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goblin-jr · 5 days ago

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And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you.

part 3 of 12

Synopsis: rafe apology, wheezie is the best cameron, rainy confessions

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

---

The afternoon was steady at the country club. Y/N’s shift had been busy enough to keep her distracted, and with her coworkers absorbed in their own tasks, she’d managed to slip away a few times to shake off the throbbing pain left over from the boat incident. The last thing she wanted was pity—or worse, anyone worrying about her.

But when she turned around to restock a pile of guest towels, she froze. Rafe Cameron had just walked in with his family. She could see them through the grand glass doors of the club’s dining room, his parents trailing behind him, polished and imposing as ever. He looked over and spotted her before she had a chance to slip away, and his eyes narrowed as if he had something to say.

Y/N tensed. She still couldn’t shake off the anger from that night. Her bruises had faded, but her loyalty to the Pogues hadn’t. Whatever Rafe thought he had to say, she wasn’t interested. She busied herself with folding the towels, pretending she hadn’t noticed him watching her.

It didn’t work.

“Y/N,” Rafe’s voice was quiet but firm as he approached, hands shoved in his pockets, his posture almost… unsure. She’d never seen him like this—reserved and even a bit hesitant.

She didn’t look up. “I’m working,” she said bluntly, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. But Rafe didn’t budge.

“Just wanted to talk. About the other day.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “No need. You said enough then.”

He sighed. “Look, I know things got out of hand. I’m… sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for it to go like that. I didn’t know my friends were going to—”

“Yeah? And what did you think would happen?” She finally looked up, her expression steely. “You show up, insult us, throw a few things around, and expect everything to be fine?”

Just then, a younger girl joined them, glancing curiously between Y/N and Rafe. It was his sister, Wheezie, her wide eyes betraying the same curiosity and innocence that Rafe seemed to lack. The irritation in Y/N’s chest softened just a little as she watched the younger Cameron—a reminder that not everyone in Rafe’s family carried the same smugness or sense of entitlement he did.

“Rafe!” Wheezie chirped, tugging on his arm. “Did you get the book I asked about?”

Rafe’s face softened as he looked down at his sister. He ruffled her hair lightly, which made her wrinkle her nose but also grin up at him. “Yeah, yeah, I did. I had to go to three stores to find it, but it’s waiting for you in the car.”

Y/N watched the exchange in silence, surprised to see this side of Rafe. He spoke to Wheezie with a gentleness she didn’t associate with him. Gone was the antagonistic, arrogant guy who had pushed her friends’ buttons time and again. Here, he was just… a big brother.

“Really?” Wheezie’s eyes widened in excitement. “You didn’t have to do that!”

Rafe shrugged, as if it was nothing. “It’s not a big deal, Wheeze. You asked, so I figured why not.”

Watching him interact with Wheezie, Y/N felt her defenses waver, if only for a moment. There was something unguarded in his expression, a hint of someone who wasn’t just the entitled, reckless Kook she’d come to know.

Wheezie turned her gaze to Y/N, her brows knitting together. “Hi. Do you work here?”

Y/N managed a small, polite nod. “Yeah, just part-time.”

The younger girl’s face lit up with interest. “Oh, that’s so cool. Do you like it?”

Rafe ruffled Wheezie’s hair, his face easing into an unexpectedly gentle expression. “Not everyone loves work as much as you do, Wheeze.”

Rafe turned back to you and let out a resigned sigh and nodded, stepping back with his hands still tucked in his pockets. “I really am sorry, Y/N.” Rafe’s face softened, but he didn’t defend himself. “I get it. You don’t have to believe me. I just… wanted you to know.”

“Well, I’d better get back to setting up,” Y/N muttered, sidestepping Rafe and allowing the Camerons to reunite with Ward and Rose.

After Rafe walked away, Y/N kept herself busy around the dining room, making sure the place settings were perfect and double-checking that every glass sparkled. She glanced up as she heard Wheezie’s cheerful voice down the hallway, joking with one of the waitstaff. Rafe was still nearby, now talking with his younger sister.

Y/N watched from a distance as Rafe bent down slightly, giving Wheezie his full attention as she animatedly told him some story. He smiled at her, nodding and even laughing a little. It was such a simple, everyday thing, yet it felt oddly intimate—a glimpse of Rafe’s life that Y/N hadn’t expected to see.

