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alltheirdamn · 2 months

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Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 1 : Your Name

Series Summary: You've nursed a broken heart for two years. ‘Love’ felt like a foreign term, but maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach. Chap. 1 Summary: When you catch the eye of your students' dad at a school dance, he starts showing up everywhere. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for the future smut) Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, age gap (joel is 36 reader is 27), no smut (yet), sexual tension, flirting, pining, mentions of alcohol, language, angst, reader's last name is 'Smith' for no other purpose than the fact she is a teacher A/N: This will definitely be a slow-burn fic, so please hang tight!! Tropes include: second chance at love, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, etc. I'm actually so excited about this one, so I hope you guys stick around to see where it goes :')

Masterlist

PROLOGUE

You never thought you’d be the girl sitting at the steps of an abandoned altar with your wedding dress covered in mud from the rain.

Just minutes before you were supposed to take your first steps down the aisle, your fiancé fled. You watched the blur of his suit in the distance as he ran through the rain and left your family and friends in shock. Motionless at the back of the rows of chairs, you dropped your bouquet and stood in heartbreaking silence as the cords of the violins faded into the air. Your parents and siblings swarmed around you, trying to break the paralysis that kept your eyes locked on the vacant spot under the archway and steps of what would have been the place you said your vows. You still had them in your hand; the words scribbled neatly on a folded paper torn from your journal. You’d never get the chance to say those words aloud; he never would have deserved them, anyway.

The ring sat heavily on your finger now as you watched it glisten under the pelting rain. Your dress clung to your body in layers of silk and lace, a taunting reminder of who you had become for a man unworthy of your love and devotion.

Five years together, all stripped away in a matter of minutes.

You’d never love again.

“Everyone’s gotta do it,” Maria sighed as she stood at the student drop-off with you.

By ‘it,’ she meant chaperoning the father-daughter dance later in the week, which you seriously wanted no part of. You had been through enough school dances in your three years working at the middle school, and you were tired of watching pre-teens grinding on each other to god-awful music. You had better things to do with your Friday nights, like sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a horror movie playing in the background—you’d sworn off rom-coms long ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, waving another line of kids across the road.

You watched as they trudged across the crosswalk with their backpacks slung over their shoulders, eyes bright and broad at the realization school was over for the day. If only they were that chipper in class, maybe you’d have an easier time teaching them how to write three-point essays.

Maria chirped goodbye to each one as they passed, her cheeks pinched with a fake smile only you could recognize. You knew she loved the kids but loved the final school bell even more. You, on the other hand, hated it. The end of school was just another reminder that you’d go back to an empty home and an empty life.

Two years had passed since Bennett ran from your wedding ceremony—two years without closure or an answer. By the time you had pieced yourself together and returned home from the would-have-been ceremony, his things were gone, and the house filled with the ghost of his presence. Your in-laws went radio silent, avoiding all calls and emails from you until they eventually moved out of state and changed numbers. The hours leading up to the ceremony would forever be a mystery as to why he left, and you would spend the rest of your life fighting for an answer as to why you weren’t good enough to love.

Dragging you from your thoughts, Maria bumped you with her hip, giving you a concerned look. You shook away the memories and returned her stare with a fake smile you had mastered over the last two years. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had genuinely smiled or laughed without feeling the force of a facade washing over you. Concealing the pain of it all made it easier; maybe if you believed you were okay, you’d start feeling okay. But you never did. Not even the countless hours of therapy had helped reconcile the person you once were. Bennett had left and taken every vulnerable part of you with him, leaving nothing but a raw and broken shell in his wake.

“You’re doing it again,” Maria scolded.

“Doing what?” You asked, already aware of the answer.

“Wallowing. You really should get back out there again.”

You focused on the next grouping of kids setting out to cross the street, your hand instinctively coming up to hold the passing cars at a standstill. You plastered on a fake smile as they waved goodbye to you, and you glanced back at Maria once they finally stepped foot on the next sidewalk.

“I’m not interested,” you stated. “I’m fine on my own.”

Her eyebrow lifted as if challenging your blasé response. Your answer always remained the same, yet Maria relentlessly attempted to change your mind.

“You’ve got to at least try. What if there’s already someone out there just waiting for you?”

“Maria, I promise no one is waiting for me.”

“I wish you’d just give it a shot. You deserve to be happy.”

You had heard that phrase often over the last couple of years; a pitying tone always accompanied the words. People loved to soothe you with words that held no weight or purpose. You learned to nod along to their sympathies and turn a deaf ear to their suggestions of what you deserved.

The final round of kids made their way toward the line of parents waiting in their cars, and you followed Maria back to your classrooms to clean up before leaving for the day. Her words stuck with you on the quiet drive home; the radio wasn’t enough to drown out that taunting voice in your head reminding you that you’d never be enough.

Your single-story house was nestled into an older neighborhood of Austin, only a handful of miles from the middle school. You’d argue that the house was the best thing to come out of the failed engagement; its personality stood firm against the other houses with a vibrant shade of blue painted over its wooden panels and wrap-around porch. You spent the last few months sprucing up the front yard, planting rose bushes and trees to liven up the house. It hadn’t fixed all your problems but pacified them temporarily as you dirtied your hands in the soil.

It became second nature to shut your garage immediately after putting your car in park. You didn’t want the typical neighborly interactions or shallow conversations. You were content with living between closed doors and drawn curtains. The less of an interaction with the world, the better.

Dropping your purse and work bag on the kitchen counter, you sunk onto a barstool, staring blankly at the fridge and knowing all too well there was hardly anything inside it. You’d settle for another frozen meal and glass of wine, a typical meal these days to satisfy a hunger you no longer had. Despite the colorful kitchen cabinets, the mustard yellow couch in the living room, and the obscure wallpaper…your life was dull. How could one person suck out all the energy from another human being? How could pain last this long?

You stabbed a fork into the TV dinner meal before you and wondered if you’d ever feel happy again.

You managed to survive another week of teaching, only to now be standing in the shadows of the school gymnasium, nursing an overly sweet fruit punch. The PTA had done a decent job of turning the space into a somewhat realistic dance floor: string lights hung corner to corner of the ceiling, a DJ booth in the center of the basketball court, and colorful balloons circled the air. You spotted a few of your students dancing with their fathers, their eyes squeezed shut from their too-wide smiles and bubbling laughter. A foreign ache in your chest reminded you how you would have had a father-daughter dance at your wedding. Your father even took it upon himself to brush up on dance lessons to sway you across the floor to some overly emotional song. As corny as it was, you had been looking forward to that moment throughout your engagement.

“Look who got all dolled up!” Maria hollered as she strolled over, fruit punch in hand.

“I would hardly call this dolled up,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress.

You only had a handful of dresses in your closet, this particular one being a flowy black cocktail dress with a halter top and ruffled skirt. It was barely passing the school dress code, so you decided to pair it with a low kitten heel to try and deter the admin’s scrutiny. You did, however, spend a little more time than usual on your makeup and hair, hoping if you looked pretty, then maybe you’d feel it, too.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Maria sighed.

“You look great,” you said, sidestepping her lecture.

Maria had chosen a plum floor-length maxi dress decorated with embroidered blue flowers. Her curly hair was pinned in a bun, and several sparkly barrettes were clipped to the side. Her makeup was no different from usual: a rosy red lip and simple mascara with a hint of blush on her cheeks.

“Really, Maria. You do.”

“Well, thank you,” she blushed, looking back toward the room full of bodies dancing.

Your eyes followed hers, settling on the duos as they swayed to a slow song. Every father was dressed up in some sort of button-up or the occasional suit except for one—the same one who happened to be twirling around your student, Sarah Miller. You nudged Maria, pointing secretly at them with a questioning glance.

“Is that her dad?” You asked.

He wore a basic cotton T-shirt, jeans, and dirty work boots. There was barely any thought behind his appearance as if he had rolled up to the school right after a long shift at work, forgoing any effort or care. Some part of you hated him for it. The least he could do was get dressed up for a silly school dance, especially when Sarah wore a lavender tulle dress that complimented her olive skin tone.

“Yup,” Maria elongated the word. “That’s Joel Miller.”

“Sure looks like he doesn’t care to be here,” you grumbled.

Maria barked a laugh, looking at you through narrowed eyes.

“As opposed to you?” She questioned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you bitching about this dance all week long?”

“Well, at least I put some effort into my looks tonight,” you defended.

You glanced back at Sarah, seeing her father twirl her one last time. You caught a glimpse of his face for the first time in the flow of his movements. Messy dark curls framed his head, curling in every which way as if he’d run his hand through them a million times. Even from a distance, you could see the patchy beard and short mustache covering the lower half of his face, alongside the several creases around his eyes as he smiled. And his eyes… They looked like big brown saucers under the lights, reflecting a genuine softness as he watched his daughter dance.

And then they snapped up to meet your gaze through the crowd as if you had silently called out to him. Everything slowed around you for a moment as he studied you from afar, his eyes drifting down your body and back up with a hint of a smile teasing his lips. A rush of heat crawled up your neck, and you broke the eye contact between you. Maria cleared her throat beside you, tearing you away from the man holding your sincere interest.

“What was that?” Maria chirped.

You shook your head, glancing between her curious face and the dancefloor. Joel had since moved on, steering Sarah toward the refreshment table. He never once looked back at you, which left you unexplainably disappointed. For a moment in time, someone looked at you and saw you.

“I–I don’t know,” you stuttered. “Probably nothing.”

“It looked like something.”

You turned to face Maria, a scowl twisting up your lips entirely. You were tired of her pushing nonexistent things on you, and that’s what this was— nonexistent. Whatever moment between you and Joel had gone as quickly as it came. You were done with the night and standing among so many cheerful people. You couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I think I’m going to take off,” you announced, placing your half-drunk fruit punch on the table behind you.

Maria was defeated, knowing you'd still leave no matter what she said. Stalking out of the gymnasium, you grabbed your purse from the teacher's booth and booked it to your car with your heels in your hands. You carefully walked along the sidewalk toward your car, catching a conversation drifting through the wind between the other vehicles.

“...Dad, you promised we’d watch movies tomorrow!”

“I know, sweetheart, but Uncle Tommy needs help on the job sight.”

You hid between two cars, listening to their voices bounce back and forth. It wasn’t until you peeked out to see the two figures that you realized it was Sarah and her father, Joel. For fucks sake. You tiptoed around the car's bumper beside you, attempting to make a getaway before either of them saw you. You must have done a terrible job because Sarah called your name as you edged closer to your car.

“Miss Smith!”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself.

With your purse in one hand and heels in the other, you turned toward them with your rehearsed fake smile. Sarah was standing beside her dad—Joel—a small smile shining up at you. You knew her usual upbeat personality in class, always laughing and joking with other kids. She was an A+ student, too, and her work showcased her smartness. But in her father's shadow, a distinct sadness clouded her eyes.

“Hello, Sarah! How did you like the dance?” You asked.

“It was really fun,” she grinned, forcing her smile wider. You saw through it.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Joel cleared his throat, extending a large hand toward you. You blinked at his open palm, afraid of making that same startling eye contact as you had in the gymnasium. Shuffling your purse into your other hand, you took his into yours, focusing on the warmth of his grip crawling up your skin. His fingers dwarfed your own, tightening around your hand until you were forced to look up finally.

“S’nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Smith,” he said, his thick Southern accent shining through.

“Miss Smith,” you corrected. It was hard to hide the bitterness in the statement.

“Miss Smith,” he echoed. “I’m Joel, Sarah’s dad.”

His eyes still hadn’t left yours, their piercing stare making you shiver despite the September humidity. You pulled your hand away, overly aware of how his fingers lingered a moment too long. Shifting your weight from one leg to another, you were starting to feel the asphalt dig into the soles of your feet.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you replied.

“Joel,” he insisted.

You nodded politely, giving him another faltering smile. Hauling your purse over your shoulder, you said a soft goodbye to them and bolted to your car. In the confines of the driver's seat, you rested your head against the wheel, inhaling deeply as you steadied the nerves inside your body. Why did such a simple interaction light up your body with emotions you had spent so long suppressing? And why did Joel’s smile haunt you even when your eyes were shut?

Forcing your keys into the ignition, you tore out of the school parking lot and back to the confines of your tiny blue home.

The weekends were usually filled with nothing more than grading papers and lesson planning. The coffee beside you on the kitchen counter had gone cold hours ago as the morning sunlight faded into the afternoon. Through tired eyes, you glanced up at the oven clock: 2 pm. You needed a break from reading through piles of essays, and your fridge desperately required replenishing. Grabbing your keys off the counter, you forfeited any plans of changing out of your sweat set and headed to the supermarket.

