#What I wouldn’t give to sit at the lunch table of a group of Will Graham’s students after he got ARRESTED | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

withacapitalp · 1 year

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(Okay I saw a post about a premise similar to this but I cannot find it for the life of me. Anyway I loved it so much that I had to write a version of it myself. A post s2 AU!) Now with Part Two

Steve was never exactly the most perceptive person in the world.

He missed all of the signals that Nancy had given him, every sign that had pointed to their failing relationship. He hadn’t seen the moments that proved she was right about everything going on in their town either. Steve overlooked important details in his college applications, and took shots in basketball that almost always missed. He even sometimes walked right into walls these days, because his spacial awareness had kinda been shot since Billy smashed a plate over his head fifteen days ago.

A lot of that could be forgiven, but, this…

Well this was a little bit obtuse, even for him.

“You know you’re sitting at our table, right, King Steve?”

Steve looked up from his Tuna Surprise, resisting the urge to flinch at both the blinding light from the windows in the cafeteria and the nickname he hated so much. Eddie Munson stared back, carrying a lunch tray in one hand and his signature metal lunch box in the other.

“Your humble court is awaiting you on the haves side of this blessed cookery. This side is where the dweebs and the nerds parlay. A single place we get a reprieve from the endless bombardment of the average” Munson continued, flinging his arms to and fro, gesturing to the group of teens behind him who were staring at Steve like he was dirt under the bottom of their shoes.

He hadn’t understood the majority of what Eddie had just said to him, but those looks were enough to give Steve the gist. He was not welcome here.

“Sorry,” He muttered, grabbing his tray and sliding it to the other end of the table. He took a deep breath the second he was alone again, letting the tension melt away from his body as he collapsed back in his seat.

Even though he was no longer welcome to sit at his old table, Steve probably could have gone and eaten in the library with Nancy and Jonathan. They had awkwardly invited him to join them a few times since everything had gone down, but he always said no.

It was better this way. Better to be alone. Better to not have to watch the two of them try and hide how much happier they were now that they could be together. They deserved that happiness, Nancy deserved that happiness, and Steve refused to be the one to make her try and stifle any of that.

He had hurt her enough already.

“What happened to your face?”

Once again Eddie dragged Steve out of his thoughts. He was standing over Steve’s head, nearly hovering on top of him, watching Steve like he was trying to work him out. Like Steve was a particularly complex puzzle that he could solve just with his eyes.

Nancy had always looked at him that way. Steve had hated it when it was her, and he hated it even more coming from Munson now.

“Got into a fight,” Steve grunted, stabbing at his shitty cafeteria food and hoping that his abrasiveness would be enough to get Munson to leave him alone.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he could say now that they had all signed another round of NDAs, but he was pretty sure even talking about this was toeing the line. It was safer all around to get Eddie to go away as quickly as possible.

It wouldn’t be all that hard. Usually all it took were a few well placed bitchy comments to get people to see the picture and give up on him. The only group of people who hadn’t been perturbed by Steve’s spikiness was the kids. They had shown up at his house pretty much daily since the gate had closed, and had even taken to begging on him for rides to and from school.

Dustin in particular seemed determined to stay latched onto him like a barnacle, but Steve found that he didn’t really mind their clinginess.

It was nice to be needed, even if it was only a group of pre-teen smartasses.

“With who?” Eddie asked, leaning his hip on the table next to Steve and crossing his arms over his chest, “Cause Billy Hargrove is telling everyone he can that he beat your ass for messing with his sister,”

“I would never do something like that,” Steve shot back instantly, feeling the fading bruises on his face twinge as his jaw clenched in fury. He couldn’t help the words spilling out of his mouth, unable to stop them, “Billy’s a racist jackass who tried to put his hands on one of my fucking kids,”

Shit.

“There is…so many confusing parts of that sentence,” Eddie stated, blinking in shock.

“Whatever,” Steve murmured, biting his cheek to stop himself from saying anything more and hunching his shoulders up around his ears. They weren’t exactly his kids, per say, but Steve was invested in keeping them safe now. The idea of doing anything to hurt any of them was painful, and the thought of Billy spreading that kind of rumor made bile rise up in his throat.

Fuck Billy. Fuck this. Fuck his life honestly.

“Look, Munson, I’m really not in the mood right now,” Steve sighed, hating how weary he sounded. It would have been better to fight his way out of this. Steve was crappy at fighting though, and there wasn’t much spirit left in him. Not after two weeks of perpetual stress and tension.

“Harrington-”

“I moved down, I’m not in your way, isn’t that good enough?” Steve bit out, halfway to just grabbing his tray and throwing it in the trash. He was barely eating anyway, might as well go to the gym to shoot some hoops instead of sitting here being interrogated by drug dealing extraordinaire, Eddie goddamn Munson.

Couldn’t he just let Steve eat in peace? Everything else was already so goddamn difficult these days. Could Steve at least manage to eat a mediocre meal without the entire world demanding something from him?

By the grace of whatever god was potentially out there, Eddie took the hint, pushing off of his resting place and stalking back over to his group of weirdos on the other side. Steve let his eyes slip shut and dragged in a heavy breath, utterly exhausted.

He was contemplating skipping the rest of the day and going home to sleep when a blue plastic tray identical to the one in front of him bumped his right hand

“What are you doing?” Steve wondered aloud, raising his eyebrows and fixing Eddie with a confused look as he sat down right next to Steve and began to dig into his meal.

“Eating lunch alone sucks?” Eddie offered, shoveling Tuna Surprise into his mouth and shuddering, pushing the rest of the disgusting concoction to the far side of his tray, “Plus I’m hoping that if I get in your good graces you’ll give me your pudding cup,”

Steve stared at him for a few more moments, waiting for whatever prank was about to be pulled. But Eddie didn’t budge, continuing to eat around his main dish with strange efficiency and ignoring Steve’s gaze.

“Go nuts,” He finally said, offering the plastic container over to Eddie who grabbed it and gave Steve a big smile

“Mazel Tov, Eddie said, hoisting the pudding aloft and tearing into it, “So, you have children?”

“I- I babysit,” Steve stammered out, completely perplexed by the strange set of circumstances that was playing out in front of him. Eddie paused with his spoon midair in front of him.

“You babysit,” He repeated, turning his head towards Steve. The younger teen nodded and Eddie hummed. He put his pudding down and licked his spoon clean. When he was done, he hefted it aloft, bringing it down on the back of his right hand with a smack that echoed all around the cafeteria.

“Ouch!” Eddie yelped, flapping his hand around in the air to try and get rid of the sting. Steve looked frantically to and fro as the rest of the room stared at them, whispering behind their hands.

“Why would you-”

“Had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming,” Eddie explained, interrupting Steve’s furious whisper with a breathless little laugh, “Because I just heard the words ‘I babysit’ come out of King Steve’s mouth,”

“Would you cut it out with the King stuff?” Steve snapped, beginning to lose his appetite, “It’s been a while since I was King of anything, and it was a stupid fucking idea to begin with,”

There was a beat of awkward silence as Eddie gave him another one of those soul searching looks.

“What are you doing Thursday afternoon?” He finally asked when he found whatever he was looking to find. Steve startled, dropping his fork.

What kind of question was that?

Was Munson asking him on some sort of date?!

“I’m…benched from basketball ‘cause of my concussion. So nothing, I guess,” Steve said cautiously, carefully picking his words and trying to avoid the spike of hurt that shot along his chest as he said them.

It wasn’t much, but basketball was one of the only things Steve really thought he was genuinely good at. Not having it was kind of pure torture.

Almost as bad as not having Nancy in his life anymore.

“In that case, come to Hellfire,” Eddie offered, glancing at the clock on the wall and grabbing both of their trays. Steve scrambled to grab his backpack, hefting it onto one shoulder and jogging to keep up with Eddie.

“What?”

“Hellfire?” Eddie repeated, dumping their trash into the bin and stacking the trays next to it, “It’s the club I run,”

“What is it?” Steve asked, curious but unwilling to commit just yet. There was still a part of him that was kind of convinced all of this was some elaborate ruse to fuck with him.

But before Eddie could say anything the bell chimed all around them. The rest of the student population moved as one, and the sound in the lunchroom immediately went from dull roar to cacophonous mess. Steve’s left ear started to ring again, and he winced, shying away from the sudden noise.

“You’ll have to come and see,” Eddie said, waggling his eyebrows, completely ignorant to Steve’s pain. He turned on his heel, raising a hand in a wave behind him as he loped towards the rest of his friend group.

“Thursday after school! In the drama room, don’t be late!”

#Steve harrington #Eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #Steddie au #Steve joins hellfire au #post s2 #st #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #Nancy wheeler #post stancy breakup #Liam speaks up #Writing(withacapitalW)

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evanpeterswhoresblog · 10 months

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Behind the Crime

Warren Lipka x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, dominate warren, underage drinking, underage smoking, use of marijuana, rough sex, hint of choking, talk of robbery, um yeah i think that’s it

summary: from the moment you were brought into the heist, you knew working with warren was going to be hard…

word count: 3.4k

a/n: sorry for not posting guys i have not been on the grind lately. i watched this movie and omfg evan was so attractive i just needed to write. if you’re the real warren lipka just scroll this is about evan…

~~~

You sit back in your chair, the crew members adjusting your mic. You’re starting to regret doing this interview, but it’s too late to back out now. Everything’s already set up, the camera is about to be rolling. The interviewer is sitting a few feet away from you, notes in his hand. He waits for you to give him the signal that you’re ready. You nod, he begins.

“So, y/n, how did you become involved with the group?” He asks.

“I was first approached by Spencer when I was eating lunch outside one day...”

~~~

You were sitting alone, the cool fall breeze almost too cold to be comforting. You didn’t pay much mind to it though, you were more focussed on your studying. You were flipping through the pages of another history article when suddenly there was a presence beside you. Looking up at them as soon as you noticed, you recognized the boy as someone from your class.

“Can I help you?” You asked, your tone polite.

He looked nervous as if he were about to ask you out. “Hi, uh, I don’t know if you remember my name, I’m Spencer we have Art History together.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen you,” you replied. “Do you need help with the homework or something?”

“No, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else, if you’re not busy or anything,” he said, his voice quiet.

You look away for a second before replying. “Sure, sit down if you want I’m not busy.”

He smiled at you before quickly sitting at the spot across from you. He put his bag on the table, you could see him take a deep breath. Was he really going to ask you out? You thought he was cute, but definitely not your type. You started to pray he wouldn’t say anything along those lines.

“I started to ask around a week or two ago about people who are good with computers and stuff, a lot of people told me you were the best person to go to,” he started. He lacked confidence in his voice, you felt bad for the poor guy but paid close attention to his words. “I need some... help with cameras.”

“What kind of cameras?” You asked, intrigued.

What he was saying was true, you were decently good with computers. You mostly would hack into places and disable things you didn’t like, like the cameras on the public library computers. It wasn’t anything illegal, at least you didn’t think it was illegal. It probably was, but you didn’t care.

“Just you know cameras in... semipublic places...”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what kind though? Phone, laptop, desktop, security?”

“Security,” he answered quietly. “But before you say no listen, how does a couple hundred thousand dollars' worth of payment sound?

“What?”

“I won’t tell you the details till I know you’re on board but let's just say something is going down and we need help with the cameras. The pay would be huge and all you’d have to do is just mess with some cameras for like twenty minutes.”

You only stared at him; your mouth slightly hung open. Was he being serious? Was he really asking you to join him in a potential robbery that would pay hundreds of thousands of dollars? You never would’ve expected to be asked such a question on a cloudy Thursday at lunch. You shut your book completely and look around to make sure nobody is close.

“This money, it’s guaranteed?”

He nods. “As long as we get the job done, you’ll have it.”

You knew it was crazy, you knew whatever was going to happen would either result in you going to prison or having to run off into hiding. But the thought of being able to pay all your student loans off and have extra money to live off of was more appealing. Hacking into cameras wasn’t that hard, and it wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Unless it was.

“If you’re trying to get me to make sure a murder or rape isn’t on camera I’ll snitch,” you warned him.

“Oh no, nothing like that is happening at all. It’s just you know a robbery,” he replied, his expression genuine.

You nodded your head, convinced whatever he was asking couldn’t be that bad. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do it.”

~~~

“What was your first impression of the guys?

You smile. “They were really cool, funny, just overall really fun people to hang out with.”

“Do you remember the first time you met all of them?”

“Of course, like it was yesterday...”

~~~

The house you sat in front of didn’t look like a typical criminal's house. It looked like an average American’s family house actually. You were parked out on the road outside the house Spencer told you to go to, you were meeting the rest of the people involved with the robbery. It had been about ten minutes of you sitting out there debating whether or not to go in before you got a text from Spencer asking where you were. You sighed, praying to God this decision was the right one before getting out of your car.

You knocked on the front door with a shaky fist. You started to regret your decision, you thought about turning around and leaving, but the door was opened before you could act on it. An older woman stood in front of you, she looked to be in her 50s.

“Oh, you’re very pretty,” she said, making your cheeks turn red. “You’re here to see Warren, right?”

You had no idea who Warren was, but you nodded. The lady's smile grew, and she opened the door for you and ushered you inside. She directed you to the basement entrance, asking you a million questions you had no answers to. After those few but excruciating painful minutes though, you walked down the basement stairs and finally caught sight of Spencer.

There were three other guys in the room and all of their eyes were on you. Two, along with Spencer, were sitting on a couch. One of them was skinny with glasses, the other muscular with no glasses. They didn’t grasp your attention though. The last guy who was standing did. He had long dark curly hair, and eyes to match. His eyes met yours before you watched them slowly move up and down your body. You didn’t know how to react.

“Guys, this is y/n,” Spencer said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Hello, I’m Eric,” the guy with glasses introduced himself.

“Chas,” the muscular guy spoke, not paying much attention to you. “Are you sure this was a good idea, Spence? How much do we really know about this chick? No offense.”

“Shut up, we agreed,” Spencer hissed. He waved you over and you complied, walking to the couch and sitting on the end beside him.

The standing guy took a step forward and held out his hand to you. You looked up at him before accepting his handshake. His hand was rough, you liked the feeling of it in yours. “I’m Warren and you are our cameraman or woman I guess.”

You laughed. “I guess.”

“How much has Spencer told you?” Warren asked after letting go of your hand and stepping back. It was then you noticed the maps on the wall with drawings all over them, the layout looked familiar.

“Just that I need to hack some cameras and that it’ll pay me a lot,” you answered. “I don’t even know what you guys are stealing.”

“Well y/n, I’m sure you’ve been to your own school's library right?”

You nodded.

“Have you ever taken a tour of the library’s rare book collection?”

You nodded again.

Warren smirked. “Then you know exactly what we’re stealing.”

Your face fell and you immediately looked at Spencer and the rest of the guys. “Are you serious? You guys want to steal historic books?”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Chas mumbled from his chair.

“Shut up Chas,” Warren quickly snapped. He looked back at you, his dark eyes engulfing yours completely. “We’ve been planning this out for months, and you are the last piece to our puzzle y/n. Think about how much you’ll be earning.”

You didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a bad idea.

~~~

“Chas eventually stopped being cold to me, I actually think in the end he became my closest friend in the group,” you say, finishing your story.

The interviewer gives you a look. “Well, besides Warren right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply, a confused look on your face.

“I have to ask if the stories are true, you know about you and him. The other guys say something changed between the two of you after a party you all attended. I mean, didn’t the police even question if your involvement had a deeper meaning than simply the money?”

You shake your head, giving your best performance. “Me and Warren were only ever best friends, there was never a deeper meaning behind anything.”

~~~

Music was pumping through your body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head you could feel it. It had been a few weeks since you met the guys, and they all wanted to do something fun before the heist. So, a frat party was naturally the easiest option. That’s where you were now, already two shots and half a joint in. You didn’t know where Spencer, Nick, and Warren were, but Chas was dancing with you.

Though the two of you got off on the wrong foot, you and Chas quickly learned how well you get along. He was a good friend, all of the guys were. You liked how easily they could make you laugh and brighten your mood. They were all good people who you enjoyed being around.

Warren was the only one that you felt different for. You didn’t know why, but from the first day you met you knew your feelings for him would be different than the other three. The way he looked at you alone was completely different than the others. There was always something darker in his eyes, something you knew wasn’t supposed to be there for simply a friend. Every time the two of you looked at each other, your stomach filled with butterflies. You wanted it too. But in those first few weeks, nothing had happened. No matter how much either of you wanted it.

After some minutes of you and Chas dancing, Warren and Spencer appeared. They asked if the two of you wanted to go out and smoke, you both agreed and followed them outside the back. Not too many people were in the backyard, but there were enough for there to be a bonfire going. The four of you found an empty spot near the fire and sat down. Warren took out a joint and lit it before passing it around.

“Where’s Nick?” You asked after taking a hit.

Spencer shrugged. “Probably with the weird kids doing weird stuff.”

“He’s not that weird,” Chas replied. “He’s just awkward.”

You watched as Warren took another long hit of the joint. Because of the weed and alcohol, you found yourself even more attracted to him than when you were sober. You wanted so desperately to run your fingers through his hair, you wanted to hear his voice as you touched him. He suddenly met your gaze, his lips curled up into a mesmerizing smile. You wanted to kiss him. It was too much for you to handle.

You swallowed and stood up, brushing the dirt off your shorts. “I need to um use the bathroom.”

You didn’t wait for any of their replies. Instead, you rushed back into the house straight to the kitchen. You poured yourself a shot, downing it before giving it a second thought. You needed these feelings to go away. How were you supposed to work with Warren if you couldn’t even look at him without thinking about having sex with him? It made you feel awful. A hookup couldn’t be the reason the robbery went bad, you refused to let that happen.

After another shot, you started to forget about your feelings. In fact, you started to forget about Warren completely. All you felt was the burning sensation of the alcohol in your stomach and chest, it felt good. You stumbled out of the kitchen and into the hallway, grabbing the railings of the staircase for support. Suddenly, you felt a presence next to you, their hand on your back.

“Y/N, are you good?” It was Warren.

You turned your head and looked at him, God how could he look even better? “No- I’m not okay.”

“You’re wasted, you need some water,” he said. He moved his hand around your waist and pulled you up straight. You felt like you were on fire. “Come on, back to the kitchen.”

“Why are you here? I just- I just wanna forget about you,” you mumbled.

He started helping you walk back to the kitchen. “What? Why would you want to forget about me?”

“Because... I want you but I can’t have you. I thought you- felt the same that’s why it’s been so hard to resist,” you spoke, stumbling over your words. “I can’t look at you without thinking about you fucking me.”

Even in your drunken state, you could still see the cockiness on Warren’s face. He lifted you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly before turning and getting you a cup of water. You leaned your head back against one of the cabinets, your head was spinning. You couldn’t think straight.

“Drink,” Warren’s voice filled your ears.

You lifted your head and grabbed the solo cup from his hand, downing the water faster than ever. When you finished, you threw the cup to the floor, your eyes meeting Warren’s once again. He was standing close enough that if you reached, you could touch him.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol, or perhaps it was because of how long you’d felt the tension between you two, that gave you the courage to gently place your hand on the top of his head. His hair was soft, just like you’d expected it to be. You smiled and played with his curls. He didn’t object, you were glad. You needed this.

“Do you want me?” You asked, your voice barely audible against the loud music.

“What do you think?”

You shrugged. “I thought so, but I could always be wrong.”

“Maybe I should make it clearer,” he said. He grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand off his head before stepping closer to you. “If this house wasn’t crowded, I’d fuck you right here, right now.”

Your heart was racing, your cheeks bright red. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Warren was still holding your wrist, it sent electric shocks throughout your body. His eyes began to shift from your eyes to your lips and so on. You swallowed; a lump had formed in your throat.

“There’s probably an empty room somewhere,” you mentioned. “You could take me to one of them and show me you mean what you say.”

Warren raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, you’re pretty drunk.”

“I’m not- I swear. I consent, I’ll remember all of this in the morning,” you replied quickly.

“All right.”

Before you could say anything else, Warren scooped you into his arms and began to carry you through the house. You didn’t know whether to pretend you were drunk so it wouldn’t look suspicious or stay awake to also not make it look suspicious. You chose to stay awake and within minutes you and Warren were alone in a bedroom, your lips connected.

The kiss was fast and rough, everything you expected from him. His arms were wrapped around your waist, he towered over you. You wasted no time, immediately kicking off your shoes and pushing Warren back until he fell onto the bed. He pulled you on top of him, guiding your hips in slow motions over his clothed erection. You felt like you were on fire, you needed more.

You broke this kiss and leaned back so you were straddling him. You pulled off your shirt and bra, Warren followed your actions. Once your eyes fell upon his toned abdomen, you audibly moaned. You quickly leaned down again and kissed his chest, beginning a trail down his body. Each breath that left his mouth made your pussy drip even more. And when you reached his navel, his breaths turned into soft whispers.

“Keep going.”