Why was he… kind of sweet? She hated the thought as soon as it popped into her head, but she couldn’t shake it.

He looked up, and their eyes met for just a second. Flustered, Y/N busied herself with a table setting, heart pounding, wishing she hadn’t been caught watching him like that.

—

A few hours later, Y/N found herself in the storage room. /N made her way to the back, feeling the familiar ache in her ribs from the altercation on the boat. She needed to restock the shelves with glassware for the evening setup, but as she reached for the heavy box, a sharp pain shot through her side, forcing her to stop and catch her breath.

She steeled herself, attempting to lift the box again despite the discomfort. Just as she was bracing herself, a familiar voice interrupted her struggle.

“Need a hand with that?”

She turned, caught off guard to find Rafe leaning casually in the doorway, hands in his pockets as if he owned the place—which, she reminded herself, wasn’t far from the truth. The Camerons had invested heavily in the club, and Rafe’s family essentially had free rein over the entire building. Still, seeing him there felt strange.

“I didn’t ask for help,” Y/N replied, her voice edged with defiance as she let go of the box.

Rafe didn’t seem fazed by her tone. He walked over, looking her over as he reached for the box himself, easily lifting it and placing it on the upper shelf she’d struggled to reach.

“There. Now you don’t have to break a rib over it,” he said, a faint smirk crossing his face. But he softened, giving her an earnest look. “Look, about the boat… I really am sorry. Things got out of hand, and my friends—they can be idiots.”

Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re telling me.”

Rafe looked down for a second, his expression almost sheepish. “You have every right to hate me for that.”

She paused, watching him with guarded curiosity. “Why do you care, Rafe? I mean, it’s not like we’re friends. You’ve got your whole Kook thing going on with Topper and Kelce.”

He shrugged, shifting uncomfortably. “Doesn’t mean I want you to get hurt. I don’t know… Wheezie always says I could be better about that kind of thing.” He scratched the back of his neck, as if realizing he’d said too much.

Y/N couldn’t hide her surprise at the mention of his little sister. “Wheezie? So she’s the voice of reason?”

Rafe chuckled softly. “Most days, yeah. She keeps me in check.” He leaned against the shelf, his gaze thoughtful. “She liked meeting you, you know. Thinks you’re cool for working here. She’s a weird kid, but she’s got good instincts.”

A faint smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. The last thing she’d expected was to see Rafe’s protective side, let alone hear him talk about Wheezie like this. She softened, just a little, feeling the defenses she’d thrown up after the incident on the boat begin to waver.

“Your sister’s pretty sweet,” she admitted reluctantly, shrugging. “I guess you got lucky there.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his tone almost wistful. “Guess I did.”

There was a beat of silence between them, the unspoken tension from their past encounters ebbing, if only for a moment. Rafe glanced at her again, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Anyway, I didn’t mean for any of that stuff on the boat to happen. I get it if you still don’t trust me. But I really am sorry.”

Y/N studied him, the frustration and resentment from the boat incident lingering but softened by his sincerity. After a long pause, she exhaled, crossing her arms.

“Fine. Apology accepted,” she muttered, trying to sound casual. “But don’t think this changes anything.”

Rafe shrugged, a hint of that familiar smirk returning. “Didn’t expect it to. But maybe it’s a start.”

As he turned to leave, Y/N watched him go, her feelings unsettled. She couldn’t shake the impression that, for once, Rafe didn’t seem like an enemy, and the realization left her with more questions than answers.

—

Y/N’s shift ended later than usual, and by the time she left the country club, the sun was already dipping below the horizon. She started down the familiar path toward home, her footsteps echoing in the quiet of the evening. The air was cool, and as she walked, her thoughts drifted back to the strange encounter in the storage room.

Rafe Cameron. Of all people, he was the last person she’d expected to see there, let alone be willing to lend a hand. His apology, his quiet mention of Wheezie—none of it matched the person she thought she knew. He’d always been a Cameron, a Kook, someone she’d learned to keep her distance from. But today had left her feeling unsettled, like there was something more beneath the surface she hadn’t anticipated.

Despite herself, she couldn’t deny that she was a little curious. What Wheezie saw in him, maybe, or how the two of them interacted away from the glaring reputation he carried. For a moment, she even entertained the idea that Rafe wasn’t as bad as she thought.

