#I was picturing this as the pride and prejudice hand holding scene

[hootyhoowoo]

real yearners know that getting what you want was never a part of the plan

[sunflowersteves]

when you're gone || j.m.

pairing || joel miller x f!reader

summary || Jackson, Wyoming was supposed to be a calm and quiet town. Joel wasn't so sure when he wakes up alone after another unbearable nightmare.

author's note || without @themarcusmoreno, this fic would not have been made so I thank ash a thousand times for enabling me into writing soft joel comfort with some filth!! and tbh, i think i have an addition to soft!joel so i hope you all enjoy (especially after that episode). also yes, i may have gotten the title from the cranberries song!!

warnings || nightmares, ptsd, apocalypse ptsd, pure disgusting fluff, hurt/comfort, joel needs a break so i'm giving him one, soft!joel, SMUT, oral sex, blowjob, praise kink, [18+ only!!]

masterlist

In Wyoming, it was a quiet and peaceful night. The crickets chirped, and the cold icy wind blew against the logged cabins. Everyone in Jackson was under the cloudy haze of a tranquil slumber, and so were the trees as they gently swayed underneath the stars. 

In a quaint cabin, Joel was mumbling in his sleep. A dark shadow cast over him from the troubles of his active mind. His eyebrows furrowed in despair, and his cheeks were hot from the pain that shot through his chest. He could picture her. He could picture you. He could picture Ellie. A sharp cry and scream thwarted against his eardrums, and he panicked. 

His eyes snapped open in an instant, and his chest heaved at the alarm that spread across his chest and down to the pits of his stomach. He looked around the room—his eyes frantic. An old chair, a bookshelf, and a pile of clothes. 

A nightmare. Just a nightmare. 

He turned to look over at the silhouette of your form under the covers, but his heart froze once more as you weren’t even there. 

You were gone. 

It struck deep inside him—empty and sullen—as the questions started to roll over one another. Where are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you alive?

He didn’t waste any time by putting some pants over his boxers or taking his flannel. He just needed to run. The strong pads of his feet hit the floorboards, and he sauntered down the stairs. He had to find you. 

He needed to find you. 

The pure, hard feeling of desperation rose in his throat. His hands were shaking by his sides as he whipped around the archway that leads into the living room. His eyes scanned every crevice of the room—starting from the tall bookshelves and guitar stand that sat in the back corner. Then, he saw it. He saw the movement of a hand flipping over a page in a book. 

You.

He let out a big puff of air, the relief washing him over like a cold splash of water to his face. You were safe. You were okay. He could feel the panic rush out of his chest, and pure adoration sunk in between his heart and his lungs. Just you.

He watched, quietly, at the soft rise and fall of your chest. The hand that wasn’t holding the book in your lap was tapping gently on the edge of the sofa.

A lukewarm cup of tea, the one you most likely forgot from the riveting pages, sat on the coffee table in front of you. Your eyes rapidly scanned each individual page, and your lips pursed into a small smile. 

He could tell you were reading a Jane Austen novel. You always had the same expression when you were reading Pride & Prejudice, Emma, or Persuasion. Your left brow would always twitch when you got to a familiar scene that you had read a million times before. 

He suddenly could feel the warm breath of a calm mind take over his body. He felt like he could relax now. You’re here. You’re safe. You’re alive. 

As if you feel his soft stare, your eyes turn to his—your smile even larger than before. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, handsome?”

He doesn’t say anything. His mouth doesn’t even form a smile. He wasn’t sure he could. While his body relished in the feeling of relief, the whiplash of feelings that swirled around in his head was starting to get to him. 

“Joel?”

Your eyes turned cloudy with concern, and now his heart sank just a little. He didn’t want to make you feel worried. The last thing he wanted to do was open a deep wound in your chest like the one that settled in his. 

He quietly sat down next to you, arms pulling in your shoulders, so your back lay rested against his chest. You sat the book down on the coffee table right before making home into his arms.

He breathed in deep, familiar senses of your own musk and the spices you had been picking earlier that day. Rosemary, bay leaves, and parsley were your favorite plants in the garden that Ellie had asked you to build. 

You sat there for just a moment, knowing that he needed to take his time. Joel was never a man of words. He was silent and calculating, watching everyone and anything around him.

You were one of his soft spots over the years—you and Ellie—but his hardened heart still prevented him from allowing his deepest affections to shine through. So, when his thoughts came barrelling down on top of him, he needed the time to articulate them. You would always patiently wait for him, each and every time. 

“Had another nightmare.” He paused, noticing the small intake of your breath. He could tell that you felt bad for waking up in the middle of the night and not being there for him. “Woke up alone.” 

He chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to say, “woke up, and you weren’t there.” In truth, you weren’t, but he knew you had insomnia. He knew that he wasn’t the only one suffering under this roof from the dangerous, violent, and pure aching pain that the world had caused. 

“Joel—Baby—” God, you were too good for him. You were a badass throughout all of the years of fighting and violence, yet your heart shined brighter than ever, just for him and Ellie. 

He whispered just under his breath, “I had the same nightmare. I know you’re there. I know Ellie’s there. I know Sarah’s there—” He shakes his head. “—But I can never find you. Any of you.”

He can picture the frown that forms on your pretty, plump lips. It wasn’t your fault. You know that. You couldn’t have known, but the burning guilt in your chest wants to say otherwise. Your hand grabs onto his own, which is splayed across your abdomen, and you squeeze—making sure that he knew you were here. 

“I’ll never go anywhere, Joel. Not without you.”

A deep, crackling affection sprouted in his chest at your affirmation. He could almost smile—bright and pearly white. His worn heart thumped loudly against his chest, surely pumping loudly against your shoulder blade. 

“I know, darlin’. My brain is just funny sometimes.” His lips crack just a little at the snort he was able to pull from your nose. 

“Hell of a way to put it, Miller.”

After a couple of beats of silence, you bite your lip—contemplating whether you should act on what your brain was currently concocting. You knew that Joel wouldn’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night, and by default, you wouldn’t, either.

You could tell he was still lost in the faraway lands of his mind. His eyes were glossy and dazed. You knew he was, in no doubt, trying to unsee the darkest parts of his nightmares.

You decide to say fuck it, and you attempt to untangle Joel’s arms from yours. You hear a disapproving grunt from the man behind you, followed by another confused sound when you started to leave the couch.

“Darlin’, where are you—” His question dies on his tongue, though, all while you sink down onto your knees. His eyes are blown wide—dark pupils dilating under the soft glow of the eucalyptus candle you started to burn earlier. 

You give your best innocent smile. By the way his lips open just a smidge, you knew your idea was a good one. “Wanna take care of you, Joel.”

You bite your lip, sinking your teeth into the plump skin, and he curses under his breath. “Will you let me take care of you, handsome?” Your palms flatten across his splayed-out thighs, and you rub back and forth. He could feel his boxers become tighter as you wait for his answer. “Hmm?”

His body involuntarily leans back so he could sink further and further into the couch. His body acts, once again, before his mind can even comprehend the pure lust and desire he has for you. His hips jump forward to allow your soft hands to shuffle his boxers down and pool around his legs. 

Finally, he says, “please.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You grab a hold of his half-hard member, and he groans at the sight of you practically drooling for his cock. Your eyes are glistening with such lust, and he sees that speckled look of love that fills them.

His own eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as you press a couple of sweet kisses on his inner thigh—causing him to jerk. You pump his cock a few times, jaw slacking at the pre-cum that is already dribbling against his tip.

“Darlin’.” He gasps.

He watches as you wrap your soft lips around his head. He can feel his cock twitch and become harder—pleasure throbbing against his bulging veins. “F-Fuck, just like that. Yes.”

You flatten your tongue along his ruddy tip and then swirl in between his crying slit. “Fuckin’ mouth on you, I—” He lets out small puffs of air, teeth biting his lower lip in pleasurable agony. If it weren't for his fat cock in your mouth, you definitely would have smiled at the praise. He moans, almost as if he could feel it. 

"Joel—baby—so needy."

Joel was pretty sure he could die happy, right with your lips on his cock because when you rasp that out, there was a bead of your saliva and his pre-cum connected to your lips.

His knees twitch in between you, not being able to help it. He drags his hand to the nape of your neck and squeezes the base of it. “Takin’ care of me so fuckin’ well. My pretty girl—suckin’ my cock.” His words slur together with each syllable of his honeyed Texas accent.

The soft cries and whimpers that leave his mouth are really addicting—your hand squeezes against the base of his thigh from wanting more. 

"You taste so good, Joel. 'm—I love you. I love your cock."

You bop your head even lower—esophagus spasming at the pure thickness of Joel. No matter how many times your sweet cunt or stretched mouth took him, you were never used to his swollen size. 

You hum against him as you feel the sticky substance of pre-cum leak from his tip and onto your tongue—salty and earthy. His hips sputter slightly upward, lips cursing up a storm. “Oh-fuck-fuck. C-Can’t–ugh–can’t take much longer, sweet girl.” 

His body almost shutters from the drool he feels slowly drip down to his balls. Your mouth is warm and balmy, slick tongue working excellently against his hardened shaft. He gasps out your name, mixed in with one of his pet names for you. 

He lets himself become lost between the soft pillows of you and your expert tongue that brings him to the brink of pleasure. He lets the stiff trauma that makes his shoulders and muscle tense slowly wash off of him. “Love when you suck my cock, yeah, f-fuck—my pretty girl takin’ care of my fuckin’ cock.”

His mouth hangs open as you hollow your cheeks and suck on his ruddy tip before shoving your throat back down to the base of his cock. He wasn’t sure how he was sane at this moment—watching the saliva drop from his cock down to his balls—as he was throbbing with pleasure. 

His head drops back onto the couch, and he moans and whimpers out your name. It stays on his tongue—repeating over and over as if it was the only thing that ever mattered in the world. He feels his tummy squeeze, thighs tensing and pulsating as he feels that familiar coil tighten. “Oh, baby—darlin’—my girl—”

You suck in, swirling your tongue just over his slit once more, and he gruffs out a gasp. "Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you—" Thick beads of cum spew to the back of your throat—causing you to gag. His cum rolls over as his cock twitches and spurts in your mouth. 

You swallow every drop that Joel gives you—gulping it down on his shaft. He was already sensitive, cock already softening, but the whimper that left his mouth seemed one of ecstasy.

You relent, though. Your jaw was a little sore, and you had a feeling Joel was going to want to return the favor. You unhinge your mouth from him with a small ‘pop’ and pat his knee in affection. 

“Feel better, handsome?”

“Loads.” He snorts. “Literally.”

You roll your eyes, getting up from the floor and taking your usual seat on his thighs. “Hilarious, Miller. Real funny.” You were happy, though. You were able to give him the distraction he deserves.

His smile never settles as he pulls you into him. A weight had lifted onto his chest at the true realization that you’re here.

You’re with him.

You’ve alive.

You’re here. 

Joel knew that the nightmare would haunt him for a long time, but for now, you are all he needs.

[sonkitty]

The Sideburns Scheme Post #79

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 5, The Ball, important

...

Since Crowley is in the bookshop for the ball for so long, I am breaking it down in parts. This part covers from Crowley asking Aziraphale what he's doing until Shax arrives in the elevator.

...

Sideburns Check

The sideburns are still at a longer length that does not quite reach longest-length that has been shown as around Gabriel when humans aren't around.

Of note, with checking these longer sideburns, it is really, really hard to tell this length compared to longest-length, so I could be mistaken in parts. I am using my best judgment.

Now Crowley is around humans, Aziraphale, and Gabriel in the bookshop space with an active supernatural zone. For this particular part I am looking at, both Crowley and Gabriel are shown on screen but never at the same time.

...

Brighter Red Streak Check

While Crowley's hair is still shown to be darker, the more saturated red streak of hair can be found.

...

Hairstyle Changes

The more saturated red streak of hair can be found more easily and with more certainty.

Otherwise, I'm at a loss for how to describe any differences so am including pictures so that you can make your own comparison.

Here is the composite image of the previous scene with the demons:

Here is the composite image for this post again, mostly based on the cut of Crowley dropping the platter but the left-most segment is from Crowley asking Aziraphale what he's doing.

Here is looking out the window:

Here is trying to tell Aziraphale something is wrong.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects)

Crowley has the question, "What are you doing?" for point #1.

Aziraphale says the name, "Jane Austen" for point #2.

Aziraphale is shown to be holding a platter for point #3.

Aziraphale says the number "two" for point #1.

Aziraphale says vol-au-vent. I'm guessing that's speaking in a foreign language for point #2.

Aziraphale passes the platter to Crowley, allowing Crowley to receive point #3 for touching the platter.

...

The story shifts over to Maggie and Nina.

Maggie is touching Nina while saying, "This is something new," so receives point #1 for the touch.

Nina is touching someone else by the time she says, "This is completely bonkers," to receive point #2 for a touch.

Maggie's also touching someone else by then to receive point #3.

Nina earns points #1 and# 2 for both the question name and name of a book when asking about why everyone is talking like they've escaped from Pride and Prejudice. They are touching each other again, in much the same way as the previous set but already earned a point for that.

Maggie's touching Mr. Brown when she answers for point #3.

Nina asks the question, "Spirit of what things?" and includes part of the name of the meeting for points #1 and #2.

Maggie and Nina are touching again but differently enough for point #3 as Maggie answers.

Nina question with, "Are we dancing?" is point 1.

Again, differing touches while dancing is point #2.

Nina question with, "Did you ever learn the steps to this dance?" is point 3.

Maggie question, "It's just what we do isn't it?" is point 1.

After that, maybe each of them dancing to music without physically touching anyone still counts since dancing to music is a thing people do on Earth. That would be point #2. While my calculations could just be wrong, I am considering their continued dialogue as part of why that might be a relevant touch.

The scene shifts over to Aziraphale smiling as he watches them. That would be point #3.

If smiles don't count, since I'm unsure on that one, the last two points would be both Nina and Maggie dancing to the music without touching anyone.

...

I don't know Crowley's points here because the platter makes a notable clattering sound. Does that count for anything?

His leg goes up on the chair, but the camera moves without confirming it directly.

Crowley visibly has his right hand touching a flat surface as he looks out the window. At least that one should be a point. The look out the window is the second of three simple window looks he has involving the bookshop over the course of episodes 5 and 6.

That should also be a point.

The camera zooms out to show us the supernatural zone of the area. Every visible being outside in the fog is collectively gathered to face toward the bookshop, to indicate they are the demons for the invasion.

There are no humans, as best I can tell, in the area. That fits with my theory about this zone existing. As another reminder that this zone was formed through Crowley, the Bentley is included in the shot and still the only car visible on the street.

While there are still no visible humans or animals, the plants that Crowley was shown by earlier when he spoke to Maggie are ensured to be included in this shot.

That also fits with the supernatural zone shown with the car in episodes 1 and 2.

The demons themselves might be earning a point for a simple window look.

I'm not sure since my general instincts or intuition would think Crowley's simple window look is supposed to be the third point in a set. But such things in my play been wrong before.

...

The story shifts to Gabriel and three humans.

I can't figure out the full set here, but all characters are physically touching earthly objects at the start of the scene.

Mrs. Sandwich says the number "one".

Gabriel has a question for if they want him to show what it can do.

He does a self-clothing touch with that question, then self-skin-contact touches after he passes the tray to Mutt's spouse.

...

The story shifts s to Aziraphale and Crowley.

I can't figure this one out, but Crowley is making a conscious effort to not touch anything until it can't be helped when Aziraphale touches him to lead Crowley away to dance. Aziraphale has a self-touch with his hands. Aziraphale smiles, but as I've said, I'm not sure if smiles count or not. Whether it counts or not, there's still no earthly object touch on something that is not Aziraphale unless the game considers Aziraphale to be actively touching the humans through a miracle touch with the ball. For instance, Maggie and Nina are shown to be visually behind him during this part as a potential clue that's the touch.

...

The story shifts to the demons outside, showing Shax arriving in the elevator.

Below is my best guess for a set.

Shax being touched by the fog is point #1.

The demons looking through the windows have a simple window look for point #1.

They turn away to release their touch on the window look.

Shax saying, "How sweet. They're having a party," is a statement of place, so it's a Hello for point #3. This one seems like a stretch since these statements are usually about I, we, and you, but she is talking to the demons about an attack they planned earlier so contextually, I'm guessing it's acceptable.

...

Time to pay attention to the pockets.

When Crowley first shows up to ask Aziraphale what he's doing, the left-most strand shifts toward Crowley's left as being pulled by a magnet since it stays in place longer than the other strand. I'm not sure if that's telling us the Tied Hands are still tied or untied, but we're not going to see them do much for awhile. The clasps that are the thumb joints are not shown in this particular interaction.

...

When the humans are dancing, the gap between them at moments they are not touching, forms an open pocket between them.

...

The claps of the tie strands, which are the thumb joints of the Tied Hands, are finally shown underneath the platter Crowley is holding.

As he moves, they hide again and are somewhat visible with his simple window look.

During the simple window look, the camera keeps panning out, until eventually in the camera's upper right corner, there is, what I think, is the outer part of a light from the pub. I've indicated it in the above image. I cannot really see it lit, but I've checked the street layout from a number of other scenes and cannot see what else this thing might be. It is above and to the left of Crowley's ear and it least has some reflective surface that shows a light from that reflective surface. So, it's potentially an Overhead Light.

This light mirrors an oddity I've noticed about Crowley's eventual third touch for The Bigger Thresholds Trick. When Muriel later summons the elevator, a light, which is possibly this same one here, lights up more with the summoning. Instead of ensured to be in a cut with Crowley, it is actually ensured to be out of the cut by the time Crowley appears in the cut. It would be above and to the left of Crowley's ear as an Overhead Light if they were shown together.

This window is the same window that shows up in that cut, so there might be some trickery to pass or share the Overhead Light between these mirrored moments.

...

When Aziraphale leads Crowley away to dance, Crowley might get an Overhead Light for his Belt Head from the lamp and a light further back of his actual head by the end of the cut. He does move his left hand to touch his jacket.

The clasps on the tie strands are shown in blurred movement by the end of the cut.

...

Story Commentary

I wonder if Nina touching the threshold the way she did is partly responsible for why she's not as affected as the other humans by the enchantment of the ball.

...

When the story cuts to Crowley still holding the platter, the cardboard box is visible. Crowley even switches sides with it during the cut he shares with the box.

While I'm not entirely sure what the fire symbolizes with Crowley in this space, the minisodes have indicated fire is relevant to a given space. This space is rather different than anything we've seen in Good Omens 2 since it is mingled with so many humans in the bookshop, two other supernatural beings, and a supernatural zone Crowley formed around that space. It's also taking place at night. Setting aside Muriel's lie from episode 3, I don't think Crowley's even been shown with humans in the bookshop throughout both seasons 1 and 2, until this ball.

Crowley is shown on camera with fire from the nearby lit candles after the cardboard box is out of the shot. There are standing chandeliers to symbolize fire as candles of light.

Crowley turns around while in front of the bookshop doors. The big chandelier is reflected in his sunglasses, along with some extra light. There is a greenish tint that sometimes happens with such reflections. This snake demon has his mouth partly open for this action.