“Please.”

“I’ll do anything.”

When you no longer had any skin left to kiss you looked back up at him, his eyes were already on you. He got your signal and instantly pulled his shorts and boxers off, leaving him completely naked. You weren’t surprised at his size; you had a feeling he’d be big. You started off by slowly stroking him with your hand, the expressions on his face already enough to make you cum.

After a minute or so of that, you bent down and pressed a small kiss to his tip. You loved the way his leg twitched. It made you proud. So, you took him into your mouth. He gasped, one of his hands finding its way to the back of your head. He didn’t push you; he only twirled your hair back into a ponytail-like style and gripped it tight. You moved your head up and down, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could. You were never a fan of giving head to guys, but with Warren, it was a different story.

Not much time passed before Warren pushed you gently, telling you he wasn’t going to last much longer. You didn’t care, you wanted him to finish in your mouth. But he told you he wanted to have sex, so you stopped. You peeled off your shorts and underwear before you climbed back onto him. His naked body against yours felt unreal, you were almost convinced this was all part of your drunken imagination.

However, when Warren pulled your head down and began to kiss your lips again, you knew it had to be real. His hands gripped your ass, kneading and playing with your skin. You positioned his tip at your entrance, you were so wet you didn’t need any lube. You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, you wanted to know it was okay. He gave you a nod and so you began to push yourself down on him.

He filled you well, just the perfect amount. You had thrown your head back, a moan escaping your lips. You hadn’t had sex in months, and this was the perfect way to break that streak. You started to move your body forward and backward while simultaneously going up and down. Warren’s grip on your ass tightened with each movement you made.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned. “You do it so well.”

Your confidence was boosted; you began to move faster. This only lasted a few minutes though, much to your dismay. You weren’t too athletic; you didn’t have good stamina. Warren noticed this, and without saying anything he flipped your bodies. Once on top of you, he began violent thrusts. You almost screamed from the pleasure; you’d never felt anything remotely close to it in your life. He hit your cervix each time, it made your back arch off the mattress and your nails dig into his back.

“Warren,” you whimpered. “Oh, fuck Warren.”

One of his hands wrapped around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, he just rested it there. You felt the knot in your stomach form at this. It felt so good to be dominated by him. It had been your dream for weeks, and it had finally come true. You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Warren fucking you fill your senses.