But then her mind went back to the people who mattered most to her—JJ and the rest of the Pogues. They’d been her family through every up and down, no matter what. And there were things about JJ, memories she could never share with anyone else, that tied her to him in a way no one else would ever understand.

Her pace slowed as a particular memory of JJ surfaced. She could picture it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

---

They were twelve, maybe thirteen, and it had been one of those stormy nights on the island when the rain fell in heavy sheets, and thunder rattled the windows. Y/N had been curled up on the couch, reading, when a faint knock sounded at the door. She knew it was him before she even looked. JJ always came to her when things got too heavy at home.

That night, he’d been soaked through, his clothes clinging to him, hair plastered against his forehead. She’d let him in, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, and led him to the old beanbag chair in her room. He was quiet, almost too quiet, and she knew better than to press him for details. His father, Luke, had always been a volatile presence in JJ’s life—a shadow that loomed over him, especially when things were bad.

They’d sat there together in silence, listening to the rain and the distant rumble of thunder. After a while, he’d finally spoken, his voice barely a whisper.

“I wish I didn’t have to go back,” he’d said, his tone full of something both broken and resigned.

Y/N had reached out, taking his hand in hers. She didn’t have to say anything. The promise was there in the silence: I’m here, and I’ll always be here.

It was moments like those, when JJ had shown her pieces of himself he’d never let anyone else see, that had woven an unbreakable thread between them. They weren’t just friends—they were each other’s safe places.

---

As Y/N walked, she was jolted out of her memories of JJ by a soft drizzle that quickly built into a steady downpour. She pulled her jacket tighter, hunching her shoulders against the chill as the rain soaked through.

She picked up her pace, hoping she could get home before she was completely drenched. Just as she turned a corner, headlights swept across the path in front of her, and a sleek, dark SUV slowed to a stop. She squinted, wiping rain from her eyes, as the passenger window rolled down.

Rafe leaned over from the driver’s seat, brow slightly raised as he took in her soaked figure. “Need a ride?” he asked, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the rain.

Y/N stifled a sigh, a wry smirk pulling at her lips despite herself. “Thrice in one day, Cameron?” she called out. “Are you following me now?”

Rafe chuckled, leaning one arm over the wheel. “Guess I can’t shake you, huh? Or maybe you’re the one following me.” He glanced out at the rain. “C’mon, get in before you catch a cold. You’ll ruin the club’s good towels.”

She stood there for a moment, watching the rain hit the ground in heavy sheets, then glanced at him through the window again. “You know, I could be stubborn enough to walk home in this,” she said with a teasing glint in her eye.

“Then you’ll be stubborn and wet,” he shot back with a grin. “Get in. I’m not leaving you out here.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, feeling the warmth of the car surrounding her immediately. She closed the door with a soft click, the sound of the rain intensifying for a moment before the windshield wipers kicked into motion.

She looked at him as he shifted into drive, silently grateful for the warmth, but still skeptical of the conversation that was about to happen. “Thanks for the ride,” she muttered, brushing water from her hair as she settled in.

“No problem,” Rafe replied, glancing over at her with a faint smile. The tension in the car was subtle, but Y/N could sense it. The day had been strange, and she wasn’t quite sure where she stood with him—if she was just another face, another person he had to deal with, or if maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than he let on.

The car was quiet for a while, only the sound of the rain and the soft hum of the engine filling the space. Y/N didn’t mind it, though. There was something oddly comforting about being alone in the car with Rafe, despite all the history between their families and the awkwardness lingering between them.

Eventually, Rafe broke the silence. “You know, you’re pretty hard to get a read on.” His voice was low, almost like he was speaking to himself. “It’s like… you’re always in your head, trying to figure things out.”

Y/N glanced at him, surprised by the observation. She shifted in her seat, slightly uncomfortable with the truth in his words. “I’m not really the open book type,” she replied after a moment, her fingers absently tapping on the seatbelt.

Rafe chuckled softly, the sound easing some of the tension. “Yeah, I figured. But you’re not the only one who keeps things locked up. I get it.” He paused, looking out at the rain-slicked road. “But it’s exhausting sometimes, you know? Trying to keep everything together.”