After that, Crowley moves to make his simple window look. Since Crowley is playing a layered game as a top tier player, he is possibly checking the angles for such a move. He wants the chandelier visible at the start of his window look.

...

As Aziraphale leads Crowley away, Aziraphale keeps Crowley on his right-hand side. However, they have switched their sides based on what the camera sees. Crowley started on the camera's left. Aziraphale started on the camera's right. By the end of when they are on camera together, Aziraphale has switched to be on the camera's left with Crowley on the camera's right.

...

Within the presented story, the first mention of the elevator was Muriel saying they found the matchbox near the lift to down.

This moment is the first time we, the audience, actually see it though we'll see footage later of Heaven to indicate it was used earlier by Gabriel but not by arriving through the pub.

While I still think that there is a supernatural zone surrounding the street, there might be humans in the pub. If there are, they disappear into shadows as Shax arrives. The pub door on the right from entry looks shadowy, as if to indicate it is open, before the elevator blinks to show closed doors that allow Shax to exit from the elevator into the street.

This part also helps show that the elevator takes up the same space as the pub's two-lane threshold seen in episode 2.

...

I found the red on Crowley's jacket again.

...

That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme

[drconstellation]

On Pride and Prejudice and S3 parallels to watch for

(*no Nazi zombies included)

I don't think it's the second "marriage proposal" that is going to matter in S3. That's just the icing on the cake. What's really going to break your heart to pieces will be the parallel to the lake scene encounter at Pemberley Estate. That comes before the quiet, gentle, second suggestion of "lets make a team of the two of us" again.

I keep seeing people write "oh, aziracrow are going to throw themselves together! Oh, its going to be violent! And frenzied! They wont be able to hold back!" Ah, no. I respectfully disagree. I see it possibly playing out very differently.

Recently we had this observation:

Let this old Gen X-er take you back nearly 30 years to 1995, when the BBC production of Pride and Prejudice pictured above came out (and I believe this is the version Lord Gaiman has recommended you watch - for good reason! But I may be biased here...) Colin Firth played Mr Darcy, and I dare anyone to name anyone else in the production off the top of their heads, because Firth's Darcy at the time was considered just *sigh.* The lake scene was so famous in its day it became became a meme before memes were a thing, in a time when we still had VHS video tapes and the internet didn't exist (gasp!)

We must set the scene.

Elizabeth has come the Lake Country with her aunt and uncle on a bit of a holiday, and they have called in on Mr Darcy's home, Pemberley Estate, to have a sticky-beak (as you do, apparently, in those days). He's not home, not expected until the next day, but the housekeeper is happy to show the visitors around the mansion, filled with amazing furniture and paintings and nick-knacks that all good rich Georgian families should have. The aunt and uncle ooh and ahh appreciatively and ask questions, and the housekeeper paints a glowing picture of how kind and generous her master is. Hmmph, thinks Lizzy, that's not the Mr Darcy I thought I knew.

Meanwhile, galloping across the fields on his lovely steed, comes Mr Darcy, a day early. And the visiting party slowly make their way out into the gardens. (cue the building tension...)

Darcy decides he is hot after the long ride, and strips down and goes for a swim in a lake (or pond, or duck!pond - whatever, its wet) to cool off (ha! I'm surprise that puddle didn't evaporate into steam as soon as he hit it) while Lizzy continues to wander and ponder what she is learning about him...

And as Darcy strides blithely across his demesne, practically nekkid from the waist up in his wet see-through shirt - he runs into the object of his desires.

This is their Vavoom! moment. (Well, maybe better Austen scholars than me would disagree, but for the purposes of this post, I declare it is.)

The point is...

The point I'm trying to make is this is going to be the important part of P&P in S3 of GO. Our two love birds have sprung each other unawares, and one of them in particular is in a vulnerable situation. They are vulnerable physically, with their damp, tousled hair (*sigh*) and, as aforementioned, is not appropriately dressed to the expected presentation for polite company at the time (*ahem* wet see-through-linen-shirt-that-doesn't-leave-much-to the-imagination *ahem*) so is also somewhat emotionally vulnerable. And the other is witnessing them in this vulnerable situation. The one they least wanted to see them like that. And neither of them can unsee it.

After the shock, Darcy struggles to pull his dignity back together and make some awkward small talk, before continuing onto the house to rapidly make himself socially presentable again and become the perfect host for the rest of the visit. And, well...things went rather splendidly after that, in short.

See, that's what I mean. The second proposal doesn't matter. Its the after thought. It just tidies up the loose ends. Ices the cake. Makes us feel all warm and gooey, like we're hugging a hot chocolate topped with little marshmallows in our cold hands. Its the equivalent "lake scene" that is going to slowly creep up on you like a fist around your heart, then squeeze when you least expect it, and leave you gasping with its rawness.

Now I'm not going to declare which of Aziracrow was representing Darcy, and which was Elizabeth. Crowley gave the better proposal for being a team of two, but Aziraphale gave the societal put down to Crowley. They kind of split the parallel proposal between themselves.

Hmm, so what kind of "lake scene" could we see in S3? Which of the two would reveal their vulnerable side? Who has the large domain where the other comes a visiting? Who learns something unexpected about the other? Who goes chasing a villain to redeem themselves in the other's eyes? Don't know. Not even even going to guess at this point. But I am going to go and do my homework so I'm ready when the time comes.

We should acknowledge that the first proposal just wasn't going to work, that they had to go their separate ways and grow, just as Lizzy and Darcy did. Smashing them back together like Blackbeard playing with his cake toppers, to cross fandoms, is just...stupid. You can't keep making the same mistakes. It wont work. Not in the long run. And these are immortal beings, (lord, I want to write a whole post on immortality, but not here, right now) the long run is to long to contemplate.

I'm saying wait and see - but be watchful. You might be caught out where you least expect it.

[keeponquinning]

I read this...on / off all day yesterday, one part when I was feeling by myself in a crowded room and when I tell you it gave me COMFORT. I feel like the cat gif is appropriate because MY GOD. This was such a good one. The way it literally warmed my heart, I... Your writing?? So eloquent, you know? It's so like, poetic. It really draws you in, and, I just love it. As usual, your writing as Eddie is so perfect, as well as the other characters, like, if there was a season between season 3 and 4, I'd picture this so clearly.

o k a y!

Really not making it easy for Reader! My heart went out, with their saturday, car trouble on monday and THEN him out for that day? CRUEL. But I also can't blame Eddie for wanting Monday off after the bullshit from that party with Jason. And to GO GET A TATTOO, like so Eddie, and we love him for it. I just feel bad for Reader, when her thoughts go to that place, poor thing was such a mess.

O'Donnell can suck it, and pop quizzes are evil. I said what I said.

So I mentioned earlier how amazing you write the other characters, the hellfire crew is what really shows it. I remember watching the scenes with them and Freak #3 or Dave ( we love to name him! ) was always SO INTENSE, so him, hearing the shit about Jason like "Do we need to make them pay?" WAS !! SO ON POINT!! i Know he barely had lines but what we saw, THAT WAS PERFECT.

Also loved that Gareth took over explaining what happened, but also not explaining what happened. It brings me back to the previous chapter, when he was digging his heels but then Eddie's please got him to go. I just. We were so cheated out of more of the Hellfire Boys dynamic and interactions. Like, I sense a real friendship / brothership with them, or I want to at least ! And I'm getting that here. Jeff laughing at Mike for thinking Eddie went to the hospital and teasing him about it, and Dustin and Mike "offering" advice on what movie to take Cindy ( which, go gareth! ) and Eddie being genuinely happy for Gareth getting Cindy's number and all that LIKE. God, it was just so pleasant to read. I'd watch / read a whole series on Hellfire Club pre-season 4. I'm hoping they don't get forgotten in season 5 and if they do, we ride at DAWN.

I do love the part where it's told about Eddie and his locker, that the first time he wanted to leave his mark, but by now, that's lost his charm. Oh, Eddie.

And then Chrissy, Chrissy, Chrissy.

I honestly feel so bad for her. She needs to dump Jason, pronto. I want her to be happy 🥺 and not under Jason's thumb. I don't blame her for being pulled in by Eddie, like, who wouldn't? And it's not like she knows he isn't BURNING for reader, and yes, i said BURNING. ( "I burn for you." we keeping the Bridgerton aesthetic thank you ) And I fell for Eddie a bit more that while he pushed away from her, he can't just not care, especially seeing how Jason treats her and orders her around. I hate him so much. I worry how Chrissy will affect Eddie x Reader but I also can't help but just wanna give her a hug, ya feel?

And now, good god.

My heart.

Reader suffered not seeing Eddie on Monday, but her touching his tattoo, touching it, I feel....made up for it BIG TIME. Your poetic writing made this part SHINE. How Reader is so delicately feral I fucking love it. The way this man's skin is described...... Strong and yet so soft, like VELVET? Got me screaming inside. It's so giving Pride and Prejudice, the hand hold, the hand FLEX. "You can touch it" had me REELING.

They way both of them got bolder, and the subtle ways of Eddie reacting to Reader's touch, the soft sighs and approving hums. the word TENDONS makes my heart a flutter now, and mixed in with their dialogue, just having a conversation, while she's stroking his forearm just feels so damn intimate. The little movements, like pressing reader's fingers just a bit deep out of concern, when she tried to pull away and he GRABS HER ARM??? Takes deep breath.

And then. AND THEN???

"I really care for you."

"I care for you, too."

SCREAMS. SQUEEZING EACH OTHER'S ARMS. THEN HANDS.

"You could feel those bones again, those strong fingers that held you steady as you threatened to tremble."

Once again, amazing chapter, gorgeous writing. Ugh, have my heart.

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 9

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 9/? 4.4k. Series Masterlist

Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

Forbidden love is complicated. What will your desire teach you?

Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, perv!eddie, smut (18+ mdni), true love, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: mild angst, longing, mild exploration through touch

Frost. The first of the year.

It covered the leaves that littered the parking lot outside your apartment in swirling fractals and crunched beneath your boots. 

Barely out of October and you could already feel winter knocking at your door. 

The sky was awash in a pale blue-grey as the sun came up behind the overcast clouds. The rain from the weekend brought down most of the leaves, though some of the more reluctant ones still clung to the trees in patches of yellow and orange. 

You unlocked the door to your red Chevy Nova and dropped your leather satchel on the passenger’s seat. 

The fog that had settled in your mind lifted just enough to get your papers graded. Just enough to get most of the dishes washed. The laundry could wait. 

You turned the key in the ignition and — nothing. Well, it wasn’t nothing, there was a clicking that got louder the harder you forced the key forward.

“Come on.”

Had you left your lights on by accident? It wouldn’t be the first time. The lights were turning on though. You threw your weight into the brakes as you turned the key harder. Over and over it whined and whirred and clicked until finally the engine awoke with a rumble.

You blamed the cold.

Happy Monday.

The thing about the fog is that once it settled it was hard to lift completely. You would enter the teacher’s lounge in a daze. You would go through the motions of pouring yourself your second cup of coffee, of finding an open milk carton. Of putting on a bright face and saying hello as you make small talk with the faculty, though your mind was miles away. 

You would sit down on the old, threadbare chair at your desk and review your lesson plans for the day while your mind struggled to adjust to the whirring chaos around you. The fuzzy voice over the loudspeaker. The ringing of bells and hundreds of voices echoing off the lockers in the hallway. The teenagers that you were responsible for filtering into your classroom, the energy of this weekend carrying over into their laughter and antics. 

You would put on that bright face and pull yourself together, though the fog was thick with thoughts you couldn’t seem to shake. Sometimes you were grateful for the distraction of your class — tangible and in need of attention. Other times the mask got heavy. It was hard to breathe behind. There were times when all you wanted to do was hide, but the mask offered little protection.

At the top of fourth period, you stood at the front of the classroom like you always did, checking little marks by the names in your grading binder as your eyes scanned down the rows. You paused when you got to Eddie’s. 

His seat was empty.

Your stomach dropped, as did your face. Everyone’s eyes were on you. You wondered if they noticed the change in your expression. 

Maybe he’s just running late. 

Maybe he’s sick.

You steadied the pencil in your hand, took a deep breath, and continued on down the rows. Inside your heart was racing, mind spinning with every possibility. It took all of your strength to keep the mask on for your class. 

It might have been the longest 50 minutes of your life. When the bell finally relieved you from your post, you barely remembered to grab your purse before your feet carried you briskly, as fast as they could professionally move, down the hallway toward the teacher’s lounge.

You snatched one of the newspapers slumped in a pile on one of the tables and began to tear through it, flipping through the pages with ravenous eyes, looking for something, anything about an accident or a death or his name or anything. 

You sensed someone behind you peering over your shoulder. You could almost feel their hot, labored breathing on your neck.

It took little more than a tilt of your head to see who it was. “H-hi Doris,” you said, stilling the paper in your trembling hands.

“Boy I’ve never seen anyone read a paper so fast in my life,” she said dryly. “Watcha lookin’ for?”

You tucked your wild hair behind your ear and pulled yourself together. “Oh, um,” What were you looking for? Would it sound weird to say? Of course it would. Your mind whirred with appropriate and totally not crazy responses. “My— my car was having some trouble this morning and I uh, you know just thought I’d check the paper to see um— uh, a number for a mechanic or something.”

Ms. O’Donnell stared down at the paper. “Good luck finding one in the obituary section.”

“Ha. Very funny,” you said, folding the paper. “Say uh, you wouldn’t happen to have seen Eddie today? Was he absent for your class too?”

She huffed, un-phased. “Munson? Haven’t seen him. Honestly I’m more surprised when he shows up.”

“Ah, ok.” You stared down at the paper, the words blurring.

“You know he got a D on the pop quiz I gave on Friday.”

You gave a single nod, lips forming a hard line. “Well, he wasn’t able to study, was he?”

“Course not, it’s a pop quiz. You know I’ve gotta give it to you for trying.”

“Yes, well, so is he,” you said curtly. You left the paper crumpled on the table, turning on your heel toward the door. 

Tears burned behind your eyes. You knew it was silly. Maybe that’s why they stung. The whole thing was silly and he was probably just sick like half the school was this time of year. But your feet had their own agenda and that was how you found yourself standing in front of the receptionist in the main office.

“Eddie Munson?” she asked, looking over her paperwork. “No I didn’t get a phone call or anything. I marked him as an unexcused absence.”

“Oh, ok. Thanks for checking.”

“You know, his attendance has actually been… unusually good this year.”

“Yeah— yeah, I know. Thanks anyway.” Head down, you almost ran into Diane as you turned to leave.

“Hey soldier, what brings you to my side of the line?”

“Nothing it’s— it’s stupid. I should get going before my lunch break is over.”

Diane folded her arms across her soft, green cardigan. “What’s up?” she asked gently, guiding you out of the way of incoming traffic. “You seem… upset.”

“It’s really nothing. I’m just…” you glanced around the office.

“You wanna talk about it?” 

Your voice caught in your throat. Your mouth twitched but no words came out.

“Come on, that’s what my office is for.”

Diane led you across the noisy office with all the talking, and phone ringing, and copy machines whirring, through her doorway — into silence.

You sat down and looked around at what everybody else saw when they took this seat — the concrete walls painted a soft peachy-pink. The plants in her window. The few inspirational posters. The warm glow of the three lamps that lit the room. No fluorescents.

Only Diane did not take her usual place behind her desk, instead she took the seat next to you.

“I’m sorry, this is really stupid. Eddie wasn’t in class today, and I— I know it’s like, well so what, but—” you started.

“He’s the one you’ve been tutoring right?”

“Yeah.” 

“He’s never been absent before?” Diane asked with a little chuckle, “It’s almost November.”

“Yeah— yeah, I know. It’s really paranoid of me. He just said that he was going to a party this weekend and I—“ you swallowed, glancing away. 

Diane’s face dropped. “Oh.” She put her hand on your shoulder. “I know this is a hard holiday for you, but I’m sure he’s fine. You’re just catastrophizing. I understand where it’s coming from though.” 

“Yeah— yeah I’m sure you’re right, I just…” you sighed, taking a moment to steady your breath as her hand soothed over your back. “This weekend was… hard. It’s still hard. All day today.” 

“That’s the hidden toll of teaching, isn’t it?” Diane mused, “You see these kids every day and you get so… invested in them. It’s an emotional labor, you know?” 

You did know. Just like the papers you graded, it was something you took home with you. Even before Eddie. That was the thing about teaching, even after you went home the job never really ended. 

“You really care about him, don’t you?”

Her words hung in the air as your stomach dropped, face turning hot. You couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Yes,” you choked out. “I mean I care about all my students,” you added quickly.

If only she knew. 

______

Tuesday, October 29th 1985

Eddie slid his plastic lunch tray along the counter as he waited for his turn in the lunch line like some sort of prisoner.

In his mind he was still cruising the freeway, watching state signs pass, watching the upright citizens of the world go about their daily grind as he watched like a spectator from the outside. Just rambling through. That was what he loved most about skipping school — the feeling of being outside, of wondering what sort of bullshit class his friends were having to fight sleep through as he drove on past with a mug full of coffee and a tank full of gas.

His suffering had earned him almost $300 on Saturday and he was bound and determined to put it to good use. He needed a three day weekend after that. Hell, he really needed to just take the whole week but he figured that might be pushing it.

When he saw the look on your face as he entered your class an hour ago, he was grateful that he hadn’t. He would spend the first ten minutes of it running his fingers over the subtle indents that your green grading pen left behind on his test, feeling for your hand through the paper. Feeling the braille of the lines that came together to form the words “I’m proud of you”.

He could count on one hand the number of As he had gotten in his life — this was one of them. 

He would spend the next forty minutes of class watching you, as he always did, with his cheek pressed against his knuckles. He would imagine you in his passenger’s seat — cruising down the road with a mug full of coffee and a tank full of gas. How you would bring your own tapes and serenade him with Joni Mitchell’s “Coyote”. How he would much rather be a prisoner of the white lines on the freeway.

The lunch lady took his tray and slapped a helping of overcooked green beans that looked more grey than green, followed by a splat of mashed potatoes and a shriveled pork chop. Eddie was grateful for how generous she was with the gravy, it would help combat the dryness. Yum.

Eddie took the tray and gave a gracious nod before making his way to the head of the Hellfire table.

“Hey man, where were you yesterday?” asked Dustin through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Eddie plopped both his tray and himself down with a sly smirk. He shed his jacket, revealing the bandage on his forearm. 

“Oh shit were you in the hospital or something?” asked Mike. 

“No he got a tattoo, you doofus,” laughed Jeff, nudging him with his foot under the table.

Mike rolled his eyes, “Oh yeah that’s super obvious.”

“It is,” Jeff snorted.

“Did you end up getting the sphinx from Powerslave?” asked Dave.

“I actually went with the puppet master, I’ll show you guys tomorrow when I can take this thing off. It’s really sick.” Eddie sawed at the hard, dry pork chop with his knife, stabbing it still with the fork in his other hand.

“So how was um, ‘business’ this weekend?” asked Dustin.