When you came, you practically screamed his name. You swore you could see stars. You’d never experienced an orgasm so hard in your life. Warren came a few seconds after you, you felt his dick pulsing inside you. He collapsed on you. You didn’t care about how his weight crushed you, you still held him as the two of you began to come down from your highs.

~~~

As the crew packs up, you remain in your chair, staring blankly out one of your windows. The interviewer is still across from you, but you don’t notice until he speaks.

“Just tell me one thing, off the record,” he says, grabbing your attention. “Did you love him?”

A small smile grows on your lips. “With all my heart.”

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islandofsages · 4 months

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hi can i request the first year gang and Ortho asking m!yuu who can sing and play guitar to sing a song from his world (any song you like or want to write) because they are curious about what songs from yuu's world are like.

characters: first years x male yuu

tags: platonic, canon compliant, fluff, fic + imagines format; mentions of vil and malleus

warnings: none

author's notes: you guys sure like your first years huh?? also i forgot grim technically counts so i wrote him in lol,, plus i just wanted to :D

Another school day, another raucous scene in the cafeteria. You’re used to it at this point obviously. Your friend group is one noisy clique but you wouldn’t have it any other way. That day in particular, you brought your guitar along with you, in case you get bored as the day passes by (which is a likely possibility). It’s currently the topic of your friend’s conversation right now and has been for the past few minutes. You only chew your lunch, pretending to feel indifferent, but you’re amused beyond anything by their debates - and their attempts to get you to play it.

“C’monnnn, don’t be such a spoilsport! You brought it with you, you might as well play it!”

Ace urges, pushy as always. He makes a good point but you still shake your head at him. He pouts at your response.

“For once, I actually agree with him… C’mon, Yuu, pretty please?”

Epel chimes in, weaponizing his looks and the charisma classes Vil’s been pressuring him in. It almost convinces you but you refuse to surrender, just because sparkles twinkled out of someone as they bat their eyelashes cutely. Nuh-uh, no siree.

No, nothing will make you surrender… except if your friends would actually let you finish your damn food. You say this out loud and a silence fills the table for a few moments. They mutter apologies under their breaths as you exhale through your nose, satisfied with their response.

Once you actually finish eating, they almost immediately start to hound you to start playing. And by hounding, it’s mostly them watching you curiously and expectantly. You sigh and finally, pick up your guitar to fulfill your promise. They start to cheer but then with a look from you, they calm back down.

Inhale. Exhale. Your fingers start to waltz on the strings. Your voice reverberates after seconds of instrumental pass.

“We’re no strangers to love… you know the rules, and so do I…”

Ace Trappola

Wow.

He wasn’t really expecting much but you completely blew his mind

He doesn’t say that when you’re done with singing though; he only holds up his fingers, as if to rate it out of ten. You laugh at that

So songs from your world are like that, huh?

They’re not much different from what he can find in Twisted Wonderland but he found himself feeling more affected by the lyrics than he thought

He asks you why you picked such a tender love song to sing to everyone

You chuckle knowingly and tell him that you simply like the song - and there’s nothing else to it.

Deuce Spade

He gives you a standing ovation, big smile and everything

You have to ask him to sit down after it

His comments are simple enough, that he loves your voice and that your playing is really good but it’s enough to paint a light pink on your cheeks

Eyes wide with curiosity, he asks you if a lot of songs from your world are like that

You inform him that no, of course not, when it comes to music, your world’s is just as diverse as Twisted Wonderland’s

Ace teases him for it right after

He then confesses he’ll try to memorize the lyrics of the song so you guys can sing it together - and you raise no objection to it whatsoever.

Jack Howl

Even when you were playing, you could see his ears perking and twitching excitedly; you could only assume his tail was also wagging with much vigor

At the end of your performance, he shoots you an impressed smile and admits that your skills aren’t half-bad

You make a mental note to punt this goddamn tsundere later

You take his comment with grace and his smile grows wider with pride

He then continues by pointing out how cute the lyrics are and you jokingly reply that you forgot he’s somewhat of a romantic at heart. He tries to hide the blush on his cheeks then

Bashfulness aside, he proclaims that one day he wants to sing such lyrics from the bottom of his heart

And so he joins Deuce on in learning the lyrics with you - more for your army, you suppose.

Epel Felmier

He joins in on Deuce with the clapping but at least you don’t have to tell him to sit down

He marvels at your skills and at how manly you are

You sheepishly put your hand behind your head at his comments but you thank him nonetheless

He then adds that the song somewhat reminds him of the country love songs he would hear back in his hometown, though he admits that that may be because of the guitar rather than the song itself

You feel a little silly after hearing the song being compared to a country song but you suppose he has a point

He’d like to see you perform more songs this way - and if you’re willing, he’ll recommend Vil to you so the stories of your talent can be widespread!

You tell him you’ll consider it and hold back your tongue from mentioning the fact that you might go home by then, just so you can savor the possibility of playing the song in front of an audience.

Ortho Shroud

His eyes twinkle with amazement

And if you’re asking, yes, he’s already recorded your performance. Oh, don’t worry, it’s for analysis purposes. Unless…?

Jokes aside, he’ll make sure he tucks that piece of data somewhere safe and confidential - unless you want it to be shared, which he also doesn’t mind doing for you!

You take that into consideration. It’d be iconic but at the cost of your anonymity…

All the while, he questions you what other songs you can share

You almost pick up your guitar again as his eyes seem to plead you to do so

He definitely wants to hear you sing again; maybe pick up a few pointers to sound more human while singing himself too!

Sebek Zigvolt

Is he in tears????

No, you conclude, but it does seem that he’s affected emotionally. You didn’t think you had an inner Malleus in you

He remarks that your skills are above that of the average human (doesn’t matter if you’re actually human or not - you’ll have to bear with him)

You don’t protest and just take the compliment as is

To your relief, he doesn’t go on any Malleus-related tangent after, but maybe you’re the one who’s expecting more “Malleuses” to come out of his mouth

Add him to your gang of wanting to learn the song’s lyrics and you don’t bother guessing his motive

You’re not complaining - four people are enough to shake the world, you think.

Grim

He puffs out his chest with pride as if he’s the one who did the heavy lifting

He goes on to say of course you sound amazing, you’re his hench-human after all!

Then under his breath, you can hear it, his actual praise - your performance is so wonderful, he’s almost jealous

You giggle at it and when he asks, you shrug it off as nothing

You haven’t really showed off your talent to Grim despite living in the same place, you realize

That’s when you vow to him that you’ll give him more personal performances in Ramshackle - together too, if he wants

He agrees to it with a smirk and declares that if anyone’s ears want to be blessed, come on by to Ramshackle; and you have an inkling that he’s not actually talking about himself.

You only now notice how loud you were, considering now the whole cafeteria’s looking at you; some curiously, some irritated. You laugh nervously and apologize as loud as you played, everyone starting to turn back to whatever they were doing before. You even see a few familiar faces but you pay them no further mind. You turn back to your friends as well.

Their expressions seem to beg for more but you shake your head and tell them you’ll save more songs for another day. They seem to be a bit let down but at least it means that you’ll perform more in the future.

Little do they know that’s just one card up your sleeve.

302 notes · View notes

plush-rabbit · 11 months

Text

Simmering and Smothering

Part 2 to It’s Always Coffee

Word Count: 7K

A/N: I’m soft for this guy rn. He’s so !!! Anyways, I um don’t know what else to say

- You stand with a group of people, a lanyard hangs from your neck, and you pinch at the plastic cover that holds a card reading “Visitor” stuck on it. People part of the group peek through windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the wonders behind the glass. You're sure at some point you saw Dr. Ohnn standing close to a coworker. He must have felt your gaze, because he looked up and you had to fist your hand to restrain yourself from waving at him. But when the scientist beside him puts their hand on his back, returning his attention to the project in front, you find yourself digging your nails into the flesh of your palms.

You look around, but nothing catches your eye as it should at Alchemax. While you knew that they wouldn’t show a tour group all the dark and gritty experiments, a part of you wishes that you were able to slip away to explore, but any chances of that were snuffed out with a warning at being kicked out and banned should you stray. However, you do enjoy getting to step foot into the building. The group is led through glass doors, and you hear a few people sigh in relief. Walking in, windows line the room and let in a nice glow of sun.

“Okay,” Dr. Octavius says with a clap of her hands, “this is the cafeteria where we will be having lunch. Those tables over there-” she points over to a cluster of tables that have been protected with stanchions- “will be where you all will be eating. Lunch is one hour, and if anyone needs to go to the restroom, please contact a security guard.” Her gaze is friendly, smile wide and tone with the slightest hint of superiority, she speaks to all, before her gaze lands on you, her smile falling ever-so-slightly. “If you fail to inform a guard, and are caught wandering, you will be immediately removed from the premises.” Smiling, you give her an “okay” symbol, and in response, she looks away from you. “Okay!” She chirps, taking a step to the side, she sweeps her arms towards the selection of food. “Enjoy your lunch.”

You’re at a cart, holding a tray consisting of fruits, and a bottle of juice. You peer over the selection of bread, holding a saran wrapped bagel. You pull your mouth into a line, wanting to put it back, but unsure if that’s okay to do so. Sure, it’s saran wrapped, but what if it’s not okay to place things back. You’ve already picked it up, and with a sigh, you place it on your tray. You look over the rest of the selection of the grains, and perk up at the sight of a muffin. Happily, you reach to grab at it before your wrist is grabbed at.

“Hey-” You bark out, pulling your hand out of the grasp and turning to look at whoever it was that clutched your wrist. You stop short when you realize that it’s Dr. Ohnn. “I feel like we talked about appropriate ways to greet others,” you muse, grabbing at the saran wrapped muffin.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses, and you frown.

Your eyes scan his face, and you fold the tray closer to you. “You’re upset,” you conclude, tilting your head with furrowed brows.

“Of course I am,” he hisses. Your ears begin to burn, and you look around the cafeteria, many of the patrons sitting down and ignoring you- including the tour group you are a part of. When you look back at him, he continues. “Why are you here?”

“I’m part of the tour.” You jerk your head over where your tour members sit behind the stanchions. “Fisk was promoting it- something to show off Alchemax and how family-friendly it is. But if you ask me, I think it’s just a cover to stop people from asking-”

“I don’t care,” he rushes.

You pull your lips into a thin line. “Okay, you don't have to be rude.” His eyes widen, and his shoulders rise. He opens his mouth, but you press forward. “Listen, I paid my way in, okay? If you’re upset with it, then I don’t know what to tell you.” He stays silent and you look back to your group. Turning back to him, you start. “Is that all, Dr. Ohnn? May I go sit down, or do you want to continue reprimanding me?”

He opens and closes his mouth, and when you turn on your heel, he calls your name. You turn to him with a waiting look. “I apologize.” You encourage him with a nod of your head. “I just-” he looks around, and grabs your wrist, pulling you to another station of food, grabbing a tray, and standing in front of the selection of fruits.

“You just?”

“I hadn’t thought that you would be here. I-” with his middle finger, he pushes up his glasses by the bridge- “I wasn’t aware there was a tour going on.”

“Does that matter?” You ask, grabbing at a cup of peeled mandarins.

“Scientists are usually the one to lead groups,” he says quietly, "due to the fact that it is our projects we are showcasing. We all take turns with it given that leading groups take time away from our projects. This should have been a group that I would have led. Dr. Octavius must have seen your name on the roster and decided to lead it for the day.” He gives you a look. “I’m surprised that she let you in.”

“I paid,” you shrug. “She isn’t happy about it or anything, but-” you end it with a shrug. “Anyways, I won’t bother your lunch or anything. I’m simply here to see the building and enjoy lunch.” You give him a smile as you lift up your tray. “Have a good day Dr. Ohnn.” You nod your head, ready to walk away before he stops you.

“Do you have to sit down with the others?” You turn to him, and look at him quizzically. “We um- We never finished our conversation from the other day.”

You tighten your grip on the tray. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “You kinda left without exchanging numbers. But I don’t think I’m allowed to sit elsewhere.” You look back at your group. “I’d invite you to sit with me, but I’m not sure if I could give you quite a riveting conversation as your work buddies.”

“You can. You have,” he says so, without any hesitation. “Our last conversation was entertaining.”

"You think so?"

He opens his mouth, before being interrupted by someone calling his name. "Jonathan," calls someone far too cheery from the door. A few heads turn to watch as another scientist- you think that they look familiar- and turn back around once the scientist enters the cafeteria. They turn on their heel to wave at another and it clicks- it's the scientist that touched his back.

You look back to the doctor, giving him a raised look. He has a sort of flush that colors in his face, and you purse your lips together.

The scientist walks toward the both of you, but their attention is solely on Jonathan. "Jonathan-" they say his name with a sickly sweet tone- "I thought you were going to wait for me so we can have lunch together." They smile brightly at the other and you watch as they reach over to squeeze at his bicep. "You hadn't forgotten, had you?"

"My apologies, Dr. Owens." You don't miss the way that he refers to the scientist by their last name while they refer to him by his first. A frown tugs at corner of your lips- they refer to him by his first name. You glance between the two and a pit settles in your stomach. "I hadn't forgotten, but I got distracted. It must have slipped my mind."

"You don't normally get distracted," they note, and their eyes dart at you. With the consequence of being acknowledged, you smile at them. "Ah. Part of the tour group, huh? No wonder you bothered our precious doctor." They're far too sweet with their words, it makes you uncomfortable. You open your mouth to apologize, but they continue on. “I was wondering if we could get the chance to go over our notes?” You feel as if you're in the middle of something. Standing besides Dr. Owens, you feel unsure of yourself. You clear your throat. They turn to you, and their smile is beaming. “Ah, I didn't mean to interrupt. While I’m sure Dr. Ohnn would love to engage with others about theories and his work, I do have to steal him away from you.” Their smile turns gentle, and you feel silly standing between them. “Sorry,” they apologize with a smile.

"Uh, yeah." You grit your teeth- that came out less eloquently than you would liked. "Sorry, Dr. Ohnn." You tap your heel against the ground. “I’ll leave you to it.”

"Oh- Um-” he looks at you, and you smile at him, shrugging your shoulders. He returns his look towards the other scientist, and you let your gaze drift down. You walk away, catching only a glimpse of their conversation. “What would you like to discuss?”

Sitting down at a designated table, the other tour members greet you. You smile and pick at your bagel, taking small bites, regretting not getting some kind of topping. You bite at your muffin, nodding along as the other group members talk about the experiments going on at the building.

It would make sense for him to have a partner. He's attractive, and has a good job. With the one conversation that you've had with him, he was well spoken. You eat your mandarins, letting the citrus fill your mouth. Dr. Owens isn’t unattractive and they certainly seemed nice. You do your best not to look at the doctor and his partner, keeping your head down as you listen to the other people in your group.

You know why you feel so bothered by it all. It’s dumb. You only had one actual conversation with him, but it was nice. He was nice- much nicer than you had ever given him credit for. You feel silly over being jealous of a man you only knew for a minute.

"Fuckin' driver," you mutter under your breath, your lips curled in disgust. Fixing yourself, you cross your arms and decide to walk to the train station. It's incredibly late and something that you actively avoid doing, but you don't want to risk yourself with another driver. "Now I gotta walk."

A part of you pays with the idea of putting in your headphones and at least having a calming walk, but you shake your head at that idea. You will not be murdered just because you wanted to listen to music.

Headlights flash by and you bite the inside of your mouth every time. A car passes by, and you watch as the red tail lights blink on. You stop in your steps, taking a look around. No one else on the sidewalk acknowledges the car.

“Okay”, you think to yourself, “I can't get abducted in front of other people.” You take a step forward and pause. “That's dumb. Yes, I can.” You scowl and tap your foot against the pavement, holding tighter onto the strap of your bag.

However, no one else seems fazed by a car pulling over, and that gives you confidence to walk further. At the end of the car, you see the passenger window roll down. You hesitate again. Sucking in a breath, you roll your wrists, and as you walk past the car until you hear your name being called.

You turn, and through the windshield, you see a familiar doctor waving at you. Looking around, you clutch onto the trap of your bag before making your way towards him.

"Dr. Ohnn?"

He smiles nervously. He looks far too tense for someone in their own car. "Hello," he calls you by your name. "I was sure you would have left ages ago."

"Tour ran late- one of the kids explored without permission," you explain.

"I'm surprised it wasn't you." You weren't aware he could tease.

"I wasn't in the mood for any trespassing charges. Maybe tomorrow." You shrug, and send him a grin. “Who knows? Night’s still young and all.”

He turns his head, and you follow his gaze out onto the street before the both of you. "Why are you walking?"

“People had their own rides, and I didn't. I took the bus. After the whole fiasco, I missed it. I got into a taxi, but uh-" you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest- "the driver was being too sleazy for my tastes so I decided to take my chances walking.”

“Oh- I’m sorry to hear about that.” He leans over the middle console of the car, with his hand pressed down on the passenger seat. “It’s quite late,” he tells you.

Your lips stretch into a thin grin. “Correct. It’s no wonder that you’re one of the top scientists at Alchemax.”

“You’re hilarious,” he deadpans.

“I try,” you tell him. The soft glow of the streetlamps casts him in a warm glow. “But I'd be more inclined to believe you if you were actually laughing.”

“Yes, well, I’ll try to laugh next time.” He rolls his eyes, and you smile sharply at him.

“Is that why you stopped? To hear my humor?” You tease, taking a step forward, and he tilts his head to look at you.

“No, actually. I thought it was you, and I wanted to know if you would like a ride?”

You’re taken aback. “Oh! Um- No, it’s okay. I’m okay,” you correct yourself. You turn looking down the street where the crowd of people slows. You look back at him. “I’m sure you have your own plans for the night. I wouldn’t want to intrude or interrupt or anything.” You twist the strap of your bag in your hand. “While I appreciate the offer, you don’t have to worry about me Dr. Ohnn.”

“You wouldn’t be interrupting anything. I don’t have any plans.”

You stay silent, weighing your options in your head. While you’d like to be in a car and taken to your home, you also can’t just enter his car. Even if he is the one offering. No. You can’t. There has to be a line. You have a crush on him- maybe. You’re attracted to him. Wait, that’s actually worse. You shake your head.

“I shouldn’t.” You bite your bottom lip and look at the air freshener that hangs down the rearview mirror. “I would want to get you into any sorts of trouble.”

“Trouble?” He says in a quiet voice, but alarm is still laced into his words.

“You know-” you wave your hand in front of you- “with Dr. Owens. Would they be okay with you giving me a ride?”

He gives you an incredulous look. “What does Dr. Owens have to do with this?”

Your chest begins to burn, and it travels upwards to your face. “Would they appreciate you giving a ride to a stranger?”

“You aren’t a stranger,” the way that he calls your name has your breath hitching, and heart racing. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you walking so far to a station at night.”

“Okay,” you shrug. “But you have to put in the directions on your phone. I’m easily distracted and won’t be able to give you any good directions.”

“Fine by me,” he pulls away and the door unlocks. You open the door, and the window slowly raises. “Between you and I, I’m not entirely great with navigation.” The noise from the outside mutes as you close the door, the lock clicking down on itself. You click the seatbelt as you give him a look. “I get lost easily,” he admits. He grabs his phone and sorts through his applications, finally passing it your way with the map function on display.

“Don’t you have a PhD?” You enter your address, and return the phone, watching as he places the phone on the holder stuck to the car.

“Doesn’t mean a thing if a shopping center has me turned all sorts of ways,” he admits, setting the car to ‘drive’ and pulling away from the sidewalk. You laugh, it starts as a snort, and forms into a chuckle and it has you hiding your smile behind your hand, trying to quell the laughter.

You turn to look at him, the corner of your lips tilting upwards and wrinkling at your eyes. “I don’t even think I could picture you getting lost in a mall.”

He sits up straighter, and casts a glance through the corner of his eye. “It isn’t a particularly good image of me,” he confesses.

Humming, you lean back into the seat, fixing your bag onto your lap, playing with the zipper. “No, I’m sure it is,” you hum. “A renowned scientist, lost at a mall.”

“It can be quite traumatizing.”

“I’m sure it can be,” you muse, trying to hide the smile that slowly grows. "Many children often fear the mall for that same reason."

He scoffs at your remark. “Did you learn anything interesting on the tour?” He asks, and you cross your ankles.

“I think we learned about atoms?” He chuckles at that, and you feel warm. “I gotta be honest, I was hoping for something a bit more, ya know?”

“Atoms aren't enough?”

"Not nearly,” you tell him softly. “Maybe if they brought out some secret project or like showed some sort of light show, then I’d be impressed.”

“Oh, of course,” he says with sarcasm laced into his words. “A secret project shown to the masses, especially where one child had gone missing.”

“Explored,” you correct, turning our head to look at him.

The GPS voice speaks, and he misses a turn. He mumbles an apology, the application already rerouting him. “If you join another one, I’ll make sure that there’s a light show.” He casts a glance, and misses another turn, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. “I’m thirsty,” he tells you.

You blink at him. “You can stop somewhere and get something. I don’t mind waiting in the car.” The metal zipper of your bag shines under the passing streetlamps.. “You’re already doing me a favor by driving me home.”

“The coffee shop is still open. Would you mind accompanying me for a drink?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah- sure. I’d be okay with that. I still owe you that cup of coffee. You know, from when we met at the shop?”

He shakes his head. “Consider it my treat. I am inviting you after all.”

“But you did win that little wager, and you are driving me home. I could at least buy you a cup of coffee or something.” He shakes his head. “Come on-” you slap the back of your hand lightly against his bicep- “don’t make it difficult.”

“I’m not making it difficult,” he frowns.

The GPS continues to tell Dr. Ohnn to make a right when he can, and he fumbles with turning it off, grumbling under his breath until you offer your hand out. The phone is placed down, and you shut down the application. The phone is held in your hand, the application minimizing to show his background- a picture of- the phone is pulled out of your grasp.

“I don’t even get to learn what your background is?” You give a faux pout, leaning back against the seat. “Come on, I didn’t even get a chance.”

“Don’t worry too much about it,” he tells you. “It isn’t all that exciting.” You stick your tongue out at him in response and he fails to suppress a smile.

Pulling to the side of the road, you place your bag on the floor, snagging your debit card before zipping the bag up. Getting out of the car, you’re careful not to slam the door. You rush to beat him from opening the door. “Okay,” you draw out the vowel, slipping to move in front of him, “how about this. You buy my cup, and I’ll buy yours. I’ll even let you get a pastry- you know as a thank you for driving me home.

“You don’t have to. I offered to drive you home, it was completely my own volition.”

You give an exaggerated sigh. “Whatever you say, but the offer is there.”

As he orders his drink, you press your card against the payment terminal, telling the barista that it’ll be two separate transactions. You can feel his eyes on you and you can only smile, nodding when the barista confirms. Lacking your energy, he pays when you order your own. You’re sure that the barista is annoyed with the two of you, but at this point, you had a win that he was owed.

With the lack of patrons, the two of you find a table placed beside the window. The two of you sit across from each other, and wait for your drinks to be called. Tapping your hands against the table, you look out the window, watching the people and the cars.

“I was more than happy paying for your drink,” he comments.

You look at him through the reflection, and he meets your gaze there. “I know. But you’re already doing me such a favor by taking me home and stuff-” shrugging, you turn to face him- “might as well buy you a drink.”

“You didn’t have to,” he mumbles.

“I wanted to.”

Looking at you, he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it when he can’t find the right words. You nod, letting him take his time and to continue with whatever he is going to say. Clearing his throat, he can only get a breath out when the two of your names are spoken. You turn just in time to see the drinks placed on the counter as the barista walks away.

“I’ll go get them for us.” He stands from the table and you watch him. He takes long strides, his head bent and arms close to himself, as if trying to make himself to the public. You hadn’t realized that he had such squared shoulders. He almost reminds you of a rectangle.

Placing your drink in front of you, he takes a seat. His teeth bite at his bottom lip and he brings the cup to his lips. Placing the drink down, he clears his throat. “Why did you ask about Dr. Owens?”

Ah. Maybe you should’ve kept quiet about that. “What do you mean?”

“You mentioned that I would get in trouble with them if I had driven you home.”

“Oh um, yeah. It’s whatever, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worrying, I’m asking.”

“Okay,” you whisper, your gaze focused on your drink. “They just seemed into you is all. I thought there was something you know-” you lift your head looking at him- “between you and them.”

“You thought they were into me?” You choose to ignore the wonder in his voice. Opting to stay silent, you nod. “I can assure you, Dr. Owens is not into me.”

“It sure seemed that way,” you mumble into the rim of your drink. He stares at you, and you shift in your seat, hiding behind your cup. “What?”

“What made you think they were into me?”

Your molars grind against each other. The rim of the cup is brought to your lips, but you don’t take a sip, you only press your lips against the opening, before lowering it back to the table. “Oh gosh, are you into them? Look, that's sweet and all, but I’d rather not play matchmaker to some scientists.” He stays silent, and you look outside the window, watching a couple walk past by. “You really wanna know?” He makes a noise of confirmation, and you let out a held breath. “In that little time that I saw the two of you, they had no trouble touching you. And they call you by your name, too.”

“My name?”

Nodding, you twist and untwist your legs. “Yeah.”

“Is that usually an indicator?”

Lifting your hand, you make a see-saw motion. “Sometimes, I guess. Depends on how it’s used and all. Context, ya know?”

“I call other people by their names,” he counters. You nod, letting him continue. “I call you by your name.”

“Oh yeah- I um, I guess so,” you mumble, taking another sip of your drink, desperate to keep yourself busy.

“You never call me by my name.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was allowed.”

“Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you be allowed?”

“I always thought you found me annoying.”

“I did.” You frown, and he gives you an apologetic smile. His hand lifts up, grabbing at a strand of hair and twirling it around his finger. “That doesn’t mean that I disliked you. I have to admit-” he lets go of the strand and it falls back to place- “I always did find your drive admirable. You weren’t one to give up. You’re quite stubborn.” You stare at each for a few moments, heat blazing itself against your skin, making a chill over your body. He breaks eye contact and tilts the cup, making a circle with the bottom edge. “Do you really believe that Dr. Owens likes me because they call me by my name.” You nod, your mouth too dry despite the drink in your hand to even consider speaking. “Hm, okay,” he hums. His hand runs over his stubble, and you wonder if he’s growing out a beard. “You said that they touch me.”

“I um, saw the two of you in an office- while on the tour.” Your hand pulls up to scratch at your shoulder. You feel the need to hide from him.

His smile stretches even more. “I thought I was losing my marbles.” You take a sip of your drink. “I thought that after all my imagining about-” he clicks the last consonant, and you straighten yourself, leaning forward- “I thought that finally, after all of your incessant questioning, that I was beginning to imagine you.”

“Mhm,” you hum, taking another sip of your very diluted drink.

“You were saying.” He rolls his hand expectantly.

“When you turned around- when you saw me- they immediately turned you back around.”

“So? I believe we were discussing the recent project that we’ve both been assigned on”

Grabbing a napkin, you dab at the table where a ring of water from the condensation has formed on the table. “It was how they touched you. They touched your back and lingered their hand on you.”

“I’m not following.”

You make a noise of discomfort, and fist the wet napkin in your hand. “I can’t explain it in words. It’s- It’s in the details and stuff. The observer's point of view.”

“Can you show me?”

“Like?”

“Touch me.”

The napkin is clenched tightly in your hand, your nails ripping through the soft paper. Warmth flushes through your body, and you fear that he can notice the change in you. You know that he doesn’t mean it that way, but for him to say something so- so, intimate sounding, without meaning to, made your heart skip a beat. His eyes widen, and he stumbles over his words. “No- Not- Not like that. I hadn’t meant for it- I’m so terribly sorry-”

“It’s fine,” you reassure, waving your hand in front of you. “It’s cool,” you smile at him and he stops his ramble of words. There’s a rapid beat that bruises inside of your chest at his words- even if he did mean them innocently. “But you know, they touched you at the cafeteria too. They went up to you and touched your bicep.” You lift your hand, reaching over the table, letting it hover over his forearm. Glancing at him, he’s watching you, and you close your fist, pulling your hand back to you.

“And you believe that all of those actions are due to the fact that they like me?”

Shrugging, you suck in your bottom lip. “It’s just my theory,” you whisper, embarrassment laced into your words. “They wanted to eat lunch with you too.”

The two drinks remain untouched and outside, you can hear sirens. His hand lifts up to rub over his mouth, and he has this faraway look in his eyes. “Okay,” he mumbles.

“Okay?”

“Is there anything else that you want to add?”

You pout. “No.”

In the corner of your eye, you see a worker clean a table with a rag. You watch for a moment, and turn your head when chairs are fixed back into their positions, scraping along the floor. A part of you feels unsure about the conversation. While you wouldn’t believe that the scientist had a crush on you, you had at least humored the idea, but knowing that he isn’t interested in you, makes you want to go home.

You open your mouth to speak, and he beats you to it. “I’m hungry,” he states.

“I told you you could have gotten a pastry,” you point out.

“I want dinner. An actual dinner.” Sitting straight, it’s as if he has a new resolve. “Are you hungry?”

Blinking in surprise, you lift your shoulders. “Oh, uh, yeah. I guess I could eat something.”

“Good,” he nods to himself, and stands up, the chair squeaks against the floor. You follow his eyes, looking up at him as he adjusts the chair and stands by the table. “I’d like for you to accompany me to dinner.” Clearing his throat, his shoulders bunch together, and any confidence that he did have, is slowly evaporating. “That- That is if you want to, of course.”

You scoff with a smile. “Yeah, I’m game with that, Dr. Ohnn.”

“Jonathan. You can call me Jonathan. I don’t mind it if you call me that.” He twists his hands, interlocking them, and pulling on the back of his palm, his skin stretching thin over his knuckles.

Straightening yourself, you nod. “Okay. Jonathan it is. The same um, goes to you of course. You can call me by my name.”

“I already do,” and the way that he says your name, softly and tenderly, held with a smile, makes you turn your head and scratch at your neck in a desperate attempt to hide how wide your smile is.

“Mhm,” you squeak out. Standing up, you make sure to push the chair in and grab at the loose napkins and your drink.

Following behind you, he throws his drink into the trash. This time, he’s made sure that he stands in front of you, stretching his arm out to hold the door open for you. Mumbling, you thank him, standing beside the door as he goes to open the passenger side door.