The packed parking lot and crowded store were daunting reminders of why you typically decided to leave your fridge vacant. But as you pushed your shopping cart down each aisle, you had no choice but to comply with your basic human needs and stock up on miscellaneous food you would want throughout the week. Rounding down the next aisle, your eyes caught on a tall figure standing in front of the bakery section, his face scrutinizing every cake in the display case. Shit.

You tried—and failed—to maneuver your way into the next aisle, somehow crashing into an older woman’s cart, forcing her carton of eggs to fall and smash onto the linoleum floor.

“Dammit,” you hissed, crouching down to try and help them clean up the shattered eggshells.

“S’alright, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’ll just holler for a worker to come clean it up.”

“No, I—I can help,” you stammered, fingers still running over the broken yolks spreading across the floor.

“Miss Smith?” You heard a deep voice above you.

Your head snapped up to see Joel standing above you; his forehead creased with concern. The woman you had crashed into was already down the next aisle looking for a store employee, leaving you alone with a mess you had caused. Joel crouched beside you, his hands folding over yours to slow your frantic cleaning.

“It’s alright, I got it!” You snapped, pulling your hands back.

“Just tryna’ help,” he said. “That’s all.”

“It’s my fault. I can fix it.”

You had said those words to yourself many times before, and never once did they prove true.

“Someone will come and clean this up; you ain’t gotta do all that,” Joel said softly. “C’mon.”

He offered a hand, which you took reluctantly, leaving you both standing awkwardly in front of the mess. You shifted your gaze downward, too afraid to meet those deep brown eyes that had plagued you the night before.

“Hey,” Joel said in a soft tone. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You huffed a sigh, gripping the handles of your cart to start moving. Today was going downhill rapidly, and you only wanted to go home and hole yourself away…like you always did.

“I, uh, was tryna’ pick out a birthday cake,” he rambled. “S’my birthday tomorrow, and Sarah wants to make sure I have a cake, ya’know? Any ideas on what she might like? I’m not sure if y’all ever have parties at school with sweets and all that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, a scowl forming on your face. Sarah’s dad was asking you what she liked? He was proving to be worse and worse by the second. But you were her teacher and needed to hold your tongue.

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy anything,” you said, a tight smile forming. “Happy birthday, Mr. Miller.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, clearly seeing through the mask you put on. It was infuriating how easily he had wove his way through your bloodstream, even in just twenty-four hours.

“Joel,” he insisted. “You don’t need to do all that formal stuff.”

“I kind of do,” you laughed. “You’re my students’ father; that’s how I’m supposed to address you.”

“S’all I’m sayin’ is that you’re free to call me Joel. No harm in it.”

There was a lot of harm in it.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you dipped your head to say goodbye and pushed your cart past him. You weren’t being the kindest nor the most respectful person, but your anger was at a low simmer. Any longer around him, and you might explode. You weren’t used to someone getting under your skin like he was. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying. You couldn’t understand why you reacted so strongly.

“Miss Smith!” Joel called, catching up as you moved down the next aisle.

You inhaled and stopped walking, mustering another fake smile to appease him. He gripped the side of your cart with a large hand, a simple gesture to keep you firmly in place. Clearly, he decided when the conversation was over.

“Yes, Mr. Miller?”

“Did I do somethin’ to upset you? ‘Cause I swear, I didn’t mean anything inappropriate by what I said back there.

“No, no, you’re fine,” you lied. “Just having a bad day, that's all.” That wasn’t a lie.

Joel ran a hand over his neck, studying you quietly for a moment. Something about the atmosphere around him was intoxicating and so fucking dangerous.

“Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Guess I was just tryna’ make small talk, and clearly, I ain’t doin’ a good job.”

“It’s fine—no need for apologies. I hope the cake and birthday celebration go well. I’m sure Sarah will tell me all about it on Monday.”

His eyes shifted over you again, lingering on your lips, set in a firm smile. You tried your best to hide the shiver that ran up your back as he drank you in.

“Y’probably think I’m a terrible dad, huh?” He sighed.

“What?” You blinked away the thoughts swarming your head.

“I mean, I know you probably heard us arguin’ last night, and I’m out here asking her teacher what her favorite kind of cake is. You ain’t gotta be polite about it. I know I’m not doin’ the best job,” he confessed.

“Mr. Miller, I don’t think that at all. I just think maybe asking your wife would be more helpful than asking me.”

That garnered a laugh from him, a genuine and sincere laugh.

“Never had a wife to begin with. Sarah’s mom left us when she was only a year old,” he explained. “Been doin’ it all on my own.”

“Oh.” Dammit, you really were a bitch.

“Trust me, I get it. I could do a better job, bein’ a dad and all that. I’m tryin’.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

He brushed it off, replacing the sad look cresting his eyes with a lopsided grin. You wanted to hate it, but your body reacted traitorously. You felt the softness in his gaze crawl over you, slowly replacing the anger coursing through your veins with something else…something you hadn’t felt in a long time. No one had looked at you that way since—well, since Bennett. Even if Joel was only being friendly, you were drawn to the charm he exuded. Dangerous, you reminded yourself.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I won’t hold ya’ up any longer. I hope your day gets better, Miss Smith.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “And Happy birthday, again.”

Joel’s eyes settled on your lips again as you talked, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. His eyes flicked back up to yours, a flash of something behind them, and you were ready to bolt. He muttered a thank you and left you standing in a vacant aisle, your hands still covered in egg yolks and your mind reeling.

It was hard to maintain your good mood once Monday rolled around. Seeing Sarah sitting in class was an unwelcome reminder of your interaction with Joel on Saturday, and you had to refrain from overstepping boundaries and asking about his birthday. She didn’t need to know you cared, even though you struggled not to care. You wondered what kind of cake he decided on, how old he turned if he blushed when she sang Happy Birthday. Every thought burned a hole in your head that you tried to patch up and forget.

The final bell rang for the day, and the kids began to pack up in a rush. You straightened out the papers lining your desk, avoiding eye contact with Sarah as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and lined up to leave. Grabbing your whistle and bottle of water, you followed them toward the front gates, taking your usual place alongside Maria—who was overly chipper for a Monday.

“Soooo,” she prodded. “How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” you lied, walking with her to the crosswalk.

“You really need to go out and have fun! You’re young, and you need to enjoy your 20s!” She exasperated.

“Maria, I’m 27,�� you groaned. “My 20s are practically over.”

She folded her arms over her chest, leveling you with a heavy glare. Maria was in her late 40’s and clearly exuded a motherly-type attitude. You shifted your focus to the kids crossing the road, watching as they reunited with their parents.

“We go out on Wednesdays for Happy Hour! Join us this week,” she suggested.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“Come on!” Maria pressed. “If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to go out with us again.”

There was no point in arguing with her, so you relented and agreed to one night out. A few drinks and hours of mindless conversation could be good for you. It would be better than sitting in front of the TV with a bland meal and another glass of wine.

You managed to evade all thoughts of Joel somehow the next two days, putting all your time and energy into prepping your students for their first test of the year. Lesson planning and preparation took up your free period and late evenings, leaving you little room to think about those brown eyes and disarming smile. It was Wednesday evening, and you were knee-deep in your closet, trying to find an outfit for Happy Hour. You had changed at least five times, discarding every top and skirt onto your bedroom floor. Eventually, you gave up, settling on tight jeans, a flowy red blouse, and black flats. You left your hair in wavy curls over your shoulders and simple makeup to balance everything out.

The group took their Happy Hour rituals to a local dive bar on the outskirts of town, a row of motorcycles and trucks lining the entrance. You felt a bit out of place walking into a smoke-hazed bar, with the patron's wandering eyes crawling over you, but you quickly picked out the huddle of teachers in the corner laughing over a round of beers. They welcomed you with bright smiles and hellos, offering to buy your first drink. After about an hour and a few drinks, you felt warm and far more relaxed. Conversations about quarterly goals and admin meetings flowed over the table, each teacher complaining about something. You chimed in when necessary, keeping quiet when you had nothing to contribute. You were on your fourth beer when the girls around you started whispering low about a group of men entering the bar. You stole a peek over your shoulder, eyes settling on the last person you wanted to see.

Joel Miller.

He had on his usual simple work attire, the fabric of his cotton shirt stretched out over his broad chest. His neck was tanned, most likely from working outdoors, and his hair was just as unruly as you remembered. The man beside him, shorter but with similar features, clapped Joel on the back and steered him towards the bar. You lowered your head, taking a longer gulp of your drink to try and steady your nerves. Of all fucking places, he had to be here.

“He’s just so handsome, isn’t he?” Maria nudged you, tossing back a look towards Joel.

You shrugged, feigning disinterest. Joel was handsome, but no one needed to know how you felt. Because what you felt was very, very confusing.

“He’s my students’ father, Maria.”

She rolled her eyes, swirling the contents of her drinks before taking a sip.

“Okay, and? There’s nothing inappropriate about dating a student’s parent.”

“Yes, there is,” you snapped. “And I’m not even considering dating him.”

“But you think he’s attractive,” she stated.

You didn’t want to respond to that, knowing the warmth in your cheeks was already enough of a giveaway. If you shrunk far enough into yourself, you might go unrecognized the rest of the night.

Maria thankfully dropped the subject, returning to the conversation around the table. After another hour, the ladies started to trickle out of the bar and home for the night. You, on the other hand, still had to wait a bit longer until the alcohol phased out of your body. Which meant you were sitting alone in the same space as Joel. You could feel his eyes on your back the longer you sat there, and to your detriment, decided to steal a glance over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes raked over your body, returning your stare with a soft, welcoming smile. Shit.

You watched as he slipped off the barstool, waltzing towards you with a beer clasped in his large hand. You tried so hard not to notice his thick fingers wrapped around the bottle, and you most definitely tried not to think of what his fingers would feel like inside—

“Miss Smith,” he greeted, silencing your awful thoughts.

“Mr. Miller,” you said.

“Are all these formalities necessary in a bar?” he teased.

“A couple of drinks won’t change my mind.”

Joel slid into the seat beside you without an invitation, his arm brushing against yours as he settled into the stool. It was instinct to flinch away, afraid of the reaction his touch would cause to your body.

“What will change your mind?” he pressed, keeping a steady gaze on you.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “How was your birthday?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, that stupid lopsided grin forming on his lips.

“Can’t say I love gettin’ old, but celebratin’ was sure nice.”

“And how old are you, Mr. Miller?”

“Ripe age of thirty-six, Miss Smith,” he grinned.

“What cake did you choose?” you asked, watching him take a long sip of his beer.

“Vanilla. Everyone’s gotta love vanilla, right?”

Was he… flirting with you?

You’d blame your following response on the beers coursing through your bloodstream, but truthfully, you just wanted to play along, even only for a moment.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t always love vanilla, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, falling to your lips as you took another drink. It was bold and stupid of you to say that, but at this point, you didn’t care.

“What other flavors do you like?”

He leaned forward in his chair, his thigh pressing against yours. The heat of his body and the smell of smoke on his clothes was a dangerous combination for your self-restraint.

“I have a few guilty pleasure flavors,” you smirked.

Joel’s hand damn near crushed the bottle when you said those words, his entire body tensing beside you. You couldn’t care at that moment about how you spoke; the drinks started speaking for themselves. You hadn’t dared to flirt with a man since Bennett left, too afraid of what falling in love again might do to you. But, for some reason, flirting with Joel felt so simple. He was older than you, and maybe that piqued your interest, knowing he was far more mature than anyone else you had considered.

“Indulge me, Miss Smith,” he whispered.

“I think I’ll leave it a mystery,” you whispered in return. “I’ve already said too much as it is.”

“I reckon you ain’t said enough,” he countered.

Heat flared through your neck and face as he leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. This had gone too far. You had broken any rules you had previously set in place, and now you were dancing on a fragile line between professionalism and indecency.

Glancing at the clock above the bar, you watched as the hands ticked closer to midnight. Just like in the fairytales, your time was up. Back to reality.

“It’s getting late,” you started. “I should get home.”

Joel’s demeanor shifted, and his grin faltered as he watched you rise from the barstool. He brushed his hand over your arm, barring you from walking away.

“Not real sure if you should be drivin’ home yet, Miss Smith. Y’had a few drinks tonight,” Joel protested.

“How do you know? Were you watching me?”

“Gotta make sure my daughter's teacher is safe. Who else’s gonna make sure she gets straight A’s?”

He was trying to make light of the situation, but you knew better. You knew he had been watching you since he had arrived; his attention had never been on his group of friends.

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you argued. “You go enjoy your night with your friends, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as he considered you. His hand still lingered on your arm, thick fingers flexing against your skin. You glanced between his hand and his eyes, trying to make sense of his intentions. This was far past a coincidental run-in; this was a strange desire out of reach.

“Can I drive you home at least?” He asked.

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least drive behind you to make sure you make it alright?” He offered.