Eddie stopped sawing. He hesitated for a moment, his stomach churning as he recalled what happened. The red in Jason’s eyes as he grabbed him by the shirt. The look on all of their faces staring down at him.

Gareth caught his eyes. “Everybody keep an eye out for Jason Carver and any of his bitchboys. They have it out for Eddie,” he interjected.

The table erupted in questions. 

“Why, what happened?” asked Dustin.

“Do we need to make them pay?” Dave cracked his knuckles.

“No— no we’re gonna just lay low but keep an eye out for them. Chrissy keeps talking to Eddie and Jason’s being a jealous little bitch about it. Keep an eye out for her too,” answered Gareth.

Eddie felt the pressure release in his chest and gave Gareth a gracious look. He caught the remorse in his eyes. There was another thing that Eddie was relieved by — he left out the part about you.

“Shitheads just being shitheads,” said Eddie finally. “But uh, Gareth’s night wasn’t so shitty,” he prompted with a raise of his eyebrows, changing the subject.

The table shifted audibly.

Gareth smirked. “Yeah Cindy gave me her number.”

Cheers, elbow jabs, and banging on the table came from all directions. Eddie smiled at his friend, full and genuine. 

“I called her last night.”

More eruptive cheers. Louder this time.

“What did she say?”

“How’d it go?”

“Did you ask her out?”

“Woah, easy boys, one question at a time,” Gareth chided gently, raising his hands. “I haven’t asked her out yet. We just talked about movies and stuff. I’m trying to feel it out, you know? Gotta take it slow, I don’t wanna scare her away,” he laughed. “It went good though, we talked for like an hour.”

“You should take her to see Goonies,” Dustin suggested.

“She’s already seen Goonies, plus that’s like… is that really a date movie? What kind of movies are date movies?”

Dave snorted, “Stupid movies.”

“Yeah take her to A Room With a View,” Jeff laughed.

“Ew that’s like, serious isn’t it?”

“How ‘bout Rocky IV, that’s romantic,” offered Dustin through a snicker.

“No—no wait the new National Lampoon’s,” Mike chortled.

“Really helpful, thanks guys.”

Eddie chuckled distantly, taking a stab at his green beans. He glanced over toward the door to the teacher’s lounge, across the expanse of the noisy cafeteria. Somewhere behind that wall you too were at a table, eating lunch by yourself in a room full of people. He wondered if you felt as lonely as he did sometimes, a loneliness in feelings that weren’t appropriate to share.

______

Eddie sifted through the contents of his locker, hunting for his chemistry textbook amongst the chaos of loose papers without homes. The door, which shielded him in part from the noisy hallway, was stark. There were remnants of stickers inside from previous occupants, but aside from the papers with his name on it, there was no trace of Eddie Munson. He remembered his first few lockers here, how keen he was to leave his mark on them, to slap Iron Maiden and Slayer stickers on the inside that future occupants would have to scrape to get off. He was less keen to make a home of his sixth. 

“Hey Eddie.”

He recognized the voice. Powder soft and sugar sweet, it was twinged with a tentative sadness. He took one look at Chrissy Cunningham and shut his locker, turning away.

“Eddie, wait,” she pleaded, chasing after him.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” he said sharply, keeping his pace.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she admitted, her white tennis shoes hitting the tile in quick succession to keep up with his much larger gait. 

“Then why are you talking to me?”

“I— I just wanted to apologize.”

 Eddie gave a sharp puff of air through his nose and slowed his pace. 

“I’m really sorry about Saturday. I was really drunk, I didn’t mean to get you in any trouble.”

Eddie stopped, turning to her sharply. “Yeah? Well, the longer you stand here and talk to me, the closer I am to getting in trouble again, so…”

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

“Well, you have,” he said curtly, turning away. His feet carried him briskly down the hall, leaving her in the gust of air he left behind.

It might have stopped her feet from following him then, but it didn’t stop her eyes from following as they searched for his across the room in chemistry class. 

He would try to avoid them, but eventually the searing heat of her gaze got the best of him. He would concede, and when he did catch a glance of those green eyes from across the room he would think about the time he saw them last. Red and heavy lidded. He would think about the way she stumbled off that couch. The way she crumbled under the weight of Jason’s voice.

So he would concede and meet her eyes for just a moment from across the classroom. Behind them, equal parts desire and remorse. 

______

How would you describe Eddie Munson? You had been asking yourself this question since your first encounter after school. 

There were the obvious things — Plush lips. Strong chin. Soft nose. A jaw sharp enough to cut glass. Big brown eyes like a baby cow. Wild ringlets that framed his face and cascaded down his shoulders.

Then, more subtly — A summer wind. Restless and frenetic, but soft all at once. Soft in the comfortable silence that sometimes fell between you. The silence of listening. There was warmth in him too — the kind of warmth that colored the brightness of his voice when the silence was broken. He was wild, and warm, and restless, and magnetic all at once. A summer wind.

It was a question you would ask yourself after every encounter. Each time you would come away with something more.

What you did know for certain today was that nothing compared to the sight of his sweet face as he took the seat across from you. 

“It’s good to see you,” you said. As if that even scratched the surface.

“Yeah, you too.” His eyes held yours as he shed his jacket around the chair. He leaned forward in it, resting his arms on the desk between you.

You were just happy to see the pink in his cheeks, the extra fluff in his hair today. You could smell the product in it even from across the desk. Your fingers occupied themselves with the pen in front of you. “I was… worried about you. On Monday.” 

His eyes widened. “Shit, I’m really sorry about that,” he lamented. You could tell that he meant it too. “I was uh, getting this.” He presented his forearm with a cheeky grin.

You looked down at the inky black lines on his skin. At the gnarled hand grasping a wooden marionette cross with strings hanging down. You followed them down to what appeared to be some sort of zombie or undead creature hanging from them.

Your eyes lit up like Christmas. “Aren’t those… illegal here?” you asked in a crazed little whisper, the look on your face was wild and fascinated. 

“Only in Indiana.” You could hear the mischief in his voice. “I drove to Illinois to get it. That’s why I had to take the whole day.”

You had to laugh. And you did. “Well I’m glad you’re safe. I guess it was… silly of me to worry so much.”

“No— no I should have at least called in and made up some bullshit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m just glad you’re ok. That’s all that matters.” You looked down at his arm again, at the dark, angry lines across his reddened skin. “Did it hurt?” 

“Yeah, it always does a little. This one wasn’t so bad. I have others.” His dark eyes flashed at you as he hooked his fingers over the collar of his shirt, exposing the ink under his collarbone. “This one hurt the worst,” he said with a soft smirk. His hand lingered there, an offering to your eyes.

You cursed the animal inside you. The one that growled from deep within your abdomen and crawled its way into your cheeks. The one that whispered about what your lips might feel like on the skin that he exposed for you. 

“O—oh yeah I can see why that would hurt.” Your eyes diverted back to his arm, tracing the lines with your eyes. You brought your face closer to examine, but you were more interested in the velvet skin of his forearm. How something could be strong and soft all at once. Your fingers twitched above it.  

“You can touch it,” he said. An offering — an experience. His voice was barely above a whisper.

Your eyes met his. Hesitant, you accepted, lowering your fingers slowly, then your eyes. He was so warm and impossibly soft. You were almost afraid he would feel your pulse pounding through your fingertips as they traced tentative, delicate patterns across his skin. 

There was a gentle puff of air against your face as he sighed at the contact. 

It took courage to look up at him, but when you did he held your gaze with an intensity that made you shudder.

“Sorry, my fingers are cold,” you said with a nervous laugh. 

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” His voice was gentle, distant, like a trance. “It feels… nice actually.”

You lowered your eyes again, and then more of your fingers across his warm, velvet skin, sliding slowly up and down the solid expanse of his forearm. You could feel the tendons, the soft brush of hair at the edges.

“Does it still hurt?” you asked softly.

“Yeah, a little. Kind of itches more than anything now.”

His palm was facing up at you, so close to the heat of your body. His long fingers twitched. 

You should have pulled away. You knew you should and you were trying but his skin was like a magnet and you could not bring yourself to do it. It was too painful. 

“How was the party?” you asked as a knot twisted in your stomach.

He huffed and shook his head, “Pretty shitty if I’m being honest.”

The knot released a little. “That bad huh?”

His eyes widened, giving a crazed little look, “Yeah, it was that bad.”

“What happened?” 

His brow furrowed as he searched for the words, “Just… drama I guess — involving a certain, uh, basic primate. It’s really stupid, honestly.”

Your fingers pressed concern against his arm, ever so subtly. “Jason?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, casting his gaze away. “Yeah, he’s a real dick. Anyway, like I said, it’s stupid.”

You wanted to press on, but it seemed like he didn’t care to elaborate. 

“I was worried about you, at the party,” you said softly. And then you did something bold, as if possessed by a force stronger than your noble mind — you lowered your palm.

You could feel his approving hum through your hand, the vibrations rippling from under his velvet skin. 

“I knew you would be. I was extra careful.” His eyes flitted up to yours. “For you.”

It was the seriousness of his tone that stirred you most. The earnest, deadpan look on his face, like there were volumes behind those two words.

It opened up a narrow passage, and you entered with the boldest thing that you had ever said. 

“I really care for you.”

You wondered if he could feel your pulse hammering against his arm, feel your hand start to sweat. Your fingers twitched, mind racing with second-guessing. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. You lifted your hand to remove it, but then he did something that surprised you.

His hand below you gripped your arm. 

“No—no,” he soothed, his eyes meeting yours in earnest. “It’s ok.” 

Time stopped — frozen as he held you in his gaze. You might have thought your heart stopped too had it not been so audibly pounding in your ears.

“I care for you too,” he admitted.

The breath that was caught in your chest released, and with his permission, you relaxed into the touch. You squeezed his arm gently — a gesture he returned, and heavy sigh escaped both of you at once. 

It was only a moment, but there a whisper, no — a bold admission in the quiet of the air between you. 

He smiled at you. Breathy and crooked, a wild warmth in his eyes. And for one stolen moment the fear that had nestled itself deep within your chest melted away. 

The animal inside you stirred, stretching outward like a yawn, up into your neck and cheeks again. It was warm this time. Comfortable now. 

The world around you fell away. The concrete walls, and clocks, and bells, and chalkboards ceased to exist. There was nothing else that mattered except hands on skin across the great divide of the desk lodged between you. 

Your mouth twitched but words would not come. You feared that if they did the spell would break. 

Eddie was much braver.

“I wish you could have come. To the party. I mean like, hypothetically, not… realistically. But like, another party. I— I don’t know. Sorry that sounds really stupid,” he said with a little chuckle. His arm remained locked to yours, curious fingers wandering across your skin. 

“No it’s not, I— I wish I could have gone too. Hypothetically. I would have had a much better Saturday night than I did on my own, trust me,” you said with a pained laugh.

He shook his head, thumb rubbing electric circles on your arm. “Oh I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” you said.

And with that Eddie did something even braver — his palm traced its way down your arm until it found your hand. He held it in his for a moment, warm, calloused thumb soothing over your knuckles. You could feel those bones again, those strong fingers that held you steady as you threatened to tremble. 

It was only for a moment. But in this moment there were two things that were abundantly clear for both of you —

1. It felt too good to stop.

2. That things would never be the same.

______

A/N: Well, well — we have an admission! After quite possibly the longest October in history, time is going to start moving a little more quickly now that our forbidden lovebirds are on the same page. We've still got some more hurdles to navigate, but strap in as we prepare for liftoff! 🚀

Another note, I will be closing my taglist. Those of you who are already on it will remain tagged, but anyone else who wants to keep following the story can just follow me (as I would sincerely hope you all are) and turn on notifications.

A smaller note — I have given Freak #3 the name of Dave.

As always, I deeply appreciate any and all comments -- keyboard smashing, theories, small novels, all of it. Hearing your reactions to my story fuels me in ways that I can only begin to tell you.

Please reblog and help others to find my precious creation! ✨

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @mantorokk-writes @loveshotzz @newlips @chainsawmunson @trashmouth-richie @carolmunson @wordscomehither @alottanothing @bebe0701 @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @bibieddiesgf @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @shotgunhallelujah @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @luna-munson83 @eddiemunsonsbitcch @tlclick73 @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @blue-mossbird @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @ruby-dragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @quinnsfineline @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @emily-roberts @averagemisfit03

[back2bluesidex]

Ok, don't know if you're still taking request for drabbles based on TS songs but if you're, hear me out:

✨️Dress and JJK✨️

Don't know why I keep picturing him whenever I hear that song. And you know when she says 'my hands are shaking from holding back from you'? It comes to mind that scene in Pride and Prejudice after Mr Darcy briefly held Lizzies hand.. Maybe a F2L, with yearning and angst, maybe mc decides to buy a dress to finally confess.

👀 only of you're taking request, if you're not then it's ok ♡ I still needed to vent these thoughts to someone 🤭

I've been enjoying your fics and drabbles since She fell first... As an avid reader, I'd like to say that I really like the emotions you manage to convey through your writing. So, thank you for sharing your work here 🫶🏻

Ok wait.

So I actually closed the requests a while ago but.... Did you just mention Pride and Prejudice??? You unlocked a privilege right there, because P&P is very close to my heart for some specific reasons. It was one of my course works during my university days and there are so many memories associated with this one novel. Hence, I will write it, but as a fic. However, I will not promise to write it anytime soon since I have a ton of requests left to work on :( BUT I will DEFINITELY write it down.

Also, thank you so much for being with me in my journey. I know I am not super excellent or unique with my writing but still you are with me from the start and it means soooooooooo damn much to me. Thank you a ton for all the appreciations.

Take love 💜

[lasisgood]

Okay so the idea of marc just tenderly holding Steven's hand and giving him a kiss on the knuckle lile he's the most precious thing in the world does things to me, the slow look of longing he gives steven, bonus points if he's on his knees, and steven is like stunned but oblivious and it infuriates Marc to no end.

Okay so think of that.

Think of that and imagine layla or anyone else seeing that (dr. Strange? Maybe the avengers? Ok i guess) and being like 'am i the only one seeing this? It's like watching pride and the prejudice'

Now also imagine that scene and imagine that's jake and steven, while marc is furious. The love triangle y'all picture it

[dreamylittlesugarcube]

Check Me Out

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Characters: Reader x Kyungsoo

Summary: You find yourself attracted to Kyungsoo, a regular at the library where you work. Will love blossom between the shelves?

A/N: Anyone else feel like Kyungsoo just fits in a library? I just picture him going to libraries, enjoying the silence, and sitting for hours reading books about cooking. Apologies in advance, I’ve been in a very punny mood lately :) As a newer writer, any feedback is greatly appreciated!

*Note: picture is not owned by me, credit to original owner(s)*

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tick, tick, tick, tick tick

For what seems like the millionth time today, you turn to see if the clock hands have changed position at all since the last time you checked 1:33 PM, the hands read. Has it really only been three minutes since you last checked the clock? Thursday afternoons tend to be pretty quiet at the library where you work, with mostly just regulars wandering in to take their usual spots, like the little old ladies crocheting in the plush seats by the window, the mothers in the children’s section reading picture books to their toddlers, or the job seekers perfecting their resumes on the library computers.

And in exactly 27 minutes, there will also be him. Do Kyungsoo. You’d met Kyungsoo about three months ago when he’d wandered into the library looking to check out a particular Gordon Ramsey cookbook. He was beautiful, there was really no other way to describe him. Fluffy black hair, big brown eyes, lush-looking lips, and a dark pair of glasses that gave him a serious aura that you found absolutely alluring. His rich, deep voice gave you chills. In your deepest fantasies, you wonder what it would be like to hear that honeyed voice whispering in your ear at night—-

Your Kyungsoo-fueled reverie is interrupted by a patron requesting your help to find a book that wasn’t where the catalog said it should be. After locating the book, which had been mistakenly shelved in the fiction section, you attempt to distract yourself with other tasks to keep yourself from focusing back on the time once again. You enter the remaining book returns into the system and pull the cart towards the shelves to begin putting the books back into their rightful spots. You fall into a well-known rhythm as you move from shelf to shelf. You stop for a brief moment, to run your fingers down the cover of a just-returned copy of Pride and Prejudice, your favorite book. You quickly flip through the book to find your favorite scene, the one at the ball where Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth first meet and their romance begins. As you take your time scanning over the familiar words, you are startled by the sound of a throat being cleared and a deep voice saying your name.

“Y/N”.

You close your eyes and bask in the sound of your name rolling off his lips, your ears perking up to take in any other sound his lips might utter. Butterflies’ wings beat at the inside of your stomach and the air takes on the same hyper-electric feel that it always does when in his presence. You feel a soft tap on your shoulder and you turn to see Kyungsoo very much in your space.

“Y/N”, he tries again, “I didn’t see you at the circulation desk when I came in and I was wondering if you were here today.” He smiles, his cheeks puffing up in such a way that makes you want to reach out and gently pinch them between your fingers. In his hands he’s holding another cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume 1 by Julia Child.

“Taking a trip to France, now I see. That’s a bit of a departure from the Japanese cookbook you checked out last week, “ you joke. Kyungsoo was an avid amateaur chef who loved to learn how to make anything and everything. Last week, he’d come in for a book about the art of sushi-making, the week before that it was an Italian cookbook claiming to have the best recipe for spaghetti bolognese within its pages.

“It definitely is,” Kyungsoo laughed, “It’s a lot of fun to know how to cook many different types of food.” Kyungsoo took out his phone and motioned you over as he flipped through picture after picture of sushi rolls that looked pretty impressive in your humble opinion.

As you peer over his shoulder, you are hit with the smell of Kyungsoo’s cologne, a mild and clean scent that isn’t too overpowering. Perfect for Kyungsoo. You take in another quiet breath, enjoying this closeness, this silence. Abruptly, you realize that Kyungsoo is no longer talking. You glance up to see Kyungsoo’s eyes trained on your face, lips parted, as though he’d lost his train of thought mid-sentence. The seconds tick by, neither of you moving to break eye contact or move out of each other’s space. Kyungsoo’s hand slowly moves to brush your hair behind your ear, then sliding down to gently stroke your chin. You feel hypersensitive, the impression of Kyungsoo’s touch on your skin is magnified and the smell of his cologne overwhelms your senses. He starts to gently pull your face towards his own….

Ring, ring, ring, ring

The sound of the phone at the circulation desk, causes both of you to jump, breaking the spell you both were under. In a daze, you move rotely towards the desk to answer the phone, leaving Kyungsoo between the bookshelves, hidden from sight. By the time you finished assisting the patron on the phone with an interlibrary transfer request, you’d managed to get your bearings straight.

Professionalism in the workplace. Professional in the workplace. Professionalism in the workplace…, you chant to yourself, feeling heat on the back of your neck at the thought of almost kissing a patron while on the clock. Granted, there was nothing against seeing patrons outside of work, this wasn’t a medical profession, after all. But you had a sneaking suspicion that your boss might frown upon romantic frolicking whilst on the job. You sneak a glance towards the spot where you left Kyungsoo, but he’s nowhere in sight.