None of what he’s doing is helping quell your attraction to the scientist.

Clicking his seatbelt, he starts the car, driving away from the coffee shop. “Do you have a preference?”

“On food?” He nods, fumbling with the radio that plays the song of the week. You tap your foot to the beat. “Um, I think I’m good with most stuff. Restaurants are pretty inclusive about diets and stuff most days.”

“There’s a burger place on the way to Alchemax, do you know the one I’m talking about?”

“With the really good burgers?”

“Yes. Would you like to go there?”

“Isn’t that too far?”

“They opened one relatively nearby.”

“Oh okay, yeah.” You nod. “I’m game with that.”

“Good. That’s good.”

The drive to the restaurant passes by quickly as you chat about miscellaneous things- the weather, work, different coffee shops. Uncomfortable with silences, you keep the conversation going, jumping from topic to topic, trying to make something stick. However, the driver seems to be content with silence, nodding and giving one-worded answers, only really contributing to the conversation when you give your opinion on something.

Pulling into the restaurant, he takes a glance at you, and you smile in response. He opens his door, and steps out, and you follow close behind. The door is held open for you, you order your own meal, and before you can pat your pockets to find your card, he’s already paying for the meal. You aren’t sure how to feel about the whole situation. You feel good- happy and flustered even- but you can’t kid yourself. It’s dinner. With a scientist who you have pestered for a good while about what exactly is going on within Alchemax. It’s dinner with a guy who you had coffee with- twice. That’s it.

When he sits in front of you, and smiles, you think you’re about to pass out.

Oh. He’s really cute.

No. Whatever feelings you’re having is a moment of weakness. Maybe you should download a dating app or something.

Your newfound emotions aren’t settled by the end of the meal where you tell him a story about an old job that you used to work. He’s an avid listener, expressive and laughing when you start to smile uncontrollably. He pushes his tray closer to yours, letting you snag what little left of fries that he has. Even with bags under his eyes, he remains attentive during your story.

“No, and like my supervisor tells me “Well whole milk is regular milk,” and I’m so adamant-” you laugh mid-sentence- “that two percent is regular milk. Or like can be qualified as regular milk.”

“Why were you so adamant about it?” He laughs softly, leaning forward.

“Honestly?” You lean forward, stealing a fry of his and plopping it in your mouth. “I just really hate being wrong. Anyways-” you wave your hand in the air- “we have this whole spiel about milk of all things. And I tell him that I like oat milk and he’s like-” you deepen your voice to portray your supervisor- “‘Oat milk isn’t even milk. How do you even milk an oat?’”

“How do you milk an oat?” He asks with knitted brows.

“I-” you pause and tap at the table. “I always thought you blended it. You know, like peanut butter?”

“Yeah, but people don’t drink peanut butter.”

“I bet you that there is at least one person in the world who does drink peanut butter.”

“Okay, you find me that person and I’ll buy you a coffee next time.”

“Yeah, yeah-” you wave your hand, trying not to let your competitive side leak out. “Anyways, I’m sure they make almond milk the same way. Blended.” You lift a hand and point with your index, swirling it in the air.

“I’m partial to oat,” he admits.

“I gotta be honest, I think all milk tastes the same,” you whisper out the confession, covering the side of your mouth with one hand.

“Oh, now you’re being difficult,” he says with a roll of his eyes, adjusting his glasses by the leg.

“I’m not, I swear! It just all tastes the same. Doesn’t stop me from asking for it at the coffee shops.”

“Even if it tastes the same?”

“I like feeling fancy,” you lilt, and he laughs.

“So you’re tricking your mind?”

“Oh totally.”

“With the fake milks?”

“Real, regular milk,” you counter. “Soy is fake- I think.”

“Oh, soy is fake, but the others aren’t.” He scoffs. “That’s where you draw the line.”

You laugh, taking the final sip of your drink. “Yeah, obviously.”

He joins your laughter, dipping his head down, and stray hairs fall in front of him. When he lifts his head, his smile is wide and open, and he has such a nice laugh- deep and the type that shakes his body. Pride makes your chest swell and heat burn over your cheeks at making him not only smile, but laugh. Fighting back the urge to move away the tray pieces of hair that have fallen, you clench your hand into a fist, your laughter slowly dying down.

A quiet moment befalls the two of you, and you both look at each other. You rub the bottom of your shoe over the top of the other, and check the time. With a click of your tongue, you gather your trash onto the tray.

“We should probably get going. It’s close to closing time for them,” you explain, nodding your head back to the register where two workers chat.

“Oh, should we?” Despite questioning you, he follows your example and gathers his own trash.

“As someone who used to work customer service jobs, yeah.” Tossing your trash into the designated area, you stack the tray overhead. “I’m pretty sure that the employees probably hate us by now.”

“Good point.” He holds the door open for you, and you follow him back across the mostly empty parking lot. Inside the car, he waits for the engine to heat, and he turns to you. “I apologize for keeping you so late.”

“No, this was,” you hesitate choosing your words, “fun.” You nod your head and pull your bag up onto your lap. “I had a good time.”

“I’m glad that you did,” he says softly, giving you a final look before he gives his attention to the road.

After a long day, you stand in front of your building, Jonathan joining you. You’ve always been much more comfortable with chatter than you have been with silence, but as you stand with him, you don’t feel as uncomfortable. You might even like the silence if it gives you reason to look at him. You stand on the steps leading to your home, finally looking him in the eye, and you hate the fact that he has such soft brown eyes.

“Thanks for driving me home. And getting me a drink.” You kick at the ground, scuffing up at the dirt that lays in a thin layer. “And paying for dinner.” A jitteriness falls over you, and you can only twist and grip onto the strap of your bag. “Thanks for all of that Dr.-” he gives you a narrowed look and you quickly correct yourself- “Jonathan.”

“You don’t have to add my title,” he tells you. Beside him, his hand twists at the hem of his shirt.

“Force of habit,” you say shrugging. Clearing your throat, you start. “Still, thanks. This was nice, Jonathan.” You like his name, and you hate the way that it makes you feel.

He nods, and raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Well, thank you for accompanying me to dinner. I had a good time.” He says your name delicately, rolling off his tongue, and you never thought that you would want to hear your name repeated over and over.

“No worries,” you answer breathlessly. You can’t think around him. Everything feels as if it’s too much- too hot, too close, too sweet.

It was one day- two technically- but it was a short amount of time. You wear your heart on your sleeve despite trying so desperately not to. All it took was one day with him, and you think that you might like him.

Oh, how you wish he was with someone else, then you could give yourself a reason to look away from him.

With cotton stuffed into your mouth, you don’t trust yourself any further. You think that you should go inside- that maybe you shouldn’t be taking up his time. A part of you wonders when you’ll see him again. Shifting your weight between each foot, you pat your hands on your thighs, drying off the clammy feeling. You wish he would start talking again. Or maybe you should. If you go inside, then this could all be over. You turn your foot, and wave your hand in a goodbye, when he starts to speak.

“Will you be joining another tour group?” There’s a hint of hope that’s weaved into his words. He’s looking at you, and you wonder if you look pretty.

“As much as I enjoyed it, no.” You think you imagine seeing his shoulders slump at your words. “It wasn’t really for me. It was nice, but much more kid-centered.” His glasses are slipping down his nose and you wonder if he’d get upset if you pushed them up. “Will you be going to the café tomorrow?”

“I work tomorrow,” he admits.

“Oh,” you clear your throat, and fighting away the burning feeling that is burning in your chest, you suck in a deep breath. It makes sense to do this now. You have to take a risk. It’s dumb and highly unprofessional, but you need to tell him something. He has to stick around, just for a moment longer, just so you could get whatever pink and sweet is in you, out. “Would-” he word comes out much softer than you would have liked- “Would you want to exchange numbers, maybe?” You hope he says no.

“Really?” He looks so shocked, and so happy. A grin tilts his lips upwards, and like seeing his smile.

Nodding, you rub the flat of your middle finger against your jawline. “Yeah. It would be a better alternative than meeting during lunch on a tour group or a random chance meeting at the café. Only if you’re okay with it.”

“I’m okay with it,” he says eagerly.

You nod eagerly, unable to fend off your smile. “Cool, cool.” You suck in a deep breath, and wait for a moment, before you start to pat your pockets, pulling out your phone and clicking at the ‘New Contact’ section. Holding the phone to him, he grabs the device and places his information.

Holding the phone tight in your hands, you tap your fingers against the back of the case. “I’ll message you later?”

“I’ll look forward to it.” He lifts his hand and waves at you. You watch his back as he steps into his car.

You can hardly believe that you even made it inside without dropping your keys from excitement and nerves. Behind your door, you clasp your hand over your mouth, pitifully trying to stop the smile that beams across your features. Oh, this isn’t fair. And oh, you can’t wait to message him.

375 notes · View notes

jellyfishbeansontoast · 9 months

Text

10 things I hate about you

I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair

ok this is the first part of the series so i hope you enjoy!! a massive thank you to @demxters for literally everything to do with this <3 Word count: 1023

“I’m gonna do it” Mike declares at the lunch table, sliding into his usual chair in the process.

“Do what?” Lucas asks.

Mike looks around quickly before leaning into the group, “Ask her out.”

“Who? El? Good luck with that one.” Dustin teased.

“What do you mean? Do you not think she’ll say yes?” hurt and insecurity flashes across Mike’s face, his previous confident demeanour disappearing.

“Oh I’m sure she’ll want to say yes but she’s not allowed until Y/n starts dating, Hopper’s rules.”

Mike almost chokes on his sandwich “but she’s like really scary, has she ever even dated anyone?” he looks around the group in desperation “Maybe she’ll say yes anyway? Hopper doesn’t have to know?”

“You can try your luck if you want” Dustin nods his head to a vending machine at the back of the cafeteria where El’s standing, cursing at the machine. Mike stands up, anxiously wiping his palms on his trousers before walking towards El. He turns to the group before he reaches her and mouths a hurried ‘wish me luck’.

“Need assistance?”

“It won’t give me my stuff” she grumbles.

“Yeah you kind of have to-” he shakes the machine until the chocolate bar that was previously teetering over the precipice finally falls to the bottom, he retrieves the bar and hands it over to the now much happier girl in front.

“Thank you Mikey! I owe you, do you want some?” He’s caught off guard by the nickname, coughing and spluttering in a way he can only imagine is wildly unattractive, just what he needs right now.

“No, thank you though,” he fidgets with his hands “I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me somewhere-” he takes a nervous breath “like a date?”

“I’d love to,” Mike almost cheers aloud but realises it’s too soon for celebration when he notices her chewing on her lip “but Hopper won’t let me till Y/n starts dating, and there’s no way she’ll date anyone, she’s scared off like every guy who’s ever asked.”

“I get it, don’t worry about it.” he mumbles, feigning indifference. She smiles apologetically and they begin to make their way to the table, the rest of the group pretending not to have watched the whole interaction.

“So?” Dustin elbows him in the ribs as soon as Mike sits down, although he’s sure he already knows the answer.

“Hopper” Mike replies in a dejected whisper, careful not to let El hear, after all he doesn’t want her feeling bad for something she can’t control.

Dustin’s face contorts almost as if he’s in pain. “Woah you okay over there?” Lucas calls from the other end of the table, earning a few snorts of laughter from around the table.

“Shut up I’m thinking”

“Oh that’s what that is?”

The curly haired boy holds up a finger in retort, cutting him off from any further rude remarks. “What if-” he begins, a sly smile sneaking onto his face as he looks between El and Mike “we got someone to date Y/n, then according to Hopper’s rule you two would be free to date and we wouldn’t have to hear Mike pining about you anymore.” He directs the last comment towards El.

Mike hangs his head, a furious blush spreading over his cheeks “I don’t pine.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“But we don’t have anyone who’ll date Y/n” El points out.

“So quick to doubt my plan” he shakes his head with a playful tut, “Steve.”

“Steve?” comes the incredulous response from everyone around the table, even Will who had refrained from taking part in the plan making so far.

“What? You don’t think I can bribe him? The man needs the cash and also, I saw him checking out ‘Sixteen candles’ for himself the other day.”

“We’re gonna pay someone to date my sister?”

“Got a better idea?”

She shakes her head resignedly “Fine, but she can’t find out, I don’t want her getting hurt.” Dustin imitates zipping his lips before the conversation turns to something DnD related.

“Steve” The older boy looks up at the line of teenagers forming in front of him “ We need your help.”

Steve looks around the almost empty Family Video store checking for customers “You want me to rent an age restricted film for you again? I’ll do it one last time but don’t come to me when it freaks you out like the Poltergeist did, I warned you”

“We don’t need a movie.” Dustin cuts in.

“Oh? What do you want then” He rests his elbows on the counter, settling his chin on his hands.

“We need you to date Y/n.”

“No chance, anything else I can help you with today?” Steve folds his arms across his chest.

“You haven’t even heard what’s in it for you” he complains.

“I heard the last man to try and take Y/n out on a date ended up with his car keyed and his tyres slashed,” He flits his eyes towards his car in the parking lot “that can’t happen to my baby.”

“It was just the tyres” corrects El, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the pet name usage for Steve’s car.

Dustin leans across the counter, coming face to face with Steve, “I saw you check out Sixteen Candles, what would people think of King Steve renting out a chick flick?”

“King Steve is long gone, now I hang out with kids” he sighs dejectedly.

It’s Mike’s turn to beg “Please Steve, Hopper won’t let me date El until Y/n’s dating someone, you’re our only chance.”

“What’s in it for me?” finally they’re getting somewhere.

“Cash?”

Steve groans, already regretting what he’s about to do. “I’ll do it.” The group cheer in sync “But only because this lovesick thing you two have going on is disgusting”

“Yeah yeah, thanks for your help.”

Taglist: @johnricharddeacy

#stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve x you #steve x y/n #steve x reader #steve harrington #y/n will be in the next part i promise lol

189 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 2 years

Note

Hello I am here humbly requesting a bit of jealous Eddie 🥰 I don’t think he’d be a toxic jealous guy but I think he’d need some reassurance and I am more than happy to give that to him

AN | It’s got angst! And fluff! The best of both worlds 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie’s eyes narrowed, brows knitted together as he watched you from across the cafeteria. The annoyance was written all over his face, a deep frown tugging down the corners of his mouth. He was trying to give off an air of general discontent but inside his blood was boiling and he was fuming. Not at you of course; no, Eddie Munson could never be mad at you. In his eyes you could do no wrong, despite your constant insistence that you were far from perfect. To him, you were.

“Eddie?” Dustin snapped his fingers in front of his face, rolling his eyes dramatically when Eddie snapped out of his little trance, “what’s up with you? Have you even heard anything we’ve been saying?”

“Watch yourself, Henderson,” he pushed his hand out of his face before leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. An odd, tense little silence fell over the table as the others exchanged looks, “well? You wanted to talk so badly, so talk.”

“Eddie-”

Eddie held up his hand to silence him and shook his head, “talk.”

Dustin exchanged a look with Mike before he dove back into whatever he had been talking about regarding a new campaign he’d come up with. Eddie managed to listen for a few moments before his attention drifted back to you.

There you were, sitting with a group of so-called friends laughing about something or other as Richie slowly got closer and closer to you, getting much more touchy than he needed to be. You didn’t seem to brush him off as he put his hand on your arm and leaned in closely to listen to whatever you had to say. It was abundantly clear to him exactly what Richie’s intentions were and you were either oblivious to that fact, or just…letting him do it.

Without a word, Eddie stood up and shoved his chair out of the way before storming out of the cafeteria without another word. The rest of the Hellfire club exchanged looks of concern but decided to let their dauntless leader have his moment and cool down. You didn’t even notice or look; normally your eyes were glued to him whenever he was near.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d looked around school the entire afternoon for Eddie, concerned when he didn’t show to your shared afternoon classes. It wasn’t entirely unlike him to skip out, but he generally told you if that was his plan. Odd.

By the end of the day you grew worried and found one of his friends in the hall as you were getting ready to leave. You sidled up to him, gently tapping his shoulder as you offered him a small smile. He turned around and looked at you with a surprised expression - he knew you by name, but he didn’t know you. He certainly didn’t know that you were Eddie’s girlfriend, “h-hi. Dustin, right?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered nervously as he tried to figure out why on earth you’d be speaking to him. He repeated your name almost as if he didn’t quite believe you were standing there, “umm…what’s up?”

“Have you seen Eddie? Do you know where he is?”

“Eddie…Munson?” his eyebrows shot up in surprise as you offered him a shy nod. You understood the hesitation - you were probably one of the last people he would have expected to care about Eddie, “I…no, not since lunch when he left. He was upset about something but wouldn’t say what. Are you sure you have the right Eddie?”

“Yeah,” your heart dropped when you realized that likely no one knew where he was. It wasn’t that you were worried that he couldn’t look after himself, you just…worried. You loved him, of course you worried, “well, if you happen to see him, can you let him I was looking for him?”

“Sure,” while Dustin had confusion written all over his face, he didn’t question why you had asked about him. He just nodded and swallowed thickly, “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Of course. Thanks, Dustin.”

Your worries didn’t ease when you went by his trailer later that evening and no one was home. You waited there for over an hour, hoping he’d come home at some point. But he didn’t and you had a feeling that if he saw you sitting there and waiting he’d just walk the other way.

All you could do now was wait.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next morning some of your anxieties and worries melted away when you caught a glimpse of Eddie walking into his morning class. You’d recognize that curly mop of hair anywhere. Unfortunately, you didn’t share any of your morning classes but as soon as lunch time came around, you were done waiting for him. You grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the stairwell before he could even fully process what was going on.

“What the f-” he stopped flailing when you let go of him, his expression falling flat when he realized who it was, “it’s you.”

“It’s you,” you repeated, scoffing lightly at him, “you go awol, leave me and your friends worried, and that’s all you have to say for yourself? Eddie - I was worried sick about you!”

“Why?” His question was simple and voiced without any care as you just looked at him in surprise. You closed and opened your mouth a few times, trying to process the fact that he was seemingly unphased, “why do you care?”

“Eds,” you tried to reach out and touch him but he flinched out of your touch, which just broke your heart further, “Eddie. What is going on with you?”

“Listen,” he hung his head and sighed heavily, “just go back to your friends. Go back to Richie and hang out with them.They’re much more your style anyway. Why would you want to be caught with me? With the town freak?”

“They’re…just people in a group I was roped into,” you felt tears pricking at the back of your eyes at his coldness, “I don’t even like Richie - he’s just…a meathead with the personality of a teaspoon. You’re not a freak, Eddie, I’ve never-”

“You looked pretty cozy with him yesterday at lunch.”

“I don’t know - wait, is that what this is about?” you groaned before running a hand over your tired face, “Dustin told me you left in the middle of lunch. I guess that makes sense now. Maybe if you would have stayed you would have seen when I told him to back off and keep his gross hands to himself.”

“You talked to Dustin?”

“Yeah, Eddie, I did,” you huffed, “because I was worried about you. Because I l…you know what, I guess it doesn’t matter. You have nothing to worry about, nothing to be jealous over you silly, dumb fool. I don’t care about anyone else. N-not the way I do about you.”

“You should go,” he whispered after a few moments of tense silence, refusing to meet your eyes and suddenly finding the floor much more interesting, “you’ll be happier in the long run if you did. Consider this a favor.”

“A favor?” The question came out broken and half a sob as a few tears rolled down your cheeks, “if you think that is doing me a favor, you know nothing about me, Eddie Munson. I…is that really what you want?”

He answered your question with silence as you stood there and felt like your world was coming down in pieces around you. Eddie was…the only future you had been envisioning had him in it. But now you were wondering if he’d ever thought of one with you. Whenever you’d cried in the past, he would wipe away all of your tears, gently, delicately and wrap you in his arms until whatever it was that made you hurt went away.

But what were you supposed to do when it was him that caused you the hurt?

Instead of waiting for an answer in any form, you wiped away your tears with the sleeve of your sweater and walked away in silence. Eddie watched you go, his own heart breaking with each every step you took.

“Fuck,” he groaned at himself, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. He’d made a lot of mistakes in his life, but this felt like the biggest one yet, “fuck, fuck, fuckkkk.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next few days passed slowly, every moment seeming to last forever. You found it hard to sleep or focus on anything, your mind always going back to back to the same thing: Eddie. You hadn’t even let yourself look for him, knowing that seeing him would make it hurt all over again. If you’d looked you’d have known that he hadn’t even been in school. Dustin couldn’t help but look between Eddie’s empty spot and you, putting the pieces together and wishing there was something he could do.

By the time Friday came around, you weren’t sure if you were happy or depressed that the weekend was coming up. On the one hand, you wouldn’t have to be in school and constantly trying to remind yourself not to look for him. On the other hand, that would mean way too much free time to let your mind wander. Your weekends were usually spent with Eddie. Now they were just going to feel…empty.

When you arrived in the cafeteria to sit through another meal that you were going through the motions of eating you felt empty. You might as well have been eating sawdust for all you cared.

But today something else caught your eye - a large commotion towards the area where his table was. Your stomach dropped as you pushed your way through the throng of people, you could hear Jason’s voice, shouting all sorts of nasty things. Once you got through the crowd and made it to the front, you found Jason and Eddie staring each other down.

“-and just what the fuck are you going to do about, you fucking freak?” Jason’s voice was dripping with malice as you saw him start to pull his fist back. You knew that Eddie would never hurt someone unless it was necessary to protect himself or someone else. You weren’t about to let him get the upper hand when Eddie wasn’t expecting it.

“That is enough!” you slid in between the two of them, grabbing Jason’s wrist and pushing his arm back. You noticed that the group quieted down before they started softly whispering among themselves, “knock it off Jason. We all know you’re an asshole, you don’t have to prove that to anyone. Stop.”

“Why do you care?” he scoffed, grabbing hand and shoving it away, causing you to almost lose your balance and fall, “it’s just Munson.”

“Leave Eddie alone,” your voice was dripping with venom, your steadfast refusal to move surprising him, “now get the fuck out or I will make sure you regret it.”

“What are you…are you telling me you actually care about this loser?” he scoffed with a laugh as you just glared at him, “what are you, friends now?”

“I do care about him, you’re right,” you knew that this would change things, but at the same time, you didn’t care. None of them mattered - none. But you would much rather finally be fully honest with everyone and yourself. Who cares if they knew you loved Eddie Munson? That he was not just your best friend, but your everything? It didn’t matter, “I care more about him than I will ever about you or your stupid, bullshit opinion.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying-”

“Yes, I do,” you insisted with a mocking little smile, “I love him, you prick. He’s my best friend, he’s…everything to me. I don’t care if anyone knows. I…don’t know why I ever cared. You and your friends are just a bunch of assholes and I can’t believe I ever cared what any of you thought.”

“You’re just as stupid as the rest-” he didn’t get the opportunity to say anything else as Eddie’s fist collided with face and he stumbled backwards, clutching his bleeding nose. Time seemed to move in slow motion as the crowds quickly dispersed, murmuring among themselves as they laughed at Jason. He really did have it coming, and Eddie just happened to be the one that did the very thing so many of them had dreamed of doing.

“Eddie-” you looked at him with wide eyes as he took your hand in his and started pulling you out of the cafeteria. He didn’t stop, didn’t say a word until you’d reached that secluded little spot in the woods that served as a hang out for those ditching class. He dropped your wrist and turned around so he was facing you, his expression unreadable. Your gaze dropped to his hand, which already looking swollen with pain, “Eds, I-”

“You love me?” he asked, catching you off guard as you just looked at him in surprise. You weren’t even going to try and lie - he would see right through you in a heartbeat.

“I...yeah,” you admitted, offering him a small smile as his eyes studied yours intently. You’d left that way for a long time, but had never been brave enough to say those three little words just yet. But you’d thought them countless times; when he made you breakfast after you’d spent the night at his place, when he’d sit on the floor behind you as you held his guitar and he tried to teach you to play, when he’d kiss you like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do. So many damn times, “yeah. I really do, Eddie. I love you.”

“How can you say that after I…the way I acted?”

“You don’t choose who you love, Eddie,” you snorted with laughter, “it just…it just is. And I have loved you for a long time. I just…couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. You’re an absolute idiot sometimes, like when you get jealous, and have no reason to be. My heart belongs to you, you soft little dumbass. Even if you don’t love or want to be my boyfriend anymore or just my friend, at least now you know. Let me…let me look at your hand. I’m sure it’s going to hurt soon and I want to make sure it’s okay.”

“Say it again,” he whispered, “please.”

“Say what again...” your question trailed off as you realized what he meant. You felt your face warm up under his intense gaze but you couldn’t help the smile that was tugging up the corners of your move, “I love you, Eddie Munson.”

He remained silent for a moment, processing everything you had said before nodding slightly, that smile you loved popping up on his face. He reached over and put his hand on your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, the metal of his rings cool against your warm skin, “I love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he promised, “I mean, you condemned yourself to hanging out with the social pariahs of Hawkins. You must love me a lot.”

“I’d rather be with you and your friends any day,” you turned your head slightly so you could press a kiss to his palm, making sure to keep it gentle, “you’re worth everything.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he gently pulled you closer to him so he could wrap you in a tight hug, “fuck, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“There’s nothing to make up for,” you buried your face into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of him, “just remember I’m yours, always.”

“Me too,” he kissed the crown of your head, “always.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #st

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teacasket · 1 year

Text

kiss kiss, fall in love

genre: fluff au: academy au, light academia au warnings: swearing word count: 1k pairing: gn!reader x kim seungmin

Seungmin, to put it mildly, is fucking rich. To be fair, about 99% of the students attending the prestigious Clé Academy are, but as the heir to a pharmaceutical conglomerate, he’s the top one percent of the one percent. Every time you buy cold medicine or even socks from the market in the cheaper part of town, you’re reminded exactly how much money he has in comparison to you.

You’re here on scholarship; nothing more needs to be said.

Despite the differences—and background resentment of how fucking wealthy and entitled the student body is at times—you find yourself mostly okay with Seungmin. Due to seating arrangements in biology class, he winds up being your lab partner and by proxy, your study partner as well. Kind and intelligent, he’s better than a lot of your previous group members. He pulls his own weight and is punctual with the lab reports, so he gets your stamp of approval, though his privilege does show with the occasional out of touch with reality comments. No, not everybody has a family lawyer on retainer. But again, to be fair, 99% of the students do, so you’re sort of the one who seems out of touch with reality. Their reality.

On the morning of November 11, you are once again confronted with that reality. He interrupts your early morning review session inside the library with a white pastry box from a bakery that you know has an extremely long waitlist for desserts.

“Happy Pepero Day,” he says as he sits in the chair across from you. “This is for you.”

“Happy Pepero Day,” you reply back. You didn’t foresee this happening, so you don’t have any available boxes to give him. “Thanks, but I don’t have anything for you.”

“That’s okay. Open it.”

Your stack of notebooks and flashcards form a dividing line along the table, so you have to awkwardly stand up and reach for it. Under his anticipatory gaze, you pop open the lid of the box to reveal some very adorable macarons. At first, you think that the baker made a mistake, but you quickly realize that the four interconnected circular shells imitate Pepero sticks. They’re all in various pastel shades and have animal faces, and you have never wanted more to melt into a puddle. Telling Seungmin about your love for all things cute, was a mistake.

“Do you like it?” he asks when you can’t do anything else but stare at how darling the macarons are. “I didn’t know what you would want, but I guessed vanilla, strawberry, and lavender from your favorite ice cream flavors.”

Fuck Clé Academy for having soft serve machines available at lunch.

“Thanks, but I…”

Can’t accept this because I will feel indebted to you even though this is just a token of appreciation.

“I’m allergic to gluten,” you decide.

A second passes before Seungmin laughs and says, “No, you’re not. I see you stealing non-gluten-free cookies and sandwiches from the cafeteria all the time. Besides, even if you were, macarons don’t have gluten. Try again.”

Fuck Seungmin for being so attentive.

“They’re expensive, okay? It feels weird to me to accept it, especially since we’re just lab partners.”

“Just lab partners?”

“Friends,” you amend. “Look, the point is, this is really nice of you, but this box probably costs the same amount as our tuition, and I’m not comfortable with that.”

“What if I was your boyfriend? Would that make you feel better?”

You can only blink at the audacity. If you had this much confidence, you would have taken over the world by now. “Well, you’re not. And no, it wouldn’t. Seriously, what are you trying to get at? I banned Chaeryeong, one of my close friends, from giving stuff like this to me. You’re not exempt from this rule.”

For some strange reason, Seungmin laughs. You’re fully flushed from embarrassment or mortification or plain anger because why is this hilarious?

“Did you read the note?” he asks, stifling a grin.

“What note?” You check the box again, but it holds only pastries. “Was there supposed to be one?”

His face drops alarmingly quickly, so you spin the box around him so he can see for himself. This time, it’s Seungmin’s turn to be flushed. It’s not a delicate rosy pink blush that you expect all “well-bred” individuals to have but an uncontrollable wildfire. It’s almost endearing to see it on Seungmin, the most composed person you know.

“Close your eyes,” he says as he holds up a blank pink flashcard. “Also, can I borrow this?”

You resist the urge to tease him in this crisis. You told me to close my eyes. I don’t know what ‘this’ is. “Sure.”

You hear the click of a pen and then some scratches on paper. After a minute, Seungmin tells you to open your eyes.

The pastry box has changed—there is now a pink flashcard with the words “Can I be your boyfriend?” on top.

“I just told you that it wouldn’t change my mind,” you say while you figure out an appropriate response. Fuck. You don’t like him that way, but you can’t risk hurting his feelings. You’re lab partners. What if he suddenly decides he’s so offended that he stops doing his share of the lab reports?

“Is this a rejection?”

“Try again next year,” you distantly say as you gather your things, being sure to leave Seungmin’s gift behind. “See you in bio.”

Both of you are great at pretending everything is fine because you manage to remain friendly with him and he treats you in the same manner as before. The following year, you have honors chemistry with him and become lab partners again. To your terror, everything becomes not fine when you catch yourself staring at his profile during a midterm review session. You can rationalize it all you want, but you can’t ignore the sudden onslaught of butterflies you get when he listens intently to your explanation of magnets.