You looked back toward the bar, seeing the man he walked in with staring at you with an apparent scowl.

“I don’t think that’s fair to your friend,” you said.

Joel peered around you and huffed loudly.

“That’s my brother, Tommy. S’all good, he’s probably ready to hit the road, too.”

“He doesn’t look too happy.”

“He’s fine,” Joel grumbled.

Tommy noticed you both staring at him and decided to join the mix. He walked up with a grin despite the scowl he had just worn and extended his hand to you.

“I’m Tommy. Joel’s brother.”

“Hi, I’m Sarah’s teacher.” You gave him a quick shake and tried to sidestep to leave.

“Wait!” Joel called out.

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. “Be safe tonight.”

You made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape him before he reeled you back in. You let yourself float in his atmosphere for too long, testing the waters you knew were off-limits. There was still an alcohol-induced haze lingering in your head, but the sooner you could leave, the better. Tomorrow would come with a headache and a post-drunken clarity to put you back on the right track. You needed to steer clear of Joel before you slipped up and allowed another man inside the walls you built.

You attempted to retrieve your keys from your purse, only to fumble them out of your hands and onto the dirt ground of the parking lot.

“Fuck,” you groaned.

As you bent to pick them up, footsteps crunching on the ground grew closer. You already knew who it was.

“Miss Smith,” Joel’s voice sounded pained.

“I’m fine!” you shouted, whipping your head around to find him nearly toe-to-toe with you.

The moonlight above you illuminated his brown eyes, which darkened the longer he looked down at you. You shrunk away, letting your body hit the driver's side of your door while Joel stepped closer.

“Please. You shouldn’t be drivin’ right now. Lettin’ you leave like this wouldn’t be right of me.”

Your only focus was on his lips as he talked. The plushness of his lips enticed you, leaving you imagining how soft they’d feel pressed against yours. Your control was slipping, and the alcohol was pulsing faster in your veins.

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” You wondered aloud.

Joel looked at you like he knew the layers of the question. He knew what battle you were fighting inside and saw the fear plastered on your face.

“No,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes bounced between his eyes and his lips, trying to grasp the moment's weight. You needed to be firm and say no; your future self would thank you for it. Gripping your keys, you exhaled and turned towards your car door.

“Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder.

The warmth of his body pressed against your back, the smell of smoke and liquor wrapping around you and enveloping you in a cocoon of temptation. Joel’s hands reached around to grab your keys from your shaking hand, dangling them between you and the car.

“M’taking you home, Miss Smith. Ain’t gonna argue anymore,” he said as his mouth fell to the shell of your ear.

“I’m—.”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Go to my truck.”

He had the exact tone you did when you reprimanded your students, but the deep rasp of his accent made it all the more inviting. You didn’t want to listen to his demands, but you were getting nowhere successfully. Joel sidestepped to free you of the cage he had you in, watching you intently as you sulked to his truck. It wasn’t hard to know which one it was; only a few cars were left, and the truck exuded the same masculinity as the owner.

“What about my car?” You protested, folding your arms across your body as you leaned against the truck.

“I’ll give Tommy the keys,” he said. “He’ll drive it behind us.”

You were about to ramble another slew of protests when Joel yanked the passenger side door open and tilted his head toward the interior.

“Get in.”

His tone left little room for arguing, so you did as he said without another word. Despite the anger radiating off his body, Joel shut the door softly before heading back into the bar.

You fidgeted with the seatbelt, the press of it against your chest not strong enough to stabilize the rhythm of your heartbeat. You were in his truck, meaning you’d be alone with him for the next several minutes. It was enough to force a roll of nausea through your stomach. Leaning your head against the window, you watched him reemerge from the bar with Tommy in tow. There was a clear expression of annoyance etched on Tommy’s face, all at the cost of your own stubbornness.

Joel tossed him the keys to your car before rounding the truck's hood and climbing into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you kept your eyes on the road as it blurred past with each passing mile.

“Where do you live?” he asked, passing through another vacant green light.

You rambled off your address, still keeping your gaze steady on the streetlights as they passed by your window. He didn’t attempt to make small talk after that, and the silence settled onto you like a heavy blanket. Your control of consciousness was slipping the longer you sat beside him, but you willed yourself awake. The streets started to become familiar, and you shifted in your seat. Taking a risk, you looked at Joel, finding him white-knuckling the wheel with his jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I—I don’t go out and drink normally. I should have just stayed home tonight.”

“S’okay,” he said, glancing at you. “Just don’t get why you’re so stubborn about askin’ for help. First at the supermarket and now at the bar. I don’t get it.”

A rush of tears stung your eyes, and you quickly looked away, trying to blink them back before he noticed. Joel’s hand fell onto your thigh, sending a jolt of shock through your body. You wanted to shy away from it, but there was no use in fighting at this point; you were already failing miserably.

“Hey,” he prodded. “Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, alright?”

You swiped away the tears running from your eyes, schooling your emotions back into a state of numbness. Your little blue house came into view, and you pointed a tired finger toward it to guide him in the right direction.

“This is me,” you sniffled.

“Big ol’ house, Miss Smith. Y’live here alone?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Miller.”

“I really wish you’d stop callin’ me that,” he sighed, parking his car at your home's fence.

“It’s all formalities.”

“Yeah, I know. I just think after tonight, we’re far past all them formalities and shit.”

Your hand lingered on the door handle as you took one last look at him. Joel’s eyes looked over you with a softness you didn’t deserve. You deserve to be happy. Maria’s words rang out in your head the longer you stared at him. ‘Happy’ was a foreign word to you now, out of reach and out of your control.

“Can I just know one thing?” He asked.

You nodded, your fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“What’s your name?”

Blame the alcohol…blame your vulnerability…but you told him.

#joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x teacher!f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pre outbreak!joel

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envirae · 10 months

Text

PAIRING: dancer!nishimura riki x dancer!reader

SYNOPSIS: though all of his hyung’s are notorious for being some of the biggest players at HYBE, nishimura riki has yet to even have his first girlfriend. when his interest is finally piqued by a girl from their rival dance team, his hyung’s will stop at nothing to make sure he gets her— but not before causing a little trouble.

GENRE: rival dance team au, high school au, smau, fluff, angst, crack, riki being a super angsty teen

WARNINGS: cursing, crack, dirty/dark jokes (kms/kys, go to hell, etc.), heartbreak, mentions of drugs (as a joke) (more to be added!)

FEATURING: NWJNS, TXT, LSFM, ZB1, and more!!

STATUS: COMPLETE

STARTED: 7/21/23

ENDED: 10/20/23

NOTE: this smau does not have an upload schedule.

TAGLIST: is now closed

spam liking gets you blocked.

profiles: high school musical enthusiasts // bts fan club

00 - teaser

01 - superpoop🙁

02 - ur broke im up bitch

03 - glazing y/n is crazy 😭‼️

04 - cute loser gf 🥰

05 - who dripping like me 🥶

06 - who’s we???

07 - fake it till you make it

08 - everybody shut the hell up!

09 - mc with stinky

10 - BITCHLESS LOSER

11 - the voices whispered it to me

12 - enha fell off

13 - wa-r-r

14 - raise your standards

15 - y/n when the bare minimum

16 - good job jongseong!

17 - everybody knows...

18 - you have got to be kidding me

19 - waiting room

20 - canon event 😜

21 - ion think im built for the streets

22 - get off the roof

23 - one last chance

24 - break my heart?

epilogue

current taglist (closed!): @haknom @kjrcrz @lalalalawon @123-678h @k25vi @imhuh @yenqa @useraerin @wondering-out-loud @captivq @enhaz1 @luvistqrzzz @luvchungha @beomgyusonlywife @heart4hees @mrchweeee @heefys @hangecanweholdhands @jayujus @jaeyunsimswife @yumilovesloona @pagesofmiracles @eumppatv @fluerz @n0t-kc @darly6n @haechansbbg @kxr0mi @cakiedayy @gyuszie @latriii @neocockthotology @solstramaii @teddywonss @nishimurasgirl @yjwfav @yanagisprettygf @hyunsllvr @lunavixia @rosabella1009 @ddeonubaby @iea-tsand @cakeart12 @vssvvssv @haewho @meiiiwa @eloelooo @girlokarina @i-hwa @crookedlysupertimemachine @k1ttylvr @artstaeh @j1nniee

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leqonsluv3r · 2 months

Text

you are in love

— leon realizes he’s in love with you after being his best friend for years, a blurb

masterlist taglist

an: thank you guys for 300 followers, i love you all so much <33 thank u for supporting my silly lil writing and blog :,)

from a very young age even to now you weren’t sure where you began or leon ended.

you two grew up together, best friends since you both knew how to walk. your moms were best friends and therefore so were you and leon. he only had a year on you.

but you both went through all the stages of childhood, teens and adulthood together. you both had seen each others lowest and highest points in life.

leon had held your hand when you were seven and he was eight, on the first day of school when you were nervous at the other kids for maybe making fun of you. even then, he protected you.

when you were fifteen and he was sixteen, when he punched a guy in the face that you were with because he simply called you fat and unlovable. leon made sure that he paid, because you were neither of those things.

in his eyes, then and now, you were perfect. there wasn’t a single thing he would change about you.

now, you were 21 and he was 22. he had just came over to your apartment to borrow something. you had just gotten out of the shower, your hair was wet and damp with water as well as your skin.

your cheeks flushed as you tugged on your sleep shirt a little to hide your chest beneath it from his eyes, even after years, you were still somewhat embarrassed to even think about him seeing you that way.

he grabbed what he came for, rubbing a hand over your shoulder and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head for comfort. and it was strictly platonic, at least in both of your minds it was written off that way.

but it didn’t feel that way.

slowly over time, both you and him realized in your own ways that you both had been denying the truth to each other for the longest time.

you both wrote it off as friendship, as caring for each other so deeply that it had overridden everything else. you were both in love with each other.

you didn’t see the signs at first, you didn’t recognize that what you felt him went way beyond the friendship boundary. you loved him as a best friend and somehow overtime it had blended together.

the hugs, the comforting caresses, they had all melded into something else overtime and you didn’t know how to come to terms with it. you were in love with your best friend.

and it was getting harder to avoid as the days passed, as you both hung out and time went by. that was until he came by your apartment one day, a movie night.

a tradition you guys have had since you were kids, carrying it into adulthood. you didn’t question it and neither did he, the both of you just kept carrying it.

being your inner child’s for just one night together. a night you could pretend that jobs didn’t exist, could pretend that life was simple. that you both didn’t have a care in the world.

he brought himself, a box of pizza and a couple DVDs (because some traditions never change). you smiled at his options for the movies, Pretty in Pink, Breakfast Club or Dirty Dancing. it seemed 80s rom-coms were a theme and you didn’t mind, you’d both watched them a thousand times.

he knew how much you loved those movies after all, always blushing at Dirty Dancing whenever patrick swayze would say, “Nobody puts baby in a corner”. it practically made your ten year old brain melt when you were both kids and watched it for the first time.

you popped in Pretty in Pink first, the night was still young, the both of you could probably watch all three if you were feeling up to it. it was friday night movie night of course. you both sat on the couch, pizza on paper plates and ate, watched the movie.

you were fully entranced, having someone like these fictional characters in these 80s movies made your expectations so much higher. and the scary thing was, you knew leon met all those requirements.

as the night went on, Pretty in Pink ended and you guys had two slices of pizza left. you popped in The Breakfast Club next, watching the characters on the screen. the comparisons running through your mind. you were still nervous.

the two pieces of pizza were long gone by the second movie and you had moved closer to leon on instinct to get comfortable. you put in the third and final movie for movie night, Dirty Dancing.

you watched as your breath caught in certain points in the movie, he looked over at you, watching you never take your eyes off the screen not once. he knew it was dangerous but he had an idea.

it could either go very badly or very well.

he waited until that one part of the movie, towards the ending. he was waiting for that line that had made you blush and giggle since you two were kids. when it got right up to it, he gently reached his hand up.

he swallowed all of his nerves, all of the emotions flooding through him and he gently turned your chin with his fingers and said, “nobody puts baby in a corner.” along with patrick swayze.

you felt your pulse pound as you stared into his eyes when he did that. your breath catching only a little. the shift happened between you two, it was hard to ignore. you didn’t even turn back to the tv screen, just felt him rub his thumb over your bottom lip.

you didn’t even move, you couldn’t deny yourself the truth anymore and it seemed neither could he. he leaned forward towards you and pressed his lips slowly to yours. your lips were soft, softer then he ever could’ve imagined. he cradled your cheek and let you kiss back, your lips moving with his.

he wasn’t scared anymore. you seemed to want him just as much as he wanted you. you both seemed to love each other and that wasn’t determined. you hadn’t said it to him yet, he hadn’t said it to you.

but this kiss, it changed everything.

it changed the way you saw him, the way he saw you. you both had harbored feelings so deep between the two of you and you couldn’t deny it. neither of you could.

the movie played on in the background as you two continued to kiss each other, the caress of his hand on your cheek…melted something within you. you moved your hand up to his jaw and cupped it, mirroring his movements as you guys kissed and poured your love into each other.

spoken words muttered between caresses of lips and teeth and tongues; i love you and a i love you too. the line between friendship and love was more thin than the both of you thought after all.

and you both had all the time in the world to accomplish that for each other now. you were both in love, and it was the best thing for the both of you.

love conquered all, even friendship.

and you both knew that now.

an: this was way longer than i intended but i just love this song by taylor swift. it literally defines a love story and i knew i needed to write something for it with leon. i hope you guys enjoyed, please like & repost if you would. working on oneshot requests as we speak. taglist is linked at the beginning if you’d like to be on it. i love you all. kisses, xx. <33

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #re2 leon #leon kennedy au #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy imagine #re2 remake #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy re2 #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x y/n

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supernovafics · 2 months

Note

Super random silly idea but for the I’ll be there for you universe I was thinking it would be so cute if reader and Steve chaperoned one of the kids school dances and got all dressed up for it :)

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.2k words

warnings: explicit language, fluff

summary: in which you and steve help chaperone a school dance for the kids

author's note: loved this request idea! thank you thank you !!