Did he leave? Was he hiding? Had he sunk through the floor, never to be seen or heard from again? You don’t know, but you are suddenly very interested in rearranging the small jars of paperclips, tacks, and binder clips on your desk. In the midst of your mini-redecoration, you hear the *thunk* of books being plopped down, ready for checkout. You turn around to see Kyungsoo standing in front of you, cool as a cucumber, with two books in-hand. Looking at him now, it’s hard to imagine that not 10 minutes ago, his face had been six inches from your face, his lips six inches from your lips. You keep your eyes focused on your task as you scan Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Vol. 1. You move to scan the second book, The Beginner’s Guide teo Cheesemaking at Home, but Kyungsoo stops you.

“I’ll just take this one, the second one’s for you, there’s something interesting in there that I think you might like”. Kyungsoo gives you an enigmatic smile as he slings the cookbook under his arm, grabs the receipt, and makes his way out the door.

You look down at the book in your hand, confused. A near-kiss and he leaves you with a book on making cheese at home? Curious, you move to speed-flip through the book. As the pages go by, your eyes catch a sliver of yellow. You turn back to that page to find a recipe for making gouda cheese. Just below the recipe you see a yellow post it note that reads:

We go really “gouda” together. I’m very “fondue” of you. This might sound “cheesy”, but I’d love to get to know you “chedda”.

Just below his lines of “cheesy” puns, he’d listed a phone number. You get out your phone and quickly add his number to your contacts. You type up a message and hit the send button before you have time to rethink your decisions.

That was a little cheesy, but still grate. Coffee tomorrow? You watch as the little dots appear, signaling Kyungsoo’s imminent response.

*bing*

Yes, that would brie great! ;)

~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~

[evil-moonlight]

For the Beyond Evil emoji ask game: ☀️🚔😬👀😂

Sass, thank you very much for the ask! <333

What's your favorite episode?

This is a tough question since it's difficult to pick just one. But well, I'd say it's Episode 15, which features Joo Won's iconic Pride and Prejudice/I will go to hell (for you) love confession scene.

If it wasn't a cop show, what jobs would everyone have?

Since the entire series is so perfectly woven, I honestly can't picture BE being anything other than a cop series. I continue to envision Dongsik and the rest of the Manyang gang as police officers. Nevertheless, I can picture Joo Won as a photographer, and Jaeyi, as a journalist.

What's one storyline from the show you would change?

I wouldn't change a thing since everything that happens is essential to the story's central theme.

What would you like to see if they did a season 2?

Hm. I've been really curious what it would be like to see MORE scenes of Joo Won going to hell for Dongsik, and with Dongsik taking the bullet to save Joo Won. I understand that they went through a lot already and it would be cruel of me to beg for additional suffering. But I feel like I need more of that just to watch them grow closer together as the villains strive to keep them apart. I want to see them hold hands, never letting go, as they are faced with life and death situation, all knowing that Joo Won would rather kill himself than letting Dongsik get the hit, and vice versa (and of course I want both of them to survive, and I oppose further fatality).

What's your favorite Han Joo Won quirk?

Oh, this. He's been doing this so many times, and I'm just aware that he does this when he speaks about or thinks of his crush, Dongsik. 🤭 (He's just too bad at hiding his excitement for the middle-aged man).

[bukojuiice]

the wedding booth  — eren jaeger

ೃ pairing: (eren jaeger x  fem! reader)

ೃ after being unwillingly dragged to plan and create a wedding booth for your first university festival, eren accompanies you to a bridal boutique. there, he contemplates about the future and all of the cheesy romantic stuff he wants to do with you.

ೃ genre and warnings: college au, lots and lots of fluff!

ೃ  my nav  →  my aot masterlist

ೃ 1k words

My Big Fat Greek Wedding, My Best Friend's Wedding, The Wedding Planner, Wedding Crashers... hell, even Mamma Mia.

If having to be forced to watch these romantic comedies about weddings doesn't give you the sudden urge to get hitched and run away to some tropical island, then you don't know what will.

For your very first uni fair at Shigashina University, your friends had proposed a Marriage booth. To be more specific, three of your friends did. Jean, Sasha, and Connie are the masterminds behind this stupid idea and it's all because of three things:

1. Jean is pining over Mikasa so so bad. So many years have passed and yet he still hasn't found a way to confess. And so, due to his pompous ass binge-watching stupid rom-coms recently, he thinks that if "fake dating" can bring two people together, then having a fake wedding with his unrequited crush of 12 years could finally make her fall for him too. He wants the booth to be as iconic as a wedding straight out of Las Vegas. Problem is, he's never been to Las Vegas, and his terribly unrealistic basis for wanting it to be as iconic as a "Las Vegas Wedding" is that one scene from The Hangover and that episode from Friends.

He was delusional and yet, he wanted to push through with this proposal no matter what. Nothing was going to stop him... not unless it was one of the three seniors whom you would be proposing this project to in the first place.

2. Sasha's goals are much normal. A bit odd, but still normal and not as desperate as Jean's. All she wants is to get Ymir, the captain of the school's soccer team to confess to Historia, the freshman Bio-Chemistry student who works part-time as a library assistant (and whom everyone secretly fawns over for. she's just that damn cute.) However, the real reason as to why she helped [rp[pse this stupid marriage booth to get them to finally confess to each other is anyone's guess.

3. Connie thinks he's gonna get clout from this. Rise up the university hierarchy perhaps? He's treating the entire festival like it's high school all over again. He prays that the marriage booth will become the hottest thing in the festival, then he'll instantly become that cool and bad-ass freshie whom everyone wants to be friends with. Either way, if the booth is going to be a success or not, you know for a fact he's never going to be a part of the "cool kids" (good lord, can you believe people still use that term in college?) and he's gonna be stuck with you and your other friends for the rest of the years to come.

It didn't take long before they finally finished their elaborate PowerPoint Presentation (despite Connie insisting that Powerpoint is boring) that they were going to pitch to three of the principal members of the student council. Namely, Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, and Hange Zoe.

It was gonna be an automatic no for Levi, obviously. Nothing could ever get past that man. But if they can somehow convince Erwin and most especially Hange to get on board with their stupid scheme, then the booth was good to go.

Now, here you are, in a bridal boutique. Purchasing some simple wedding dresses that will serve as your rent-a-dress service for the Marriage booth.

It wasn't originally a part of the plan. Not at all.

However, Hange would only approve of the project IF the wedding booth was going to be made into something more elaborate and memorable. They didn't want something as simple as printing out fake marriage contracts, cheap tulle fabric wedding veils, fake plastic bouquets, and wedding pictures that came out of a polaroid camera.

Oh no no no. They wanted it to be extravagant. The cream of the crop. The absolute bomb. The best booth at the festival.

Hange saw potential in the idea and with an approved budget by the student council, you could make anyone's wedding dreams come true.

 Fast forward to a week before the event, you are currently on a shopping spree with Armin, Mikasa, and your boyfriend, Eren (because Sasha insisted he had the right proportions for the rental groom outfits. She totally did not ask him to come along so that he can see you try on wedding gowns.) to buy supplies, props, decorations, and everything else needed.

"(Y/N), we'll meet you and Eren at the bridal boutique, okay?" Armin proclaims, looking at the time on his wristwatch and struggling to balance the shopping bags on his other hand.  Mikasa notices how much he's been struggling and offers to hold the bags for him.

"Sure! Don't forget about the list that Jean sent!" You shout back, turning to Eren as his fingers interlace with yours, making your merry way to the boutique whilst Armin and Mikasa go off the other direction.

"Don't get too excited." You joke, nudging Eren on the arm. "I'll just be trying on these dresses for the booth."

There's a particular glimmer in Eren's emerald eyes, chuckling at your quip. "Sheesh. Did you really have to remind me? Of course I know that. Besides, we're too young to even think about marriage right now. What's important is that I'm spending the best years of my life with you."

"Eren Grisha Jaeger, it is too damn early for you to make me a blushing pile of mess with your flirty comebacks." You deadpan, the heat rising up your cheeks as you try to hide your embarrassment from him.

The both of you laugh it off, shuffling into the store. The chiming bells of the shop door echo around the area as you look in awe at the luxurious dresses occupying every available space. The wafting smell of a vanilla pinecone scent and the soft sound of a sewing machine doing its work. There was a homey and rustic feel to this boutique that made you feel like you were sent back in time.

From great flouncy pieces adorned in layers of lace that rolled like ocean waves to more humble designs, albeit of the finest cloth.

This plethora of finery- reminds you strongly of the many genteel ladies depicted in those books and historic romances you used to read and watch. Like that of Pride and Prejudice or Sense and Sensibility.

Having the opportunity to enter a boutique such as this was a dream.

"Welcome! May I help you find anything?" A seamstress appears from the register. She looks at you from head to toe, as if trying to guess your measurements.

"W-we're looking for wedding dresses. Anything within the 200 to 300 dollar range? We don't need anything extra fancy, though! We'll just be needing them-"

Her eyes shift from you to Eren like she's suddenly a love coach, sizing the two of you up. "Yes, yes, young love! How sweet!" She chirps, breathing out a dreamy sigh. "Of course! For couples on a tight budget, we have-"

"We're looking for wedding dresses that can be used as costumes! Not too short and not too long either. W-we're not getting married or anything." You dismiss the seamstress with a wave of your hand. "I'm sorry if you thought of it that way..."

Although her shoulders visibly drop, the saleswoman still manages to smile. "Oh! I would like to apologize for assuming anything too!"

"Actually, mam, we do have plans sometime in the future." Eren grins cheekily, pulling you close to him. "Not today, of course, but we'll make sure to drop by in a few years!"

The saleslady's eyes lit up at Eren's vow. "Over here are some of our best-selling pieces! Ones that will certainly attract the eye of any groom!" She beckons you over to some mannequins lined up in the middle of the store, your gaze is drawn to the myriad of dresses on display as you walk throughout the space.

You turn back to Eren, studying him closely as he walks a few paces behind you, you thoughtfully wonder if the dresses you would pick out would match his taste.

She leads you to the back of the store to show the other garments and dresses embroidered with simplicity and yet elegance. You then pick two gowns up from their respective racks, satisfied with your purchase and making a beeline to the register to pay. However, the seamstress stops you from your tracks.

"How about this one, dear?"

You turn your attention to her, doe-eyed and curious as to what she was going to show you next.

"It is indeed a wedding dress, although not what you had asked for, the handsome young man did say something about your marriage plans. Perhaps this might help you visualize it? Give you an idea for the future, hm?" She hums wistfully, drawing your attention to the mannequin she placed in front of you. "It would be a shame if you left the boutique without trying anything on."

"(Y/N)?" You hear Eren's husky voice call out for you from the front of the store, "Armin just texted me. They can't find a specific prop in the crafts store so we might have to wait a bit longer for them."

"Okay! We can spare more time in the boutique, anyways." You answer back,  before turning your attention to the seamstress once more.

"Alright. I think I'll try it on then."

"Trying it on" turned out to be more than you had imagined. You thought you could just slip inside the dress and show it off. But nope. You needed a few adjustments to dress, adornments in your hair, and had to wear a wedding veil.

It was almost as if you were actually preparing to be wed.

"Good sir, your lovely missus is ready!" Yup, even the words of the seamstress made you feel like you were living in the 17th century right now. Did she really have to use such fancy words?

"Please, watch your step." The seamstress takes your hand and leads you out of the dressing room and right towards—

Eren who had been waiting in the shop proper.

"Doesn't she look beautiful?" She giggles, glancing at Eren for a response. "Well, I'll leave the two of you here first and bring the dresses you've chosen to the cash register first." In a wink, she's gone and had disappeared into the back almost before the words left her mouth.

The unfamiliar yet elegant garb makes you feel shy and the fact that Eren was gaping at you did not help at all. He was absolutely entranced by your beauty.

You unconsciously lower your head, tucking a strand of hair beneath your ear, unable to bear the thought.

"God, you're not just beautiful. Y-you look breathtaking."

He says in a barely audible whisper, pulling you to him once more.

Placing his hands on your waist, Eren plants a soft, tender kiss on your chest, the low-cut dress affording it easily. In a heartbeat, you feel your cheeks grow hot.

"Heh. Guess I got you again." He grins wolfishly, still admiring your beauty and tracing circles on the back of your hand. "I-I don't deserve you... I really don't."

"If you didn't deserve me, would you be here right now?" You say jokingly, raising your eyebrow.

"I mean it." He buries his face on the hem of your dress, his voice is muffled and soothing. "I can't believe you chose to love me." He looks up at you, eyes practically welling up with tears. "God, I honestly can't believe I'm crying right now, but, yeah... I am. That's how much I love you and how much I want to marry you right now."

You giggle at the expression your boyfriend has shown before you, stroking his hair and burying your fingers into his long brunette locks. "I love you too. But... why so sudden? You already told the saleswoman that we'll be back in a few years. She'd be surprised to hear you change your mind so easily."

"Well, if that's the case, then I better tell Jean to have us first on the list of the wedding booth then. We worked our asses off for this, might as well be the first to be blessed with the luck of that stupid booth."

You giggle once more as he continues to hold you so close. You feel his breath and his heartbeat. Each exhale and pulse brings you to the realization that Eren is the one. The man you want to be with for the rest of your life. The man who will help you through all your faults and mistakes, your burdens and troubles, through all the ups and downs... he will be there.

Just as you will be for him.

Guess those stupid movies centered around weddings weren’t so bad after all

.taglist: @crapimahuman​

[hercleverboy]

jealous

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ spencer comes to terms with the fact that the reader will never love him the way he loves her.

category ↠ angst

warnings/includes ↠ heartbreak, unrequited love.

word count ↠ 2.6k

“But I always thought you’d come back, tell me that all you found was heartbreak and misery.” — Jealous by Labrinth

‘I'm jealous of the rain

That falls upon your skin

It's closer than my hands have been

I'm jealous of the rain’

Spencer loved the rain. 

Well, not exactly. He loved to watch how it fell from the grey, angry clouds above as he sat warm and cosy in his apartment. He loved the rain if he was safe inside. He wouldn’tlike to get caught in a downpour, however. 

He watched contently as the droplets fell against the window, staining the glass and jarring his view of the street below. It made him feel peaceful, and he would argue that there was no better sound to read to than that of the rain. 

His focus dropped from the copy of ‘War and Peace’ in his hands, his mind focused on something else entirely. 

Not so much something but someone. 

Y/N had been Spencer’s closest friend for years at that point, having met him a few months after he’d started working at the BAU. 

They spent pretty much any moment they could together. Spencer took her to museum exhibits and art galleries and she would listen intently as he rambled. He’d always stop mid-sentence and blush, apologising for getting ahead of himself but she’d simply smile and shake her head. 

“You don’t ever have to apologise for sharing your wonderful knowledge with me, Spence. You know I could listen to you all day,” She’d say, “Keep going, please?”

He never could say no to her. 

If there was anyone in the world he felt most comfortable with, it was her. She never ridiculed him or babied him like the team had a habit of doing. If there was a case that ended poorly she never pushed for him to confide in her, giving him the time and space to disclose his feelings when he was ready (something he was incredibly grateful for.)

For a long while, things were strictly platonic for Spencer. One day she was his best friend, the person he felt the most himself around, and the next day it was something more. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment in which his feelings for her changed, or what had caused them too. Since when had her welcoming hugs begun feel so warm? At what point had her giggle caused the butterflies in his stomach that he’d only ever read of in great poetry or love stories?

He tried to push the feelings away, he really did, but ultimately his attempts to avoid his newfound affection for her were fruitless. Nothing could be done, he finally had to face the facts. He was in love with her. In love with every adorable quirk, every smile, and every part of her; even the parts she deemed unworthy and ugly, he loved them all the same. 

He wanted her to be his so badly. 

There was only one slight problem. 

Y/N wasn’t his to have. She had a boyfriend, a long term one at that. She was in a committed relationship with a man that wasn’t Spencer and he’d still allowed himself to fall in love with her. 

Nice one, Spencer. 

*

Spencer looked up at the clouds above him, frowning at the sight of the different shades of grey they were. He looked over at Y/N who walked alongside him. He’d gotten them tickets to a Russian Film festival, and he’d insisted she went with him so he could do a simultaneous whisper translation while they watched. 

“It looks like it’s going to rain.” He broke the comfortable silence between them, his voice wavering slightly. 

She looked up, a grin coming to her lips at the sight. “I hope it does, you know I like the rain.” 

He chuckled lightly at that. “I do too! But who wants to be caught in it and end up soaking wet?” 

She gasped in mock hurt. “I’m sorry Mr. 187, maybe I want to get caught in the rain, like a scene in some cheesy rom-com.”

He shook his head at her, his gaze dropping back down to look at the pavement beneath them.

Then the downpour started, just as Spencer had predicted. The rain was heavy and cold, essentially soaking them in seconds. 

Spencer ducked under nearby shelter, pulling his coat tighter around him. He looked back over at Y/N, surprised to find her stood out in the rain, her arms outstretched and a grin on her lips. 

“Y/N! What are you doing? You’re gonna get cold!” He shouted out, trying to make himself heard over the loud pelts of rain. 

“I’ll be fine!” She called back. 

“You know there’s a widespread myth that you lose the most body heat through your head. Studies have actually concluded that you only lose about ten percent of heat through your head.” Spencer shouted, and she turned to him with a smile, one that dismissed his facts. “You’re not even wearing a jacket, Y/N!”

“You know as well as I do, Doctor, that there’s no direct correlation between the rain and getting sick, so don’t even try that with me.” 

“You’re right, but there’s a very real chance of hypothermia. Actually, last year it was reported that approximately 700 people in the US died of hypothermia-”

“Spence!” She grinned, politely interrupting his statistics. “Come join me! Live a little!” 

He shook his head adamantly. “I’m okay, thank you. But you carry on.” 

He watched on in awe at the sight before him. He pushed all the statistics on the probability of her getting sick to the back of his head, focused on how she looked it that moment. Her body was lit only by pale moonlight and dim streetlamps, but Spencer thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

He should’ve told her, then. Should’ve told her how much he loved her, how he could give her everything she craved, more than her boyfriend ever could. He wondered how he would put into words that he’d find a way to give her the world if she asked for it. 

But he said nothing. 

He could envision himself saying it.

He allowed himself to dream of speaking the words, how her face would light up and he’d finally get to hold her the way he yearned to. He thought of how proud Garcia would be of him since she’d practically been begging him to make a move ever since she learned of the situation. (” It’s not that simple, Garcia. She has a boyfriend!” “That’s a minor detail, Reid!”)

He could picture himself saying the words. He could see how she’d look over at him with those adorably furrowed brows and stunning eyes. The rain would pour over them like in the scene from Pride and Prejudice, as he finally dared to say the words he’d held onto for so very long. 

‘I love you, most ardently.’

His very own Elizabeth Bennet.

But he said nothing.

Instead, when she came back over to him, her figure shivering as the cold finally set in, he simply offered her a cheeky grin. A simple look that said, ‘I told you so’. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and placed it over her shoulders, waving off her protests that he was going to get cold now.

As if that mattered, as long as she was warm.