Fortunately, on November 11, Seungmin does, in fact, try again, this time with a simple pack of strawberry Pepero and a lot less presumption. And this time, you accept him and the excited kiss he places on your lips.

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catherinnn · 2 years

Text

Defending you

just a cute fluffy friends to lovers with Eddie.

where Eddie fights Jason when he lies about you two and you have to clean him up after.

warnings: cursing, physical fights, sexual tension maybe?? kissing and some mentions of blood.

You were a cheerleader in Hawking’s High, you had a lot of friends, which sometimes ended up in a problem you were obviously friends with the other cheerleaders which meant that you ended up being friends with the basketball team too. But before you became a cheerleader you had other friends, and inside that friend group was Eddie Munson, you had met in kindergarten and became friends.

Your friendship now wasn’t the same as it was before though, you didn’t hang out like you use to. With Eddie’s Hellfire Club, doing campaigns and with your practises of the cheerleading squad and school, you didn’t see each other often, only if you had the same class.

This brought you problems because your two friend groups were completely different and ―if I may add― they hated each other, especially Jason and Eddie.

An example of this happened today, at lunch break…

Eddie was sitting at his usual table with the rest of the hellfire club when the basketball team entered the room.

“Hey, Munson!” Jason yelled at him, Eddie looked around him playfully and pointed at himself acting as he didn’t believe Jason was referring to him, “yes, I’m talking to you freak!”

“To what do I owe the pleasure of talking to you? If I may ask” he asked sarcastically, lunch just got fun, he thought to himself.

“I heard you were offering that shit you sell to some of the boys in my team and the cheerleaders, and I want you to stop even talking to them, just in case you want them to join your satanic club” Jason responded to him. At this point everyone inside the dining room was listening carefully to the scene.

“Sorry, we don’t allow people who enjoy tossing balls into laundry baskets in the club” Eddie said while climbing on top of the table, walked to the other end of it and jumped down to be in front of Jason.

“As if we want to play your demoniac game” Jason said proudly.

“Your mommy doesn’t let you play? Don’t be ashamed, just tell me” Eddie responded giving him a pitiful look.

“Don’t act smart, freak, as if this wasn’t your third time trying to pass the same fucking class” Jason was getting angry and it showed, this only made Eddie smirk harder.

“I didn’t try to sell your friends anything, they came to me asking for the prices and I just told them” Eddie changed the subject responding to the first question.

“My friends wouldn’t consume that shit you take, don’t try to blame it on them” he seemed offended by his response, he walked closer to Eddie, he really was getting angry.

“Sure, whatever lets you sleep at night, blondie” Eddie mocked him.

“The only I’d believe that she was really asking you would be Y/n, but that’s because you’ve already possessed her with your satanic tactics, didn’t you freak?”

“You have an amazing imagination Jason, you’d be great at D&D. You’d have to play by yourself though because I’d rather kill myself than to have anything to do with you. Are we done here?”

“I’m not imagining anything, I think you’ve possessed Y/n and now use her as you wish, don’t you? Because that’s the only explanation of why she even looks at you, isn’t it?”

Jason was just messing with him at this point, he didn’t believe that but it seemed to have had an effect on Eddie, who had gotten red and clenched his fists by the mentioning of Y/n in their conversation.

“Get lost Jason” Eddie was visibly angry at this point, everyone watching carefully so they didn’t miss anything.

“Oh, did that hurt you freak? Does it hurt to see Y/n sitting with us every day?”

“Shut the fuck up”

“What if I told you I’ve already fucked her?”

“That’s it—“ Eddie punched Jason on the face.

Everyone in the room got up and started to yell, some encouraging Eddie, some encouraging Jason, and others just watching what happened next.

Some of the boys in the basketball team went straight to Eddie but Jason stopped them, he wanted to be the one to punch back.

And so he did.

Some of the boys in the hellfire club started to try and fight the basketball team while Eddie and Jason kept on fighting.

The cheerleaders had just finished practise and they went running to the cafeteria to get some food as they were all starving. But as they walked there, they heard the yelling that was coming from there.

When they walked in, they saw that there was a circle of people in the middle of the room, all watching something and yelling at it.

When you approach there to see what happened, everyone in the circle let you in with no problem, watching you reaction as if you were a show.

“What the fuck is happening here?! Hey! Stop it!” you yelled at Eddie and Jason.

Eddie gave you a surprised look as he stopped the punches to Jason. He looked at you as if he had just got caught –in a way, he did.

“Oh look, your little crush is finally here!” Jason laughed at Eddie, “Why don’t you ask her about the fun we had together the other night?”

You frowned at Jason’s comment.

“I told you to shut the fuck up!” Eddie looked at Jason again and they began to fight all over again.

Apparently, someone had gone to one of the teachers and told her what was happening in the cafeteria, because just as they started to fight again, she stepped in and stopped them.

Now, you and Chrissy were waiting outside the director’s office where Jason and Eddie were.

After half an hour, they finally got out.

“Hi” Eddie greeted you with a smile as if nothing happened while Chrissy talked to Jason a few feet away from them.

“Yeah, hi” you said angrily “can you please- just tell me what the hell happened”

“Munson! Carver!” the director came out of his office with two boxes in his hands “Here’s two first-aid kits, go clean yourselves! And think about what I told you!”

You followed Eddie to the bathroom in the first floor while Jason and Chrissy went to the bathroom on another floor, the two boys gave bad looks at each other as they walked away.

Once in the bathroom, Eddie sat on the counter and you opened the kit to clean his wounds, you seemed pissed off.

“Are you angry at me?” He asked carefully.

“I still don’t know what happened” you stood in between his legs and moved his hair out of his face to start cleaning him up.

“He came up to me while I was eating and started blaming me for selling weed to his friends” he started but stopped when the cotton with something that burns came in touch with his forehead and he cringed.

“Don’t move” you told him.

“Sorry, well, I don’t know, he started insulting me, calling me dumb and a freak, and I insulted back when he started to talk about you”

He stopped again and you looked at him.

“What did he say?” you asked and changed to another cotton.

“He said something about how I must have possessed you because that’s the only way you’d even talk to me”

You rolled your eyes and frowned “He’s so stupid”

Eddie kept quiet for a few seconds and then he continued.

“He also said something about you two”

You stopped.

“What?”

“Something about how you two had fucked before” he talked with no emotion in his face or in his voice.

“What?!” you asked again “You- that’s not true”

“Isn’t it?” he sounded as if he didn’t believe you.

“Of course not! He keeps flirting with me and tries to make a move but I always cut him off” you cringed, “I’d never be with someone like him, plus, Chrissy has such a crush on him, they’ve hooked up before but he doesn’t want anything serious, Lily says It’s because he’s trying to fuck a few more cheerleaders before settling down, I’m starting to believe her really”

Eddie laughed and you kept cleaning his face.

“You still didn’t tell me why you were fighting though” you reminded him.

“Well- I- it just pissed me off listening to him talk about you –about us like that” he admitted.

“Oh, have you possessed me? Sir monster?” you joked.

“Maybe I did” he said as he pulled you closer by your waist. You stopped cleaning him as you looked at him expectantly.

“Why do you stop?” he whispered, you were so close to each other that you heard him just fine, “I’m injured, I need assistance”

“And who’s fault is that?” you asked as you began to rub the cotton on his cheek where he had some blood.

“Yeah I know, I know” he kept whispering, you didn’t know how to feel about that, it made it all so intimate. It wasn’t that you didn’t like, that was the problem, you liked it a little too much. “But I think it was kind of worth it if now I have a pretty nurse taking care of me”

You laughed, you didn’t know how to respond to his flirty comments, and those happened pretty often.

You started to clean a wound on his bottom lip and he hissed.

“Oh sorry, did that hurt?” you played dumb as you blow some air on his lip, only to stop the burning, right?

Your lips were so close to each other.

Eddie looked at your lips as you looked at his.

“Better?” you asked, not moving away, not even thinking of moving away.

“Try again” he whispered. And you did, even closer this time, your lips were slightly touching. And he kissed you.

Not even caring about the wound on his lip, he kissed you not even caring about anything else than you.

You put your hands on his neck and on his hair, oh my god his hair.

You kept kissing for a while until you broke apart.

“Ouch” he just said, you laughed, still in the same position, your hands in his hair and him holding you by your waist.

“Oh shit, It’s bleeding again” you started to clean his lip again and he smirked.

After you cleaned all the wounds on his face you realised that you still had to go to class, and he did too. He tried to make you skip it but you had already missed an hour of it and you really cared about that subject.

“Alright fine, you can go” he said giving up, “but I’ll come and find you so I can keep possessing you or some of that shit after school”

“Oh no, the big bad monster won’t leave me alone!”

You started to grab your things so you could go and he spoke up again.

“Hey um- thank you for, you know, everything”

You shook your head slowly with a little smile.

“No really, you’re amazing, you know that. Right?”

“Thank you for defending me, I guess”

“Any time gorgeous” he walked away after kissing your cheek.

How the fuck where you going to concentrate now?

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff

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augustvandyne · 10 months

Note

OMG YOU WRITE OF GINNY AND GEORGIA! PLS IM BEGGING WRITE A MAX BAKER X FEM READER!

Sorry for the aggression… No one writes for her🥲

Maybe like R is Ginnys sister (different mom) but she never knew her mom bc she dropped her off at Zions w a note and a DNA test or something. Maybe she does online school bc she’s always travelling w Zion then she moves with him and goes over to see Ginny, Georgia and Austin bc Georgia was always basically her mom.

She then had her first day at school and meets Max and they both have gay panic and stutter bc yk gay.

Then later Ginny takes her to sit w her friends and Max is talking about this girl she ran into and swears she’s in love and R is just sitting next to Ginny on the end of the table waiting for her to notice she’s there. And she only notices when Ginny asks what the girl’s name was and Max is like, “CRAP! I WAS JUST RAMBLING AND NEVER ASKED HER NAME! SHE KNEW MINE BUT I WOULDN’T SHUT UP TO LEG HER SPEAK! Oh god🥲” and bangs her head on the lunch table and R is like, “My names y/n Miller btw” and Max just slowly lifts her head, and everyone is like ‘how did she not notice the person sitting right mf there! although very max’ then she’s like “I do enjoy the rambling though, it’s cute” then everyone is like ‘oh SHES the girl’ and start laughing at Max. R after saying this gets up and sees her friends from one of her classes and goes to max giving max her phone open on contacts so max can put in her number but she’s just broken. Abby snatches the phone and is like ‘sorry i think you broke her’ and outs in the number. R smirks and kisses Max’s cheek before going off with her other friends.

When she’s out of ear shot Max starts yelling at Ginny, “YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU WERE RELATED TO A HOT, SAPPHIC MILK CHOCOLATE GODDESS😭 WTF GINNY! I LET UOU DATE MY BROTHER AND YOU DONT EVEN SAY ANYTHING ABOUT YOUR HOT SISTER!”

omg i actually love this. the aggression is very much needed! no one writes for our girl maxine.. she needs the love.

sorry this took me so long.. haha. don’t be afraid to request more. i promise not to take as long this time.

Gay Panic

When you found out you would be moving to Wellsbury for a while, you were through the roof excited.

You hadn’t seen Ginny, Georgia or Austin in a while, and you were beginning to miss your family! A few days after you’d arrived, your dad enrolled you in Wellsbury High School.

Ginny immediately introduced you to her friends. She introduced you to Abby, Norah, and a group of boys that you could care less about.

Your first class happened to be a drama class, where you met Maxine Baker. She drew you in with her vibrant colors and extroverted personality.

The teacher wanted to do an exercise to start out the class, in which the class paired up and acted out a scene of a play of their choice. Max loved the class, but she had no friends in it.

A new face had her intrigued and so she partnered with you.

You suggested Romeo and Juliet—because you can’t go wrong with it. Max stuttered and reluctantly agreed. She tried to get out that you should do the balcony scene, but it came out as a blubbering mess.

The first time you open your mouth, a similar things happen. Red tints your brown cheeks, as you make a fool of yourself.

Normally you can keep your cool around cute girls, but this girl is different. She’s confident and knows what she wants.

The two of you laugh off the stuttering and blushing Max grabs a book off the shelf so the two of you can act out the scene. You lean in close to her and can smell whatever perfume she decided to spray.

The close proximity has both of you blushing again.

Both of you mess up and stutter so much neither of you even finish the exercise before the teacher pulls everyone in to assign the work for the day.

The rest of your first morning is just as exciting. It’s followed by two other classes—art and study hall, where you meet some other girls. After study hall you follow Ginny to the cafeteria where you sit at a table filled with the same faces you saw this morning.

And Maxine.

You are surprised to see her at the table. But it makes sense. All the girls are more quiet than Max, which makes you believe she’s the leader.

Especially because she’s leading the conversation right now.

“So we are like acting the scene out, right, because I swear that our drama teacher hates me,” Max talks fast. “But anyway, we’re acting it out and I swear- I’m in love.”

“What happened to, uh, what’s her name?” Abby chews on a fry as she tries to come up with the name of the girl Max was all about the week before.

“Oh, I’m over her.”

“Already?” Norah barks out a laugh. “That was fast.”

Max glares at her.

“So this girl,” Brodie shrugs. “She hot or what?”

“Uh, gorgeous!” Max shakes her hands all around like she’s have a seizure. “She’s mixed, and kind of looks like Ginny. But she is the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. Like ever.”

“What was her name again?” Ginny rests her elbows on the table.

“Crap,” Max’s face falls. “I was rambling and stuttering and blushing so hard I forgot to ask her what her name was. I told her mine but I didn’t ask. Oh my God. I want to die now. I’m never going to speak to her again.”

As the girl bangs her head on the table, you reach your hand over Ginny and say, “I’m Y/N Miller, by the way.”

Abby’s mouth drops open and she laughs, “Max.. how did you not see her.”

Max is frozen in place. She isn’t blinking, talking, or breathing for that matter. She looks like she might cry.

“Um, are you okay?”

“Don’t worry, she does this all the time,” Ginny waves it off.

“What? Falls in love with girls she just meets?” You laugh awkwardly.

“Has gay panics,” Norah clarified.

“Ah,” You retreat your hand.

Jordan and Abby laugh at Max, whom is still frozen in place.

“Do you think if we nudge her she’ll tip over?” Abby jokes.

“Max, breathe,” Ginny places her hand on Max’s shoulder.

“Thank you for complimenting my looks,” You flash a bright smile. “And I enjoyed the rambling, it’s very cute.”

You see a few girls from your art class and get up to go say hi, stopping near Max, who then takes a deep breath and begins blinking again.

“Here,” you place your phone in her hand and she just blinks up at you. “Put your number in. Your cute. We should meet up some time.”

Abby leans across the table and puts the number in the contacts app, “I think you broke her.”

You smirk and grab your phone out of the redheads hand. You drop the phone into the back pocket of your jeans. Leaning down, you plop a kiss on Max’s cheek.

Max’s eyes widen and she waits for your to be out of earshot before grilling Ginny.

“Virginia Miller! How could you not tell me you were sisters with a hot, sapphic, greek god?!” Max starts freaking out. “What the F?! I let you date my brother and you gate-keep your beautifully gorgeous sister??”

Ginny just chuckles. “She has that effect on people.”

“You better text her,” Norah threatens. “Or I will.”

And Jordan doesn’t even protest.

#ginny and georgia #abby littman #maxine baker x reader #max baker x reader #ginny miller x reader #lesbian

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tlou-reid · 1 year

Text

scaredy cat ✰ jj maybank

warnings ✰ mentions of abuse, only what’s shown in the obx show this is my first piece of writing on this account please be nice lol

summary ✰ jj has a lot of fears, kooks make a lot of them come to surface

jj maybank has a lot of fears. most people, even his closest group of friends, wouldn’t believe this to be true. jj maybank tries to appear as fearless as possible; that’s his whole schtick. he drives really fast on his dirt bike. he has fought his own abusive, piece of shit father. he was arrested for something he didn’t do. he’s fought so many kooks. he stole a gun. he stole an ambulance. he’s done so many things that make him out to bethis fearless, adrenaline-searching, asshole.

but that’s not who jj maybank is. jj maybank is scared of losing his friends; that’s why he took the fall for pope, that’s why he stole an ambulance, thats why he stole the gun. he’s afraid of not being good enough, that’s why he sticks up for his friends so hard and drives so fast. he’s afraid of turning out like his dad. that’s why the resentment he had for his dad festered and he took a swing at the object of his fear. he has multiple deep-rooted fears that present in chaotic, dangerous ways.

that’s how he got where was his right now. you’d think he’d have learned by now not to fight at his job. or, jobs, he guesses. but damn, when the kookiest motherfuckers he’s ever seen waltz into the outer banks’ newest restaurant, where he was working as a food runner, his mood is already ruined. when they ogle their waitress, a sweet girl named Marlee that he’s seen around the cut, his hand starts to tense and his fists start to ball. but, when you walk in, wearing his muscle tank with a visible sports bra underneath, carrying a brown bag with his lunch in it, all of that negative energy seems to wash away. he notices when the kooks start to stare. he doesn’t mind stares, stares give him a sense of pride. yeah, he thinks, look at my fine ass girl that you’ll never get to touch.

but, then the stares turn into words. jj can tolerate stares, but he absolutely does not tolerate disrespect when it comes to his girl. just as you approach to hand him the bag, the kook boy in the baby pink shirt hollers, “damn, you can almost see her entire ass out of those shorts. good for us, though.” and, suddenly, jj’s looking right past you, straight to the table where 6 kooks were sitting, staring at you. “shut the fuck up, man”, jj shouts and waves an arm at them. you reach up to pull his arm out of the air “j, it’s fine, i’m only here to drop this off.” as you speak, you’re holding up the brown bag for him. “yeah, j, it’s fine. she’ll be leaving with us anyways.” one of them yell, mocking your tone.

and jj was off. he jumped right at them, not tolerating the way they were speaking about you. his fists were flying and the manager slammed the kitchen door. the older man races over, pulling jj off of the kook. “get the fuck out!” he shouts at jj, pointing to the door. jj glanced at the table of kooks, smirking at the black eye forming on pink-shirt’s face. he then glances at you, seeing your shocked expression. then, he turns around and walks out. you sheepishly follow, leaving the brown bag somewhere in the restaurant and avoiding the now-angry looks from the table.

“what the fuck was that?” you ask jj, not quite raising your voice but definitely in an authoritative tone. “i was protecting my girl.” he smiles like nothing is wrong. your fold your arms over your chest, “i wasn’t in danger.”

“yeah,” he moves forward to pull your arms apart and stand closer, “but you would’ve been if i didn’t stick up for you.”

and there it is. there’s the fear behind his actions. there’s the fear that drives the way he thinks. there’s the fear that dictates the outcome of any situation involving you: losing you. whether it be to a kook, or really any person in general, or if it’s you getting hurt. that was his fear. honestly, if you asked him and a managed to get a real answer out of him, he’d say that was his biggest fear.

“but where are you going to work now?” your priorities shift, basking in the sweet sentiment of him wanting to protect you, even if it wasn’t the best course of action. he just laughed, “i’ll figure it out. i always do.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #outer banks x y/n #outer banks x you #obx #obx imagine #obx x you #obx x y/n #obx x reader #jj maybank blurb #outer banks blurb #obx blurb

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ganggangscenarios · 1 year

Text

No Such Thing | Ch 8

01 | 02| 03| 04| 05| 06 |07| 08 |09

Drabbles:

I can & I will

Disconnect

Neighbours know my name

Summary: angst!! Things are getting dark

Warnings: This chapter heavily features emotional abuse

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

Jungkook had convinced you to join him and his friends for their usual bi-monthly brunch. He wanted you to meet all of his friends, you were the live of his life and the mother of his unborn child. He wanted to show you anthem that you were permanent thing in his life.

At first you were reluctant, worried that they wouldn’t accept you, considering you were just some girl that he had accidentally impregnated and that they were all friends with Hyejin. They had only known Jungkook and Hyejin together, you heard the stories of group trips and fun nights in bars. And now you were parasite trying to work your way into their close knit group.

Jungkook held your hand as guided you into the restaurant. He spotted his friends from across the room and made his way through the crowded restaurant, with you in tow.

“Hey guys, sorry we’re late, it was hard to find a parking space.” He says, as he greets his friends. The guys standing up to give him a brief hug, the ladies sitting in there seats as Jungkook’s presses a kiss on each of their cheeks.

You awkwardly wave from behind him. Ever the gentleman, he pulls out your chair and waits for you to sit down before pushing you in. He takes his place at the table next to you.

“So what do you do for work?” The question came flying from your left side, leaving the dark haired woman’s glossy lips like a bullet.

Jungkook wraps his arm around you, furrowing his eyebrows his friend.

“We just sat down, shouldn’t we order first? Gotta make sure that mama and baby are fed.” He says in a joking manner trying to brighten the heavy mood that fallen upon the table.

You squirm in your seat as you feel all the eyes around the table fall on to your growing bump.

Instinctively, you cover your stomach with your hands.

“Yeah, how could we forget?” Another woman retorts, sarcastically.

The only friendly faces that you could see were Namjoon’s and his lovely girlfriend, as they offered you sympathetic smiles from the opposite end of the table.

The whole table completes their order and engages in small talk as you wait for the food to arrive. Once the food arrives, the small talk continues as you all eat. You enjoy seeing Jungkook around his friends, you didn’t want him ti isolate himself because of you, you knew he out a lot of energy and effort into your relationship. You laugh as Jungkook and Jin bicker. The men of the group were more welcoming than the women. You could understand, they were friends with Hyejin, who was more than convinced that you had stolen two men from her. It was more than understandable that they weren’t the biggest fans of you.

But sitting at the table with them made you feel like you were back in high school, like you were friends with one of the popular kids who invited you to sit at their table at lunch. In this case, the popular kid being your boyfriend. And the rest of their friends didn’t make you feel welcome, trying to exclude you every time you spoke. Giving their answers to the rest of the group, instead of you who posed a topic in the first place.

As the meal went on, it was getting harder and harder to be understanding, it was increasingly harder to not let your feelings get hurt. You were doing a pretty good job at keeping your emotions hidden until the leader of the girls beckoned a waiter over.

“Would you mind taking picture of us?” She hands him her phone.

She quickly asks the waiter to hold off, she slowly looks at you, fake smile already plastered on her perfectly painted face.

“Would you mind standing on the side? I just want a picture with my friends, plus we don’t know how long you’ll be in Jungkook’s life, or our lives, so…” She trails off.

You take a sharp breath in, the remark deeply wounding you. Before Jungkook could get his arms around you or say anything in response, you excused yourself to the bathroom. Tears threatening to fall down your cheeks, you quickly walk into the ladies bathroom and let a few tears out.

It too everything in you to come back out, but you thought about Jungkook, you were doing this for him. You knew that if you spent anymore time hauled up in the bathroom, he would come to get you.

Wiping your tears, taking a deep breath, you head over to the table. You stop in your tracks as you hear the conversation increase in volume, each of the women at the table firing retorts at Jungkook.

“Its true! You and Hyejin always do this, break up, only to get back together a month later. So it’s true, we don’t know how long she’ll be here.”

Jungkook looks at his ‘friends’ in disbelief.

“Well, I’m your friend and when I tell you that I love this woman and I want to spend the rest of my life with her, you’re suppose to believe me.”

He looks at Namjoon and Stephanie for support.

“We do believe you.” They say in unison, offering looks of sympathy.

You edge closer to the table, but don’t quite make it.

“Well we booked our ski trip earlier this year, and Hyejin is coming. No matter how much you claim to be in love with her, we won’t change our minds. We don’t want add a overly sensitive crybaby and a literal baby to our group trips.” She looks at you, eyes resting on your bump, a sly smile resting on her lips.

The whole table falls silent as you run to grab your bag and rush out the restaurant, ignoring Jungkook as he calls out after you.

Standing on the curb outside the establishment, you attempt to order a taxi.

The door of the restaurant swings open and Jungkook is at your side, pulling you into his chest. You let go and cry into his shirt.

“I’m so sorry about them. But please believe me when I say that I love you and I am never ever going to leave you unless you want me to. And even then, I will never leave with a fight. I will never get back in that toxic relationship with my ex. You are my right now and future, my forever.”

He hugs you tightly, slightly rocking you in his arms, making you feel like more of the crybaby you were accused of being.

But despite everything, you believe him, you had gone through too much emotional turmoil with him to give up now. You sniffle and pull back from the hug, quickly pecking his lips.

“It’s okay Jungkook. Just go and talk to them. Nothing is changing with us. I love you and sure, I’m hurt by their words but I have other things to be focusing on. This baby. You. Us. I’m gonna call a taxi and head home. Come over when you’re done. I’ll call you as soon as I get home. ” You kiss his cheek and push him the direction of the door.

“Wait, come here.” He turns around and pulls you into him, kissing you gently, wrapping his arms around you.

You smile and hug him back tightly.

“You’re amazing.” He whispers into your ear.

You giggle.

“Those girls are her friends not mine, its okay.” You pull away.

He kisses you deeply before going back into the restaurant.

You try to order a taxi, to no avail. You press the call button over and over to only be rejected by every driver. You sigh and open the map to locate your nearest bus stop.

Suddenly you hear the rumble of an engine. You look up to see a car pull up in front of you. Wearingly, you back away from the curb. The window of the car slowly comes down and you met with the sight of your ex-boyfriend.

“Where are you heading?” He shouts from his window.

You ignore him.

“I honestly regret the way things ended between us. I hope we can be friends at least. Let me give you a ride.” He gestures towards the passenger side.

He seemed sincere, there was no reason for him to lie, right? It had been months since you two had broken up. Weeks since he found out that the baby wasn’t his, after assuming it was. He didn’t seem angry when you told him, he nodded and bid you a quiet farewell. There was non animosity between the two of you, plus no taxis where accepting you as a ride on the app. So u=it would be convenient to get in the car.

“Thank you.” You say before getting into the car, placing your bag on your lap.

You feel his eyes on you as you shut the door and buckle your seat belt. You slowly turn your head towards him and offer him an awkward smile. He returns an smile back, but it does quite reach his eyes. Then you take time to look at his eyes. Really look at his eyes. They were tired, heavy with bags and dark circles. The whites of his eyes tangled with red vines, as if he hadn’t slept in days, or as if he had been crying. You were second guessing your decision to get in the car. A part of you wanted to ask about his wellbeing, but as soon as he notices your hesitance, he rips his gaze away from yours and starts the car. He pulls away from the curb.

As the car moves steadily down the road, you pull out your phone to send a text to Jungkook.

You: I bumped into Mark and he’s giving me a ride home.

I’ll call you when I get in.

You watch as the blue line at the top of the screen struggle to meet the other side. A glaring red exclamation point appears next to the blue bubble. Without too much thought, you press the exclamation point once more and lock your phone, your eyes now focusing on the road.

Looking around, you realise that you were headed in the wrong direction. Glancing at Mark , you see him driving with such determination. Unlocking your phone once more.

Um… Mark, you missed the exit. I live that way, remember?” You look at him as he focuses on the road.

You tap the bright red exclamation mark next to the unsent message to Jungkook. Glancing to the top of your screen you see that you didn’t have any signal.

As you read the words of your message over and over again, the less you were believing them.

“I’m not taking you home. You’re not safe there.”

You look at him in shock, hardly believing the words that came so easily out of his mouth. It was as if you were really seeing him for the first time since getting in the car. Your eyes trail over his body, hunched over in the driver’s seat, hands tightly gripping the wheel. His usually perfectly styled hair was messy. He was dressed in a suit, one that he would wear to work. But it was Sunday. It was crumpled like he had been wearing it since Friday. His tie was loose, the pointed end resting in his lap. He didn’t smell like alcohol, he hadn’t been drinking. But his eyes were heavy with dark bags. The lack of sleep was painted all over his face like a picture hung up in an gallery, titled ‘Insomnia’.

“W-what do you mean?” You splutter, fingers tightly wound around your phone. Your arms, holding your bag, that was placed on your lap, closer to your body. Once again, you frantically press the glaring red exclamation mark that taunted you. Once again, it failed to send. Biting back tears, you take a deep breath.

“Mark.” You say, looking at him.

He doesn’t turn to look at you, he keeps his eyes on the road, occasionally, shifting his glare from the wing mirrors to the rearview mirror.

“It’s not safe.” He starts.

“Your house is not safe for you or the baby. He could find you there. Make you cry again. You know stress is not good for the baby.” He takes one hand off the steering wheel to run it through his tangled locks.

“It’s not good, it not good at all. It could make you miscarry. We don’t want that.”

You feel the car come to a stop, as it stops at a red light.

“You’re scaring me.” You say, eying the door, assessing your means for escape.

Mark ignores your comment, sighing, he turns on the radio.

The gentle acoustic music plays throughout the car, loud enough to drown out the sounds of your heavy breathing but not loud enough to drown out the sounds of the buzzing traffic that surrounded the car.

“Do you remember this song?” Mark asks, a slight smile resting on his now noticeably dry lips.

You shake your head and reply quietly.

“No.”

He chuckles.

“This song was playing when I broke up with you. You turned on some shitty radio station as you got ready for our date. You almost didn’t hear me when I told you that I didn’t want to be with you anymore.” He pauses, you could almost see the memory playing back in his head.

Your heart feels like its going to burst out of your chest, the way it was beating. You could hear the sound of it beating loudly in your ears, if it beat any faster, it would drown out the sound of rumbling engine.

“Most breakups are sad and nothing good comes of them, but not ours.”

He takes one hand off of the steering wheel and rests it on your slightly protruding stomach.

“This baby. Your newly found maturity. Our breakup did this. Our time apart gave you space to get ready for our new life. You were looking for houses with him, right? I saw you two near my g-grandma’s house. At the realtors office. You must’ve gotten family insurance too right?”

You freeze as he caresses your bump through the sheer material of your dress.

“I broke up with you because I thought that you weren’t ready for this. Ready for life, you weren’t mature enough. Especially with those little friends of yours.” He sighs deeply, hand still on your belly.

He continues,

“All you needed was a little push. You were more than ready. You already had the qualities of a good mother. You’re so caring. You lied to me that day, telling me that this baby, our baby wasn’t mine. So sweet. Not wanting me to worry.” He takes his hand away from your bump, only to move it up to your cheek, stroking your cheek and then tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

The light turns green. Turning away from you he steps on the gas. Too frightened to confront him, scream at him, tell him that your baby wasn’t his, that there was no way it could be his. You were happy it wasn’t, happier that it was Jungkook’s. You were happy he broke up with you, because you met someone amazing. Someone who you wanted to be next to at the moment. But you needed to protect yourself, to protect your baby.