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Spring 1986

Dustin suggested the idea only days before the dance, and even with the short notice you were still agreeing. And you were forcing Steve to agree too, even though he actually didn’t need that much convincing.

You both thought that seeing all of the kids get dressed up and go to a school dance would be adorable, and chaperoning along with a handful of teachers and a few parents didn’t sound too bad.

In the beginning of the night you were designated to punchbowl duty, and you and Steve stayed together until he was being pulled away to help fix a decoration that had fallen, and then he got roped into doing a bunch of other things. When you saw him helping the gym teacher move a table, your eyes met his and you gave him a sorry but encouraging smile.

As the night started winding down, the punchbowl became empty— and since there was only an hour left of the dance, it would not be getting refilled— and you decided to simply linger on the sidelines, listening to the unfamiliar sounding pop songs and watching random kids have what looked like a good time dancing and talking. And then your gaze focused on the group of teens that you knew and loved; Will was talking animatedly about something and everyone else was smiling and laughing at whatever he was saying.

You felt a pair of arms circle around you from behind, a touch that you immediately recognized as Steve’s. The feel of his warmth enveloping you in the simple embrace was entirely familiar and never failed to comfort you.

“Hi,” He murmured in your ear.

“Hi,” You said as you instinctually leaned into his touch. The heels you were wearing to match the formless of the night made it easy for him to lean his chin against your shoulder. “Glad to see that you’ve finally managed to get away from moving tables and fixing the ‘Spring Fling’ sign.”

“I was almost forced to help fix one of the chairs that broke, but I made up an excuse about needing to use the bathroom, and I hope that he just does it without me or forgets about it.”

“Only one more hour until we can leave.”

“And I can’t wait,” He told you and then his mouth was brushing right against your ear as he quietly said his next statement. “Mainly because I’m really excited to pull this dress off of you.”

His words sent something equivalent to a shiver down your spine and at first all you could do was smile shyly.

From the second you were exiting your bedroom and Steve was seeing you for the first time that night, he was admiring and complimenting what you were wearing; a short sleeve cream-colored dress that subtly flared out at your waist and ended just a few inches above your knee. I need to get you out of this immediately, were his first words to you, and it was a demand that you wouldn’t have minded abiding by if you two weren’t already running late to the dance, so you instead quickly shut it down.

“Shh, stop,” You whispered to him now, attempting to make your voice sound as serious as possible. “Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself for now, Harrington.”

He laughed at that and only pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head in response.

The pop song that was playing switched to a slow one and everyone on the basketball court designated dance floor started pairing off. You smiled when you noticed Mike and El, and Lucas and Max joining the other pairs.

“They look really cute out there,” You said, leaning further into Steve and tilting your head to let it rest against his. “Reminds me of when we slow danced at our proms.”

“Thinking about it now, it probably should’ve been so obvious that we were into each other then.”

You nodded and laughed a bit. “Very.”

Steve’s arms dropped from your waist and he instead grabbed one of your hands, and turned you so that you were facing him. “Come on, let’s walk around for a bit.”

You teasingly smiled up at him. “We’re supposed to be watching everyone. Y’know, chaperoning.”

“No one will notice if we’re gone for a few minutes,” He was already leading you out of the gym and you let him.

Hand in hand, you two walked down one of the empty hallways, they were unfamiliar to you but the opposite to him. You could count on one hand how many times you had roamed the halls of Hawkins High School; each time it had mainly been to find a bathroom during one of Steve’s basketball games or swim meets.

“Where was your locker?” You asked him, suddenly very curious about the mundane fact that you didn’t know the answer to.

Steve laughed a bit. “What?”

“Where was it? I’m just realizing that I don’t know that.”

“We went to different schools, so it makes sense why we wouldn’t know that about each other,” He said, but then still decided to answer your question. He turned a corner and led you down a different hallway, and then pointed to the clump of lockers at the end. “Mine was at the end.”

“What number?”

“224.”

“Okay,” You nodded thoughtfully. “Got it.”

Steve was simply smiling amusingly at you, and you knew that he probably thought you were at least a little bit insane for being so interested in this random fact.

“What? This is important information to know just in case I ever have to give a speech about you or something,” You told him. “I’ll be able to say, Steve Harrington was a great best friend and awesome boyfriend. He had locker 224 for all four years of high school.”

He laughed a little before leaning in to kiss you. It was quick and you were smiling into it and then up at him when he pulled back.

“What was yours?”

“165.”

He nodded. “Okay, I’ll include that in my speech for you too.”

“Good,” You joked. “Actually, this information might be wedding vow material.”

“Very, very true,” He responded, playfully smiling at you.

Lightheartedly talking about the future— an inevitable engagement, wedding, marriage, etc.— had easily become a part of your and Steve’s banter. It was always spoken about jokingly, but it also felt obvious that neither of you entirely saw it as a joke. Because it did feel the tiniest bit real that eventually, one day, you two would get to that point— to the point of marriage, kids, and a kind of seriousness that warmed your heart and made you feel entirely at ease. You could so easily see yourself having that sort of life with Steve, and in some ways you already did have it.

You gave his hand a light squeeze, and let that simple action say what you wouldn’t right then because you didn’t want to get super sentimental; although Steve always loved when you did and would only playfully make fun of you for doing so. He squeezed your hand back and then pulled your intertwined palms up to press a soft kiss to the back of yours, silently telling you that he understood you and your heart squeezed in response.

Steve led you toward a random door at the end of a different hallway, and then he was letting go of your hand to pull the door open and let you in first. It was dark for the most part— the only light was coming from the bright streetlights that could be seen out the large windows— and neither of you made any attempt to find the light switch. You quickly noticed the many, many bookshelves and tables neatly scattered around the huge room.

“The library?” You asked, turning to lean back against one of the empty tables and giving him an amused smile. “You wanna study, Steven?”

He was quickly closing most of the distance between you two and his hands found your hips. “Nope, no studying.”

“Okay,” You simply nodded and then easily pushed up onto the table. Steve immediately moved closer and settled between your now parted legs, which made you inwardly smile at his eagerness.

Your arms came up to loosely circle his neck and you were looking up at him for just the briefest of seconds before his mouth was hurriedly finding yours and your eyes were slipping shut. You were reminded of the first time this had ever happened, back in your bed at the cabin in Colorado, and you also thought about the second time, at home in the kitchen. Actually, anytime you kissed Steve like this you were reminded of those moments— the certainty you both felt, but there was still such a newness to it all. You adored that feeling, and you especially loved how it would always settle into something so comforting and familiar after only a few moments.

You were pulling away when you needed to catch your breath. Your eyes were still closed but you knew Steve well enough to know that his mouth would immediately find your neck, kissing your skin and teasingly sucking the sensitive spot right at the underside of your jaw. Any other time, you would've happily let him do it; in fact, you probably would’ve begged for it. But in this moment, your hands found his chest and stopped him because you didn’t want to get stuck with a hickey that you would have no way of covering up for the next hour.

Steve laughed as he pressed a kiss against the side of your mouth. “I wouldn’t have left one this time. I promise.”

“I love you, but I don’t believe that.”

He jokingly shook his head in disbelief and let out a playful scoff. “We’ve known each other for almost ten years, where’s the trust?”

You only shrugged in response and had to bite your lip to hold back the laugh that you wanted to let out. Steve easily read through the half-hearted shrug and instead of keeping the little game going, he poked your side, which did make you laugh.

Him smiling at your laughter and the fond look on his face right then reminded you of an older time, a different time when he was obsessed with doing anything to make you laugh and you loved to do the same for him. A sort of competition formed during the summer before your Sophomore year of high school where you two kept count about how much you made the other person laugh. After barely a week, accurately keeping score became much harder than you both thought it would be so you two decided to end the game by simply calling it a tie— although Steve loved to say that it was him who, in fact, won.

Abruptly thinking back to that memory and then being brought back to this moment also made you think of something else.

“Hey… Do you ever think that it was dumb of us to not start dating sooner?” Your gaze held his as the question left your lips. You weren’t entirely sure why it was on your mind right then. Maybe it was being in his old high school and peeking back into that life that made you feel a mix of nostalgic and a bit regretful. “Like, we could’ve been happier sooner or whatever if we realized years ago…”

Steve shook his head first before pressing the softest kiss against your forehead. “I’ve thought about that too, but I honestly think it was meant to happen this way.”

You found yourself agreeing with the simplicity of his response. It was supposed to happen exactly like this— slowly, years and years worth of obliviousness and internal denials, and then it hitting you both so suddenly, all at once, and finally not wanting to shy away from it.

“You’re right,” You told him and didn’t give him a chance to potentially say anything in response before you were pulling him back toward you and meeting his lips halfway.

He squeezed your hips and pulled you to the edge of the table, keeping you impossibly close and you didn’t mind that at all, your own fingers hooked in the belt loops of his black pants in attempts to keep him close to you too. You even let his lips find your neck after a moment and trusted him that no hickeys would be left in his wake. Your fingers were itching to slowly unbutton the white shirt he was wearing or to let his hands loosen their grip on your hips and slip beneath your dress that now sat dangerously high on your thighs. You were really close to throwing rational thinking out of the window and letting both of those things happen, but you knew that you couldn’t.

“We should probably head back to the gym,” You mumbled when minutes that only felt like seconds passed. You decided to let the logical side of your brain finally take over. “Before anyone notices we’re gone. Especially the kids. They’d have a field day with this one.”

Steve pulled away from your neck, lightly chuckling against your skin, and nodded. You fought the urge to simply bring his mouth back to yours in another languid and heart pounding kiss that would once again make you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re right,” His hand was finding yours and lacing your fingers together and then he gave you a tiny hint of a smirk. “I really can’t wait to go home.”

You nodded immediately and smiled up at him. “Me too.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington series #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

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prettyforwoso · 4 months

Text

Dancing Juice

Barcelona femeni x Teen reader

word count: 2500

Summary: teenage reader has a little too much to drink on a night out with the team, but all the girl wants to do is dance.

Warnings: alcohol, vomiting, some swearing

For context: reader lives with Alexia requests open :)

You are the highest you have ever been, dancing like the kid you are in the change rooms post-match. A pure and smooth win for the team has the us celebrating. Blasting music and singing echoing of the hard walls of the room, shaking from the synchronized jumping and dancing of the team.

You can barely feel your body, concluding from a mix of your teammates picking you up into the air and your consistent jumping to the beat of whatever song was playing. You felt as though you were cloud nine, and that feeling didn’t leave you side all night, infect, in the coming hours it would only get more intense.

You had all showered and cleaned yourself up before piling into Ubers and heading to a club around the corner, you are still only 16, but managed to get in as Frido knows the owners. You wore a little black top, paired with a white Demin mini skirt and a pair of sneakers, most of the team wore the same sort of thing.

You walk into the crowded room, a strong strobe light being to only lighting too the space. Your eyes laid themselves upon team, sitting cosy in a large booth as members piled through the door. The next notable feature of the room being the dance floor, you would be spending most of the night there.

“Hola y/n, you clean up well” you are greeted by Ona who helps you find a spot to sit at the booth. You have let your natural curls breathe for the night, a rare sight for the girls, who would consistently tell you to stop straightening it.

