she’s swooning. I’m shocked you actually answered the questions about me this time.”

“Well she asked so nicely compared to anyone else who asked. And you’re my favorite topic of conversation baby.”

“I love you Eds.” You smile and rest your forehead against his.

“I love you too Princess.”

Eddie Taglist(Closed): @sadbitchfangirl @notbeforelong @munsonswhore86 @navs-bhat @emotionaldreamer @magicalchocolatecheesecake @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @fangirling-4-ever @gaysludge @audhd-dragonaut @eddiethesexy @mazerunnerrose @tvserie-s-world @midnightsgetawaycar @goldylions @spacedoutdaydreamer @livslifeonline @mushroomelephant @hb8301 @ginnupp @saramelaniemoon @kaylshunter @nojamsonmytoast @vintagehellfire @esoltis280 @cole22ann @spikedhe4rt @let-love-bleeds-red @siriuslysmoking @ladybug0095 @toobsessedsstuff @3rriberri @alana4610 @gretavanfleas @sparkletash @herejustforjj @aactuaaltraash @gloryekaterina @quixscentsposts @wormm-mom @eddiemuns0nl0ver @spookyemorockbabe

Everything Taglist: @bejeweledmastermind @matchamunson @bubsonnobx @practicalghost @katsukis1wife @crustyowos @yourfavdummy @protecteddiemunson4vr

#eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader

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homunculus-argument · 8 months

Note

Hey! Another Finn here but I want your English speaking audience to be able to understand as well.

For background information, I've been thinking a lot about nuances in pronoun usage in Finnish language ever since I had a brief discussion about genderless third person pronouns with an English speaking friend. I wanted to share what I have uncovered so far about the information that is instinctive to me.

For our English speaking folk, we have our official language (sometimes referred to as written or formal language) and a bunch of dialects and slang (collectively referred to as spoken language). They can vary vastly and pronoun usage is one of the most obvious indicators of roughly where a person is from. The spoken language examples I'm giving are from Southern Finland (not the capital area) as that's what I use. Also, because of the nature of Finnish language, the words can change their sound and written form when there's information added and sometimes pronouns are not needed as a separate word in a sentence at all.

In written language the singular pronouns are as such: minä (I), sinä/te (you), hän/he (he/she/they) and se/he (it)

Plural pronouns are: me (we), te (you), he (they) and ne (they when used as a plural for "it")

In spoken language it's a bit different: mä (I), sä (you, singular), se/hän (he/she/they/it), me (we), te (you, plural), ne/he (they)

You probably noticed something peculiar already and we're getting there.

When I started learning the written language in school, my teacher told me that hän refers to a human person while se refers to everything else. Also, if you want to sound formal and/or respectful when referring to someone you use plural forms when referring to them even if you're referring to a singular person, hence the use of te instead of sinä and he instead of hän or se. However, if the goal is to still sound as formal/respectful as possible you would not use ne instead of se, because ne implies a lack of personhood. It's always more polite to imply personhood even if you're not talking about people, but people will probably find it odd if you do imply personhood to things that aren't alive. So, with inanimate objects it's either se (singular) or ne (plural).

And there in lies the foundation for many nuances.

Some Finns are indeed taught that in written language hän can be used to refer to all living things while se can be used to refer to all non-living things, but that's not the case with me.

Hän implies personhood. Personhood implies consciousness and agency.

As a result, in spoken language hän is only used when you want to underline the agency of the person/living thing you're talking about. We also generally use se when talking about people because we can often hear from the context that this is someone with agency hence emphasis on agency is not needed, so it would be weird to do that. But when speaking about animals, if someone refers to an animal as hän and you don't also switch to hän it can leave the impression that you don't think this animal has any agency or anything else that comes with personhood, like emotions. Alternatively, it implies that you see animals as "lesser" and their emotions as "not important". Doubly so if the animal is a pet. It's polite to use hän when speaking about an animal, especially to the owner of said animal without prompting. It's rude to insist calling an animal se when someone has already referred to the animal as hän. But if you refer to a human as hän in casual conversation it has a whole another connotation.