~~~~~~~~

Jungkook sat back in his seat and angrily reprimanded his ‘friends’. He got increasingly angry as his ex’s friends casually sipped wine as they told him that they meant everything they said. Only his friends seemed apologetic and regretful.

He lengthy discussion about boundaries and how he was going to need sometime to rethink who he called his friends. Telling them, if he had to pick between them and you, he would pick you every time.

He looked at his phone, expecting to see a text or to see your caller id on his screen, but there were no notifications from you. 20 minutes had passed, you should’ve been home by now.

Jungkook had called your phone more than 30 times, but no answer. He had called Sara to see if she had heard from you but she hadn’t. His ‘friends’ watched as he panicked and contacted everyone he could think of. Your work friends, your gym buddies, to no avail. Namjoon tried his best to calm him down, only to be brushed off. Jungkook snaps.

“I never want to see or talk to any of you guys again after today. I’ve always been supportive of you no matter what. Do you think all of us liked all of you initially? We all gave each other a chance. You didn’t even like Hyejin at first. And she was didn’t even try to meet you guys. But the one time I bring someone I truly care about. Who I want to spend the rest of my life with. The woman who is carrying my child. I-She didn’t even do or say anything. You just don’t want to change your vacation plans. Well good news. You don’t have to. “ he rants as he scrolls through his contacts. A number he hadn’t thought about since that shoddy double date all those months ago.

Last resort.

‘Mark’

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

Sorry for the delay and that its a short chapter, but I hope you enjoy!

#jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic

159 notes · View notes

reinerispretty · 1 year

Text

best of luck. (satoru gojo x f!reader)

hiiii. i posted this on ao3 sometime last year, but i figured i’d bring it on over to tumblr, because all of the writing i have here is super old and i’m still proud of this one. hope you enjoy!

content: grumpy girl reader, shit eating grins, fluff

in which gojo satoru shows up unannounced, twice.

“You can’t bring them in here.”

It’s almost one p.m. on a sunny Tuesday, and you’re staring up at Gojo Satoru with all the malice you can muster. He’s staring back down at you (at least you think he is, you can’t really tell what goes on behind that blindfold), and his grin remains unwavering. You should’ve known—the word no and all of its synonyms don’t fit anywhere in Gojo’s vocabulary.

“I’m serious!” You say, hands on your hips as you stamp your foot down like a child. “I’m not letting kids in here.”

The trio peers from behind Gojo. You know one of them, Fushiguro Megumi, but the other two are strangers. You’ve heard enough gossip about what goes on at Jujutsu High to make the educated assumption that the other two are Kugisaki Nobara and the infamous Itadori Yuuji. All three have the unfortunate assignment of being under Gojo’s tutelage.

“Come on,” Gojo laughs, as if you’re playing with him. “I just wanted to introduce my prodigies to my favorite person in the world!”

You frown. “Nanami isn’t here.”

He smacks a hand against his chest, staggering. “You wound me.” In a swift movement, Gojo has his wingspan spread around his students, squishing them together. “They haven’t eaten lunch! You wouldn’t let poor, innocent children go hungry, would you?”

Your frown deepens. You don’t know what Gojo’s real motives are yet, but they must be rather stupid if he’s bringing three children to a bar on a school day. Never mind that it’s illegal for anyone under the age of twenty to be in such an establishment. Such pesky things like laws don’t stand in Gojo Satoru’s way.

You hear their stomachs grumble and at this point, you’re downright scowling. “I hate you,” You say defiantly, stepping to the side to let the group enter. “Quickly, now, before anyone sees you.”

Gojo passes you last, his winning smile stretching across his face. He leans down to give you a kiss and your hand pushes against his cheek, effectively shoving him away from you. “I hate you,” You repeat, locking the door and flipping the sign to CLOSED. He’s enough to deal with. You don’t need more customers on top of that.

They’d arrived at a perfect time. It’s typically slow in the early afternoon, which you know Gojo is aware of. He probably plotted this exactly, right down to the impeccably timed growling of their stomachs. With him, almost nothing is unintentional.

You duck behind the bar to grab a few menus, then join them at their table. They’ve chosen a large, circular booth. Gojo sits on the end, closest to where you stand. You pass the menus around, giving Gojo a whack on the head with his before setting it in his waiting hands.

You introduce yourself to the kids, since it’s likely they weren’t given any information as to why they were coming to a bar in broad daylight. “I graduated from Jujutsu High—“

“With me!” Gojo interjects, because it isn’t a story unless he’s a part of it. “Ten whole years ago, can you believe that? It feels like just yesterday we were walking the halls together.”

“Don’t go around revealing my age to people I don’t know!” You snip at him, ears flaring red-hot.

He quickly introduces his newest students as well as Megumi, who mumbles an, “I’ve already met her,” that Gojo ignores.

“See? Now we’re all thick as thieves.”

“Are you a Jujutsu Sorcerer too?” Yuuji asks, and you nod your confirmation. “Why do you work here?”

“How about you spend two more seconds thinking about it before asking stupid questions,” Nobara scoffs. “She works in a dive bar. You know who comes to dive bars?”

“Erm…” Yuuji rubs the back of his neck as he thinks. “People who like to drink?”

You smile as Nobara ridicules Yuuji once more, and you decide to put the kid out of his misery. “People come to bars for all sorts of reasons, but a pretty big one is to drown their sorrows. People drink because they want to forget, but while they’re in the process of forgetting, where do you think all of that negative energy goes?”

“Right here?” Yuuji guesses. You nod.

“Places like these are a hotbed for curses. Mostly lower-level ones, but they can develop into something really nasty if you don’t keep an eye on them.” You huff, realizing that you’d been tricked into being part of Gojo’s lesson for the day. “I own a few bars around Tokyo—I stop by each one every so often to keep things running smoothly.”

“Isn’t she amazing?” Beams Gojo, and the pride in his voice makes your cheeks flare. You clear your throat.

“Well? What can I get you guys?”

After taking their orders, you march back into the kitchen to start preparing the food. Normally, the only people who come into your establishments at times like this are real sad saps who want nothing more than the comfort of a bottle, so your chefs don’t come in until just before the rush starts. You usually never have to prepare food, but leave it to Gojo to ruin your perfectly crafted routine.

Your hands go through the motions of cooking as he (per usual) occupies your thoughts. You’re annoyed with him for dropping by unannounced, annoyed with him for bringing kids here when there are a million more important lessons he could be teaching them, and annoyed because your mood’s increased significantly, just because of his presence. Your day’s been off to a shit start, and despite your initial greeting, you can’t think of any of the bad stuff when he’s around. You don’t know how he does it, but Gojo Satoru always knows when you need to see him.

You appreciate that after over a decade of knowing each other, your harsh words don’t deter him. A therapist had told you once that they’re a defense mechanism, a way to keep people out so they don’t get the chance to hurt you. You hadn’t seen a problem with that, but she certainly did, based on the amount of scribbling done on her notepad.

But Gojo worms his way into places he shouldn’t be all the time, and you’re sure he enjoyed fitting himself into your life no matter how much you resisted. You’d met at the start of your first year—or was it a little before? You aren’t sure. You’d ask Gojo to clarify if he wouldn’t be so annoying about it. Were you reminiscing about me? You can see him asking, his grin so shit-eating that resisting the urge to knock his teeth out would be a Herculean feat.

Since then, he’d always been there, a task that you’d previously thought was difficult for others. He’d made it look easy, though, walking you to class, accompanying you on missions, sending you texts with elaborately designed emoticons. You pushed and Gojo pushed back even harder, demanding you make room for him in your life because he wasn’t leaving it anytime soon.

Some might say he wore you down, but really you started to enjoy him. He’s ridiculous and funny and irresponsible and a flirt, and it’s nice to have someone bring so much color into your life when you have difficulty making your own. He’s a lot , but you can’t say that whenever he’s around, you’re unhappy. Annoyed, sure, but never unhappy.

With the food started, you get their drinks in order. Thankfully, you sell beverages aside from alcohol, as pick-me-ups for the sober friends that get dragged inside. You place everything on a tray and walk back out into the main room. Gojo’s talking loudly, of course, and normally you’d chide him for his volume but the place is empty, anyway. The kids seem enthralled by the story, except Megumi, who’s probably heard it a million times.

“And right when they think they’re done for, because they’re surrounded and have completely drained themselves like the idiots they were—” You know this story. You’d lived it, actually.

In your third year at Jujutsu High, a few second years were incredibly eager to move up in rank. They’d sneaked into the principal’s office and stolen records on some of the most dangerous, un-exorcised curses in the area and stockpiled on cursed tools. Their thought process had been that if they were all together, it’d be easier to triumph over the curses, and their spots as Second Grade Jujutsu Sorcerers would be guaranteed.

People were always more likely to gossip around you if you kept to yourself, so you’d heard about it rather quickly when they set out to defeat those higher grade curses. You’d realized that if you took the time to tell someone, they’d be dead before any proper sorcerers could come to intervene. So you’d set off after them.

Now, you were nowhere near Gojo’s level of sorcery, but you’d been classified as a Second Grade during your first year. You’d been content with that. No point in pushing yourself harder and getting killed.

But you’d watched class numbers dwindle as Jujutsu Sorcerers met violent ends, and it didn’t sit right with you to do nothing. You’d called Gojo, frantic, but he’d been on a mission overseas and couldn’t answer. (Later, when he’d heard what you’d done, he’d vow never to miss any of your calls, for fear that he might miss seeing something like that again.)

As he’d said, the idiots had gotten themselves surrounded by higher grade curses. Their tools were broken. They were weak. One was already dead by the time you arrived.

You’d been angry at them, angry at yourself for being too late, and angry at this stupid profession for making kids want to put themselves at risk. You don’t really remember doing it, but you’d channeled all of that anger into cursed energy.

“The students likened it to a bomb,” Gojo finishes as he takes a sip of his soda. “She saved all of them and exorcised the curses, too. Was promoted to Grade One the very next day!”

Your face goes hot as he sings your praises, and the students are looking at you like you’re a marvel. You wave a hand, uncomfortable with all the attention. “It was a long time ago,” Is all you can think to say, before retreating into the kitchen.

That’s another thing about Gojo—he’ll never let you be. He’s always bragging about you. You don’t care for validation or admiration. You want to keep your head down and keep moving, but he won’t quit. He thinks you deserve it, since you’re “so powerful,” but you don’t view yourself that way.

Your phone starts buzzing in your back pocket, and you pull it out to read the caller ID. Nanami Kento. You know you haven’t done anything wrong, but you still feel like you’re in trouble as you press the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, (Y/N),” Nanami greets from the other end. He’s younger than you, but leagues more mature, and every conversation you have with him feels just slightly like talking to a parent. “Is Gojo with you?”

Oh. Thankfully, this isn’t about you. “Yeah, unfortunately,” You reply. “He brought the students, too.”

“To a bar?”

You smile, even though Nanami can’t see it. “I’ve already gone through the motions, don’t worry.”

“It’s always something with him,” He sighs, and you imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tell him he needs to get back to Jujutsu High immediately. He isn’t answering my phone calls.”