Most the girls hold drinks in their hands, a sight which made you immediately uncomfortable, it wasn’t anything to do with them, but you always hated when they would drink, and you would have to stay entirely sober. It makes you feel a little left out in a way. Alexia has known about this little issue of yours for a few months, having had pulled you aside once at a party when you had completely shut done when everyone had gotten absolutely pissed of their heads. You confessed your hatred for the act, but still Alexia would never let you have a drink when out. Only on the occasion would she pour you a small glass of something at home, where she could really keep an eye on you and make sure you were okay. It’s not like you were entirely innocent, you had gotten drunk a few times with your school friends, which always resulted in in a heavy scolding from Alexia and other teammates who she would dob on you to.

“Why don’t you have a drink Bebita, as a treat for your amazing work today” Alexia says, putting down her glass on the table, looking you in the eye.

You feel a smile approach your face. “are you sure?” you ask, that last thing you needed was Alexia telling you off the second you got home.

Instead of answering, she pushed a shot glass across the table. You look back, eyes wide as she nods her head. You lift the glass in your hands looking at it, questions your choices.

“Go on”

Your mouth feels hot as the liquid pours through your body, making you feel giddy. You screw you face up in discomfort. That was bad, but you somehow want more.

You sit in the booth for a bit, sipping on the cocktail Jenni had gotten you. Some of the girls had starting dancing, you yearned to join them, you feel like you have so much energy, like you could go all night.

“Voy a bailar” you announce, standing up, your legs leading you to the sound of the dance floor.

“Be careful y/n” someone says as you turn your back from the booth.

Your quick to find Ona and Ingrid on the floor, jumping with drinks in their hands, screaming the lyrics to the song playing. They pull you into them and once you start you don’t stop. You have always been a dancer at parties, much preferring it to sitting around talking. You dance your little heart out with the girls, a few more joining as the songs play, you feel like your spinning, strobe lights so bright you can’t see the person in front of you, it’s amazing. All you can hear is the screaming singing of your teammates and the random others around you.

“I’m getting another drink” Ingrid tells the group. “You want one?” she asks One who nods her head.

“Me too” you butt in. Ingrid smiles.

“Did Alexia say you could drink?” she questions with a raised brow.

“Yeah somehow” you answer.

“You better not be lying” she says as she begins to walk off.

“Would I ever” you yell back. She lets out a small laugh before walking away, rolling her eyes.

While you wait you head back to the booth to see some of the older girls, Aleixa, Jenni, Lucy and Frido look to be in deep discussion about who knows what. The current song playing is one you don’t know, so you take it as an excuse to take a break from the lights and loud music. As you get over, Lucy wraps and arm around your side from her sat position, not looking up from the conversation.

“Guys come dance” you begin to plead… “its so fun, stop being boring” your head is swaying from side to side as your words find themselves on your tongue.

The girls look up from their conversation at your pleading.

“In a bit Bonita” Frido replies, sharing a kind smile. Lucys thumb gently rubs your waist as she looks up at you.

“Aghhhhh” you roll your eyes and tilt your head back, looking up at the ceiling.

“Y/n, Drinks” you here Ingrid yell across the room, now connected at the hip to Mapi.

You begin the walk over to her, grabbing your drink saying thank you. You push down your fourth shot of the night and sip on the drink Ingrid had gotten you.

The booth, now absents by you, look at one and other.

“She is so drunk” Jenni says with a gentle laugh.

“She’s fine” Alexia says with a smile, lifting her glass to her lips. “It will teach her a lesson”.

Your still going, not a tired bone in your body, alcohol is fun.

“Omg I love with song” you scream with excitement in Onas’s ear as you dance along side one and other. You sing every lyric as if you had memorized the fast paced rap in the past. Yous hips move from side to side, arms in the air, hair down in the motion of it all. The girls are impressed with your non-stop energy.

Its all soon to turn south though, as you feel a pit in your stomach. Your head felt like it was being slammed into a wall. You attempt to dance the feeling away. It’s not working.

You’re on the floor of the club bathroom all too soon. Throwing up what felt like a lung. Your knees aching on the floor and face in hands, regret starts to hit.

The team, who were all keeping a very close eye on your energetic dancing frame all night were suddenly slightly panicked when you couldn’t be spotted in the crowed of dancers.

However, their concerns were quickly put to rest when Frido found you in the bathroom. She had walked in and called out your name.

“Y/n? You in here?” she yelled out.

You took a deep breath before calling back. “yeah” your voice is muffled from the throwing up and tears of pain. You don’t even hear her push to door of the cubical open, the only indicator that she is in the space with you being her front pressing against your back as she kneels done behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist.

“I feel like shit Frido” you say, placing your head back to lean on her shoulder. She stocks a hand along your forehead, down to your chin.

“I’m not surprised darling” she says gently. “Little miss energy has finally crashed”.

“I have not, I still want to dance” you whine, extending the last syllables.

“I think we better get you home little one” she says, looking down at your soft eyes.

“No, I want to dance” you say sitting up too fast, quickly leaning back against her.

“We can dance at Alexias, what do you think?” she bargains.

You let out a loud disapproving sigh, “As long as you promise”.

The car ride home was anything but uneventful. Lucy drives with Jenni is the passenger seat. You in the back, squeezed between Alexia and Frido. Your head is rested on Alexia as you quietly sing songs to yourself. None of the girls have told you to shut up, so you happily carry on. You do your little dancing in the back, enjoying yourself once again.

“Oh and the happy drunk is back” Jenni says with a playful eyeroll, looking at you in the mirror.

“She was never gone Jenni, just needed a rest” you snap back, getting a laugh from the women is the car. You bounce in your seat, regaining your energy.

“Lucyyyyy” to start, you can feel her eye roll.

“What little one?” she questions.

“Can we pull over; I want to dance” you start to beg.

“No darling, we are almost at Alexias, and we need to get you to bed” she says sternly.

“WHAT!” you whisper yell at the top of your whisper lungs. “Frido you LIAR” you say, almost in tears.

Frido mentally face palms herself. “We can still dance baby girl”.

You put your face into Alexias’s neck, upset. She pats your head at places kisses on your hairline.

Once you arrive back at home, Alexia picks you up and brings you inside, despite your protests. She sits you on the couch as Lucy grabs you some water, Jenni getting some vomit bags for the long night ahead.

Lucy hands Alexia the water, who then hands it to you.

“Drink” she says simply.

“Only if you promise I can dance” you snap back.

“Bebita, just drink the fucking water” Alexia instructs, frustrated.

“NO! I want confirmation that I get to dance” you say, acting like a smart ass, crossing your arms, tilting your chin up.

Alexia simply grabs the back of your neck in response, tilting you head up further, pressing the glass to your lips. You open you mouth as she slowly pours the water down your throat. Her tight grip on your hair relaxes when the glass is empty. She brings the glass down from your lips and presses a kiss on your forehead, contradicting her previous harsh movements.

“Good girl bebita” she says, nudging her thumb on your cheek. “Do you still want to dance, or would you prefer to get some rest?”

You look up at her with tired sleepy eyes, nudging yourself into her, she wraps her arms around you and lays you down on the couch. “You need to stay where we can see you for a bit, little one. Okay?”

You simply nod.

The four of them stay around for a bit longer while you sleep peacefully on the couch. They have a bit more to drink between them and gossip before Lucy, Jenni and Frido head home, all pressing a kiss on your sleeping face before saying goodnight.

Alexia is sat on the other side of the couch, staring directly at your sleeping body. All Alexia ever wanted to do was take care of you. She loves you so deeply. She thinks you are the strongest girl in the world, knowing what you have been though, yet you continue to keep a smile on not only your own face, the faces of those around you. She saw the way you never failed to make people laugh, even the shyest of people.

You begin to wake up, with the feeling of eyes on you. Alexia smiles at you with a tilt of her head.

“Let’s get you changed and in bed. Hm?” She says lifting you by the waist as you wrap your legs around her, head tucked into her neck.

You’re soon changed and snuggled into your bed. Alexia sits on the end of it, watching you fall softly in and out of sleep before she gets up to leave for her own bed.

“Wait Alexia” she spins, it’s the first words she’s heard you say in a few hours. “Can you stay, I don’t feel good on my own tonight” you explain.

She lets out a loud breath, making her way back towards you. “Scoot over then” she says lifting the covers and laying done behind you, you roll over, so your face is in her chest. Her arms wrap around you and pull you closer.

“Goodnight Bebita”

“Night Alexia”

#barcelona x reader #woso #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas smut #lucybronze #barca femeni #barca x reader

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queenimmadolla · 5 months

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A little sneak peak of a request! I was trying to finish this one before I got smashed but SOME PEOPLE did not like certain details, so I have to fix it. BUT this is proof that I do indeed be writing, I swear, I just grow very intensely annoyed when something doesn't turn out perfect and the way I want it immediately, so I throw it in The Vault! Just know, everything in The Vault will be released :)

𝐃𝐚𝐝!𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭!𝐌𝐨𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - angst, hurt/comfort 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 ♡

You’d expected it to be dramatic.

Your water breaking that is, but as you stared down at your toes, barely visible past your baby bump, pants darkening around your crotch and the liquid trailing down your leg to gather in a small puddle beneath you, you almost felt nothing, save for ennui.

Your last two pregnancies had been quite the spectacle; your first being dramatic in itself for the sole reason of being your first time bringing a child into the world. The second time almost killed you and your baby.

You’d been wary of having any more after that, fearful you wouldn’t be able to carry to term and the possibility of losing your own life. It would mean you wouldn’t get to see Penny and Wayne grow up.

It brought both you and your husband a sense of responsibility with your sex life that you hadn’t quite possessed before. There had been almost a four year gap between your oldest and (now) middle child and the gap between he and this baby would be even longer at about six.

Pretty good luck, considering you hadn’t wanted to get pregnant for a third time, at all. Yes, you had been wary before but now, with things between you and your husband as they were, it seemed irresponsible and senseless to bring another child into the picture.

Hell, conceiving your baby alone was a miracle. All you did was fight and ignore each other, made easier with the fact that Eddie was always away. Always missing school awards, always missing dance recitals and shows, parent teacher conferences, always missing out on your family.

Ever since Corroded Coffin broke through mainstream music, you and your children had to share your husband with the world. More often than not, it was the world who got to have him.

It led to fights, vicious ones. Words and insults thrown out, screaming, accusations ranging from spite to infidelity, and magazines thrown around with their intentionally triggering headlines featuring pretty women in the same vicinity as the man who shared your vows.

The man who once was just a boy you greatly admired in school, sat a couple of desks ahead of you. The boy who approached you and then followed from then on. The boy who was the first to make love to you, not fuck. The boy whose heart you had broken in the past. The boy who welcomed you back with open arms. The boy who asked you the most important question of your life while surrounded by a sea of high school graduates, caps and gowns. The boy whose baby you had a year after that.

You’d dreamt of a life with him, at his side while he pursued music with his band. And then life happened, and you were both surprisingly at ease with putting those dreams to rest, in favor of the new ones you welcomed in little bundles of blankets, smelling of baby powder.

You never let Eddie fully give up on pursuing music, he still played shows whenever he could, waving and blowing kisses from the stage at the tiny people in your arms with large headphones over their sensitive ears to protect them.

But that had been small venues, overnight trips at best.

Fame was an entirely different monster.

Fame was weeks away, and on occasion, months. When you had imagined your future with Eddie as a teen, traveling the world with him, there hadn’t been a family in tow. Kids.

You had them now, and you couldn’t imagine your life without them. Wouldn’t want to. It was unfair of you, and completely untrue, but you thought Eddie might.

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asdfghjklmals · 1 year

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PINKY PROMISES✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff, angst. menstruation comment. WORD COUNT: 2.3k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, boyfriend!gojo, child megumi fushiguro x fem guardian!oc, adoptedkiddos!megumi & tsumiki

SYNOPSIS: it's been two weeks since learn to love, and megumi still hasn't opened up to oc gojo girlfriend or satoru yet. so oc gojo girlfriend decides to teach him something about promises. AUTHOR'S NOTE: i have a soft spot for gojo being megumi's guardian. oc gojo girlfriend is trying so hard, little does she know, megumi actually really loves her already, he's just too shy to show it. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

it was dinner time at the dining hall for all the tokyo jujutsu high school students. while the men were cooking dinner (and by men, that meant all the men were watching nanami cook dinner), you and shoko spoke about the recent gossip that spread like wildfire across campus: you and satoru gojo becoming parents.

“so, gojo brought these kids to your room and basically said that he’s taking them in?” shoko repeated.

“yeah, crazy right? as of two weeks ago, i'm a mother.” you said as you watched megumi and tsumiki in the corner of the kitchen, they were coloring with crayons.

“do you really think that you and gojo can be parental figures in their lives?” she questioned as you were still gazing over at them.