As stated before, hän is used to underline agency in spoken language.

"Hän päätti nyt näin." He/she/they decided so this time. This implies that the speaker does not necessarily agree with the decision, made even more apparent by the speakers tone.

"Se on hänen päätös." It's his/hers/their decision. Less friendly and more frustrated sounding version of "se on sen päätös" which means exactly the same. The latter implies more familiarity or warmth between the decision maker and the speaker and doesn't really imply frustration in the same magnitude. The first one can imply frustration either towards the decision maker, the situation or the one who is spoken to. Both mean that the speaker is not responsible for the decision, but while the first one implies that the speaker can't change the decision makers mind it even if they disagree with the decision, the second version implies that the speaker doesn't really want to change their mind even if they could try. Either way, the ultimate decision making power isn't in the hands of the speaker in this case.

But there's a secret option that has become more popular over the years. It's using hän when referring to non living things to imply agency in a way that's humorous. Like in a conversation I often heard and had in my home:

A: "Mä kolautin itteni pöydän kulmaan." I hit myself onto/ran into the corner of the table

B: "Hyökkäskö se pöytä sua päin?" Did that table attack (towards) you?

A: "Joo. Hän hyökkäs aika kovaa." Yeah. He/she/they attacked quite hard.

The "joke" was started when person B implied that an inanimate object can attack (which is an action requiring decision making) and then person A continued the "joke" by confirming that this table has a personhood and indeed decided to attack. It's not meant to make anyone laugh, it's meant to lighten up the mood and save person A from further embarrassment by implying that the whole ordeal was the tables fault.

But if the person B had answered in another way instead, they could have tried to further embarrass person A.

B: "Miksi sä hyökkäsit sitä pöytää kohtaan? Hän oli ihan viattomasti paikallaan." Why did you attack that table? They were innocently staying still where they were supposed to be.

This doesn't only imply that person A was at fault, but also that the collision was a malicious act towards an innocent person, who was just doing what they were supposed to do. While it's more likely to get a laugh out of people in the vicinity, it's not polite to try to further embarrass someone if you don't know they can take it from you.

Also, when someone is representing or speaking for a group, they are referred towards as if the representative is the whole group. The representative can also more easily to make clear their stance with the group. If they constantly use he when referring to the group, it means that the representative is not part of this group they are speaking for. If they use me, they are speaking as a group member or as someone who agrees with them in the matter at hand. If they use any version of minä, they are making clear that this opinion/experience is their own or at least not something the whole group agrees with.

Also, corporations, even single person companies, are spoken about as if it's a plural collective. When I'm asking a small business owner where can I find more products or info about the company, I use te. If I would use any form of sinä it is taken as an interest in the person behind the company, unrelated to the company.

And when speaking or writing in a formal manner, keep in mind that being overly polite can easily be mistaken for sarcasm. Finns are generally very casual. When writing personal emails, text messages etc we use the spoken language. Written language is only spoken if you are reading a book aloud or you happen to be a politician doing your work.

I might have missed something but this has gotten too long already cx

All I can add to this is that this is literally a real language. All the completely nonsense-seeming bullshit about the finnish language you encounter on tumblr is legit things that are a thing in a real language spoken by like 5 people in one corner of the world, and not a whole and full "yes and" goncharov- style bit.

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mybworlds · 3 months

Text

CHAPTER 6

status: ongoing

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…

Masterlist

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)

Before to start... thank you for your support, if you like it pls leave a like/comment/reblog it, if you don't like it don't be rude and keep going. Please remember English is not my first language, so please be merciful!

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

You put the key in the lock and you come in your house, you take off your scarf and coat, your boots and you wear your slippers, then you go to the kitchen, but you freeze on the door: your mother is half - naked on a chair in your kitchen.

You turn around and pretend not to see anything, but she must have seen you from the corner of her eyes because she jumps and tries to get dressed clumsily.

The man, perhaps in his mid-fifties, looks at you surprised and upset at being found with his intimacy on show.

"Honey." your mother says, coming toward you.