Y/N turned her head to study him, her curiosity piqued despite herself. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Rafe exhaled slowly, keeping his eyes on the road. “I mean, we don’t always get to choose how things turn out. Like, with my family. Everyone expects me to be… I don’t know, something I’m not. They put all this pressure on me to be perfect. To do things a certain way.” He glanced at her briefly before returning his attention to the road. “It’s like no one ever really sees me. Not for me. Just the image they want me to be.”

Y/N studied him carefully, noting the weariness in his voice. She didn’t respond immediately, unsure of how to react. Was he being genuine? Or was this just another side of Rafe Cameron who liked to keep people at arm's length?

Finally, she nodded, the words coming out more carefully than she expected. “Sounds like you don’t get a lot of room to breathe.”

He glanced over at her with a small smile. “That’s one way to put it.” His eyes lingered on her for a moment, and there was a brief pause in the air between them, charged with something unspoken.

Y/N shifted in her seat, her mind spinning with his words. “Well, I guess I get it,” she said softly. “We all have our own stuff. No one’s life is as easy as it seems.”

Rafe nodded, the faint smile still on his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Exactly. Anyway, you’re almost home.”

The ride felt quieter after that, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Y/N looked out the window, her thoughts a mix of confusion, curiosity, and something else that she couldn’t quite name. She wasn’t sure what to make of the sudden vulnerability she’d seen in Rafe, but there was a part of her that was intrigued. Maybe he wasn’t just the entitled, spoiled Kook she’d always assumed.

The car slowed as they reached her house, and Rafe turned off the engine. Y/N hesitated, not immediately unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Thanks again, Cameron,” she said, looking over at him with a small but sincere smile.

“Don’t mention it,” Rafe replied, his tone easy. “You sure you don’t want me to walk you to the door?”

Y/N’s lips curled up slightly, though she shook her head. “I’m good. Don’t want to ruin your streak of being a decent person.” She opened the door and slid out, but before she closed it, she turned back. “Take care, Rafe.”

“You too,” he said, his voice steady.

As the car pulled away, Y/N stood there for a moment, watching the taillights fade into the rain. She couldn’t help but wonder—maybe there was more to Rafe than she’d originally thought.

#obx4 #obx #rafe obx #outer banks #outer banks rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj outer banks

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fictionandfixation · 3 months ago

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Older Bachelor headcanons!

Older Bachelor stardew headcanons because I’ve been playing lots recently! All sfw, some mentions of smoking/alcohol 💕 also please bear in mind I am no SDV expert, so sorry if these go against canon occasionally!

Harvey ☕️🔬📚

• Secret smoking habit that he would rather die than tell anyone about. Not often, but during flu season when he’s stressed, you can find him cooped up in his room with an imported cigar or a Marlboro Gold, an espresso and an Agatha Christie.

• Plays classic soul, funk, golden oldies and jazz in the foyer of the clinic on an old-timey record player, and chooses every day from his large record collection. Frequently irritates Maru with the extent of his Doris Day enjoyment.

• Kind of wide-set - very broad shoulders, and quite tall.

• Packets of salted peanuts and cookies on the clinic foyer desk which he restocks every week.

• Goes to fetch you personally from the mines or Skull Cavern sometimes when you get knocked out. And he also keeps a vintage forest green car behind the clinic to pick you up in. He hopes one day you’ll wake up on the way back and compliment his tasteful vehicle choice or notice he’s bringing you home. You don’t.

• Best friends with Evelyn. Worst enemies with George.

• Tennis player. Plays with whoever will say yes in the mountains and always manages to punt the ball into the lake somehow. Also used to be in a rock climbing club at university, and has sort of sinewy forearms as a result.

• Outrageous flirt after a few glasses of Pinot Noir, mostly because I think he’s on the spectrum but also because I think it would help him stop being quite so nervous.

• Brown suspenders. Every. Single. Day.

• Gives Jas and Vincent candy after their checkup.

• “Sweetheart/honey” as a nickname for you.

Elliott 📜🖋️🐚

• Striped. Matching. Pajamas.

• Finds, forages and cooks mussels when he needs to impress someone. And on that note, very much a French cuisine enjoyer.

• If blue cheese has no fans Elliott is dead.

• Rizz master. Silver tongue. Read so much romance when he was a teenager that it has actively become a part of his personality to be a book boyfriend.