“satoru seems to think so. i didn’t think he’d make me a teen mom.” you joked.

as you watched the two young fushiguros, you wondered if you would be good enough to give them parental advice as they grow up in yours and satoru’s care.

could satoru really raise megumi to be a jujutsu sorcerer? everyone knew that satoru gojo was the strongest, but could he raise a jujutsu sorcerer even if he wasn’t fully trained himself? satoru was still working on perfecting his own techniques like his long distance teleportation and his domain expansion. only you were second to him in laying out your domains.

who would give the birds and the bees talk to megumi? and who would be there for tsumiki when she starts to mature? when she gets her first period? that would be up to you to teach her about puberty and becoming a woman. god, satoru gojo couldn’t even talk about the reproductive system without giggling.

***********************************

“how does (y/n) feel about you taking the kids in?” suguru asked as he and satoru watched nanami flip over gyozas in the frying pan.

“she didn’t take me seriously at first.” satoru replied to him. his mouth watering at the sight of the crispy gyozas. the oil in the pan danced along with the sitting gyozas.

“i mean... have you seen yourself? we can’t even take you seriously.” nanami retorted.

satoru frowned, “thanks nanami...”

“(y/n) is kind. she would do anything to help.” yu haibara put in his two cents. he was a big fan of yours, it was because you were so nice to him and nanami when they joined jujutsu high. you were the one to show them around campus on their first day.

“haibara is right, (y/n) is the best. satoru is lucky to have her. i don’t know how she deals with him.” suguru laughed as he put his arm around satoru's shoulder, teasing him.

“she said she’d help, but that’s after i begged.” satoru grumbled. he hated to admit that he had to beg.

“you? beg?” nanami snorted. he flipped the last of the gyozas and put them on the shared plate. he turned back to the stove and stirred the soup that was boiling away.

“i told her the circumstances, it was up to her ultimately. i could've raised them myself.” satoru folded his arms in defense. he looked over at you and shoko and saw that you were watching the kids too.

***********************************

you and shoko got up to walk over to where megumi and tsumiki were coloring.

“megumi? tsumiki?” you called their names. megumi continued to color and tsumiki looked over at you obediently. her smile could blind a country. she was such a happy child despite her situation.

“kids, this is shoko ieiri. she’s a second year like me and satoru. she’s studying to be a doctor, so if you guys get hurt, you’ll see shoko, okay?”

“hi kids.” shoko waved to the children. she was able to hold a steady conversation with tsumiki, but megumi continued to color and color and color. he didn’t pay anyone any mind.

“dinner’s ready!” haibara called out.

“come on, let’s eat.” shoko grabbed tsumiki’s hand and guided her to the dining table. you were about to leave with them, but saw that megumi didn’t get up from the little table to join everyone.

“megumi, are you hungry?” you crouched down to ask him. he ignored you, like he had been doing for the past two weeks. you folded your arms in discontentment.

how were you going to get through to this kid? his walls were up and you didn’t know how to bring them down. how could you let megumi know that you were there for him?

“megumi! let’s eat dinner!” tsumiki called out to him, but he just brushed her off.

“i'm not hungry.” he said quietly.

“it’s okay, shoko, tsumiki—go ahead.” you shoo’d them away.

you stood back up and let megumi color in peace. you made eye contact with satoru and frowned in defeat. you were worried about megumi. these past two weeks have been hard on you because you tried everything you could to get through to him, to build a relationship with him.

as you sat at the dining table with everyone, you couldn’t work up an appetite. you poked at your gyoza and sipped at your soup.

“you not hungry, babe?” satoru asked, putting his arm around your shoulder as you softly sighed, his free hand rubbing your thigh.

“not really. i'm worried about megumi. something seems to be bothering him.”

satoru squeezed your hand as both of you looked over at megumi. he was still coloring. you saw him look over at the table a couple of times when tsumiki started to laugh while talking to shoko and haibara.

you got up from the dining table as satoru’s arm fell from your shoulder to the back of your now empty chair. he watched you while you grabbed a small bowl of soup and a couple pieces of gyoza. you made your way back to the table where megumi was coloring.

you greeted him, “hi megumi, i brought you some food.”

“i said i wasn't hungry.” megumi repeated himself again, avoiding all eye contact with you.

“well, you haven’t eaten since breakfast, you must be hungry.” you frowned.

“no, i'm not.”

did you just hear some sass in his tone? you squinted at him.

“well, i'm not leaving until you eat your food.” you quipped back at him.

if megumi fushiguro wanted to have a stubborn competition, he was going to have a stubborn competition—and you were the reigning queen of this (satoru would know).

you watched him color. he was drawing two dogs, a white one and a black one. you remembered your older brother, touya, teaching you about the zen’nin clan and the ten shadows technique. the first shikigami a ten shadows technique user could summon were the demon dogs.

was megumi already seeing his shikigami?

“are those your dogs?” you asked him as you pointed at his drawing.

of course, he just ignored you. you dug deeper. “are they the demon dogs?”

megumi stopped coloring and looked up at you, “what do you know about the demon dogs?”

“well, i know that it’s the first shikigami a ten shadows technique user can summon. they are used for many different things like tracking, fighting, or just being there by your side to keep you company.” you told him.

megumi put down his crayons—it seems like you finally piqued his interest.

***********************************

“hmmm, it looks like she got the kid to stop coloring.” satoru announced, looking over at the table as he watched you and megumi.

he felt a weird feeling inside—it was a warm and fuzzy feeling. his heart swelled watching you with megumi.

all the second years and first years looked over at the table to watch you and megumi as well.

***********************************

“can you tell me about the ten shadows?” megumi asked you quietly.

“only if you eat your dinner.” you made him a deal, it was up to him to take it or not.

megumi furrowed his brows as he slowly reached for the pair of chopsticks to pick up a piece of gyoza. you felt that you could continue telling him what you knew now that he started to eat.

“there’s a specific hand sign that you have to do in order to summon any of the shikigami.” you explained.

“do you know the hand signs for the dogs?” megumi asked, chewing his food.

you smiled softly. “i don’t, but i know who does.”

“who?”

“satoru gojo does.”

“oh, the creepy guy with the white hair and sunglasses?” megumi’s comment made you laugh out loud. that was the first time someone called satoru gojo creepy.

“he does give you the creeps, huh? me too.” you joked with him. megumi cracked a smile.

“oh, did i just get a smile from the megumi fushiguro?” you feigned with shock.

megumi started to grin, but he quickly contained himself. he ate some more gyoza and sipped at his soup.

“megumi... i know your father and mother left you and tsumiki—” you started to say, but megumi interrupted you.

“and? it doesn’t matter—everyone always leaves in the end anyways.”

you blinked in shock at how straightforward this 5 year old boy could be. you actually weren’t even sure if he was 5 anymore with that last comment of his.

“well, satoru and i won’t—we’ll always be there for you and tsumiki. i promise—and (y/n) (l/n) never breaks her promises.” you held out your pinky to megumi in hopes that he’ll pinky promise you back.

“what are you doing?” megumi looked at you confused.

“have you ever done a pinky promise before?” you asked him.

megumi shook his head—he hadn’t.

you explained the story of a pinky promise to him, “people make pinky promises so that they don’t break their promise—if you break your promise, you have to chop off your pinky.”

“you’re going to chop off your pinky if you break your promise to me and tsumiki?” megumi asked you with skepticism. he seems like he’s had one too many promises broken in his lifetime.

“yes—and satoru will too.” you answered back.

satoru would understand if you spoke for him. he softly intertwined his pinky with yours and you kissed your thumb to seal the deal. megumi didn't follow you on the kiss back though—it was okay, you'd get him to do it next time.

“do you and that creep pinky promise on stuff too?” megumi wondered.

you smiled at him, “all the time.”

“on what?”

“well, satoru pinky promised me that he will be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer so that he can protect me.” you told megumi.

one day, satoru would have to tell him the story about megumi's own father and how satoru’s near-death fight with toji made him have an epiphany about his own powers. (read ‘the honored one’ here)

you looked over at satoru. he was watching you and megumi. he waved when you made eye contact with him. you winked at him and he blew you a kiss. megumi’s eyes wandered to him as well.

“so he’s the strongest?” he asked with uncertainty.

he couldn't believe that satoru gojo was the strongest. megumi thought he looked like an idiot, especially with the lack of tact he had when he first approached him and tsumiki. why couldn't you have been the one to find them instead?

“yes, he is,” you smiled brightly at your man, “—and he’ll be your sensei when you’re old enough to attend jujutsu high school.”

you thought about the conversation you had with satoru about him becoming a teacher once he finishes his third year. would megumi be okay with satoru being the one to teach him how to channel cursed energy and how to fight?

“are you strong too, (y/n)?” megumi questioned you.

“i'm the second strongest,” you looked at him intently with a promise, “—and i will protect you and tsumiki, just like satoru will.”

“why did he pinky promise that to you?” megumi changed the subject as he started to blush. he wondered why satoru promised to protect you if you were already strong enough to protect yourself.

“well, megumi—satoru is something you call a boyfriend to me. he loves me. and well… you protect the people you love.”

“he was talking about you when he picked us up. he said you were his girlfriend. is that the same thing as a boyfriend?”

“yes it is,” you said laughing. kids were so damn cute with their comments these days, “you might be too young to understand, but when you get bigger, you’ll find a someone you love and maybe you can be a boyfriend too.”

megumi ended up finishing his food. (y/n) 1: megumi 0. you had won the stubborn competition. he took the empty soup bowl and put it in front of you.

“can i have more soup... please?”

EXTRA:

the kids were sleeping in your room as you spent the night in satoru’s dorm room—this was how it had been for the past two weeks.

you climbed into bed as your boyfriend watched you. you sat closely next to him. he was expecting you to tell him the juicy gossip of what happened at dinner with megumi. after giving him a brief run down, he sighed.

“so, megumi is already seeing his demon dogs?” satoru asked. you scratched at the back of his undercut and tilted your head at him.

“yes, baby, and you’re gonna have to teach him how to use them. i told him you know the hand symbols.”

“that’s fine, we can do that. the demon dogs are loyal and loving according to my sources—they would be good to have by his side.” satoru closed his eyes and sighed in bliss, he loved when you scratched his undercut. you stopped scratching as he hugged you close.

“satoru... are you going to tell megumi about his father?” you quietly asked.

“you know—i tried telling him when i found him, but that little shit just cut me off. i told him that if he ever wanted to know about his dad, he can ask me any time.”

“you promise you’ll tell him the whole story?”

satoru intertwined his pinky with yours and kissed you firmly on the lips.

“i pinky promise.”

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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solarmorrigan · 10 months

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“That’s it?” Steve asks. “You’re not going to go to prom because you don’t know how to dance?”

“I’m uncoordinated enough! I don’t need to be out there making even more of an idiot of myself in some floofy dress,” Robin insists.

“Rob, no one at prom knows how to dance. Everyone kind of looks like an idiot, that’s half the point,” Steve says.

“Oh yeah, Steve, you’re really selling me on the experience,” Robin drawls.

“No, listen, I’m not done,” Steve says, giving her a nudge. “The other half of the point is just… going and having the memories, y’know? You get to dress up and take the dumb picture with your date, and avoid the punch because someone probably spiked it, and you get to dance and be close to someone and just, like, be carefree for a night.”

Robin says nothing. She doesn’t agree that prom night is paramount to the teen experience, she doesn’t tease the shit out of him for having such stereotypical expectations of a dumb high school dance, she’s just… watching him. She’s turned sideways on the sofa, one leg drawn up to her chest, and she’s looking at him like he’s something between a fascinating puzzle and the saddest thing she’s seen all day, and he knows what she’s thinking.

Steve hadn’t gone to senior prom. He’d been planning to, of course, at the beginning of the year – he’d had Nancy then, and even as early as October, he’d been fantasizing about the flowers he’d bring her and the dinner they’d go to and the way they would sway slowly to whatever shitty songs the DJ put on. But by the time spring had rolled around, he not only hadn’t had Nancy, he hadn’t really had any friends in school at all—not real ones—and so he hadn’t seen the point in attending.

He'd gone to a movie with Dustin that night, instead (he’s at least eighty percent certain the little shit had set it up as some kind of pity outing, since he’d known Steve wasn’t going to prom, but it had been kind of nice that someone had cared enough to even try). It hadn’t been bad, but it hadn’t been exactly what he’d wanted.

Stiffly, Steve glances away from Robin and shrugs. “Or whatever. That’s what it’s like in the movies, right?”

Robin opens her mouth, but her eyes are still soft, and suddenly Steve doesn’t want to hear what she has to say. Instead, he levers himself up off the couch and turns to her, holding out a hand.

“C’mon, I’ll teach you,” he says, cracking a grin. “Then you won’t have an excuse not to go.”

“You… want to teach me how to dance,” Robin asks flatly.

Steve shrugs. “You got anything better to do tonight?”

Raising a sharp brow at Steve, Robin starts to smile, too. “You sure you wanna subject your feet to that?”