You back up and make to go toward the door, but your mother stops you by making you turn toward her "Honey, he's a friend. And-- well, I thought you were at work tonight, I thought ..."

"What?" you say for the first time using an icy tone with your mother "How long has this been going on?"

"Almost a year." she replies "I was going to tell you about it sooner or later. I was just waiting for the most opportune moment, but I would have told you, believe me."

"I don't care." you blurt, releasing yourself from her grip and running to get your boots on.

"Where are you going?"

You don't answer her, you put on your coat and scarf again, take your keys and then open the door, think about it for a moment and then turn to her "One thing you have to tell me though, when did you see each other if you're always in the hospital?"

"He's a colleague, honey. And we sometimes used to see each other there, but other..."

You nod "So, you told me to go to the hospital, you were actually with him."

"Listen to me..." she's about to say, but you go through the door and slam it behind you, run down the stairs, and take the main street again.

It's almost ten o'clock at night, it's freezing.

You slip your hands into the pockets of your jacket and start walking.

You don't know where to go, you don't know what to do.

You're not upset that you found your mother in a compromising situation with another man, after all, your father and your mother are as good as separated, he left home that you were six or seven years old so she has every right to rebuild her life.

You still walk, you don't know where you're going.

What hurts you is to think about how many lies there have been in your life, all the obligations you had to follow, even your mother's abuse, how much responsibility she has thrown on you all this time, how many "you must" had to follow and never transgress, but what hurts you the most is her absolute search for truth from you; sure you have omitted things from her lately, but you think that if you had told her all the truth you would never have met Joel or Jack, you wouldn't have begun to get out of that bubble filled with lies in which she forced you to live.

You are so immersed in your thoughts that you didn't realize you were standing in front of Joel's house.

Your eyes pinch for the frost, you hope he's there, you want him to be there.

You knock.

Just once.

You don't have the courage to push.

After a couple of minutes, you see him open the door slightly, holding the latch still on the door, then he realizes it's you, he closes the door again and then throws it wide open "What-- what happened to you?" Joel asks you, widening his eyes with a worried look.

You don't know the look on your face at that moment, but you're definitely torn.

You see him put a rifle down next to the wall and then immediately close the door again.

You'd like to ask him what he's going to do with that, but that's not the pressing question; you have a thousand thoughts in your head, each one more confused than the last.

"Hey, look a' me!" he says, turning towards him and taking your face in his big warm hands, "What are you doing here at this hour?"

You swallow, but you don't know where to start.

"Wait, take this off." he says pointing to your coat "And go by the fireplace, you're freezing."

You nod, "Gimme." he says taking your coat "D' ya want something warm to drink?" he asks again.

"Yes." you reply, nodding.

He opens wide his eyes "Something serious must have happened to answer me yes, sweetheart. Go that way, I'll be right there."

You obey by entering his living room and approaching the couch, you see he was carving wood, no precise shape yet, but your gaze does not linger too much on the carving wood as much as on the crackling fire.

You get closer and the chill you felt up to that moment gives way to shivers and then to intense heat. You squeeze into your shoulders and close your eyes, perhaps you've bothered him.

"Sit down." says Joel behind you, you turn away "Something that warms you right away is just the whiskey, but I don't think it's..."

"It's all right." you say interrupting him.

Joel says your name and then approaches you "You're upset, I don't think tasting whiskey is a good thing."

"It's okay. I'm an adult, I can drink. I'm not a child, Joel," you tell him in a serious tone of voice.

"Will you tell me later what happened? I don't like your dark face," he tells you.

"All right, but there's not much to tell," you say, cutting short.

Joel still looks at your face for a moment and you - still feeling his gaze on you - look away from him and back at the fire. He quickly returns with two glasses, you see him set them down on the coffee table and pour a half-finger of whiskey into both glasses, and then he hands you one.

You sniff that golden liquid first, it's strong, very strong, it almost pinches your nose, then you bring your lips close to the glass and drink a small amount. It stings, you cough.

He, on the other hand, drinks it suddenly and smiles at your reaction.

"Gimme the glass, I'll take it over there."