*

Any attempt to sleep seemed useless. No matter how many poems he read to himself in his mind, sleep simply wasn’t coming. With a frustrated huff he moved to lie on his back, staring up at the ceiling defeatedly. Although he wished it wouldn’t, his mind travelled to Y/N. His heart lurched and just the thought of her, accompanied by the newest of the plethora of emotions he was feeling- jealousy. He wondered if her boyfriend knew just how lucky he was to be lying next to her, to have the privilege of holding her close, of telling her he loved her. 

Spencer wasn’t a possessive man, he knew very well that Y/N didn’t belong to him, nor did she belong to anyone. She wasn’t an object to be had, and Spencer would never treat her as such. However, he found himself wishing to a being he wasn’t sure he believed in that she would be his. Perhaps it was selfish and wrong, to hope that she’d turn up heartbroken on his doorstep so that he could pick up the pieces of her broken by another man. It was definitely selfish to wish her so much heartache so that he could ultimately get what he wanted.  

He recognised that she didn’t owe him anything. She didn’t owe him her love in return for his. But that almost made it worse; that this situation was nobody’s fault. It wasn’t Y/N’s fault for not returning his affections, nor was it her boyfriends’. It wasn’t Spencer’s fault either, he knew that deep down. He knew that no matter how many times he wished he’d told her sooner, before another man had swept her away, it wouldn’t have changed her feelings for him. 

It almost brought him to tears. It’d be easier, he thought, easier if she did something that made me hate her. But he didn’t hate her, he didn’t think he ever could. He loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone or anything and there no words to describe the burning pain in his chest as the realisation that he was all alone dawned on him. 

Y/N didn’t love him. At least, not in the way he wanted her too. 

He could almost kid himself into thinking that she was going to knock on his door, tell him she’d left her boyfriend and confess her love for him. It was silly, and really doing him more damage than good to indulge in this self-serving fantasy he’d created, but it was the only thing that gave him enough peace to finally fall into slumber. 

*

He nearly said it one day.

It was a Friday evening, and they were sat together at his apartment, having just finished watching a bunch of films. Y/N was mid-tangent about an interesting fan theory she’d read up on, while Spencer sat next to her trying to clear his thoughts. 

His mind was screaming at him, this is it, it said, this is your chance. He knew it was selfish, quite possibly the most selfish thing he’d ever do. Especially when she was with someone else, the man she was building a life with- and Spencer was going to tear it all down with three simple words. 

The most selfish thing he’d ever do. 

And some part of him, some silly, hopelessly romantic part of him told him she wasn’t going to reject him. No, instead, she would admit she loved him too- and everything would be okay. Right? 

“Y/N I-“ He interrupted her, and she looked over surprised as she stopped talking. She took in his tone of voice; how pained it sounded. She watched at how he cringed for interrupting her, his trembling hands coming to clutch fistfuls of his beige coloured cardigan in a nervous attempt to calm himself.

He evidently had something he needed to get off his chest.

“Yeah, Spence?” She prodded when he didn’t speak.

“I- I have to tell you something, something I should’ve told you a long time ago.” He rushed out, his voice shaking. He knew he’d have to force himself to say the words. He told himself to stop thinking so hard and just say them, because he knew all too well that he wouldn’t get the opportunity again. 

“Okay. It’s okay, take your time. It’s just me.”

“I-I” He stuttered, trying to force the three simple words to leave his lips but he couldn’t seem to do it. He desperately wanted to, and it ached because he could feel them on the tip of his tongue.

Then his eyes met hers, and he stopped. His brain seemed to grant him a moment of clarity among the chaos and overwhelming thoughts. He tried to profile her, to use what he knew about human behaviour and how he’d read once that the eyes were the windows to the soul. He recalled how happy she always was when she spoke of her boyfriend, and Spencer couldn’t deny that from what he’d heard, he treated her well. Like she deserved. It shattered his heart all over again, but how could he sit there and tear away the happiness of the woman he loved? He knew what him confessing would do to her. She’d go into overdrive trying to compensate for not feeling the same, overexert herself trying to be the greatest friend she could be — and all the while she’d smile, as though the knowledge that she’d (unintentionally) hurt her best friend wasn’t killing her inside. 

He couldn’t do that to her. 

Not as he stared at her now, her worried eyes on him as she tried to figure out how to help him. 

He couldn’t hurt her like that. 

Spencer would hurt himself a hundred times over if it meant she was unharmed. He supposed that was what the meaning of love really was. Sacrificing yourself for the one you love. 

He gave a sad smile and shook his head. “Um, you know what? It’s nothing.”

Her eyebrows knitted together as she scoffed. “Seriously? You’re gonna leave me hanging like that?” Her tone was amused although she feigned disappointment. 

“Guess so.” He forced a chuckle, and Y/N opened her mouth to speak before the sound of her phone ringing cut through the air. She looked over at it, a small smile reaching her features at the sight of the name that flashed across the screen. 

“Is that your boyfriend calling?” Spencer asked quietly. 

She nodded. “I’ll tell him to call back later.” She moved her hand to click decline but Spencer’s voice stopped her. 

“No. It’s okay. You should answer it now, it might be important.”

She seemed hesitant but nodded nonetheless, moving a few paces away from him before answering and talking softly into the phone. A few minutes later she hung up. 

“Everything okay?” Spencer questioned. 

She hummed. “Of course. He just wanted to know if I wanted to grab dinner with him, but I told him I’ve got plans with you-”

“No- no- you should go. With him.” Spencer breathed out.

“Are you sure? I thought we were gonna order in from that Chinese place you love?”

He gave her a small shrug. “We can take a rain check. You should go, I-I wouldn’t want you to be late for dinner.”

She frowned over at him, pocketing her phone as she moved closer to him. She clasped his shoulders in her hands and pulled her to him in a hug. He tensed at the initial contact, but eventually he relaxed into her hold and wrapped his arms around her. 

“You know you can tell me anything?” She promised, her voice soft, warm. 

“I know.” His voice broke, and his throat burned with the sob he was holding back.

She pulled back, concern on her features as she hesitantly let go of him. She promised she would give him a call later that evening before leaving the apartment.

Spencer stood for a moment; eyes fixated on the door as it closed behind her. 

He wondered how he was ever going to move on from her, from the dreams of a future that was so close but just barely out of reach.

Ultimately, he wasn’t jealous of the man who got to have her. 

He was jealous of the fact that she was happy because he could only wish that he was happy too.

‘It's hard for me to say, I'm jealous of the way

You're happy without me’

permanant taglist; @beyonces-breastmilk @pinkdiamond1016 @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @thelovelyrose @averyhotchner @cynbx @calm-and-doctor @reidyoulikeabook @ssa-m-187

[besanii]

For SM-maybe after ripping our hearts out, we get a cute shirt fluffy one? I’m thinking after their wedding, there’s a scene like the end of Pride and Prejudice 2005? “What terms of endearment am I allowed, then?” LWJ to WWX. Just a thought. Delighted with everything you write.

Shattered Mirrors 72

[ set after #62 ]

Night has fallen by the time Lan Wangji is able to remove himself from the celebrations and return to his rooms, leaving the remaining guests in his cousin’s capable hands. Lan Guoyan even manages to dissuade some of the rowdier attendees from trying to storm the bedchamber—protectiveness flares in his chest at the thought of them in such a private space, not to mention seeing Wei Wuxian in his wedding finery—something for which Lan Wangji is immensely grateful. He resolves to thank him properly later, once everything has settled, but for now he hastens his stride through the winding pathways to his bedchamber.

He is relieved to find the candles within still lit when he arrives, half-fearing that the uncharacteristic lateness of his arrival would mean Wei Wuxian had already retired to bed.

It is your wedding night, he reminds himself, heat rising to his ears. Of course he would wait.

From inside, he hears the sound of laughter and recognises Wei Wuxian; the other voice he presumes to be Mo Xuanyu, who scarcely leaves Wei Wuxian’s side except to run errands. The third voice, however, is somewhat unexpected. He waves down the servants at the door before they can announce his arrival, and crosses the threshold when they open the doors, surprising the occupants inside.

“Wangye!”

Lan Jingyi scrambles to his feet, pulling Mo Xuanyu along with him, both of them seated on the floor at Wei Wuxian’s feet. Wei Wuxian himself is sitting at the edge of the bed in his wedding finery, red veil still obscuring his features from view, his hands folded neatly on his lap as the two boys bow low.

“Jingyi, Mo Xuanyu.” They flinch and keep their heads bowed. “The wedding chamber is off-limits at this hour.”

“Wangye,” they chorus, wearing matching expressions of guilt. “Forgive our intrusion. We will leave at once.”

“Wangye, don’t tease,” Wei Wuxian chides, lifting a corner of the veil to peek out at them with a smile. “They were keeping me company while you were out entertaining your guests.”

“Our guests,” Lan Wangji corrects him. He shoots the boys another look. “You are all dismissed. Take the rest of the night off.”

“Yes, Wangye.” Lan Jingyi grabs Mo Xuanyu by the arm and all but drags him to the door. He smiles at them, all cheek and humour, as they pull them closed. “Best wishes to Wangye and Wangfei for a happy, prosperous union.”

Embarrassment burns at Lan Wangji’s neck and ears and he is almost tempted to march out after them to dole out punishment for their impertinence. It seems he has been too indulgent with Lan Jingyi lately for him to speak so out of place. He will need to correct that first thing tomorrow—

“Your concubine greets Hanguang-wangye.”

He turns at the sound of rustling to find Wei Wuxian has slipped from the bed, sinking to his knees with his head bowed, the perfect picture of a docile, obedient wife greeting her new husband. The thought stirs something deep in his chest, something heated and possessive; he takes a step forward, careful and measured, as if treading too quickly would scare Wei Wuxian away. He reaches for him, sliding his hands under his elbows to help him to his feet, draws him close until the veil brushes against his chin and he can feel the Wei Wuxian tremble in his arms.

“Wei Ying,” he murmurs. A soft, shaky sigh stirs the edges of the veil. “You do not need to bow to me.”

Hands turn over to grasp his forearms in return, the wide sleeves of the wedding robes falling back to reveal pale, slender wrists. The golden bangles, from the Empress herself as a wedding gift, almost dwarf them in their size.

“Wangye is too kind,” Wei Wuxian murmurs. “Your concubine is only observing the proper customs expected of a spouse of the Imperial Family.”

Lan Wangji sighs. “Wei Ying, do not tease.”

The trembling turns into shaking as Wei Wuxian breaks out into soft laughter. It breaks the tension that has settled over the room since Lan Wangji entered; the breath rushes from his lungs and he, too, chuckles. He runs his hands up along Wei Wuxian’s upper arms, admiring the silky smoothness of the fabric, the way it drapes just so—even through the many layers of fabric, he can feel the curve of his shoulders, the jut of his collarbone, the rush of his pulse; Wei Wuxian’s breath hitches when his fingers brush against the sensitive skin of his neck and he draws back a fraction, uncertain.

“Is something wrong?” A shake of the head. “Then…will you allow me to lift your veil?”

“Yes.”

His breath had caught in his throat when he’d first laid eyes on Wei Wuxian this morning at Jing Manor; even with the long silk veil completely covering his head and face from view, there is no masking the slope of his shoulders, the grace of his movements, the way the layers and layers of red silk fall and drape over his frame. His skin is paler now than it had been in his youth, his body less toned and muscular, less sharp angles and more gentle curves, but the shape of his mouth, the way his grey eyes dance with starlight and mischief as the veil slips from his shoulders with a sigh—all of that is uniquely Wei Ying.

In the intervening years since they had last seen each other, he had often pictured in his dreams how Wei Wuxian would look if they had been able to marry. He would wear his hair in the intricate style of an Imperial spouse, with braids and gold pins holding it all together; his robes would be a darker red, almost crimson, the hems embroidered with the flowing clouds of the Gusu Lan Imperial Family in golden thread.

He would be so beautiful, Lan Wangji would think upon waking, when the yearning would tear at his chest until he choked with it.

He is breathtaking.

“Wangye? Hanguang-wangye? Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian lowers his eyes, obedient and demure, but his voice anything but as he murmurs: “Fujun?”

A pleased rumble sounds from his throat before Lan Wangji can stop it; Wei Wuxian laughs in delight as Lan Wangji flushes, mortified. Cool hands reach up to cup his face, tracing the line of his jaw and coming to rest against the burning skin on the back of his neck.

“Fujun,” Wei Wuxian repeats, rolling the new title on his tongue with relish. “Allow your concubine to serve you tonight.”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji’s voice is pained. “You do not need to address yourself thus.”

“Oh?” The hands at his neck trail down to his chest. “Then how shall we address each other, Fujun? If I address my husband by name in public, they will think our manners lacking.”

Lan Wangji takes both hands in his and gives them a gentle squeeze.

“Wangye, in public,” he allows. He runs his thumbs along the back of his hands as he thinks. “My name, at home.”

“And Fujun?” Wei Wuxian asks, teasing. Lan Wangji growls.

“Only in private,” he says roughly; one hand shifts so it covers both of Wei Wuxian’s while the other wraps around his waist to draw him close. Wei Wuxian laughs again, breathless and giddy.

“Then you must do the same for me,” he counters, his eyes dark and face flushed. His tongue comes out to wet his lips, and Lan Wangji suddenly cannot look away. “Although I cannot promise to always address you correctly in private.”

“You may address me however you wish, in private,” Lan Wangji tells him, lowering his head to brush their noses together. A thrill runs through him when Wei Wuxian does not pull away.

“Oh?” The word dances over his lips. “So you would not mind if I call you Lan-er-gege, as before?” Lan Wangji shakes his head with a smile. “How about…Er-lang?”

Lan Wangji closes his eyes, his grip tightening around Wei Wuxian’s waist as he tries to calm his pounding heart. When he opens them again, Wei Wuxian’s eyes are half-lidded and dark. His throat suddenly feels as dry as sand. He clears his throat.

“That is allowed,” he says, voice hoarse. He brushes their lips together, feather-light. “You may call me however you wish…A-Ying.”

He closes the scant distance between them and brings their lips together.

--

Notes:

fujun (夫君) - husband, more formal and old-fashioned (male version of furen 夫人)

er-lang (二郎) - previously used in Part #55, an affectionate address similar to er-gege, most often used between married couples

* WWX also refers to himself here as qieshen (妾身), which is an old-fashioned, humble form of address used by wives when speaking to their husbands; it translates to “this concubine”, but he is definitely the “wife” (main/legal spouse)

In general, married couples back then (especially those where the husband has a title) do not refer to each other by name in public (or even sometimes at home). They would refer to the other by their title or honorific when with other people (e.g. WWX would refer to LWJ as wangye when talking to others) or use a humble form of their relationship “title”, for lack of a better word (e.g. a husband would refer to their wife as neijian (内贱) - “humble wife”, nei literally meaning ‘interior, internal’ and thus referring to the wife as the one inside their home; jian meaning humble or lowly).

--

Master Post here

--

buy me a ko-fi

[katsukari]

can I get d j l m n for tamaki, kirishima, and shoto?

Hi there! Of course you can! Thanks for being patient with me as I worked on these! I already did J and N for Kirishima and Shouto, so those are in a recent post but I’ll work on linking those to this one too! Here we go!

Tamaki, Kirishima, and Shouto Fluff Alphabet: D, J, L, M, and N

Amajiki Tamaki

Dreams-How do they picture their future with their s/o?

I think he pictures a future where the two of you are happy, and I think he doesn’t really know what that entirely looks like. (I know with my experience with anxiety it can make these kinds of questions really hard.) 

So I think he relies really heavily on what you want to give the future shape, so long as it makes the two of you happy. I think while it would give him a great deal of anxiety he wouldn’t mind having or adopting kids if you mentioned it, but it would take a lot of conversation to get there. 

He wants to continue living life with you in it, and in his mind when he can sit and really think about it, he knows he wants to be with you, live with you, get married if you want. He just might have a hard time getting to those thoughts.

Jealousy- Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

I can see him getting jealous kind of easily, just because of his insecurities, and it has nothing to do with whether or not he trusts you. It’s not a you problem, it's a him problem in his mind.

So I think he internalizes, and kind of probably has a bit of a thought spiral, and on the surface he walks away alone and goes to be by himself. He probably struggles to talk about it when you come to him so it just takes some time, some assurance, and some of your presence to make him feel better. And when you get home, some kisses wouldn’t hurt. 

Love Confession- How would they confess to their s/o? 

After a lot of practicing in the mirror, and to Mirio. Kinda like that scene in Pride and Prejudice (2005) where Bingley is practicing his proposal with Darcy.

I think he’s nervous as all get out, and the way I can see it happening is they invite you to hang out with the gang, and then abandon you and Tamaki so he can walk you home alone.

He’ll chat with you until he gets too nervous. When you get to your apartment and turn to say goodbye he realizes this is his chance. So he has this moment of he doesn’t know what and he just blurts it out. Not exactly what he had practiced but you got the point, because the next thing he knew you were asking him on a date. 

Marriage- Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

I think he does want to get married, he’s a romantic guy at heart, a big old sap. He’s just never really seen it as an option for himself before getting into your relationship, because, well he had never expected to find himself in a relationship. He had wanted one for sure, but his anxiety wasn’t kind to him.

He would probably make himself sick trying to work up the courage for some grand public proposal, thinking that’s what you want, what you deserve. Romantic, like I said. Mirio probably talks to him though and helps him realize it’s more important that the proposal is personal and fits the energy of your relationship, how the two of you are together. That he doesn’t need to over do it. 

So, he goes and gets a ring, and he waits. Then his chance came, though he supposed he could ask any time, but he still wanted to make it special. The two of you planned to have a dinner date one night at home, something that you did every so often. 

You always tried to make each one special, so it seemed like a good time, he would make your favorite food, get flowers and work up his courage. 

He was nervous, but something in the way you smiled gave him peace. So, his words were simple but sweet, and the rest was history. 

The marriage is full of quiet nights reading together, cuddled together on the couch, or dancing around the living room enjoying the closeness. 

There is laughter, and days when you get on each other's nerves, but you never go to bed angry. He makes sure to talk to you, even when he struggles, and he appreciates your patience and the two of you always make it work.

He’s busy with work, but that’s to be expected. But he always makes time for you and if you choose to have one, your eventual family. He makes it a priority. 

Nicknames- What do they call their s/o?

Love, a simple nickname but one he feels is accurate. 

Dear, I feel like this one comes later in the relationship and is mostly used in private. 

He will use babe, but not all the time. It will either be in casual conversation or in very intimate moments, so it's a very complex nickname. One that invokes many emotions to say the least.

Kirishima Eijirou

Dreams-How do they picture their future with their s/o?

I think he sees you two having the world. If that makes sense? Just doesn’t necessarily mean in material possession but just in terms of being happy, having joy. Having the freedom to do what you want.

He wants to have everything that will make the both of you happy, so he for him probably sees a growing family. Be it the two of you and a dog or cat or some other animals, or lots of children. And it doesn’t have to be soon. 

To be successful in your careers, whatever yours may be, and to be healthy. 

I can see him wanting to travel, so I can see him picturing that for the two of you as well. 