“I think I can handle it,” Steve shoots back, and then Robin is up off the couch and helping him push the coffee table out of the way.

They rifle through Steve’s collection of tapes until they find something he deems just the right tempo, pop the cassette in, and stand in the middle of the living room.

“Okay, give me your hand,” Steve says, taking her right hand in his left, “and your other goes on my shoulder.”

Robin does as he says, glancing dubiously down at her feet as Steve places his hand on her waist. “I’m not actually sure this is a good idea,” she says with a grimace. “I might be unteachable.”

“We haven’t even started yet,” Steve reminds her. “Seriously, relax, this is super easy. It’s just a box step waltz.”

Despite her uncertainty, Robin can’t help but smirk at him. “A waltz, huh?” she teases. “Did your parents make you take fancy-pants, rich kid dance lessons when you were younger, or something?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “No. My mom taught me,” he says, and then rushes on before Robin has anything to say about that. “So you’re gonna start by stepping back with your right foot when I step forward, alright?”

Brows furrowed, Robin nods and looks down at her feet again, and Steve squeezes her waist gently to get her attention.

“Look up at me, not at your feet. It’ll be easier, I promise.”

“How am I going to know what my feet are doing if I’m not looking at them?”

“You’re attached to them, Robin.”

“That’s debatable.”

Steve tries not to laugh. He really does. “Okay, you’re in marching band, right? This cannot be harder than following whatever steps that involves while also playing an instrument.”

“This is different!” Robin insists. “I can’t step on the French horn’s feet! The French horn isn’t gonna judge me if I fuck up! Like, the worst that’ll happen in marching band is that the drum major will yell at you, and the drum major is always yelling, so it doesn’t even make a difference anymore, and–”

“Hey,” Steve cuts in, squeezing Robin’s hand this time. “I’m not going to judge you if you fuck up, okay? I am literally the last person qualified to do that.”

Robin huffs out a little laugh. “Right. Two of a kind,” she says.

“Exactly.” Steve grins. “Now c’mon, Buckley, I know you’ve got this. On one, back with your right foot.”

Nodding, Robin glances down at her feet, but looks right back up at Steve. “Okay.”

“Okay. One–”

Steve steps forward with his left foot, and Robin immediately steps forward with her right and kicks him in the shin.

“Ow,” Steve says, dry and flat because it hadn’t really hurt.

“Sorry!” Robin ducks her head, laughing nervously.

Steve shakes his head. “Let’s try that again. Back with your right foot.”

“At least I had the right side?”

“Yep, now aim for the right direction, yeah?”

This time, when Steve counts off, Robin’s right foot goes back, and his left follows her.

“Okay, now what?” Robin asks, looking down again.

“Now, you’re gonna bring your left foot–” gently, Steve judges the top of her left foot with his right, “back,” as she begins to slide back, he moves and taps the inside of her ankle, “and to the left. Just like that.”

“No injuries this time,” Robin quips, and Steve smiles.

“Now move your right foot over next to your left.” He nods as Robin gets her feet back together. “Forward with your left foot – good,” he encourages as he steps back to mirror her. “And now forward and to the side with your right. Like you did with your left before, but opposite.”

“Uh.” Robin makes the move slowly, still staring down, but she looks back up at him when she gets her right foot planted. “Like that?”

“Yep. Now left foot over, and–” Steve follows her, bringing them back to the same position they started in, “that’s it!”

Robin blinks at him. “That’s it?”

“Easy, right?” Steve says.

“Yeah.” Robin nods hesitantly. “I think I can handle that.”

“Of course you can,” Steve insists. “Now let’s try it again. Back with your right foot. One–”

Robin steps forward with her right and kicks Steve in the shin.

“Sorry!”

Steve quickly becomes glad they’re both in their socks, or he’d be sporting much more serious bruises by the time they reach the end of the tape. Robin doesn’t have any trouble keeping the order of the steps in mind, but keeps moving in the opposite direction of where she’s supposed to be going, and Steve has been kicked and stepped on more times in the last half hour than he thinks he has been in his entire life.

“This is ridiculous,” Robin groans. “This is the literal definition of women having to do everything backwards and in heels!”

“You’re not wearing heels,” Steve points out.

“I would be at prom,” Robin says. “Why do I have to go backwards?”

“Because you’re following.”

“Well why can’t I lead?”

“Because you don’t even know how to follow!”

“Exactly! I’m starting from scratch either way!” Robin aims pleading eyes up at Steve. “Can’t we just try it in reverse? How much worse at it could I be?”

The thing is, Steve’s only ever led when dancing – he’s never had reason to learn how to do the follow part. But then, he’s already been reversing the steps in his head all night in order to instruct Robin; following couldn’t be that hard, could it?

“Fine,” Steve groans, letting his head hang back for a moment. “Fine. Trade me.”

“Yes! Trade!” Robin pumps her fist once in triumph, and Steve can’t help but laugh.

He lets go of her right hand and instead takes her left before putting his other hand on her shoulder.

“Hand on my waist.” Steve nods to his to his left side, and Robin moves into position. “Right, so you’re gonna step forward with your left this time, okay?”

Robin nods. “Forward with my left. Okay.”

“Okay. One–”

Steve steps back with his right foot. Robin steps back with her left.

They stand there, each half balanced on their back foot, staring at each other, before Robin bursts into laughter. Steve follows suit.

“I– I told you I was unteachable,” Robin giggles once they’ve caught their breath, her forehead resting on Steve’s shoulder.

“Nope, this is a personal challenge now,” Steve insists, still grinning. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a quitter. You’re going to learn to waltz if it kills me.”

“Shouldn’t it be ‘if it kills me’?” Robin draws back to ask.

“My death is looking a lot more likely at this point,” Steve says, and Robin snorts.

“God, you’re so dramatic.”

“Yeah, okay, Miss Unteachable. Ready to try again?”

Robin takes in a breath, wiggles her shoulders, and puts her hands back in position. “Ready.”

“Great. Just remember–”

“Forward with my left foot,” Robin echoes, overlapping Steve’s instruction perfectly.

Steve grins. “Okay, then. One–”

Somehow, Robin makes a better leader than a follower. Once she gets over the initial nerves, she manages the reverse order of steps just fine, even getting confident enough to stop looking at her feet after several sets.

(The fact that Steve has no trouble immediately reversing the steps himself and still instructing Robin receives no comment, though it does receive a brief glare, which gets a smug grin in return.)

They rewind the tape again and keep going. Steve lifts their joined hands to spin Robin around when they hit the second song and she follows with a laugh before insisting that, since she’s leading, she should be the one spinning Steve. He has to duck a little to get under her arm, but they feel the maneuver is quite successful.

Robin offers to try to dip him, but Steve declines, insisting he doesn’t feel like getting dropped on the floor today, earning a pinch at his waist even as Robin laughs.

As the evening wears on, they give up their carefully-held waltz positions and lean in close, until Robin’s head is resting on Steve’s shoulder again, her arms wrapped around his waist, while Steve drapes his arms over her shoulders and leans his head on top of hers.

“This is the kind of slow dancing I would’ve expected from Steve Harrington at prom,” Robin says as they sway in gentle circles to the beat of the music.

Steve hiccups out a little laugh. “Yeah, well, I had to make sure you knew how to do the real thing, first.”

“And?” Robin asks. “Do I pass?”

“I think you’ve got the hang of it,” Steve says. “Now you have no excuse not to go.”

“Steve,” Robin draws back a little, enough to look up at him without pulling away, “who the hell do you think I’m going to be dancing with at prom? It’s not like I can ask– anyone I’d be interested in.”

Steve’s heart sinks a little, the same way it always does when he’s reminded of how fucking unfair the world is to Robin and to other people like her. He shrugs a bit lamely. “You could go with friends?”

“I guess,” Robin says, staring at the front of Steve’s shirt, suddenly lost in thought.

Steve frowns. He doesn’t even remember what had gotten them onto the subject of prom—it’s January, the dance is months away—but what had started out as something fun is starting to make Robin feel bad, and he can’t have that.

“Hey, I didn’t mean–”

“You should go with me,” Robin cuts in, looking back up at him.

“What?”

“To prom,” Robin says. “You should be my big ol’ platonic date.”

“Right,” Steve drawls. “Because going to prom the year after you’ve graduated doesn’t scream that you haven’t moved on from high school at all. Definitely not sad, or anything.”

“Sure,” Robin agrees wryly. “About as un-sad as not going to your senior dance at all.”

Steve cuts a sharp look at Robin, who just smiles at him.

“I mean, I’m just saying: who better to give me the whole prom experience?” Robin shrugs, tone entirely too innocent to be trusted. “If you go with me, we can dress up and get the dumb picture together, and we can avoid the punch, and you can tell me all the gossip I know for a fact you still know about at least half the people there, we can dance… The whole shebang.”

When Steve had been imagining prom night with Nancy the year before, he’d imagined romance. He’d imagined meeting her eyes across the dinner table and sneaking kisses on the dance floor. He’d imagined going back to his place afterwards and making love, spending the rest of the night worshipping Nancy and making sure she knew how beautiful she’d looked and what a wonderful time he’d had with her.

But when he thinks about it now, he thinks about making jokes at dinner with Robin, about standing around in the tinsel-strewn gym and making catty remarks about who’s dressed terribly and whose dancing is even worse. He thinks about them dancing together, still, and maybe they’ll still go back to his place afterwards, where they can watch terrible movies for the rest of the night.

It doesn’t sound at all like what he’d wanted a year ago.

It sounds perfect, now.

“You’ll have to buy the tickets,” Steve finally says, and Robin’s face lights up. “And I expect my corsage to be very fancy.”

Robin laughs. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t be a cheap date, Harrington.”

“We can go Dutch on dinner, if you want,” Steve says.

“How generous,” Robin deadpans, and Steve doesn’t bother to hold back his own grin.

They both know he’s probably going to pay for dinner. He doesn’t mind.

“You’re serious, though?” Robin asks, looking up at him. “You really want to go to prom just to waltz with me?”

“Well, I went to all the trouble of teaching you.” Steve shrugs.

Robin bites her lip around a smile. “Do I get to lead?”

“For the sake of my shins, you’d better,” Steve says, and Robin laughs, leaning back in to cinch her arms around his waist again.

“You are my favorite person, you know that?” she says softly, just audible over music still crooning from the stereo.

“Yeah,” Steve says, pressing his cheek to the top of her head and closing his eyes. “You’re mine, too.”

[Prompt: Slow dancing]

#this is one of my favorites so far and I have been excited to get around to posting it!#stobin #platonic stobin #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things #solar wrote #it's a little bit longer though be warned

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lady-ashfade · 3 months

Text

The trio

Day 11 of celebration marathon

Platonic!Trio x reader

-£ ask: Can you do something about how Percy, Annabeth and Grover would be meeting a new mortal friend after the quest? Like Annabeth having her first friend outside camp and maybe having all the awesome kid moments she missed ie sleepovers, movies, school dance... stuff like that. Grover making a friend he isn't trying to protect or save and can just be himself. And Percy making a friend with the confidence he got from knowing he's different but not broken. (I loved tonight's episode and can't wait for season two! I hope your enjoying the books they were my favorite when I was 12) @poemfreak306

-£ Warnings: fluffy friendship, hcs, me just going with what my brain comes up with, I haven’t slept since yesterday.

It’s funny how you were so excepting of their situation. Of course you were confused but you got over it pretty fast.

you had watched them defeat a monster on your way home from school and hid while they took care of it. You actually thought you were losing your mind.

They were just surprised as you when you went up to them, a normal human. I mean humans could see through the fog before but you were different.

“So…you actually have goat legs?” You point down at Grover as he blushes and nods.

“Awesome.”

You took them to your house and offered them a place to stay for the night, or some meals at first since they didn’t want to stay around you to long.

Annabeth likes to talk about things she feels like she can’t around anyone at camp, like girly things. Maybe you teach her a new hair style? Or show her a new teen magazine with cutes boys, then show her new movies she might like.

(I have a feel for wound either love or hate legacy blonde and you can’t convince me otherwise)

She likes when you gossip about your regular life and the problems you have, she likes to live through you. She also likes to teach you things to if you ask.

Grover is so happy to have you. He doesn’t feel the pressure. Not that it’s a problem with the other two but he likes to chill in your room. He’s a sucker for laying down in your room while you listen to music and play with his hair. Also, teach him videos games and battle him. He likes to visit you all the time to complain or rest up. You are his battery charger.

Also, Grover loves you because you always prepare snacks for him. He eats anything, Tin cans and random things he could find but you take the time to make him something. Makes him feel loved and cared about.