That’s probably due to the same reason Nanami is calling. “Alright. What d’you need him for?”

“He’s got a mountain of paperwork sitting on his desk and I will not be doing it for him. Tell him this isn’t high school and we aren’t partners. I will not take over in areas he’s lacking.”

“Paperwork and this isn’t high school,” You repeat, a slight smile on your face. “Got it.”

“Thank you, (Y/N). Goodbye.”

“Bye, Nanami.”

The kitchen doors swing open as your call ends, and you watch as Gojo ducks to enter. He smiles at you, his hands casually shoved into his pockets. “Need help?” He offers.

“No,” You reply, mostly because Gojo is absolutely useless in the kitchen. When it comes to food, all he’s good for is picking up the tab. “Nanami’s mad at you.”

Gojo pouts, crossing the tile floor to stand at your side as you chop up vegetables for Nobara’s chicken salad. “What’d I do?”

“He said you’ve got to get back to Jujutsu High because of all the paperwork you have to do.”

Gojo laughs. “It’s probably driving him so crazy that he’s doing it for me right now.”

“He very specifically said that this isn’t high school and he wasn’t going to be doing it for you.” You point your knife at him. “If I hear you’re not being nice to Nanami one more time —”

“Fine, fine,” Gojo sighs. He moves to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle as he hunches over to rest his chin on your shoulder. “I’ll head straight back to Jujutsu High, I promise. Right after lunch.”

He’s always been…touchy like this, ever since you were teenagers. Always wanting to hold onto you, whether it be your hand or sleeve or the strap of your bag. As the two of you became more comfortable, he’d taken to throwing an arm around your shoulders or squeezing you into hugs. He’d press kisses to your cheeks and forehead that he’d swear were just “friendly” if you tried to squirm away.

“I can make these carry out, you know.”

“Absolutely not! You’ve got to sit with us. My students are very eager to learn from you.”

You frown, reaching for the spices, and Gojo moves with you. “I don’t see what I can teach them that you can’t.” You were a First Grade sorcerer, sure, but your powers paled in comparison to Gojo’s. That’s why he was a teacher and you weren’t. People could learn a lot from him.

“I’m trying to show them the different career options they have. Their life doesn’t have to be nearly as amazing as mine. They could be like you, stay in one area and make a living for themselves.”

It comes across a bit rude, but you know he doesn’t mean to be that way. Still, you pinch his arm, smiling as he hisses from the sharp pain. “Don’t say things like that to other people. You’re inferring that my life isn’t as amazing as yours.”

You can tell he’s thinking, working through the implications in his head. “That’s not—”

“I know,” You turn just slightly to look at him. Sometimes you like that he keeps his eyes covered. Gojo’s an intense person, and it makes things even moreso when you can see the bright blue of his irises. “Just a warning.”

You turn back to your task quickly, the kiss that Gojo was trying to sneak landing square on your cheek. Neither of you say anything. He simply watches as you prepare meals for his students.

You know that he’s in love with you. He has been for a very, very long time. And you know that you love him too, in the exact same way he wants. But Gojo Satoru is the type of person who enjoys thrills. What happens when the thrill of you being just out of his reach ends?

Does the affection end, too? Do you lose moments like these, with his arms wrapped around you in comfortable silence? Do you lose late night phone calls and screaming at him or with him and the feeling that no matter where you go, he’ll always be within reach?

Is it worth the risk of losing him? Who do you have after that? Who would you even want, if not him?

You exhale a deep breath as you finish cooking the last meal. “Get off, you sasquatch,” You say, but your nudge is gentle. “I need to get these plated before your students die of starvation.”

Gojo stands to his full height and smiles at you, but it’s pensive, as if he’s been thinking, too. His finger twists around a loose strand of your hair. You mind your business because you’re not sure if you want to know what’s bouncing around that head of his.

--- --- ---

Something is very wrong the next time you see him.

Gojo doesn’t stop by unannounced very often. Well, he does, but he’ll usually give you a call to let you know he’s waiting on your doorstep. Or a text with a house emoji, followed by an exclamation point. House emoji followed by a question mark is him asking if you’d like to come over to his.

Your door is still locked, but you can tell he’s there as soon as you enter. His shoes are by the threshold. His jacket is hung on the coat rack. He’s only been like this a handful of times, so you kick off your shoes and proceed with caution. Today is not the day for petty jabs.

He’s stretched out on your couch. You’d bought it with him in mind, extra long so he could be comfortable on the nights he ended up crashing on it. (You always left him on the couch, but in the middle of the night he’d come shuffling into your room, sleepily slipping beneath the covers.) His blindfold is tossed haphazardly on the coffee table and his eyes are closed. He’s asleep.

Quietly, you set your groceries on the counter. Something must have gone very wrong if he’s fallen asleep waiting for you to get back. Closing took longer than usual, due to a particularly nasty curse that had decided to take up residence in the women’s bathroom.

You shrug off your coat and lay it on one of the barstools. You’d forget it if you actually put it where it’s supposed to go. Making your way around the couch, you sit on the edge of the coffee table. “Satoru,” You whisper, placing a hand on his arm.

White eyelashes flutter and his bright blue eyes are opening. He tenses with the surprise from being woken up, but settles once he realizes it’s you. “Morning,” His voice is raspy. How long has he been asleep?

You don’t correct him, because technically he’s right. It is morning, almost three in the morning, in fact. Your brows furrow as you lean forward to brush the hair from his eyes. “What’re you doing here?”

Gojo grunts as he sits up. Even seated, he towers over you. He rubs his eyes as he says, “The kid died.”

You feel a chill creep over you. You don’t need to ask him who. He’s told you enough about the situation that you know he’s talking about Itadori.

“How?”

Gojo looks at you. You’ve seen his eyes countless times, but their appearance never fails to take your breath away. Bright and depthless, blue had never been a favorite color of yours until you met him. “Higher ups sent me away on a mission, then had the first years go in to retrieve survivors from a Special Grade.”

Anger flashes through you. You share a lot of Gojo’s sentiments on the way things are run in your community. It’s tradition, yes, but sometimes tradition is garbage. Sometimes tradition gets people killed. It’s exactly why you stopped taking missions in the first place. People who haven’t been out in the field in years have no business ordering others around.

You squeeze Gojo’s hand. You only knew Itadori for about a month, but he was indeed a sweet kid, vessel or not. You can tell Gojo cared for him a lot. So his pain is your pain.

“I’m so sorry,” You tell him. You aren’t very good with words, but after so long, you know what helps. You switch places, tucking your legs beneath yourself as you sit beside him on the couch. Your arm wraps around his shoulders and you pull him down gently, so he can curl into you the way you know he needs to.

He holds you tight, tucking his face into your neck. He’s feeling the weight of responsibility, of regret, of shame. He thinks this is all his fault, because Gojo Satoru is the strongest. If he had been there, none of this would have happened.

You know it isn’t his fault, not in the slightest, but you also know that he’s not quite ready to hear that yet. It’s okay to sit with the sadness for a while. You rest your cheek against his head, carding his soft white hair through your fingers.

The two of you stay like that for a long time. He tells you more about what happened. You remain quiet, letting him talk through it.

Most people might think that he’s only upset because he’s lost the best chance the world has at getting rid of Sukuna once and for all. But most people don’t know Gojo the way you do. Most people can’t tell that he’s trying to hold back tears because a kid lost their life for no reason. A kid he was responsible for.

“There wasn’t anything you could have done,” You say softly, fingernails scratching gently against his back. “We’ll make this right, I promise. Itadori’s death won’t be in vain.”

“We will?” His voice is muffled against your chest, but you can tell what he’s asking. You nod.

“I’ll come back,” You tell him. “I’ll help you.”

“You hate Jujutsu High.”

“Yeah, but I don’t hate you.”

Gojo looks up at you, bright blue eyes boring deeply into yours. Your faces are close, your noses nearly touching. If you wanted to change everything, you could kiss him right now.

You reason that will just make things worse. So you smile at him and give him a nice, friendly pat on the cheek. “How about we go to bed, hm? I’ve still got a toothbrush here for you.”

You move out from under him, walking to the bathroom. Normally you’d shower as soon as you get home, but you’re too exhausted to even think about putting in any more effort than you have to. A few minutes later, Gojo joins you.

It’s painfully domestic, doing a nighttime routine with him. He uses your products to wash his face, brushes his teeth with his toothbrush that hasn’t moved from the cup you house them in.

Despite your bathroom being small, Gojo keeps close to you. A hand on your hip, or your shirt, or twirling in your hair. Any other day, you’d bat him away. Tonight, you decide to give him a little grace.

It’s pity that has you offering your bed instead of the couch, and definitely not the fact that you’re looking forward to cuddling up to him. He always crawls into your bed halfway through the night anyway, so the both of you might as well stop pretending it isn’t going to happen. Gojo grins at you, the first one you’ve seen all night, and you roll your eyes as you move to your closet to get the both of you pajamas.

Your choice is an oversized t-shirt and a pair of soft shorts, while you grab flannel pants for him. The first night he’d slept over, years ago, he’d argued that he prefers to sleep in the nude. You’d quickly countered that it wasn’t happening, so the two of you found a happy medium in him keeping his pants on but not having to wear a shirt. It made you blush madly, but you usually turned the lights off before he could see.

Once changed, you turn off your lamp and crawl into the paradise that is your bed. You’ve spent most of your money to make sure your home is nice, since it’s where you spend the majority of your time outside of work. You’ve splurged on many sets of sheets, but as you settle beneath the blanket, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

Gojo finds you in the darkness. An arm slips under your body, wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him. You fit easily into his side. You tangle yourself in him, wrapping a leg around his own and draping your arm across his abdomen as your head rests on his chest. His heartbeat is beneath your ear. It’s a reminder that even he is human.

You exhale, letting your eyes shut. You’re both pretending like this is normal. That this is something friends usually do. “Night, Gojo,” You murmur. He hums a response, already on the verge of sleep.

You wake the next morning in the same position. Your back feels stiff from not having moved the whole night. The stickiness on your cheek indicates that you probably drooled in your sleep. Embarrassing.

Blinking through the bright morning light, you lift your head, peering up at him. His face is turned away from you, but he’s still sound asleep. His lips are slightly parted as puffs of air pass between them. You think he looks prettiest like this. Very peaceful, with no irritating remarks making their way out of his mouth.

It’s a sight to wake up to. Would it be so bad, seeing it every day? No—still only once in a while, since work is troublesome for the both of you. Even in the best months, you only see Gojo a few times.

Still, you meant what you said the night before. You’ll be a stand-up Jujutsu Sorcerer for him if that’s what he needs. You’ll probably see him a lot more than you do now.

You sigh, resting your chin on his chest. You aren’t kids anymore. You’re not old, but lifespans are unpredictable. You don’t think there’s much that can kill Gojo, but there’s a lot that can kill you. You should take this leap. You know he feels the same, even if you act like you don’t.

You’ve wondered why Gojo hasn’t said anything regarding this limbo you’ve been in for years, but you know the truth. He wants you to be ready. Patience isn’t a word commonly associated with him, but when it comes to you, he’ll wait.

You aren’t the reckless sort. You don’t charge ahead blindly. You’re not very good at taking risks. Gojo knows this, and that’s why he keeps quiet. It’ll really mean something that way, whenever you decide to tell him. How incredibly vain of him.

“You’re watching me sleep,” He says, voice coming out in a song, and it startles you. How long has he been awake? You frown at his teasing and move to get out of his grasp, but his hold only tightens. He chuckles, turning on his side so you’re facing each other. “Did I look cute?”

You’re too close to him and your face burns, but there’s no escape. “I was trying to see if you had a booger in your nose,” You lie.

Gojo hums, opening his eyes. You’re the first thing he sees this morning, and his mouth is curling into a smile. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” You reply. “You?”

“Fantastic. Can I steal these sheets? They’re really soft.”

“I can send you the link to the website. They’re expensive, though.” As if Gojo worries about that sort of thing.

He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “Are you hungry?” He asks the question like he’s the host, not you.

“Maybe in a bit.” Truthfully, you don’t want to get out of bed. Gojo is warm, and his fingernails are scratching your scalp just behind your ear in a way that makes your eyelids flutter shut. “What time is it?” You’re starting to feel sleepy again.

“Hmm, eight?”

“Too early to be awake.” You huddle further into the covers, rest your forehead against his chest. You should get up and start your day. You’ve gotta start thinking about your affairs, after all, if you’re going to be a sorcerer full time again.

But the idea of leaving this moment physically pains you. You know Gojo will have to leave soon, will have to handle his responsibilities, but you want to keep him here for a little while longer. You sigh. It’s selfish of you to do this now, but he always tells you you’re not nearly selfish enough.

You pull away from him, looking up into his eyes once more. If you’re going to do this, you’re not going to cower away from it. You’re going to see the look on his face, dammit.

Right now, his eyes are half-open, staring down at you. You think he might be thinking of kissing you. You hope he is. Licking your lips, you say, “Satoru.”

His eyes widen, ever so slightly. If you’re using his name, you’re serious. White brows furrow, and there’s a slight pout to his mouth. He’s poised to protest whatever demand you have of him.

“I’m in love with you.”

He isn’t expecting it, and it almost makes you smirk to throw him off guard. His mouth falls open a bit in surprise. It seems like for once in his life, Gojo Satoru is speechless.

It lasts just long enough to make you wonder if you’ve made a big mistake, but then he’s speaking to you. “Say it again?”

You huff, frowning up at him as your already warm face grows even hotter. “Satoru—”

“Please?”

You swallow and oblige him. “I’m in love with you.”

His grin is wide. “Again!”

“No! I’ve said it twice now and you haven’t said anything— ” Gojo quiets you with a kiss, molding his lips against yours. He’s excited and so eager as he strokes his tongue into your mouth. He’s waited a long time, likely dreamed of this moment, and you smile against him.

“I knew it!” Gojo says as he pulls away. He shifts your bodies so he’s hovering over you, caging you beneath him. “Everyone said you’re too good for me, and you are, of course, but I knew.”

“Are you going to keep gloating?” You ask him. He nods, and he looks so happy your heart twists in your chest.

“First step is to gloat,” He kisses you again, and when he pulls away it’s like you’re both pained to separate. “Then I kiss you, and then I’ll tell you that I’ve loved you for twelve years.”

You scrunch your nose. “Only twelve? I’ve known you for thirteen.”

“You were rather mean to me at the beginning, there. Took me a while to figure out why I liked it so much.”

You laugh, loud and freely, and Gojo’s heart is so full it might burst. He kisses you again, and again, and again, until you’re both panting and questioning how fast a relationship that’s been in the works for over a decade should go.

Later in the day, Nanami Kento receives a call from Gojo. All the sorcerer says is, “I was right!” before hanging up. Gojo’s never been the vague sort, but Nanami smiles to himself. He has a feeling he knows what those three words are in reference to. He opens his text thread to you and types,

Best of luck.

#satoru gojo x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #writing

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thecrystalquill · 2 years

Text

A Perfect Balance

Sky High - Warren Peace x Reader

Request -

A/N: Thanks again @kpopgirlbtssvt for requesting – I loved this sooo much!! There is a serious lack of Warren fics out there, and I completely encourage any writers out there to write something for sky high too!

I added some cliches but sssh you’ll love it.

—————

For anyone who’s never been the new kid, lunch is by far the worst part of your day. There’s no one to assign you a seat, cliques are already established, and people keep staring (but never offer to help you out of your misery).

(Y/N) gripped her lunch tray tightly, trying not to think about the frost spreading around her fingers. She’d joined the school two months into the year, an awkward time really, but at least she didn’t have to catch up on too much.

Walking through the lunch hall, (Y/N) tried to find a good spot. Just somewhere to sit for one day. Oh how she wished people would stop looking – it was making her nervous. As if she didn’t stand out of the crowd enough as new girl, but her hair gave her away more than anything; tips frosted white, snowy streaks unevenly placed; not to mention the cold air around her. Anyone could look her way and say ‘oh yeah, that’s her’.

Where to sit… where to sit…

No one really seemed to look particularly inviting. And all of the tables were almost completely full. And the longer she stood around searching for a seat, the more awkward she felt. Eventually, in her panicked, brisk walking between tables, she managed to find a place by the floor-to-ceiling windows. The table was empty, save for a boy sat on his own; he looked to prefer it that way, and he didn’t seem the friendliest, but it was either him or the cheerleaders. Without thinking about it too much, (Y/N) let her feet take her towards him, set down her tray, and sat beside him.

Upon noticing her presence, the boy looked up. He was handsome, that was the first thing she noticed. He had shoulder length black-brown hair, which he seemed to almost be hiding behind, with a red streak on his right. She wondered for a moment if it was natural, it wouldn’t surprise her much. The frown he wore seemed somewhat practiced, though the curiosity directed at her was obvious. “Sorry…” (Y/N) muttered before he could say anything, brushing some hair behind her ear and making little eye-contact, “I just, um… I didn’t really want to sit with a group.” She justified, nervously playing with her fork, his gaze unwavering. “Do you mind?”

He stared for a second longer, then shook his head. “No, you can sit.” Not a man of many words, it would seem.

They both went back to their plates, not particularly interested in the food on it – for a private school funded by the superheroes and villains of the state, you’d think they’d have a better quality of meals to serve their students. As she glanced around the room, (Y/N) noticed people whispering and looking their way, likely gossiping about her, as teenagers seem to do best. Honestly, it was downright rude, to say the least. Why were they staring so much? Surely they’d seen a new girl before.

“What’s your name?” The boy asked suddenly, almost making her jump (why was she so on edge today?)

“Wh- oh um… (Y/N)… (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” She answered, forcing herself to meet his eye – they were quite lovely, actually. There was a few moments of silence between them. “And… er… what’s yours?”

The boy looked back to her, his hair falling over his eyes. It wasn’t often that she blushed, being so cold, but the unfamiliar heat rushed to her face from the way he stared – it wasn’t the same stare everyone else had given her, it was curious, and kind. “Warren Peace.”

Warren Peace. She liked his name, it was a good name, it suited him. Though, it was familiar… “Hi- er… nice to meet you… Warren,” (Y/N) replied, giving him a shy smile. Heat radiated from him barely a second later, warming her icy temperature and bringing the air around them back to a comfortable temperature. The perfect balance.

It was silent between them for a while as they picked at their food, though the whispers kept going, even when Warren gave a harsh glare to anyone who looked over. What were they all talking about anyway?

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

“What’re you guys talking about?” Asked Layla as she set her tray down at their table, scooting next to Will.

“The new girl,” Magenta answered, pointing her fork to a table at the other side of the room, where a lot of people seemed to be glancing.

Leaning forward, Zach tried to gain everyone’s attention. “Hey, does anyone know what her powers are? And why’s her hair like that?”

“She had a private power placement,” said Ethan, pushing his glasses up his nose and taking another glance back to the girl, then quickly regretting it when Peace sent him a snare. “But I heard Coach Boomer put her in Hero classes, so whatever it is, it’s gotta be pretty cool.”

Layla nodded and took a bite out of her salad, stealing another glance to the window. “Okay… so why’s everyone staring?” Really, it was kinda rude.

“Duh,” Will rolled his eyes, “she’s sat next to Warren Peace – and he’s okay with it!”

Zach nodded after watching the girl tuck a silver strand of hair behind her ear. “And she’s really pretty.”

Magenta kicked him under the table.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

When she found out that Sky High had a required P.E. class, (Y/N) wasn’t really sure what she expected. Maybe some archery or agility courses or dodgeball. But even given a hundred guesses, not once would she ever have guessed battle training. What kind of insane school is this – teaching kids to use each other’s weaknesses in a fight? How on Earth was this even legal? Why would they teach teenagers – by far the dumbest and most easily influenced of all ages – to fight?

She was sat at the end of the middle row of the bleachers, watching in both horror and amazement as two of her peers attacked each other in the centre of the room. As far as she’d gathered, there were three kinds of battle training class: student vs student, ‘good-guys’ vs ‘bad-guys’, and Save the Dummy (where the heroes have to save a victim). It all seemed quite brutal, but then again, useful.

At the moment, one of the cheerleaders had duplicated herself to fight against a girl with telekinesis. And (Y/N) couldn’t tell who was winning.

“Hey.” Came a voice from beside her.

(Y/N) jumped, she was so immersed in the game in front of her that she hadn’t noticed the boy from lunch sit next to her. There was that uninvited heat in her cheeks again. “Oh, er- hi,” she smiled nervously. She was warmed by his presence; she figured it was because he was just too damn gorgeous.

Warren looked different in his sports gear, casual and comfortable, a stark change to the boots, jeans, and leather jacket from this morning. But the blue definitely suited him.

He looked at her in that curious way he had before, as if there was something about her which he couldn’t quite place. Then cleared his throat. “So, how’s your first day been treatin’ you?”

More talkative than before too. “Ye- um- yeah it’s been… different.” She answered, playing with the hairband on her wrist and thanking her lucky stars that she hadn’t started to freeze up yet.