• Very willowy and slender. Metabolism of the gods. Puts away food like it’s nobody’s business.

• Can read several languages, but just can’t master an accent so never uses them in a spoken context. Definitely a student of Latin.

• English accent headcanon! Probably spent the first couple of decades of his life in somewhere high-income like Warwickshire, or (more likely) Cornwall or Exeter, on or near the coast. I am also envisioning him as having been to an old collegiate university like Durham, or maybe a college at Oxford (Merton I reckon).

• Writes and then burns poems about everyone he’s ever been in love with. Starts keeping them when he meets you.

• Chats fashion history with Emily and Haley.

• Religious about his collection of cravat-style ties because he’s seen the Colin Firth Pride and Prejudice a few too many times.

• Frequent book club gatherings with Caroline, Marnie, Robin and Jodi (mostly because mothers love him, the main selling point here being that he has definitely read at least one Jodi Picoult book. He does not remember anything about it, he’s just glad to be invited).

“Dearest/my love” as a pet name.

Shane 🍺🍕🐓

• Snores. Very quiet about it though.

• I know a lot of people HC Harvey as oldest but I reckon it’s Shane. He also acts the most like a bitter old man whereas I feel Harvey is just ‘mature’.

• Could be convinced to grow a beard. Maybe.

• Goes for a jog three times a week. Hates it. Refuses to stop and really isn’t even sure why he does it himself any more.

• Secret Lana Del Rey enjoyer. Mainly a fan of Midwest emo, classic rock, nu metal and sometimes country but the kind of country where they sing about killing people and getting away with it.

• Raised by heavily Christian parents in the Deep South. Yes this is a Southern accent headcanon. Yeehaw.

• Lets Jas put eyeshadow on him sometimes. Shaves properly only when she wants to put makeup on him.

• Craft beer’s number one opp. Wants an ice cold tap Budweiser only, and if there isn’t enough head on it he will be asking for a refund. Not that Gus would ever do that to him.

• Has muscle with padding. Very strong, very wide in stature, but not lean at all. Biceps wider than your neck that you could (and would) use as pillows.

• Makes the most insane hangover breakfast known to man. Bacon. Pancakes. Sausage. Home fries. Butter. Syrup. You’re putting on a bit of healthy relationship weight for sure with Shane as your partner.

• “Darlin’/baby” user. “Sweet cheeks” as a joke. Kind of a joke.

Hope you guys enjoyed these!! I am down irretrievable for Older Bachelor content because I love ✨older men✨

Please let me know if you’d like some more for these characters or the other bachelors and bachelorettes!

#sdv #sdv elliott #sdv shane #sdv Harvey #stardew #stardew valley #stardew bachelors #sdv older bachelors #imagines #imagine #stardew valley imagine

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ihrtsevyn · 6 months ago

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HOW TO GET THE GIRL: A LOVERS GUIDE

CHAPTER NINE: about jiwoo. (1.6k)

WARNINGS: angst, reader is referred to as woman.

◃ previous ep. ⊹ masterlist ⊹ next ▹

Weeks have gone by since you started tutoring Riki. To say you've started to like him more was a vast understatement. Once you dropped your "cold" act that lasted for a mere 3 sessions, You started to become accustomed to him.

Although you had gone many years without interacting with each other, it felt like the spark you had imagined between you two never left.

The both of you had grown comfortable with each other to the point you started to interact with each other outside of the usual library doors.

At first, it was embarrassing to have your name shouted at the other end of the hallway, however, it turned into a typical routine where instead of keeping your head down and speed-walking away from him to avoid lingering eyes, you'd wave back.

During these study sessions, you learned more and more about him. How he microwaves his strawberries, he has a dog named Bisco, he can play piano, and he has a large fear of bugs that you've sadly had to learn the hard way after he accidentally pushed you aside to run away from a nearby wasp.

Something else you learned about Niki was that his grades did not match up with his knowledge. Sure, he was inconsistent with his attendance and would rarely turn in classwork if any at all, but he was smart and an extremely fast learner.

It had gotten to the point where you'd just set a small bulk of his past-due assignments in front of him and study for your other classes until he finished.

The study sessions quickly turned into more of a hangout. Staying in the library together hours after completing whatever workload had stacked up over the week to share hushed laughter and talk about everything under the sun until the library had to close down for the night.