"I'm not done yet," you note.

"Sweetheart, will you tell me what's going on? You've been acting strange since you came in. D' ya want to tell me?" he tells you, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand.

You sigh, then barely squeeze the glass in your hands and tell him, "Sorry to bother you. I see you were carving something, maybe I disturbed you."

"Baby, you never disturb. You could have come even in the middle of the night. Maybe you should have waited about ten minutes, but I would have let you in anyway. Whenever you want, my house is always open."

You nod with your head down "Thank you."

You take another small sip feeling a warm, burning sensation in your throat.

Joel doesn't speak; he waits for you to say something about it.

You tell him everything, all your thoughts, how you felt, what you thought as you walked through the semi-dark and semi-deserted streets of the town, you tell him about your emotions and how you felt betrayed by your mother.

He says nothing, takes your glass in his hands and lays it on the coffee table and then takes your face in his hands again "My poor little one." he tells you as he strokes your cheekbones with his calloused thumbs "Life with you is just unfair." he comments, you feel your eyes tingling "Now, however, it's up to you to decide what you want to do, how you want to react and live your life. Whether to react by destroying your life or to react and live your life the right way."

"And will you help me?" you ask him looking into his eyes.

"I don't know if I'm the best person for the job, but I'll certainly try," he replies, still stroking your face with his thumbs, while you place your hands on his and kiss him.

You quickly realize you've done something very stupid, he will now pull your face away from his and he will tell you not to do that again, and you will feel even more stupid for having made that gesture.

But, he doesn't push you away; he kisses you back. It's a slow kiss, nothing passionate or overwhelming, it's not impetuous, but it shakes you to the core. His lips are so soft against yours. He doesn't deepen the kiss, he follows your rhythm, and when you open your mouth, he always waits for you to make the next move. Move that is not long in coming. Your tongues started a slow dance, he doesn't overdo, he doesn't do anything beyond the rhythm you are setting. Your breaths mingle and you can't help but think about how you tried to push away the thought of him and instead you came right to him for comfort.

He gently pulls your face away from his, you stay for a while with your eyes closed, forehead to forehead, your breaths crashing against each other's faces, "D' ya regret?" he asks you.

"No. Are you?" you ask him, opening your eyes and looking into his eyes, wanting to know immediately what his thoughts are on the matter.

"No." he answers you right away "I was asking you because I thought you cared about that boy, John." he adds looking you in the eye and moving his hands away from your face.

"Jack." you correct him.

"Whatever" you sigh "So? Do you or don't you care about him?" he asks you.

"Joel, the truth is, I don't know. With him -- I had a good time with him today, I had a wonderful day. We talked, we laughed, we joked, time flew with him and everything was perfect." you see him nodding with a low gaze and his hands on his hips "He's such a good guy" you see him tapping his foot on the ground and hear him breathing deeply "and he asked me to see him again."

"So why did you kiss me and not him?" he asks you point-blank, completely displacing you "If you were so good, then you should have kissed him, not me. Don't you think?" he asks you again.

You nod your head low "Yes, maybe, but ... it didn't feel right, that's it."

"Why did you kiss me? Was it to try to see if you cared about him -- or what?" he asks with a nervous tone.

The truth is you don't know why you did, what you wanted to prove to yourself, what you hoped to understand with this kiss, you never imagined Joel would ask you these questions that you yourself should have been thinking about before and instead, reacting on instinct, you found yourself in a situation that was difficult to understand first for yourself and then for the man in front of you.

"You want the truth, Joel?" he nods "I have been fine with you from almost the very beginning, you opened my eyes on so many things and you are the person who welcomes me and makes me feel at home like no one else, with you I feel strong and protected."

"These words I already know where they lead," he comments, "they always end with a though you are not what I want, from my life I want something else, don't I?"

"Don't compare me to her!" you blurt "If she yelled at you this I can't help it, but don't compare the events nor the people!" you continued raising your voice for perhaps the first time in your life.

"I'm not comparing anyone at all, you're the one who dragged me into this shitty situation," he spits between his teeth, looking at you hard.