The boy nodded, barely paying any attention to the fight; though she supposed he wouldn’t, if this was a weekly occurrence. “Different?”

“Mhm.” She hummed, trying her best to make eye-contact, but it was so difficult when he looked at her with such casual intensity. “I don’t know what I was expecting, really.”

There was a thud as the telekinetic girl flung a chair across the ‘battle field’, knocking one of the duplicates over.

There was a longer silence between them as they both watched the fight, (Y/N) winced every time someone landed a hit. With every kick and swing of the cheerleaders, the telekin defended with an equally strong block, this time using Coach Boomer’s old bat.

He leaned in a little closer, enjoying the way he cooled around her. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he explained, as the cheerleader swept the other girl’s feet.

“You’ve been down there?” She asked, though it seemed like a stupid question.

Warren didn’t seem to notice her internal curses, simply nodding an answer. “Most of us have, usually depends on how Boomer’s feeling.”

That didn’t settle too well with her; how could they expect her to use her gift against someone?

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

“So, how was your first day?” (Y/N)’s mother asked as they got in the car.

It was six o’clock and (Y/N) and her little brother were being treated to dinner out, which was really just because they hadn’t unpacked all of their kitchen stuff yet and no one felt like cooking.

“It was awesome,” said Ben from the back seat, “we were doing multiples in class and I finished first, so Miss Blake gave me a sticker. Then at lunch, someone brought a soccer ball and they let me play with them.” Her brother grinned as he untangled the string of his yo-yo.

“That’s great, honey.” Their mom commented, turning down a busy street. “And how about you, (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) shrugged, fiddling with the radio until she found a song she liked: Pon de Replay by Rihanna, this week’s hit. “It was okay,” she started as they found a parking spot and got out, apparently there was a nice Chinese restaurant here. “They do battle training in gym.”

“They do not.” Ben defied, scrunching his face up.

“Do too,” she argued back, frowning just the same.

Their mom rolled her eyes as she led them inside. It was a nice restaurant – affordable too – with plenty of seats and booths, and that lovely red and gold painted décor all around the room. (Y/N) had a feeling that this would become a regular stop for them.

“And did you make any friends?”

They took a booth by a window, which Ben insisted on sitting in front of, and a cute vanilla scented candle was lit in the middle. “No one makes friends on the first day,” answered (Y/N) as she took off her coat.

“I did,” taunted her brother.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

As Ben ranted about how many new friends he made, (Y/N) looked over the menu. Going out for Chinese food and getting take-out was good and all, but she’d much rather be back home. In her regular house with a regular school and a regular life. But when the universe closes a door, it opens a window… right?

“What can I get you?” The waiter asked as he came from behind, pulling out a notepad and pen from his apron.

Oh dear gods.

Her family made their orders while she looked on in panic. Warren Peace was here. Warren Peace was her waiter. Who cursed her?

“Noodles,” she heard from Ben, “just a whole plate of noodles. They’re my favourite y’know.” Why was he so embarrassing?

“A whole plate of noodles,” Warren repeated with a smirk as he wrote it down, “coming right up.”

He was gonna turn to her now. Oh-god-oh-god-oh-no-oh-god--

Recognition crossed his face almost as soon as he saw her, his smirk turning into a light smile. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, using his pen to point.

Her words got stuck in her throat for a second – how did he look so good with his hair pulled back into a bun? Sweet Jesus-Mary-and-Joseph that’s not fair, (Y/N) say something… “Hi.” Did it suddenly get hot in here?

Ben squinted suspiciously at them. “How do you know my sister?” Shut up, Ben.

“School,” she answered quickly, shooting the boy a glare.

Her mother gave him her sweetest smile, one not unlike her daughter’s. “Oh, well it’s nice to meet you…”

“Warren,” he introduced. Oh man his smile was so nice. He turned to the kitchen when someone dinged a bell, sending him a look. “Sorry,” he said, “I gotta get back to work. What did you want?”

“Oh! Yeah- um… the-the number twelve, please.”

She let out a sigh when he finally left, feeling the temperature around their booth suddenly drop.

“I thought you said you didn’t make any friends,” said their mother, sipping the glass of iced water that had been placed on the table.

“Ooh, maybe he’s her boyfriend.” Ben giggled – little brothers are so annoying.

“Shut up,” she frowned, kicking his foot under the table and moving her glass of ice out of the way.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

How was she supposed to go to school today and see Warren and act normal?

It was 7am, as her alarm clock reminded her twice every second, and she should be getting ready for school. But at the moment her bed was offering her a much more relaxing day than Sky High would give her, and she was tempted to give in and stay under the covers for the next twenty-four hours.

There was nothing particularly embarrassing about the night before, but that didn’t stop her from being embarrassed.

Groaning painfully, (Y/N) turned over and tapped her alarm, hiding her face from the sunlight streaming through the curtains. She’d have to get up. Unfortunately.

And so she hesitantly pulled back her covers and started her day, opening up her curtains to wake her up. At least she didn’t have science with Professor Medulla today, he freaked her out a little.

(Y/N) went about her routine, dressing and doing her hair and all that, before heading down stairs. Her stalling this morning cost her twenty minutes, so breakfast would have to be toast and a quick coffee.

“You’re cutting it pretty close today,” her mom commented from the breakfast table, watching the daily news on the TV. Another heroic act from the Commander and Jetstream, no surprise there.

(Y/N) didn’t reply, just taking a large sip from her beverage as she popped some bread in the toaster. The coffee was hot and steaming, instantly thawing her frozen aura.

“Didn’t sleep much,” she replied through a mouthful of toast, shrugging casually and checking the time again; she’d have to leave soon if she wanted to catch the bus on time (how else would she get to school if she missed it? It’s not like they have flying taxis).

“‘Cus you was thinking about your boyfriend?” Ben piped up as he sat down, making kissy faces.

(Y/N) glared at him (she honestly couldn’t wait for him to grow up - why was he still stuck on that topic?) over her mug. “I will rip your Pokémon posters,” she grumbled, watching his eyes widen in horror as she downed her coffee. Then made her way out of the house before Ben told their mom.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Lunch didn’t seem as daunting as the day before, or rather, it was a different kind of daunting.

She knew where the cafeteria was, for a start. She also knew not to make direct eye-contact with the cheerleaders. An improvement.

But now? Now she had to go and sit next to Warren Peace and try her damn best to avoid the topic of last night (for no good reason other than the fact that she was seen in public by a peer), and act normal… that is, if he even wanted her to sit with him. Oh jeez, what if he just let her sit there because it was her first day?

Taking in a deep breath, (Y/N) focused her attention on the hands gripping her tray, and keeping her hot chocolate from freezing. She glanced around the room to assess her surroundings as she made her way to the table she occupied yesterday; reminding herself not to overthink so much.

It was here when she faced another problem.

Warren’s usually empty table was full of people.

Well, full may not be the right word per se, but five strangers was still a lot. She’d seen a few of them around, sharing a class or two probably, but she honestly didn’t think Warren had any friends. No offence to him, of course, but he was a little intimidating, y’know?

They looked to be chatting nicely, except for Warren who looked irritated. Shoot was it still okay for her to sit there? Before she could change her mind and retreat, one of the girls in the group spotted her and smiled. Here goes nothing.

“Hey…” (Y/N) said, trying not to seem awkward as she reached the table. All eyes were on her and she was greeted with a series of ‘hi’s and ‘hello’s. “Er… is it okay if I sit here?” If only they knew how hard she was trying to keep the temperature normal in here.

Warren was the first to reply. “Sure,” he said, clearing his throat and moving aside to make some room (despite that he was obviously reluctant to sit closer to the light-haired boy next to him).

The group shared some looks that she couldn’t quite read as she sat down, as if they had a silent conversation in the two seconds that no one spoke. (Y/N) did her best to ignore it, hoping she hadn’t interrupted something, and instead tried to relax in the warmth that inexplicably enveloped her. “So,” she started, “these are your friends?” She directed at Warren.

He shook his head, immediately shutting down their hopeful smiles. “No, I just know them.” Warren grumbled, but the others just rolled their eyes at his behaviour (much in the same way friends do, coincidentally).

Ignoring the brooding teen across from her, the sweet-looking girl in front of her beamed. “I’m Layla, it’s nice to meet you--”

“New girl, hi! What’s your powers? We’ve been dying to know.” Burst the pale boy beside Warren, giving her his full attention. He reminded her of an excitable dog, the kind that can barely sit still long enough to receive a treat.

“Zack.” Scolded the purple-haired girl, glaring at him harshly.

Zack hardly seemed to notice it. “What? I can’t ask?”

“You’re being rude.” She answered back.

“I just wanted to know--”

“It was kinda rude man…” continued the boy with the blue shirt.

“Well we haven’t had a new girl before I just wanted to know her powers, what’s wrong with that--”

“Her name is (Y/N).” Snapped Warren, silencing their bickering. They stared for some time before collecting themselves, then following Layla’s lead to introduce themselves.

There was another beat before anyone said anything. “So… um… what are your powers?” Asked the boy in orange, Ethan, as if he was uncertain if he should ask.

Taking a gulp of her beverage, and cringing at its low temperature, (Y/N) nervously fiddled with the mug. “Oh er… I don’t… I don’t really use it…” she trailed off; Warren took the drink from her grasp, which she’d found quite strange, until he returned it a few seconds later. It was hot and steaming just as it had been when it was first poured. The realisation hit her. And it explained the lovely warmth that surrounded her in his presence.

He really was hot.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

A few weeks had passed and (Y/N) felt she was settling in nicely. She’d gotten quite close to Warren’s not-friends and had even been invited to hang out with them; but out of everyone so far, she’d grown closest to Warren, and she could safely say he was at least fond of her. He greeted her with a (very rare) smile every day, warmed up her drinks when they were cold, and even sent a particularly nasty look to a boy in class that commented on her hair. Everyone seemed to notice his “weird behaviour”, as Will put it, but (Y/N) couldn’t tell what he meant.

Today was gym class. So far, (Y/N) had managed to avoid Coach Boomer’s eye and stayed in the stands. But it seemed her luck was about to run out.

The room was set up for battle training (she still couldn’t believe that was a real thing) and everyone was sat on the bleachers anticipating who was to be picked. Two boys were stood in the centre looking at the crowd with pride, like they couldn’t wait for a fight (again, they’re just breeding stronger villains here), it seemed these two were a team that was usually picked; coaches always had favourites. (Y/N) knew that the one with the stripey sleeves was stretchy in some way, and the other one with the hyper-speed was called – you’ll never guess – Speed. Surely that wasn’t his real name, right?

Coach Boomer was eyeing the students and scanning the registration list for names, picking out some targets.

“Ah,” he said over the noisy teens, “(Y/L/N) – let’s see how you hold your own, hm?”

Bad luck.

Everyone was intrigued; after all, she hadn’t yet used her abilities and the whole school was waiting to see what the new girl could do. Oh jeez she might be sick.

Warren, who always sat beside her in this class, noticed her anxiety – knowing very well she had some sort of reluctance about using her powers – and gave her a determined look. She rose from the stands and started to make her way down to the Pit (as she’d so perfectly called it), hating the way the ‘villains’ looked at her like she was their prey.

She was just wishing for the floor to swallow her up when she heard someone else making their way over. “I don’t recall announcing your name, Mr. Peace,” said Coach Boomer as the crowd started to cheer. But what did he care really?

Sure enough, Warren had taken it upon himself to stand beside her. She gave him a questioning look, but he just shrugged. “I figured you’d need some actual help for this one,” he said, in a way that made her wonder if he thought anyone else could help her like he could. But she didn’t question it, more than glad he was here.

Before she knew it the coach was blowing a whistle and the so-called ‘game’ began.

Without a moment’s notice the fast kid started running about, either trying to cause a distraction or land a hit, While his teammate came towards her with a grin.

She almost lost her cool when Warren literally lit his arms on fire. He threw flame after flame in the direction of the blur zooming about but barely managed a hit.

Stretch – or whatever his name was – tripped her up while she was distracted, and the crowd ‘ooh’ed. (Y/N) got back up quickly and whacked his other arm away from her face, only to be tripped again. This only pissed her off. While she was on the ground he tried to cling onto her arm, but she managed to grab his sleeve and pull him forward, kicking him in the gut as he lost his balance.

Hot-head over there didn’t appear to be doing so well with Speed; the best he’d managed was lighting the back of his shirt, which quickly blew out. And Speed was easily landing hits, kicks, and trips.

She didn’t know what to do about that, but there was little time to think when the blur came at her and pushed her onto her back (apparently he was immoral enough to attempt to suffocate Warren but not enough to hit her too).

It started to become very overwhelming – Warren managed to burn them here and there, she’d managed a few hits herself – but the amount of times she was so easily pushed over was starting to get embarrassing. The room started to get cold as she got more and more tense, and she could feel her resolve starting to slip. Warren was struggling to stay aflame as Speed ran about landing hits before they could be blocked. She’d tried to help, but the stretchy guy wrapped his arms around her several times, completely immobilising her. Honestly she was impressed by his strength, he didn’t look it. Panic overcame her as Warren was hit to the floor, and she could hear the other guy laughing behind her. Her heart was beating so fast she could hear it in her ears, her senses overwhelming her so much she hadn’t even noticed that it started to snow. Speed hit Warren so hard that he fell backwards with a loud thump and cradled his shoulder, and she felt so helpless – and so, so angry. Angry at this stupid school for encouraging this sort of behaviour, angry and the students for cheering them on, angry at Boomer for not intervening, and definitely angry at the two sadistic bullies making her watch.

She heard a scream behind her as she was released from the arms holding her in place. Her captor had barely even retracted his arms when they froze over, looking panicked and afraid (and maybe a little pained too). Good, she thought, he deserves it.

Speed ran over to her in an instant, and before she could even think about it, the floor froze over almost immediately, right the way across the gym, up the walls and windows, and across the ceiling; icicles drooping down above their heads like a warning. Speed went flying across the room, skidding on the floor and losing all control, and went straight into the frozen-over window, the sound of his face smacking the ice resonating across the room (it was probably going to be quite painful pulling his face away from it).

The gym was eerily quiet as everyone took in the events of the last… forty seconds? They were all starting to shiver and their breaths fogged in the air as they stared, it’s probably safe to say no one was expecting that.

Ignoring their stares as best she could, (Y/N) went to help Warren up. He was still holding his shoulder, but seemed a little preoccupied with staring at her. But his stare was different, she didn’t feel uncomfortable under it. “Um… you okay?” She asked nervously, avoiding the whispers bouncing around the room.

He nodded, looking at her in awe. Their hands steamed as she helped him up, a quiet hiss at the contact. She was colder now, he noticed; the tips of her fingers white and freezing. And her eyes had a crystallised look to them now, which was new, but definitely welcomed and no less beautiful than before.

A voice cleared behind them. Coach Boomer came down from his seat, looking very cold in his shorts. “Well… I guess it’s pretty clear who won.”

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

All day people had been talking about it, and it was driving her insane. At this point no one even bothered to whisper about it. On the plus side she wasn’t the ‘new girl’, however, now she was ‘ice girl’. Frankly she was a little insulted by the lack of creativity.

All day she’d been avoiding eye-contact and keeping her head down, but it was hard to go unnoticed when people were looking for the girl with the white in her hair. Warren must have noticed.

She was making her way to her next class when a hand grabbed her, instinctively her hand froze up, but the sudden hiss of steam let her know who it was before she turned. Warren was leading her somewhere, he didn’t say where and ignored her when she asked, but his hand around hers felt too good to object. “Look, I know this is stressing you out, and you look like you’d rather die than go to lunch and be stared at all day,” he said as he pulled her outside, “so I’m helping.”

Wait, why were they outside?

“Helping how exactly?” (Y/N) asked suspiciously, as they approached one of the buses. But he only shushed her.

Before she knew it they were on a flight back down to Earth and walking free. Jeez, she felt like such a criminal cutting school like this. She couldn’t believe they were doing this. “Warren we’ll get in so much trouble,” she argued lamely – not like there was much choice now, and she hardly wanted to go back.

“Nah,” he replied, “just call it an early weekend.”

He lead her through various streets she didn’t recognise and past an empty children’s park with Stronghold Real Estate benches on every corner, towards a slightly run-down part of town. (Y/N) vaguely wondered how easy it would be to kidnap her, given that she’d willingly followed a boy she’d barely known for a few weeks out of school and to a secondary location with no idea where she was and little to no witnesses.

But, of course, Warren wasn’t kidnapping her – she knew that. Still, the mind wanders.

Next he lead her to a rather large building, with lots of windows and a plain front. An apartment building, she realised, as he took her down the side-alley, where he jumped for the ladder of the fire escape stairs, holding it down for her as if he were politey holding open a door for a lady.

“Where are we?” (Y/N) asked as she approached the steps, trusting him enough to go ahead.

Warren followed behind, the sound of his heavy boots hitting the metal reassured her of his presence. “My place,” he answered simply, “keep going.”

Eventually they reached the top of the building; there wasn’t much there, other than a few vent boxes and satellite dishes. Then she noticed a large tin box in the shadow of the vent. Warren went and opened it, pulling out a thin blanket to sit on, some sodas, and a few snacks. “Oh… so this is like… your place.” (Y/N) said, taking in the view of the city in the midday sun, glad she wasn’t in that cafeteria right now.

The boy said nothing, just patting the spot next to him as an invitation to sit.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the world go by and relishing each other’s company. It felt strangely intimate, (Y/N) thought, to be in Warren’s place, his sanctum, the space he’d created as an escape to be in peaceful solitude. It was like he’d invited her to sit not only on his blanket, but in his life outside of school. He was sharing a side of him that he kept so secret from everyone else, and it made her heart flutter.

“Y’know…” he muttered into the silence, leaning back against the steel vent, “I’d come here a lot when I was a kid. My parents used to fight a lot, sometimes for hours, and it wasn’t far enough in my room.”

The biggest piece of information about his life he’d shared with her so far; (Y/N) wasn’t uncomfortable receiving it, only disheartened that he looked so sad. She knew under that tough-guy facade there was a boy who needed some love. “Why did they fight?” She asked innocently, following his movements and leaning back, mildly aware of how their shoulders touched.

“My dad’s a villain,” he admitted, looking down at the leather bracelets on his wrist, “mom’s a hero… kinda obvious they wouldn’t work out.” He was quiet again for a beat, assessing her reaction, glad that he received nothing but comfort and empathy. But he knew her next question. “He’s in jail now… my mom had to do it…”

Oh man, that was tough. “I’m sorry,” (Y/N) said, wishing she knew the right words to say but falling short, feeling bad that she couldn’t offer him something better. Instead, she reached out and placed her hand on the warm skin of his arm, hoping to convey her thoughts better this way. “That must have been hard…”

Warren shrugged half-heartedly. “I just always felt kinda conflicted, y’know? Like I’m somewhere in the middle…” He took a second, then looked back at her, the streak of red on his hair hanging over his ear. “I’ve never brought anyone here before… but I… I’m glad you’re here, I don’t want this to feel like a lonely place.”

She adjusted their hands so she was holding his, that little hiss making them both smile. “I don’t want you to feel lonely,” she whispered, angling herself towards him, hoping he believed her.

Warren interlocked their fingers, studying the details of her face. “I’m glad I met you,” he said in a tone that sounded almost vulnerable, swallowing away the lump that lingered in his throat. “Otherwise I’d never get to see Speed crying like a little girl while Lash peels his face off an ice-wall.”

(Y/N) snorted a laugh, covering her face with her free hand. “Oh god stop it,” she giggled, “I already feel bad.”

“No you don’t,” he grinned. How did he already know her so well? Of course she didn’t regret making that little sadist cry after beating Warren like that. “But I am glad I met you,” he affirmed.

(Y/N) smiled sweetly, feeling her face heat up again. “Me too.”

There was a moment or two where they just stared at each other, anticipating what the other might do while having no idea that they were subconsciously moving closer. They stared until their vision blurred and their eyes started to close, hearts beating in unison as their noses bumped. She could feel his shakey breath on her face as they stopped. “This okay?” He breathed, barely disturbing the quiet. She nodded, not trusting her voice to answer. But that was all he needed to seal the gap and send their hearts soaring.

In a world divided between good and bad, it was hard to find your place, because humans don’t really work that way, do they? But whatever the future may bring, it didn’t matter right now. For now they were just two ordinary teenagers, sitting on a roof, and sharing a moment; knowing at least that whatever happens, they’ll have each other. A perfect balance.

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

The End

What do you think?

Thank you again @kpopgirlbtssvt for such a lovely request! And I encourage any other writers to contribute something for the Sky High fandom bc there’s a criminal lack of fics. I loved this story so much so thankks again K xx

#warren peace #Warren peace x reader #sky high #sky high x reader #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction x reader #sky high Warren peace #Warren peace x fem!reader #sky high fandom #x y/n

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