You are a blessing in Percy’s eyes. The other kids made fun of him for his whole like. But here you are, not a care in the world. You do scold him if he gets hurt and about being more careful tho he enjoys that. He had a kinda normal childhood with his mom so he knew a lot of things like you did so it was easy to bond. You got all his references!

Percy likes it when you listen to him rant on about his problems, about how camp is, or how he killed some monster. He enjoys how excited you get when he tells his stories. You call him and the others your hero’s.

Movie nights are always fun with them. Either you and Percy are showing them a movie you watched or you show them something.

If it horror. Grover will be watching intently while eating popcorn unlike what you thought the first time, he likes it. Annabeth is screaming at the tv how they are messing themselves up and somehow ends up rooting for the killer, (she never will admit she yelps at times) and Percy is in the middle. Sometimes his curling up and turning away, or laughing at the screen.

They get to be kids and enjoy a sleepover, eating snacks and throwing them around, laughing so hard they cry, staying up “all night” and then crashing.

Everytime they return to camp they have a new photo of you to hang up. Even as a mortal you are their best friend and they wouldn’t change it any other way.

taglist: @maria699669 @purplerose291 @itzmeme @ravenmedows

-£ this was edited poorly so many mistakes are made because I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open.

#percy x reader #Percy Jackson x reader #platonic percy jackson x reader #platonic Grover underwood #platonic grover underwood x reader #grover underwood x reader #annabeth chase x reader #platonif annabeth chase x reader #pjo x you #platonic x reader

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munsonsreputation · 2 months

Text

WATCH THAT SCENE!

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: [2.3k]

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, mild cursing, overall fluff!!!

summary: the kids need help learning how to dance for their formal and you're their last resort, but they should've known not to count your suave boyfriend eddie out.

The sun had begun setting in the small town, the burnt twinge of orange and yellow tumbling over the sky where clouds grew drabber and the bright blue following behind. The air was the perfect kind of crisp that blew smoothly against your legs and face, easing the warmth that had developed from the hours of stretches, flips, kicks, and jumps.

All of the others girl had left the parking lot, only leaving you behind, though Chrissy was kind enough to offer you a ride, but you knew Eddie was going to there any minute. And so you beamed when his van came turning into the school zone, the music slowly being turned down as he saw you standing outside the gym already approaching his car.

“How was practice, baby?” He hailed out towards the open passenger window, smiling widely.

You rolled your eyes playfully, opening the door to toss your things into the backseat before settling into the soft velvet cushion beside him. Eddie was already jutting his chin out towards you when you giggled, holding a hand on his cheek to stabilize yourself and pressing your lips together.

He tasted like mint and cigarettes. A combination that you’d never get sick of because despite how much you hated that he smoked those cancer sticks, he always chewed a piece of gum before ever trying to go in for a kiss with you.

“I can’t wait to shower.” You groaned, combing your fingers through your oily hair when he finally started driving away from the school.

Cheer practice was always muggy and gross. Getting tossed in the air time and time again, then proceeding to touch the sweaty mats that everyone practically laid on and touched made you feel icky. It was always routine for you to get into a shower after practice and scrub the living daylights out of your skin.

Eddie looked over at you, cursing under his breath a little at his forgetfulness.

“Shit! Sorry, babe, but Henderson called—he asked if we could swing my Joyce and Hops.”

You shrugged, shaking your head not bothered by the pit-stop since it was always nice to see the kids especially since you were so busy these days.

The only time you really got to see them was if Eddie had a campaign that ran late or on weekends when Eddie was in charge of dropping them off and picking them up.

“It’s fine, as long as I get a shower in the next few hours. Did he say why?”

He shook his head, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “He sounded panicky and annoyed. A lot of voices and music in the background, though.”

“Well, panicky and annoyed, isn’t unusual?” You quipped, and he cackled, switching lanes to take the route.

“We’ll find out in a little bit.”

The Byers-Hopper living room had now been infiltrated by all the younger teens, including the older ones: Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, and Steve. The older four had been called to by Dustin, begging them to come over and show them a few dance moves that they could use for the winter formal.

But bless Dustin Henderson’s heart, because while they might have had a few proms and formals as dance experience, none of them were “experts” at dancing — or at least none met his standards.

For god's sake, even Nancy and Jonathan, who were a couple since forever, looked like a pair of stiff bodies moving back and forth when they tried to demonstrate how to dance when a slow song came on.

And you would think that someone as charming as Steve would have some sort of groove when it came to dancing, but Jesus, no, he looked even more rigid and awkward.

Don’t even get them started on Robin, who bursted out in laughter when she tried to dance with Steve but failed within the first three seconds because she had accidentally stomped on his foot thinking she was leading.

It even came to the point where they confided in Hopper and Joyce who had arrived home from work to their living room furniture pushed against the walls to make room for a makeshift dance floor. A cassette played loudly through the radio and everyone seemed to be a jumbling mess.

Well, the mess became even bigger when Hopper and Joyce tried to show them a move or two, which just ended up with everyone laughing and burying their faces in their hands at the scene. El, Will, and Jonathan cringed more so than laughed, but now they knew their parents were probably the worst dancers than themselves at than alone was a core memory.

That’s when Dustin threw in the towel and decided to make a call to his dear friend Eddie. Eddie who was about to leave his trailer to pick you up from practice so you could get home and shower, then finish the movie you two fell asleep to last night.

But nevertheless, Dustin sounded frantic and desperate, begging for him to bring you over and alas Eddie gave in.

The boy finally saw the van pull into the driveway and shot up from the couch where he had been resting, watching through the window.

“Shut the music off, Steve!” He shouted, stumbling up and towards the front door.

Everyone rose their brows, Steve following Dustin’s instruction and pausing the cassette that El had let them borrow for the day’s impromptu dance party. Before you and Eddie could even knock on the door, it was pulled open.

The scene of everyone staring at the metal head and cheerleader, quite shocking actually—more shocking than the stares in the hallways at school, which were pretty dreadful already.

You side-eyed Eddie suspiciously wondering what he had gotten you both into before looking back at Dustin.

“Hi?” you squeaked suspiciously, twiddling your hand in the air to greet everyone who waved.

The boy smirked, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you inside roughly without a second thought.

“Dustin, what the hell!” You shrieked having no choice but to move with him in order to avoid tripping over your own feet.

Eddie rolled his eyes, stepping inside and shutting the door closed.

“Henderson, you’ve got three seconds to tell me why you’re dragging my girlfriend like a rag doll.”

Dustin apologetically bowed towards Eddie, dropping your arm and gesturing to the open floor.

Everyone else was either leaning up against the wall or sitting down on the couch, trying to get some rest after the young boy practically forced them to keep dancing until they had something, but nothing was good enough for the damn twerp.

“You know how to dance, right?” Dustin stared at you, and you bounced on your heels, nodding your head slightly.

“I mean, cheerleading does require some dancing but—“

Dustin shushed you, causing you to furrow your brows, and looked around dumbfounded at the action. Steve and Robin were already shooting you sorry looks as they muttered something about his tone and needing a smack to the head.

“Henderson, just tell us why we’re here?” Eddie rubbed at his temples.

He plopped on the empty seat next to Max who looked rather peeved at being stuck there all afternoon when she could have been at the arcade playing Dig-Dug.

She turned to him, gesturing in the air with annoyed hands. “Dustin wants us to learn how to dance for this weekend’s formal.”

Lucas pipped in, looking at the crowd before settling on you. “No one knows how to dance except you.”

A small smile grew upon your face, looking around the room at the sullen faces that were offended at Lucas’ words — mostly Hopper and Joyce, because back in their day, they were pretty darn good dancers if they said so themselves.

Eddie sat up from his spot on the couch, shooting a deceitful look at Lucas while gesturing fondly to himself.

“What? You don’t think she’s the only good dancer around here do you?”

Mike grunted, mumbling under his breath, “You sure don’t look like you knew how to command a dance floor.”

Everyone seemed to agree with Mike, which was extremely rare, even for Hopper who didn’t like the kid all that much.

You crossed your arms, shaking your head at the little shitheads and more offended that they thought your boyfriend couldn't dance.

“Hey! Did you forget Eddie is in a band? He practically eats, sleeps, and breathes rhythm.” You reasoned with a tilt of your head, trying to sway them.

Everyone tried to stifle their laughter but failed terribly. I mean could you blame them?

Eddie played metal music, not that pop disco shit that would be playing at the formal, but that’s because they thought wrong about him. They all thought they had your boy all figured out as the stereotypical metal head that couldn’t dance to save his life, but you were about to make them eat their words.

Contrary to popular beliefs, Eddie was quite the dancer, and a good one at that. He knew how to keep up the pace and swoop you off your feet so smoothly you’d think he was a professional in his past life.

You shot Eddie that look, lifting your shoulders with the silent offer as he looked almost coy before nodding at you, scooting off the couch and shaking his arms off getting himself warmed up.

You glanced at Steve, pointing at the stereo, “Hit it!”

Eddie moved across the floor to you effortlessly, hands going for your hips while you draped yours over his neck — you were like magnets easily finding each other. Your feet slid back and forth, one after the other, following Eddie’s lead that flowed with the music.

“How did you guys know Eddie and I love to dance to ABBA?” You called towards your friends who watched in astonishment.

“You can dance?!” they screeched, eyes widening as they all straightened up in their seats and off the walls, watching with the utmost surprise and shock.

You began to giggle as your boyfriend spun you around into his chest, swaying you both while he placed a kiss on your cheek before spinning you back out.

“Just like the songs says, you just gotta feel the beat.” Eddie rose his brow at them, moving your hips in his hands before you shook your head at his playfulness.

“C’mon, we’ll show you.” You told them, pushing at his chest so that you could skip on over towards Dustin, pulling him to the center of the living room with you.

Eddie went for Max, tilting his head for her to follow his lead and not be so nervous.

“It’s really all about keeping the pace and the beat.” He instructed, looking down at their shoes and Max did her best to not step on his sneakers that were already pretty beat up.

“And loosen up,” you chided, nudging Dustin a bit, “relax those shoulders and move those hips.” You instructed, showing him to roll his shoulders back and swirl his lower body as if he was hula-hooping.

After a while, they started to get the hang of it, easily moving across the floors without stepping on each other’s feet and not being so tense.

“Great, now you two try!” You nodded, handing off Dustin towards Max.

It was awkward at first, the both of them laughing as they didn’t know where to put their hands, but quickly it became natural with what you and Eddie had taught, the basics of keeping up with the rhythm and singing along.

You huffed with hands on your hips, looking around the room for your next student, while Eddie had already grabbed Joyce who was a giggly mess.

“C’mon Mr. Hips, I know they don’t call you king Steve for nothing.” You teased, tiptoeing towards your friend and pulling him along with you.

Before you knew it, the living room was a lively dance floor. Bodies grooving along to music without even second guessing if they were doing it right and just having fun with each other as they sung and tried not to bump into the pair beside them.

“Maybe we should open up a studio and start teaching some classes?” You suggested with a grin, resting your chin on Eddie’s chest, staring up at him.

He chucked, pecking at your nose sweetly, “Don’t get ahead of yourself babe, you know my dancing services are limited to you. This was just a special occasion.”

“Do you have any other talents you want to reveal?” Dustin nudged him with his elbow, prompting Eddie to smirk toward him before looking back at you.

“I can do a pretty gnarly lift, exactly like that one in Dirty Dancing.” He bragged, still pretty surprised at himself that he was able to pull it off.

The girls in the room gasped, including Steve, “No way!”

“Yes way,” You bit your lip with a giggle, remembering that one afternoon you and Eddie had spent together trying to get it down after you had watched the movie.

Steve dropped Robin’s hand, wandering over to the stereo and pausing the track before picking it up by the handle and walking towards the front door. Everyone stared at him, waiting until he sighed, one hand on his hip as he looked at you and Eddie.

“You guys need more room than this. We’re moving outside and that lift better be top tier.” He warned towards Eddie, walking out the front door as everyone else followed his lead.

You and Eddie laughed at how ridiculous it all was — surely none of the kids were going to attempt to pull off a lift in the middle of their formal dance, but it was sure gonna be funny watching everyone else have their try at it.

Eddie hoisted you up, prompting you to laugh into the crook of neck, “C’mon baby, I’m about to blow their socks off.” He said, kissing your cheek with an obnoxiously loud smooch before carrying you out the door.

So maybe you didn’t get to go home and get that shower or finish that movie as soon as you would have liked to, but you sure did get to dance that afternoon away with the love of your life and that in itself was a win.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: i have been neglecting my beloved eddie for far too long and this has been sitting in my drafts since forever so here ya go!!! yes eddie is a dancer and that is not up for debate -- yeah my man loves his metal music, but the second he hears a good pop tune he's pulling his gf up and they're dancing like no one is watching.

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @the-alchemys @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

#munsonsreputation #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagines #edde munson fluff #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things eddie #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff

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