Jealousy- Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

In another post. 

Love Confession- How would they confess to their s/o? 

I feel like he would flirt for a while before confessing to be honest. I think he would have fun with the feelings and that he would also have some nerves so that may play into it too. He may want to test the waters before going all in. 

When you start to show interest and seem like you like him too, he decides it’s time. Since his thing is being manly I think he probably decides the best way to go about it is just to be up front. He could go for a cheesy pick up line, but all of the ones he tries on the mirror suck. 

So, one day when he runs into you on patrol and you're on break he goes for it. Plain and simple “Hey, I really like you, would you like to go out some time?” and lo and behold it works. 

Marriage- Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

I think he likes the idea of getting married, but doesn’t see it as an end all be all of your relationship. If you aren’t one for marriage, I think he’s okay with that, but if you are he’s super into it. 

I can see him proposing at an amusement park or something like that. Just a day jammed full of laughter and holding your hand pulling you from ride to ride, stealing kisses and eating way too much fried food. He wants you to have the best day ever, to associate the day with happy memories. 

He waits until it’s night, and for the closing fireworks (I’m just gonna pretend it’s like a Disneyworld type place) and then he asks and it being a public place those who notice cheer when you say yes. This time he will throw in a cheesy line here and there, but he’s still sweet and sincere. 

Such a fun marriage. Lots of early mornings and if you are interested, workouts together. He has a busy schedule but he wants to spend as much time with you as possible. 

That means he’ll try and meet up with you for lunch and while you’re on break, and he may go out of his way to run into you while he’s on patrol every once and a while. 

There are frustrations and days when things aren’t always what you want, but you both do your best to make sure that the other knows that they are loved. He’s a very affectionate person, so he tries to make up for it that way. 

Nicknames- What do they call their s/o?

In another post.

Todoroki Shouto

Dreams-How do they picture their future with their s/o?

I think he doesn’t have a clear picture of what his future with his s/o is. I think he knows that he wants to be a hero, but aside from that I get the feeling that as long as he doesn’t turn out like his father and you’re in his future he doesn’t care about the specifics? (That could be a gross misreading of his character, but that’s what comes to mind when I think of him)

He wants you and that’s really it. If there's kids, great, he’ll I think have some complicated feelings leading up to them but he’ll love them and be a great dad. If it’s just you and him, wonderful, if you get a dog, fantastic. If there is travel that would be fun, if you stay in Japan and never leave he’s just fine with that. 

He’ll be happy so long as he has you. 

Jealousy- Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

In another post. 

Love Confession- How would they confess to their s/o? 

I don’t think he wants to go too far, ya know? I think he’s very sweet as a boyfriend (in his own Shouto way), but before the relationship starts I think since it’s founded on friendship he struggles knowing what to do. 

I think flirting isn’t really his thing, I mean it certainly can be, especially at certain moments later in the relationship. But I think when it comes to you he just wants to skip to the good part, so why bother with the flowery words all the time?

So I see it as very straightforward, though he has a minor crisis over whether or not he needs to make some sort of scene. 

You two meet for coffee every week, a sort of unofficial date, but he wanted to make things official. Like Kirishima, he’s very blunt, and I think if he had tried to be anything other than himself, or tried to make it too sweet you would have been unable to take it. He just straight up asks you if you want to go on a real date, and he has a day in mind, and something to do, he didn’t want to seem unprepared. 

He gets sweeter as the relationship goes on, I swear lol. 

Marriage- Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

I think for Shouto, marriage isn’t necessary. Like I said earlier, so long as you’re in his life, he doesn’t really care about the specifics. Marriage would be nice, and I think he wouldn’t mind, and the romantic side of him would enjoy it, but he’s by no means set on getting married. 

I think he’d propose while the two of you were doing something simple, a coffee date, a walk in the park, or while the two of you were cuddled together on the couch reading. He’d want the day to be special, but I think he’s more of a “You know when you know,” timing kind of guy. 

In this instance, it could be a day filled with all of the above, while you were out he thought maybe he would ask but he didn’t right until you were home, wrapped in his arms, the book the two of you were reading together in front of you. 

He reached into his pocket as you continued to read and pulled out the ring, holding it next to the book, not opening the box until he said your name.

Here is where his sweet words come out. 

The marriage is comfortable and exciting all in one. He feels like home, but never fails to bring new experiences with him through the door, or to take you to them. 

It’s much like dating Shouto, only now you had a ring and his name and all the legal jargon that went with it. Nights in reading, or nights out eating soba together, kisses and cuddles galore and coffee dates that you never failed to make time for. 

When things go wrong (and they do) the two of you learn to take your time and come back when you can speak clearly so that home remains a happy place.

Nicknames- What do they call their s/o?

In another post.

[hxlyhead-harpies]

The Last Dream of My Soul part 2. (R.L.)

This part is a bit short but I hope that’s okay with you all! Any feedback is appreciated and message me or comment if you want to be tagged! My requests are also open. Enjoy!

Pairing: Young!Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: The very bookish (Y/n) has spent most of her life alone, aside from her best friend Lily and her beloved books. But when the infamous Marauders get thrust into her life, how could she resist the beautiful and unattainable Remus?

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.8k

Part one

By your second week eating breakfast with the Marauders you were starting to feel like you really belonged with them. James was extremely funny, in your opinion the funniest of the group. He never failed to make you laugh when you sat near him in the common room and once he made you laugh so hard in the Great Hall that you had almost choked on your toast. Sirius was also funny but in a different way. He playfully flirted with anything that moved, something that would normally make you scoff, but with him it just made you laugh. You weren’t as close with Peter, though you helped him with his transfiguration homework and he occasionally shared his sweets with you. And then, of course, there was Remus. Remus was by far your favorite of the group, though it was for reasons you’d never dare disclose to anyone but Lily. He was sweet, sending you reassuring smiles when you’d muster up the bravery to tell a story to the group. He’d slip you chocolates when you were studying late at night and fostered the same love for muggle literature as you. Every little thing he did only added to your attraction to him. In your eyes, he was absolutely perfect

You looked forward to the evenings in the common room, sitting next to the crackling fire with the marauders and Lily. Laughing at James and Sirius’s jokes and stealing glances at Remus’s face, seemingly glowing the light of the fire. You finally felt as if you had found your place at Hogwarts.

“Hey (Y/n),” Remus said, startling you out of your thoughts. You turned to look at him.

“Yeah?” you replied. He shifted in his spot on the floor, next to the couch where Lily sat with James.

“I just finished Crime and Punishment,” he said. You turned in the large armchair where you sat to fully face him.

“Oh really? How did you like it?” you asked.

“I liked it, though I have to digress- you were right- it is a bit dense,” he answered. You smiled at his from your seat, quickly looking down at your hands.

“Well of course. I told you so,” you responded. You heard him laugh lightly from the floor.

“I was wondering though if I could borrow your book? The one you talked about at breakfast the other week,” he inquired.

“Oh of course!” you said. “I can go fetch it for you right now.” You gestured towards the stairs that led to the girl’s dormitory.

“Oh you don’t have to get it right now,” Remus said. You smiled and shook your head.

“It’s no trouble. I’ll be right back,” you replied, pushing yourself up from the armchair. He thanked you as you made your way towards the staircase, but you just smiled and waved him off.

When you got to your room you rifled through your bag, attempting to locate the book. You searched for a moment to no avail, before realizing that you had left it on your bedside table. After you retrieved it you turned to head back downstairs, only to almost run directly into Lily.

“Oh my goodness Lils! You scared me,” you said, clutching your chest.

“Oh I’m sorry,” she replied.

“What are you doing up here?” you inquired. Mere minutes ago she was downstairs in the middle of a conversation. You wondered what had brought her upstairs so early. She usually didn’t leave the common room for at least another hour.

“It was getting late and I’m tired,” she replied, shrugging. “Plus James and everyone else decided to go up to bed,” she continued. You felt yourself deflate.

“Oh,” you said. “I was supposed to bring this down to Remus. I guess I took too long,” you said, holding up the book. You felt embarrassed that you had gone all the way upstairs to retrieve him the book when he had just decided to go to be without waiting for you.

“Don’t be silly,” Lily said with a smirk. “He’s still waiting for you downstairs.”

“Oh,” you responded.

“Yes he’s waiting for you all alone in the empty common room,” Lily said in a teasing sing-song voice. You felt yourself blush.

“Lily, I’m going down there to lend him a book. What do you think is going to happen?” you said. Lily just laughed, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You shook your head and headed down towards the common room, now feeling slightly nervous. When you got to the bottom of the stairs you saw Remus’s head pop up. He had moved from his spot on the floor to the now vacant couch. He shot you a smile as you walked over to him.

“Here it is,” you said, handing the book to him. “Sorry I kept you down here waiting for me, I didn’t know everyone was planning on turning in so early.”

“Oh it’s no problem,” he replied, taking the book from you. He quickly flipped through the pages, feeling the worn parchment against his fingers.

“Wow, Lily wasn’t kidding. You really have marked this thing up,” he said, chuckling. You ducked your head in embarrassment.

“Yeah… Sorry about that,” you responded sheepishly. Remus looked up at you, his eyes sparkling in the dim light.

“Oh don’t worry about it. I can tell that you really love the book,” he said. You nodded silently, averting your eyes to your shoes. A silence fell between you as Remus turned the book over in his hands. You were debating whether to bid him goodnight and go upstairs or attempt to start a conversation with him. Luckily, he made the decision for you.

“At the risk of sounding like a complete idiot, what is this book about?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. You giggle softly before sitting down next to him on the sofa.

“Well,” you began. “It’s the story of the muggle French revolution. It follows a man who was kept as a political prisoner, his daughter, a French aristocrat, and a drunken lawyer. It’s full of intrigue and espionage, and while not a romance, it contains what I consider to be the most romantic scene ever written,” you said, catching yourself before you continued to ramble. You look up to meet Remus’s eyes to see that he’s smiling.

“That sounds incredibly interesting,” he said after a moment. You smiled and nodded.

“What qualifies it to be the most romantic scene ever written?” he asked in an almost teasing, yet earnest tone.

“I’m not sure exactly. Something about the words is just perfect. I guess it’s just the kind of thing I wish someone would say to me,” you answered shyly. You saw him nod in your peripheral vision.

“Are you a fan of romances then?” he inquired.

“Yes, I am. They might be my favorite type of book to read,” you answered abashedly. You had always loved the allure of romance novels; Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, and Jane Eyre had been your go-to reads throughout your adolescence. You longed for a romance of your own, and since that seemed unattainable, you lived vicariously through your books.

“I don’t think that’s anything to be ashamed of,” Remus said, “Though I can’t say they’re my favorite types of books.” You laughed.

“That doesn’t exactly surprise me, Remus. You are a boy after all,” you said jokingly, nudging his shoulder with your own.

“Hey! That’s an unfair stereotype. I’m sure plenty of boys enjoy romance novels. I am just not one of them,” he said with a smile, nudging you back.

“Why don’t you like them?” you asked. He shrugged, his joking demeanor morphing into a more uncomfortable one.

“I don’t know exactly… I just don’t picture myself wanting a real-life romance, so why would I want to read about a fictional one?” he elaborated. You felt your stomach drop.

“Oh,” you said, attempting to keep your voice even, “so you just don’t want to fall in love?”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s it. I don’t think the whole falling in love and marriage thing is for me,” he responded. You hoped that you appeared to have an unbothered demeanor because it felt as if your heart was breaking.

“That sounds a little sad, don’t you think?” you asked. Remus shook his head, still appearing a tad uncomfortable.

“Not to me. Besides, loneliness isn’t the worst type of pain that one can feel,” he replied. You frowned.

“I’m not sure about that. For me, the pain of loneliness seems unparalleled. I want nothing more than to fall in love,” You took a deep breathe, playing with the hem of your sweater. From the corner of your eye, you saw Remus shrug.

“I guess that’s where you and I differ,” he said after a beat. You nodded quietly. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, you stood up from your seat on the couch and dusted off your skirt.

“Well, I best be off to bed,” you said. Remus looked up at you quickly. He gave you a small smile before bidding you goodnight. You quickly turned around and rushed up the stairs.

By the time you got to your dorm, your body felt heavy with disappointment. You closed the door hurriedly behind you before flopping onto your bed. You let out a sad sigh, looking up at the ceiling, After a minute you felt the bed dip beside you and you look up to see Lily grinning down at you.

“So how’d it go?” the redhead asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Fine,” was your response. Lily groaned before laying down next to you in the bed.

“Come on (Y/n). Please just tell me what happened,” she begged.

“Nothing happened,” you said simply, “and it’s been made clear to me that nothing ever will happen.” Lily looked at you, clearly confused.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I have been informed that Remus Lupin is not one for romance. He doesn’t want it now, and he doesn’t want it ever,” you replied, wiping away the tears that were threatening to fall.

“Oh,” Lily said softly. “That was not how I expected that to go.” She turned her head to look up at the ceiling.

“It’s fine,” you said. “I’ve gone seven years without needing a boyfriend. I certainly don’t need one now,” you said defiantly, getting up to begin getting ready for bed. You saw Lily frown.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t want one. You’re allowed to be sad you know?” she says, propping herself up on her elbows.

“Lily, if I let myself be sad over every boyfriend that I never had then I would have been sad for the last seven years,” you replied. Lily began playing with the threads of the quilt that was splayed across your bed.

“I guess.” She got up quickly and went to join you by your dresser. “Well even if Remus Lupin is too daft to realize it, you’re quite a catch,” she said reassuringly. You giggled quietly.

“Thank you, Lils,” you responded.

“Don’t worry someday you will meet your Mr. Heathcliff,” she reassured you, patting you on the shoulder, before skipping off to her own bed. You run your brush through your hair, desperately hoping that she was right.

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

Taglist:

@goosegorl​ @serenefreakgeek​

[cakesunflower]

Just My Kind [Teacher!Calum AU] Part 5

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

           “Seriously, Ms. Kline—you two look so cute!”

           Odessa let out a light laugh despite the heat pooling in her cheeks as one of her students, Marci, who was dressed as Padmé Amidala, grinned before pulling away from where she stood between Odessa and Calum after they posed with her for a picture. It was Halloween, and almost every student and teacher was dressed up, and during gym or lunch or the few minutes between classes, people were posing for pictures with one another—and many, mostly the girls, had approached Odessa and Calum so they could take a picture with the school’s Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. They were almost as popular as the four gym teachers who dressed up as KISS.

           She and Calum had decided on recreating costumes from the scene of when Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth dance at Mr. Bingley’s ball, Odessa’s white dress and dark hair done in an updo remarkably resembling Kiera Knightley’s costume from the film. Odessa had felt a bit strange, walking into the school in a long white dress that was so soft against her skin, hair done up in braids and curls, but when she noted the costumes of her fellow teachers and students—seriously, the gym teachers had gone out with their outfits and makeup—Odessa had felt a bit more relieved.

           Especially when she saw Calum.

           Just like her, his costume starkly resembled Mr. Darcy’s suit from the very scene they were dressed up as. The dark coat with the white ruffled shirt underneath was a simple outfit, yet there was nothing simple about Calum. Although his blonde hair didn’t match Mr. Darcy’s traditionally dark locks—Calum had lamented about the lack of his natural hair color—he still looked classy and dangerously prince-like—and Odessa knew she wasn’t the only one who thought so. She was pretty sure she’d seen some of the young girls quite literally swoon at the sight of him, which was more amusing than disturbing.

           Just a few hours after school had let out, Odessa arrived to Luke and Sierra’s place, noting the cars that were already in the driveway and parked along the sidewalk. As she unbuckled her seatbelt, Calum grinned from the driver’s seat. “Ready to head in, Ms. Bennet?”

           Odessa scoffed, an amused smile upturning her lips. Calum had taken to calling her that throughout the school day, referring to himself as Mr. Darcy. Apparently he took Halloween pretty seriously, into it as much as the students were, and it was refreshing to be around his excitement. As the two of them approached the door, Odessa mused, “So what’s the prize for the costume contest?”

           Yes, Luke and Sierra were holding a costume contest, which Odessa had found out a few days ago when Luke had reminded her to use that as motivation to get a good costume. When Odessa had asked him what the prize was, he had promptly told her it was a secret—but Odessa knew him well enough to know that was his way of stalling because at the time, he hadn’t thought of a prize yet.

           “Pretty sure it’s one of those Visa gift cards,” Calum snorted before shrugging. “But it’s for a couple of hundred bucks and I wouldn’t say no to that,” he added with a boyish grin and quick raise of his eyebrows, and Odessa chuckled in agreement, her breath fogging in front of her in the cold night air.

           The house, as expected, was filled with people dressed up obscurely, the spirit of Halloween alive as some remix of the Monster Mash played. Odessa was fairly certain it was the same one Principal Howell played that morning prior to the first bell ringing. People all around her were dressed as fictional characters, as their own versions of different occupations, video game characters, and she was pretty sure she’d caught a glimpse of two people dressed in the classic salt and pepper costume. Halloween related decorations were up as well, decals of spiders and bats on the wall, Jack-O-Lanterns placed around the house, and even a damn smoke machine in certain places that had people’s feet disappearing below the ankles.

           They decided to find their friends first, all of them gathered in the back den around a beer pong table, and Odessa suppressed a laugh at the sudden sensation of feeling as though she was back in college. Not that she’d ever played much beer pong; it wasn’t her sort of thing.

           Sierra was the first one to catch sight of them approaching, eyes lighting up with a wide grin as she gasped, her voice traveling over the hum of the music and everyone else as she exclaimed, “Oh, my God—your costumes look even better than I thought!”

           Her words caught everyone’s attention before they all looked over to Odessa and Calum approaching them, earning enthusiastic greetings as Michael raised an eyebrow at them. “Who’re you two supposed to be?”

           Odessa could ask him the same thing, but she vaguely remembered Calum telling her that he and Crystal were dressing up as some anime characters. “We’re Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth from Pride and Prejudice, you uncultured shit,” Calum responded with a scoff, bumping his fist with Ashton���s as he came to stand next to him. “Our students loved it,” he added, a proud grin on his face as his gaze met Odessa’s. She couldn’t fight back the smile that quirked her lips in response.

           “Yeah, I’ll bet,” Paige said with a smile that, just by giving her one glance, Odessa knew was strained.

           Paige’s eyes met Odessa’s then, and she instantly recognized the irritation that darkened her hazel eyes. Odessa bit the inside of her cheek, taking a breath and instinctively breaking her gaze with Paige’s, not wanting to actively be on the receiving end of her silent scowl. No doubt Calum essentially dressing up in a couple’s costume with anyone but her was grating at Paige’s nerves, and Odessa had a strong feeling if she wasn’t on Paige’s shit list before, she definitely earned a spot now. The glare Paige had practiced into a look of neutrality—one that Odessa was too familiar with—rested on her face, razor-like eyes settled on Odessa.

           Adamant on keeping her gaze averted from Paige’s, Odessa looked at Luke and offered a smile. “Weren’t you a vampire when we were seniors?”