"You want me out of your life? Whatever." you explode, turning your back on him and making to go get your coat. At this point better anywhere else than standing there with him, you'll just spew nastiness at each other that maybe you don't even really think about each other.

Before you reach the door, however, Joel grabs you by the wrist with one hand and pins you by the shoulder with the other "I can't let that happen. I'd--" you hear him sigh and then rest his forehead against the back of your head "actually, I don't know what I want either. I want you to be happy, but I'm afraid you could never be happy with someone like me around. You probably, well-- need someone else. And maybe this someone else is Jack himself, maybe," he adds.

"You see, there are two of us who are confused." you say "Maybe we just need to put some distance between us, maybe it will be good for us and help us clear our minds." you propose, but you already know it's gonna be impossible.

"D' you want me to be your music teacher only?" he proposes, loosening his grip from your wrist and shoulder.

"Joel," you turn toward him, "I don't know if we can go back and pretend we're just a teacher and his student. I don't know if I can think of you as just that anymore. The truth is, when I'm with you, I can't think about Jack. You completely erase him."

You are going on a dangerous ground, you know, but you have to be honest. You've always been honest unfortunately, and you have to be honest now more than ever.

"Baby girl, I don't want to make this harder. This kiss was beautiful and--" Joel sighs, he was about to say something but evidently restrained himself "I don’t want things to change or to be complicated because of it; so," he says moving a strand of hair behind your ear, "we're going to try to pretend that nothing ever happened. Good for you?"

You don't want to lose Joel, so it's okay.

It has to be.

Although it means to ignore everything, including the heartbeat when you see him.

"Okay." you find yourself saying, but you're sure your eyes are sad.

"Okay." he says stroking the contour of your face with a finger and then adds after a few moments, "Come back in front of the fireplace so you can warm up a little more. I'll go find you a blanket. Maybe you can sleep on the couch tonight."

You only nod, exchange another long look, and then he goes upstairs disappearing from your sight.

You, on the other hand, go over by the fireplace wondering why you were so weak from kissing him and leading him on only to backtrack immediately, clutching your shoulders and breathing deeply: you saw in his eyes the anger, the disappointment you gave him and that certainly reminded him of something very unpleasant happened a while before.

Tonight you were hurt and you hurt, a worse evening cannot exist.

The next day, a timid light invades the living room of the Miller's home, you find yourself opening your eyes slowly and looking around, on the coffee table there's a small wooden sculpture - the one Joel was carving last night - in the shape of a guitar.

When did he make it?

Didn't he sleep?

You sit up taking off the midnight blue blanket Joel gave you just before he took leave and went upstairs. He treated you courteously, but you felt as if he had already wanted to distance himself from you, and you are really sorry about that. You didn't intend to hurt him or bring to his mind old, painful memories.

You get up and take the small guitar in your hands, then notice a very small note placed underneath the same small guitar, "This is for you."

"Thank you." you whisper, turning between your fingers the small guitar.

Then, you go to the kitchen, you want some coffee, some water, but you don't know if....

You find there another small post-it note posted on the refrigerator, "If you want to drink or eat, help yourself. The bathroom is on the second floor at the far left."

His hospitality makes you feel even more guilty, he's so sweet and you were so mean to him. You wish you hadn't been hit by Jack's sweetness; you wish you had been hit by Joel right away. You sigh and grab a glass, open the refrigerator and see that it's in a terrible condition: there is a bottle of water, a package of eggs and a lemon only. You pour yourself some water, and then you have an idea: you're going to shop for him. Or rather, you're going to help him shop for groceries.

You drink a glass of water and make yourself a cup of coffee. Then, you make one for him, too, and you go upstairs. Up the stairs is a landing area with two side cabinets. On one of the cabinets there is a framed photo of Joel and Tommy.

Once you get upstairs, you immediately notice five rooms: two have the door open, therefore, you see inside them a room full of sculptures, guitars and other paraphernalia whose use you ignore, in another there is a small studio with a desk and a worktop, the other three rooms have the door closed therefore you imagine that one is the bathroom and the other the bedroom, the third you don't know what could be there, maybe another bedroom. On the left there's the bathroom - as he had written to you - and one of the two closed rooms must be Joel's.