           Luke scoffed, clearly unperturbed by his repeated costume. “Yeah—but now I’ve got someone to complete the look,” he reasoned with a dimpled grin, dropping his arm around Sierra’s shoulders. Odessa smiled at the sight, taking in her matching vampire costume and makeup, noting the clever detail of fake blood trailing down the corners of Luke’s lips to match the painted on red bite marks on the side of Sierra’s neck.

           Ashton rolled his eyes, giving the couple a pointed look as he said, “If you two win the costume contest, then this shit is rigged.”

           As Sierra told Ashton that wouldn’t happen, KayKay, who was appropriately dressed as Winona Ryder from Beetlejuice, looked over at Odessa and Calum, a smile on her face as she raised her eyebrows and asked, “So your students understood your costumes’ reference?”

           Odessa huffed out a laugh. “I would’ve cried if they didn’t.” Though, it wouldn’t be too surprising, she figured. Not every, if any, high school student knew the beauty of Jane Austen.

           Next to her Calum chuckled before, leaning closer, he asked, “I’m gonna grab a beer—you want anything?”

           She wasn’t in the mood to do any heavy drinking tonight, so she opted for one as well. “I’ll have the same, thanks.”

           He acknowledged her request with a boyish wink, one that foolishly warmed Odessa’s cheeks, before he turned to head towards the kitchen. Odessa tuned back into whatever conversations her friends were having upon his leave, only to have Crystal lean close and smile, “You two would honestly be so cute.”

           She said it quietly, only loud enough for Odessa to hear, and although Crystal’s words had Odessa’s heart stopping for a moment, she also pressed her teeth together when oblivious to Crystal, Paige shot the blonde woman a glare behind her head. Clearly she heard what Crystal said, the idea of Calum with Odessa not one she was in support of as her jaw tightened before her sharp eyes met Odessa’s blue. Her stare was firm, intense, as if she was silently challenging Odessa to agree with Crystal’s statement.

           Odessa’s stomach twisted. The subtle giddiness she’d felt over Crystal’s comment was overshadowed by the anxious guilt—guilt for what? She had no reason to feel guilty!—that stirred in the pit of Odessa’s stomach under Paige’s irritated glare. She didn’t even look hurt at the thought of overhearing someone else would ‘look cute’ with the guy she supposedly had a claim over—just downright annoyed.

           In the back of Odessa’s mind, she wondered if Paige genuinely liked Calum, or just liked the idea of him.

           “No, no, we’re just friends,” Odessa told Crystal, a light yet nervous laugh accompanying her words. She wasn’t sure if she was defending, protesting, denying so she could ease her heart rate or subsequently let Paige know she wasn’t trying to step on her toes. Or feelings. Whichever. Even if the thought of her and Calum made her heart flutter. “There’s nothing like that going on.”

           Crystal shrugged, still unaware of Paige listening in, as mirth danced in her blue eyes. “Maybe there should be,” she hummed.

           One look at Paige and Odessa knew she vehemently disagreed.

           Before Odessa could swallow the small lump that had formed in her throat and reply to Crystal, Calum reappeared next to her, handing her a bottle of Stella Artois with a smile. He held his own out, waiting for her to clink her bottle with his as he greeted, “Miss Bennet.”

           She looked at him, felt some of the tension ease from her muscles as he pulled out a smile from her so effortlessly. Calum was smiling, as always, dark eyes glimmering against the dimmed lighting of Luke’s house. With an amused shake of her head, Odessa asked not for the first time, “You take this seriously, don’t you?”

           Calum grinned, bringing the bottle up to his lips as he offered a shrug. “Just a little.”

           Conversations continued along with the music that was playing, and as Odessa watched Calum engage in a round of beer pong against KayKay, Luke leaned against the wall next to Odessa and asked, “So are you chaperoning that field trip Cal was telling me about? To Big Bear?”

           “Oh, yeah,” Odessa answered with a hum as she remembered. It was a weekend trip for the juniors and seniors between Thanksgiving weekend and Christmas break, and Odessa had signed up to be a chaperone, and given that Big Bear was going to have snow around this time of year, she needed to do some winter packing. “I’m excited.”

           Luke raised an eyebrow at her, although her gaze remained on the beer pong game going on in front of them. “Do you even know how to ski?”

           Rolling her eyes, she told her friend, “I don’t have to ski to enjoy the resort, Luke.”

           Paige shook her head, sipping her drink before asking, “If you don’t even know how to ski, why bother going?”

           She sounded unimpressed, patronizing, and Odessa had a feeling she was the only one who picked up on it—and maybe Luke, who knew Paige almost as well as she did. Inhaling a silent, calming breath, Odessa kept her expression relaxed and offered a shrug. “I want to see snow.” God, there was no reason for her to even have to explain herself.

           Paige rolled her eyes, hiding her sneer behind the rim of her cup as she took another sip, and Odessa clenched her jaw as she looked away from her. Her annoyance with Paige was mixing in with the ever present nerves that made themselves known when she was in her presence, and Odessa did her best to just focus on the beer pong game going on.

           It was a close game, both KayKay and Calum good at the act of tossing ping pong balls into cups, letting out a chuckle as KayKay tossed the ball in the last cup standing and missing. Her groan was drowned out by everyone’s exclaims, and as Calum picked up the ball, ready to toss it into the single cup left for him as well, his brown eyes met Odessa’s blue. Then, with a boyish wink, he said, “This one’s for you, Miss Bennet.”

           Odessa’s eyebrows shot up, unsure if she wanted to laugh or have the ground open up beneath her. He definitely wasn’t making things easier for her against Paige—not that he was under any obligation to.

           He certainly wasn’t making it any easier to completely discard Paige’s glares and revel in the warmth he spread throughout her own cheeks.

           Calum tossed the little white ball, and everyone let out a cheering exclaims as it landed in the cup with a muted plop! that had him smirking triumphantly. Odessa let out a laugh as Calum came to stand next to her, arm dropping around her shoulders as he smirked, “Think you’re my good luck charm, Essa.” He frowned at himself momentarily before shooting her a sheepish smile. “In a way that’s not objectifying at all, I mean.”

           She snorted with a shake of her head, though Odessa definitely found it endearing that Calum would think she’d ever find anything he said as objectifying. Still, as amused as she was by him, she couldn’t entirely ignore the warmth in her cheeks at their sudden proximity—or his sentiment of her being his good luck charm. They stood closely together, his heat seeping into her skin through the thin material of the dress she wore, and Odessa hoped her makeup and the dim lighting of the den would mask the pink blush she could feel spreading through her face. The knowing smirk Crystal shot her way didn’t help.

           “I don’t really have any winter clothes,” Odessa chuckled as she watched Sierra make herself a drink, leaning against the counter. “I think I need to buy at least one coat for the cold.”

           It was some time after watching Calum and KayKay’s beer pong game, and Odessa had ended up in the kitchen with Sierra, the party continuing around them. There was a girl in an Elsa costume making out with a guy dressed up as a firefighter next to the fridge. Meanwhile, Odessa and Sierra were discussing the field trip Odessa was going on soon, and how her lack of winter clothes was going to make it a bit difficult for her to stay warm in the snowy mountains. Truth be told, Odessa hadn’t even been aware California had those, so she was wholly unprepared for the trip to Big Bear Mountain.

           “Oh, you can borrow one of mine!” Sierra offered with a smile. With a laugh, she added, “I’m from the east coast, so I’ve got a couple of coats. I’m pretty sure we’re the same size.”

           Odessa’s eyes lit up in hope. “Really? You sure?”

           “Yeah, of course,” Sierra answered with a shrug. “It’s not like I need to wear ’em anyway. Plus you won’t be wasting money. No big deal.”

           Letting out a sigh of relief, Odessa held her nearly empty bottle of beer to her chest as she said, “You’re a life saver.”

           Sierra grinned before taking a sip of her drink, tasting it. When she was satisfied with it, her dark eyes met Odessa’s blue, and she saw the mischief spark in them. “No problem—although I’m sure Calum would be more than happy to warm you up if you get too cold.”

           Unfortunately, Odessa had been taking a sip of her drink too, and she wished the music and people chattering muted Sierra’s words because as soon as they registered in Odessa’s head, she coughed in surprise, eyes widening as she gaped at her amused friend. Heart drumming within her chest, Odessa gave a shake of her head as she sputtered stupidly, “What?”

           Sierra shot her a look, one that was silently asking Odessa who she was trying to fool, and it only made her cheeks flame up. God. Was it everyone’s goal tonight to make her face permanently red? She folded into herself, lips pressing together as Sierra scoffed. “Come on, Odessa—you two are so obviously into each other in, like, the most wholesome way. I say instead of waiting for him to make the move, you do it. Cal’s way above the average clueless man but, y’know, he’s still a guy and they can be clueless.”

           Odessa had no idea what to say or do except stare at her friend in mortified shock, and Odessa kind of hated that she felt embarrassed at all. Like she was in middle school and someone just exposed her crush on the popular boy or something. The worst part was. . . Odessa wasn’t sure if she was flustered because Sierra was right to conclude that Odessa liked Calum, or because Odessa knew that other people’s acknowledgment of it would make whatever the hell her situation with Paige was all the more complicated and stressful. Stepping on Paige’s toes was the last thing she wanted to do, and in wanting to avoid it, Odessa was somehow doing just that.

           Her throat worked as she glanced away from Sierra, only for her gaze to land on their friends in the living room. She caught them all by the couch and instantly Odessa’s gaze locked in on Calum sitting on one end of the couch—and Paige sitting on the arm rest, as close to him as she could be without literally being on his lap. The sight tugged something painfully in Odessa’s chest and she frowned at herself; she had no right to feel jealous.

           Was this how Paige felt when she watched Calum put his arm around Odessa, how she felt when she was subjected to Odessa’s closeness with Calum? When Odessa first moved into town, Paige had made it quite clear, in just a few words, that Calum was basically off limits—which was gross and territorial in Odessa’s opinion, but she truly had tried her best to respect Paige’s so-called claim—ew. But it wasn’t easy, not with Calum and her working together and their friendship developing within the school and out of it. Being friends with him was so effortless, and falling for him had happened somewhere in between. Odessa couldn’t ever hope to pinpoint when exactly her feelings for him grew—it had happened quickly, blindly.

           Maybe she was in the wrong. For someone who hadn’t wanted to encroach on Paige’s feelings for Calum, Odessa was doing just that splendidly. She didn’t know whether what Paige felt for Calum was purely physical or something deeper, and it wasn’t any of Odessa’s business in the first place. Either way, she should’ve respected whatever feelings Paige had for Calum and kept her distance, for all of their sakes. She’d screwed up.

           As if feeling her gaze on him, Calum glanced away from where he was listening to Ashton talk to the group, his gaze searching past the bodies moving in the space between where he sat and Odessa stood until his eyes met hers. Odessa froze where she stood, watching as a smile upturned Calum’s lips and he nodded at her boyishly, the mundane gesture prompting her to suck in a silent breath. But before she could return the smile, Odessa felt another pair of eyes on her, and her gaze flickered just a bit for her blue eyes to meet Paige’s sharp hazel ones; watching, challenging, narrowing. She’d clearly seen Calum’s little acknowledgment to Odessa and hadn’t liked it too much.

           Oh, for fuck’s sake.

           Odessa looked away from them, catching Sierra’s eye and offering a smile that felt too nervous. “No one’s gonna be making any moves, Sierra,” she told her, not unkindly. “It’d be too complicated.” Finishing off her drink, Odessa tossed her empty bottle in the bin told her friend hastily, “I’m gonna head to the bathroom.”

           “Oh, here,” Sierra stopped her, digging into the pocket of her leather pants and handing her a key. Odessa took it with a raised brow and Sierra laughed. “It’s the key to our bedroom—I’d rather you use our bathroom than face whatever mess in the others.”

           Odessa let out a small chuckle, taking the key with an appreciative smile before exiting the kitchen hastily, letting out a breath as she reached the stairs and headed up. The distance she was putting between herself and her friends made it easier to breathe as she made her way around the dressed up party goers and found the master bedroom, using the key to unlock the door and step inside.

           The room felt significantly cooler than the rest of the house, the lack of body heat making the air conditioner a lot more effective as Odessa walked to the ensuite bathroom Sierra so graciously provided her access to.

           The sound of the flush momentarily muted the music blasting throughout the house, and as Odessa washed her hands, she let out a long sigh. She gazed at her reflection, took in the subtle glittering of her cheekbones and bright blue eyes framed by long eyelashes, and Odessa eyebrows knitted together in an involuntary frown. In the quiet of the bathroom, the party beyond the bedroom muffled, Odessa gave herself a moment to erase the image of Paige and Calum merely sitting by one another—God, how pathetic was she to be bothered by that?—and mull over Sierra’s words, as well as Crystal’s.

           Odessa desperately wished her friends’ comments were just teasing, were derived from, to put it grandly, their shared delusion that there was something between Odessa and Calum. But she had a sinking feeling that it wasn’t, that if both of them were picking up on something, then it was because there was something to pick up on. Despite Odessa’s attempts of not acting on whatever she felt for Calum out of respect for a girl she barely considered a friend.

           She didn’t even to consider the slim possibility of Calum returning her feelings. Odessa genuinely would not know what to do then; she wasn’t a selfish person—at least, she liked to think she wasn’t. But she had a feeling if she found out that Calum liked her back, she would become one, Paige be damned.

           That’s how it should’ve been in the first place. Odessa clenched her jaw, shushing the voice in her head that normally sounded reasonable. Right now, it was just asking for trouble.

           After drying her hands and smoothing down her dress, she exited the bathroom while bracing herself to head back downstairs, eyebrows raising when she heard a knock on the locked bedroom door. When Odessa opened it, she fought to keep her expression neutral when she saw Paige standing in the hallway. “Hey—I have to use the bathroom. Sierra said you’d let me in.”

           “Oh.” Odessa blinked, nodding. “Yeah, sure.”

           Paige stepped inside and Odessa glanced down at the key in her hand. Deciding she’d rather hand it off to Paige than wait for her, Odessa made to turn towards her, only to be cut off by Paige’s sharp voice. “Are you, like, into Calum?”

           Odessa gaped at her, mouth drying at the sudden question. She shouldn’t be surprised at Paige’s bluntness at this point, yet she still found herself freezing in shock. “I’m not—”

           “Come on, Odessa—don’t lie to me,” Paige cut her off with an empty scoff, shooting her a blank look. “It’s so obvious you’ve got a thing for him—you’re not doing a great job in hiding it.” She crossed her arms over her chest, even further accentuating the tight bodice of her Cruella de Vil costume. Odessa tried not to find irony in her costume. The smoky eyeshadow only seemed to intensify her sharp gaze and Odessa hated that she had to fight the urge to bristle. “So, seriously—what the hell is going on?”

           “I—nothing,” Odessa told her, stressing her answer. It was true enough—nothing was going on, not between her and Calum. But her own thoughts and feelings were her own. Odessa didn’t owe Paige any insight on what she was feeling. She hated that she even felt guilty about something she couldn’t quite control, but it wasn’t like she had acted on it. She was doing everything she could to respect that—and it was hard when she saw Calum five days out of the week; sometimes more if they saw each other on the weekend. The line between feeling platonic fondness and actual attraction—more than in just the physical sense—had blurred and Odessa couldn’t hope to figure out when. “Calum and I are just friends, Paige. It’s not like that.”

           Paige scoffed again, utterly unimpressed as she rolled her hazel eyes. “Either you think I’m an idiot, or you genuinely have no idea how obvious your feelings for him are.” Her tone turned mocking. “The whole work husband-wife thing, these costumes? It’s pathetic, Odessa.”

           Air caught in Odessa’s throat, and she wasn’t sure if it tightened from anger or her suppressing the need to harshly scoff. She was calling Odessa pathetic? It was both ironic and hypocritical of Paige to deem Odessa as such, not when she practically latched onto Calum whenever they were in the same room. Paige wouldn’t be mouthing off so much if she knew whatever she was trying to accuse Odessa of was actually all Calum’s doing.

           And, God, Odessa absolutely loathed that she was shitting on another woman over a guy—hated that she was thinking lowly of Paige at all, despite the other having no problem in making Odessa feel like that. She never did—not back in college, nor now. But Odessa had never stooped to Paige’s level; she always kept her bitter and annoyed thoughts to herself, and even then, scolded herself for ever thinking them. She wanted to be better than how people like Paige treated her. And, sure, no one would know what Odessa was thinking but herself, but it still made her feel guilty.

           Her aggravated thoughts and the music playing throughout the house did little to drown out Paige’s words from Odessa’s head, and she bit the inside of her lower lip at the heat flooded her face once more. No. She couldn’t let Paige get to her. At the very least, she couldn’t let Paige show that she did. She wouldn’t let her have that kind of power over her.

           Odessa took in a breath through her nose, willing herself to calm down, at least for a moment. She didn’t like hurling insults and vicious words to someone else. Pushing past the guilt, anger, and embarrassment, she calmly repeated, “Calum and I are just friends, Paige.” With a lift of her chin, she added, “If you can’t accept that, then it’s not my problem. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

           Paige’s lips parted, clearly caught off guard by Odessa’s words, a short huff of a breath escaping her. But instead of giving her the chance to respond, Odessa placed the key on the dresser next to her before turning and stepping out of the room. “Make sure you lock the door behind you,” she added before shutting it behind her and reintegrating herself into the thriving party.

           It was once the door was clicked shut behind her that Odessa let out a deep sigh. Some of the tension she inherently felt whenever she was around Paige left her body—not just because a door now separated them, but because the words Odessa had uttered seemed to have edged off some of her body’s rigidness permanently. Not all, but it was a start.

           Odessa frowned to herself as she made her way down the hall, moving around the few people lingering. She had no doubt that Paige’s words were coated in jealousy, she’d heard it in her voice, but that didn’t mean they didn’t startle Odessa. Especially adding onto Sierra and Crystal’s—albeit kinder—assumptions. When it came to letting her feelings, specifically in the romantic sense, be known, Odessa wasn’t an expert. She didn’t often get into relationships, mostly because she wasn’t the best in expressing who she wanted. Her last serious relationship had been in college, and although since then she’d taken her fair share part in hook up culture, true romance hadn’t really knocked on her door.

           Not that it had now, either. But even she couldn’t ignore her constantly growing feelings for Calum. And despite her efforts in trying to hide them, she hadn’t been entirely successful. Her childish embarrassment stemmed from her friends figuring out her feelings without her meaning to, and it led Odessa into wondering if Calum picked up on it, too. That’s what was embarrassing; not her feelings.

           Odessa shook her head as she went down the stairs. When was she going to stop letting Paige get into her head?

           More importantly—when was she going to move past the habit of keeping herself from indulging in her feelings?

           She reached the bottom of the stairs and her gaze went right to where she’d last seen her friends by one of the couches. Calum was grinning, drinking a White Claw, the smile on his face bright as he animatedly laughed at something deaf to Odessa’s ears. The sight of him made her chest tighten, her heart yearn. Odessa was completely oblivious to when and how she’d fallen for Calum so quickly, so fucking hard, and that sense of losing control was kind of terrifying. He made her smile so easily, made her feel at ease despite her roaring thoughts. Acknowledging the extent of her feelings for him should be exciting, right?

           She failed to swallow the lump in her throat. It seemed as though allowing herself to indulge in her feelings wouldn’t start tonight.

*****

           “You didn’t have to get up so early, Grams. I have Lettie to keep me company,” Odessa laughed lightly, scratching the top of the feline’s head as Grams poured herself some tea.

           “True, but this one doesn’t talk back much,” Grams responded, sitting down at the small table across from Odessa. It was early on Friday morning, and with it being a county holiday, it made for the perfect day to get a head start on the three day weekend trip to Big Bear Mountain. She would have to get to the high school soon to receive her bus roster and make sure all the students who were supposed to be in attendance were present. Grams’ eyes met Odessa’s. “There’s been something bothering you, baby, and I wanted to see if you wanted to talk about it before you left.”

           Odessa paused in absently stirring her bowl of Cheerios, frowning at her grandmother. “I don’t—I’m fine, Grams,” she said with a breezy laugh, hoping it sounded convincing.

           Her grandmother was perceptive, gazing at her unconvincingly. It was still early in the morning, the sun just slowly rising, and Odessa could see orange and red painting the sky as some sunlight streamed in through the window above the kitchen sink. “Something’s been on your mind, Odessa,” Grams pushed gently, the concerned look reappearing in her blue-grey eyes. “I don’t want you going away on this trip with something weighing you down. Maybe I can help.”

           Chewing her cereal, Odessa’s grip on the spoon tightened as she considered her grandmother’s words. She was right, of course; something was weighing her down, had been since Luke and Sierra’s Halloween party where she’d had her little confrontation with Paige. And where Odessa and Calum had won the couples part of the costume contest. Man, that had only pissed Paige off more, and Odessa kind of really hated she let the girl affect her so much.

           She really was pathetic, wasn’t she?

           “It’s just. . . Drama,” Odessa sighed, throat feeling dry despite the cold milk she was drinking. “Boy drama and girl drama and me being an idiot.”

           “You’re not an idiot,” Grams instantly chastised, a disapproving frown on her softly weathered face. “What drama?”

           Odessa twisted her lips to the side, frowning down at her nearly empty bowl. She’d been keeping all of this inside for so long—maybe talking to her grandmother would lessen whatever burden she felt on her shoulders. And heart. Maybe she’d see the light of herself being so fucking dramatic.

           “I like Calum.” It was a fact. A firm and true as the earth being round and the sky being blue. And yet, uttering out loud in the otherwise quiet of the kitchen, of confessing it to even just her grandmother—it felt like the fist that was wrapped around Odessa’s heart had loosened substantially. She thought of Calum, and she not only pictured his warm eyes and kind smile, but his love for Toni Morrison and talent for writing beautiful songs as well as his loud passion for teaching and coaching. She saw the enthusiasm he taught with, the leadership he coached with, and the kindness he never left home without. He was gorgeous inside and out and Odessa liked him with every fiber of her being.

           As frightening as it was to admit that, it was just as freeing.

           “But so does Paige. I mean, I think she does—”

           “What do you mean, think?” Grams asked with a frown. Before that, though, Odessa hadn’t missed her smile when she uttered her own confession.

           Letting out a sigh, Odessa briefly explained the way Paige presented her attraction to Calum—how it seemed more physical and territorial than consisting of true feelings. Of course, Odessa also acknowledged that all of that was conjecture, because she didn’t truly know how Paige felt. She merely stated what she saw when she watched and listened to Paige talk about Calum. Odessa wouldn’t hold her own feelings above Paige’s, no matter how much she didn’t like her. The only thing Odessa could be sure of was her own feelings.

           “And I don’t—” Odessa let out a tired sigh. “I don’t want to have issues with another girl over a guy. It’s so juvenile and just not what I stand for, you know? But I like him a lot, Grams. Him being my coworker is complicated enough—but other than that, how could I even act on my feelings knowing that Paige is interested too?”

           Not to mention the fact that she and Calum had slept together already before. That was a fact Odessa tried to keep out of her mind as much as she could. Because if she were to dwell on it, the realization of Calum wanting to be with Paige over her would suffocate her unforgivingly. But, God, what if she was already setting herself up for an inevitable heartbreak?

           This is why she didn’t do feelings.

           “You’re making this far more complicated than it is, sweetheart.” Odessa’s eyes widened, gaping at Grams in disbelief. She was what? Grams’s expression sobered up, eyebrows lowering as she adopted a serious expression. “You’re not the other woman in this situation. As far as I can tell, there is no relationship between Calum and Paige that you’re disrupting. If you want to be with Calum, let him know, see how he feels. The worst he can do is tell you he wants to be friends, and you can stop focusing your attention on someone who doesn’t deserve it.” Grams scoffed, then. “Call me biased, but that boy would be crazy to not be interested in you, baby.”

           Odessa could feel her heart in her throat, despite logically knowing it was impossible. But some of Grams’s words had struck a chord—you’re not the other woman. Memories of her parents’ marriage falling apart flooded Odessa’s mind, remembering the unforgettable moments of her father’s secret family coming to light, watching as her parents’ already crumbling marriage turn into dust. Was that what Odessa was doing? Painting herself to be some kind of intruder infiltrating on Calum and Paige’s relationship—one that was very possibly just construed by Odessa’s own imagination and Paige’s fleeting comments—the way she always viewed her now-step-mother as in her parents’ marriage?

           The shaking guilt she felt suddenly made sense, and Odessa gasped before she could help it. Oh, yeah. Adolescent trauma loved screwing with one’s head, didn’t it?

           Her conversation with Grams was all that replayed in Odessa’s head as she drove to the school, not even bothering with the radio. Odessa chewed on her lower lip as she drove, frowning at herself for her behavior for the past week. She’d kept her interactions with Calum as minimal as she could; brief conversations in the teacher’s lounge, only passing hello’s in the hall, not waiting for him to come by her room after school when he didn’t have to coach soccer practice so they could walk to the parking lot together. If Calum picked up on her distancing actions, he didn’t make a comment on them, yet Odessa hadn’t missed the occasional frowns that drew together his eyebrows when she’d cut their conversations short by making up some excuse or another to get away.

           She was being childish. Unreasonable. Scared. Paige’s comments from the party had stung more than Odessa would care to admit, and she let it influence the way she was around Calum. Maybe, she had hoped, it would dull some of what she felt for him. It only seemed to do the opposite.

           What now, though? They were two of the six teacher chaperones for this trip. She couldn’t quite avoid him for the entire weekend. Did she even want to? Perhaps. Despite being vocal about her feelings—even if it was just to Grams—Odessa still needed to figure out whether or not she wanted to act on them, feeling the need to reconsider her course of action. In a confusing and twisted sense, being around Calum would only make the deciding process all the more muddled.

           Odessa sighed. She was being crazy. But it made sense to her and, at the end of the day, she was learning that that’s what mattered.

           Between seven-thirty and eight-thirty, the time passed quickly as students and teachers arrived to the school, all carrying duffels and small carry-ons containing their weekend belongings. Odessa stood by Diana Vogel, a biology teacher and one of the other chaperones, as the two chatted about the trip and having to sit on a two hour bus ride with dozens of students. Hopefully the early morning would allow for many of them to get some more sleep.

           Slowly, as the parking lot filled with more students arriving, it grew bustling, the air filled with a low hum of chatter as everyone waited for attendance and to board the waiting charter buses. Odessa passed her time by chatting with Diana, with some students, and at one point her gaze wandered over to a familiar black SUV pulling into its designated parking spot, and Odessa was only absently listening to Diana talk about her excitement to see snow as she watched Calum step out of the vehicle. He looked comfortable in black track pants and a red hoodie, a small suitcase in hand as he greeted some of the soccer players who immediately went over to him.

           Their eyes met from where they stood, a distance between them that could easily be closed, but Odessa remained put. Her moment alone with her thoughts on the drive to school hadn’t really helped her reach a decision of what she wanted to do. Distance was good. Distance would help.

           Even if the frown on Calum’s face she caught before breaking their gaze had her chest tightening.

           Soon enough, once everyone had seemed to arrive, Mrs. Greggs—who was also the freshman advisor and who was ultimately in charge—distributed lists to all of the other chaperones which consisted of which bus was theirs, which students were to be on it, and who their chaperone partner was.

           Odessa glanced down at the list and bit back a curse. Calum’s name stared back at her and at this point, Odessa wasn’t quite sure if the universe was on her side or against it.

           She glanced up, as if feeling Calum’s gaze on her, their eyes locking for a moment. He offered a small smile and Odessa hated that he hesitated in showing her it, a reminder how her self imposed distancing from Calum was effecting him too, and she mustered up a smile back. It was always so easy to smile at Calum. Why was she making things so difficult for them? For herself?

           “Alright—load ’em up!” Mrs. Greggs announced after anyone who needed to quickly go to the bathroom returned, gesturing towards the buses.

           As she neared the bus she was to go on, Odessa saw Calum standing by the compartments where everyone was going to toss in their carry-ons and duffel bags, and he looked at Odessa as she neared them. “I’ll help them with the bags, you go on the bus?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow to see if that was okay with her.

           Odessa nodded, pressing her lips together and offering a smile at the same time. “Sounds good,” she said, pulling her carry-on forward.

           Calum reached out. “I got it,” he said, and Odessa’s heart thumped as he took it from her before carefully placing it in the compartment.

           She thanked him quietly, unsure if he even heard as he helped one of the girls with hers, and Odessa boarded the bus with a smile towards the bus driver. She and Calum were to sit in the front, so she claimed the two front right seats, back against the window and list in hand as she watched students board the bus. They were all talkative as they did so, some making sure to greet her, and Odessa smiled in return as she took in some of the faces that were familiar and others that were not. She only taught freshman and sophomores, and since this trip was for juniors and seniors, the only students she knew were ones she’d occasionally see in the hallway, the soccer players, or the students she’d see at the games.

           She watched as students settled next to their friends on the seats, chattering away in a quiet excitement about the trip. Though, she had been right—Odessa definitely picked up on several students looking forward to sleeping on the drive there.

           Calum was the last one to get on the bus, and once he stood by Odessa, he called for all the students’ attention, effectively silencing them, and Odessa then proceeded to call out attendance to make sure everyone who needed to be on the bus was present. Odessa focused on the task at hand rather than Calum standing right next to her, until it was done, and Mrs. Greggs came by to check if everything was ready.

           About five minutes later, they had left the school, which meant for Odessa and Calum to be seated together for the next two hours and fifteen minutes. She kept her gaze out the window, watching as they passed by buildings and cars and people, trying her hardest not to focus on the tension between her and Calum she knew she was at fault for. Why was it difficult for her to continue to just act normal, be friends, instead of making things awkward by instilling some distance between them? How was that going to help?

           She knew she was being kind of ridiculous. And yet, she didn’t stop herself.

           Odessa couldn’t block out both of her ears to listen to keep herself occupied, given that she had to chaperone the students, so she merely put an earbud in her left ear, the closest to Calum, and began watching an episode of Dead to Me. She’s all too aware of Calum next to her, who’s pulled out a book to read. Odessa wished she could read something—the only transportation she could read a book on was a plane. Reading while in a car, bus, or train left her feeling lightheaded. Which, as a woman who enjoyed reading more than anything else, was quite frustrating.

           A little over an hour into the drive, Odessa was still watching her show and Calum was still reading his book, and despite herself, she wondered why he hadn’t tried to make conversation yet. The bus was relatively quiet; most of the students opted to catch up on some sleep, and those who were awake conversed in hushed tones. All Odessa could really hear, apart from the hum of the bus engine, was the audio from the show she was watching and the occasional scratch of a page turning when Calum was finished with it. His focus was only on what he read, never glancing at her once. And wasn’t that what she wanted? For there to be space?

           Odessa’s grip on her phone tightened. All she could do was watch her show and try not to think of Calum’s familiar cologne wafting over to her, or focus on the way his thigh occasionally brushed against hers where they sat. Grams’s words from earlier echoed through Odessa’s mind, overpowering the audio of the show. If you want to be with Calum, let him know.

           She glanced at him. His gaze was lowered to the book he was reading, features settled into a soft neutrality, eyelashes brushing his cheekbones every time he blinked. Blonde curls fell across his forehead and her fingers itched to brush them away. Odessa quickly looked backed to her phone just as his head ever so slightly turned towards her, cheeks on fire when she knew he’d caught her staring, could feel his gaze on her. Her throat worked, purposefully freezing her gaze on the screen.

           Fuck. What was she doing?

--

tags: @irwinkitten​ @sweetcherrymike​ @astroashtonio​ @loveroflrh​ @meetashthere​ @loverofhood​ @captain-what-is-going-on​ @angelbbycal​ @singt0mecalum​ @hopelessxcynic​ @lfwallscouldtalk​ @bodhi-black​ @findingliam-o​ @softlrh​ @highfivecalum​ @malumsmermaid​ @erikamarie41​ @quintodosuniversos​ @longlastingdaydream​ @babylon-corgis​ @lukehemmingsunflower​ @miss-saltwatercowgirl​ @pastelpapermoons​ @conquerwhatliesahead92​ @rotten-kandy​ @metangi​ @neigcthood​ @ohhmuke​ @mindkaleidoscope​ @5sos-and-hessa​ @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @sunnysidesblog​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @bitchinbabylon​ @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx​ @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @wildflower-cth​ @wildflowergrae​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @gosh-im-short​ @thesubtweeter​ @mycollectionofnuts​ @cthwldflwr​ @everyscarisahealingplace​ @socorroann​ @talkfastromance4​ @calumftduke​ @musichoney​ @treatallwithkindness​ @partlysunnycal​ @dead-and-golden​ @kaeleykaeley​ @harrys-sun-flower​ @br-hoe​  

[aziraphalescloset]

Aziraphale at the Bastille Part 1

This costume is going to be a long process so I’m going to post about it in chunks. 

I think everyone who watched Good Omens who cares a whit for fashion fell in love with this confection of a costume: the angel Aziraphale in lace and frills and white satin pumps in a French jail, possibly about to be guillotined, until he’s rescued by a tall, dark demon.

(The left two pictures in the second image show the executioner, now wearing Aziraphale’s wasitcoat and frock coat, after Aziraphale miracled a costume swap.) Close examination of the costume reveals a couple of things: first, it’s actually kind of shabby-looking, and second, it’s out of date for 1793; by that time, men’s waistcoats and frock coats had become much shorter and more svelte, with smaller cuffs and coat fronts that sweep back, exposing more leg. Naturally, that’s what Crowley is wearing in the scene, though he’s dressed as more of a plebe than Aziraphale.

Now, Aziraphale looks a little shabby in modern times -- his waistcoat especially is very worn around the buttons and hem, presumably because it’s the same one he’s owned since Victorian times. But I’m not going to go to all the trouble of making this outfit and make it shabby, so I’m going to upgrade it when I make it in doll form.

Process photos after the jump.

First, I need a shirt. Again I’m turning to Thimbles and Acorns via Pixie Faire for the pattern for an 18th Century men’s shirt and stock. At this time, a man’s shirt served exactly the same purpose as a woman’s shift: it was a simple, comfortable, readily washable garment that separated the human (with its attendant grime and odor) from the clothes (which might be made of harsh fabrics and dyes). The tails were very long in order that they could tuck between the legs to act as a sort of underwear. In fact, the shirt was regarded basically as underwear; it was unseemly for more than the cuffs and collar to be visible, and the collar was always held closed with a tied neckcloth called a stock. The basic design of the men’s shirt remained unchanged for centuries. For those of you who are fans of the 1995 TV version of Pride and Prejudice, this is the garment that Colin Firth goes for a swim in, and for Elizabeth to stumble upon him, post-swim, still clad only in shirt and breeches, was really quite shocking!

Anyway, back to the matter at hand.

The Thimbles and Acorns pattern is fairly simple with a self-ruffle at the cuffs and neck. For Aziraphale I upgraded the cuffs to two layers of lace, and I added lace ends to the stock. I originally planned to use a very thin cotton batiste but it was just too transparent and was too stiff. So I’m using a white synthetic fabric of some kind, rayon or nylon or something. It’s a little staticky but it has a beautiful soft drape.

There is a lot of fiddly hand-sewing in these patterns to make facings that cover seams. This is the view through my magnifying lamp while I’m sewing the facing down over the front neck opening with its self-ruffle.

Finished shirt, without the buttons and button loops yet.

The next thing I did was adapt this pattern for Crowley. I have a Crowley doll that is a different type than Aziradoll. Aziradoll is an American Girl, which has a pretty wide, soft body compared to most such dolls. I found on eBay a used doll of a skinnier type, Just Pretend, Inc., with extremely weird pink eyes and red hair. It is roughly the same measurements as more popular skinny 18-inch dolls like Kids N Cats and Carpatina. So I modified the width of the shirt and made a few other changes to convert the pattern to Crowley’s size. No lacy frills for Crowley; it’s crisper self-fabric cuffs and stock. The fabric is just a regular acetate lining. It’s a little shiny, which seems suitable for a flash bastard like Crowley. Here’s a process photo of those self-fabric cuffs.

It’s still loose -- these shirts are supposed to be loose -- but fits the doll pretty well. Here’s a photo without buttons or stock.

Next step is breeches. Again, Thimbles and Acorns provides with this pattern for a George Washington military costume. I made the breeches almost straight from the pattern, using a really luscious-feeling crepe-backed satin. (The parts on the left are for a waistcoat, which I’ll post about another day.) The parts for these breeches are weirdly shaped -- these bear no similarity whatever to the cut of modern men’s trousers.

I discovered while making these that crepe-backed satin is a pain in the butt to work with. It seems like a very fine fabric, but it’s made of rather wide warp threads with very thin weft threads, and once cut it really wants to fall apart. It’s also desperately easy to accidentally pull a little weft thread and create what looks like a run in the fabric. My first assembly attempt ended in failure because the fabric started disintegrating around the tight corner at the junction of the drop front and the trouser leg.

I cut some new parts and substantially beefed up the interfacing around that seam. I also used a more stable cotton fabric for the invisible inner facings of the drop front and vents. It seems to be holding.

More assembly pics. Really interesting topologically.

Leg plackets. The detail in this bit is exquisite. If I ever need to sew a placket on any garment I’m creating from scratch, I’ll work from this pattern.

Drop front is sorted. It got a little off-center, I’m actually not at all sure how, but it didn’t matter in the end.

Adding the waistband.

Test fit. The next step after this was the sheer terror of buttonholes. I hate buttonholes. BUT I DID IT.

At least the terror of sewing buttonholes comes with the pleasure of selecting buttons. After a lot of agonizing (and, I’ll admit, some shopping), I eventually used some vintage pearl and mother-of-pearl buttons for the breeches. They’re Heavenly.

That’s it for shirt and breeches for Aziraphale. I’m working on the waistcoat, but more urgently, I need to replace those plain brown shoes with some gorgeous satin pumps. I also need to adapt that topologically weird breeches pattern for the smaller Just Pretend doll for Crowley. 

In the meantime, here are the two Ineffables lounging around in, basically, their underwear. How indecent!