Knock. A couple of times, softly.

Then, you hear footsteps and finally the door opens: curly brown messy hair fall on his forehead, his eyes swollen with sleep, he's wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of very short shorts. At that moment you don't feel like you're looking at a forty-seven-year-old man, but a man of at most thirty-nine or forty.

"Good morning." you say unable to take your eyes off of him and the way he showed up at the door.

"Hi." he greets you with a sleepy voice, gives you his back and walks back to the bed sitting down again "You get any sleep?" he asks.

"Yes." you reply staying at the door.

"Come." he tells you and you enter slowly looking around noticing to the right a small walk-in closet, a shoe rack in the corner, a chest of drawers sits underneath a front facing window, with a carving of an eagle, a lamp, a candle, and two photo frames on top depicting Joel and a little girl, but you decide not to dwell on the pictures. In the middle there's a double bed, an armchair, two bedside tables. A small wall shelf has more books, binoculars, and a clock above it.

"D' ya wanna somethin'?" he asks.

"I brought you a coffee. I couldn't find the cup, so I put it in a plastic cup for you," you reply, handing him the coffee.

He looks at your face, then he gives a small smile and takes the small glass in his right hand.

"So smooth." he says, but you doubt he refers to the coffee because there's no record of sugar or sweetener in the house "Sit down." he still continues by resting his hand on the bed and gently patting the mattress inviting you to sit.

You sit at a short distance from him with your head down, not sure if he wants to talk about what happened last night or not.

"What d' ya plan to do now?" he asks you, and you look up at him questioningly "'bout your mother, I mean." he clarifies.

You sigh "I'm disappointed in her, but I can't just cut her out of my life," you reply, looking through the window "I'll have to talk to her sooner or later. I can't let whatever happened just happen. It's not fair," you add.

"So, you leaving now?" he asks you.

You look at him "If you think that's going to get rid of me, it's not!" you reply, smiling back at him "Get dressed, let's go shopping!" you add as you get up of bed.

"Shopping?" he asks confused.

"Yeah, y'know, those things people use to eat." you tease him.

"Witty!" he says shaking his head "I haven't been grocery shopping since..." he's about to answer, but he probably he can't remember exactly.

"I see." you cut short "I'll help you." you add "Come on, bear!" you exclaim teasing him.

"How dare you." he says, but you know he's joking. You know his tone of voice, when he's joking and when he's not.

You stick your tongue out, smiling at him and walking out of his room.

While you are waiting for him, you pick up your phone and notice you received several calls, texts and voice mails from your mother. You don't know if skip it or read and listen her texts, but then you decide not to stiffen up completely: you don't want to become hard and calculating like her.

"Honey, I know you don't want to talk to me. I know you feel betrayed by my attitude and my lies. We always promised each other to tell the truth, but I failed. I haven't had the courage to tell you about Leo and me, I don't know why-- maybe because I know deep down I'm not doing the right thing for me or for you. Leo is married and he will definitely not be the one-- he will never leave his wife, but I can't do this without him, that's the truth." your mother says in a voice mail "I feel guilty with you for two reasons and because I betrayed your trust by not telling you about him, but maybe for you I also betrayed your father. Honey, there is something about him I never had the courage to tell you. I will tell you about it, when that time and the memory hurt less too, I swear. Your father and I loved each other so much, but by now I don't know where he is or if he will ever intend to come back. I wouldn't know where to track him down, otherwise I think our separation would have been made official by now." she continues in a second voice mail "Anyway, I hope you are with someone who loves you and can make you feel protected, maybe someone who doesn't betray you or make you feel betrayed like I did. I love you." concludes the last voice mail, and hearing those words causes an ache in your stomach and a knot in your throat.

Joel appears at your side, you give him a long look, he doesn't say nothing. He doesn't ask you to explain, he doesn't comment, he nods only and squeeze your hand in a gesture of mute understanding.

How could you consider him as your music teacher only?

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