You'd even go as far as to call him your friend, and so would members of the Newspaper Club.

"You're in a rush." Lily offhandedly mentioned as she typed away on the school's computer. Her posture had straightened at the sound of you hastily packing away your belongings but her eyes refused to stray away from the screen.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm supposed to meet up with Riki." you answered before slinging the book bag over your shoulder.

"To do what exactly? It's a Friday and I thought you only tutored him on Sundays." J suddenly butted in, a playful yet accusatory tone to her voice as she suddenly invested herself in the conversation.

"I don't know actually, he asked to meet me at the school gates when our session ended."

"Oh? Is he walking you home? That's pretty cute." Yoon commented, a teasing smile growing on her face. "I don't know why he would, I mean— he's never done it before. So, I don't see why he'd want to do it now." You replied with fake unconcern.

You were being honest when you said you didn't know why Riki had suddenly made this decision to meet you at the school gate, but if it was to start walking you home on a frequent basis, you're 100% sure your knees would give out.

"Did you guys need any more help before I head out?" You suddenly questioned, trying to shift focus away from your last comment.

"Nope, we got it from here. Only thing we have left to do anyway is restock the printer paper." J assured with a small smile before hoisting herself up to sit on a desk.

"Okay, I'll see you guys later then." You quickly replied as you made your way towards the exit,

Lily only hummed in response to your statement before saying "Have fun, don't get into any trouble."

A smile crept onto your face as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at how much she sounded like a Mom sending her daughter off. "And text us when you make it back home!" Seeun responded, suddenly bordering out of the storage closet with a box filled to the brim with different bulks of paper.

"Okay, Moms, will do."

"About time." Riki groaned out, loud enough for your approaching figure to hear as you made your way into eye view. "Oh, shut up," you said as he pushed himself off of the gates.

"I feel like I've been waiting for forever." He whines as he follows behind your figure. "Yeah, right. Couldn't have been waiting that long since it looks like you went home to drop off your backpack." You pointed out, silently relishing in the feeling of freedom as you got farther and farther away from school grounds.

"I didn't feel like carrying that thing around all day. Plus, it'll be easier to carry yours." He stated nonchalantly.

He reached over to slip your bag off of your shoulders before flinging it across his own, his delicate fingers brushing over your own as he did so. But just as quick as his touch arrived, it was just as quick to leave.

His simple actions shouldn't ruffle you like they do, yet it still happens. You know that when Riki does things like this he never has an underlying intention which makes it all the more pathetic when you feel your stomach brim with butterflies the moment you make skin-to-skin contact with him.

You cleared your throat before wrapping your arms around your stomach, a meek attempt at trying to calm the raging storm of feelings that was happening inside of you.

"So, why did you want to walk me home all of a sudden?" You asked, shifting your gaze around the growing shrubbery to avoid looking in his direction.

"Oh, right. I wanted to ask you something." He shyly uttered, his free hand that wasn't holding your bag made its way to the back of his neck, nervously rubbing it as he looked down at his sneakers.

You glanced in his direction to see that whatever was on his mind had been weighing in on him for a while. "Yeah, what's up?" you asked softly before shifting your gaze forward.

"Um, you're friends with Jiwoo, right?" he asked, out of the corner of your eye you could see him turn towards you. Trying to gauge your reaction and see what you'd say.

It took a moment for the question to fully translate in your mind as if he was speaking a foreign language you had never heard before. Once it did register in your head you couldn't help the shock that overtook your body, nearly making you stumble over your feet.

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out, it was as if you were a fish out of water. Your mouth had suddenly gone dry and it felt as if you saw the fantasy of your TV romance crashing in front of your eyes. "Yeah, Jiwoo and I are really good friends." You finally managed to push out.

"Why do you ask?" You quickly follow up, your eyebrows unknowingly furrowing.

"I asked because I wanted to know if she was single." He replied, his tone went from nervousness to giddiness in a matter of seconds.

You couldn't turn towards him because you could hear the smile in his voice at the mere mention of her name. You were afraid that if you saw how he beamed at the thought of her that the butterflies that were swarming in your stomach just a few seconds earlier would escape onto the concrete in front of you.

"She's single," you affirmed with a stiff nod.

"Do you think you could set me up with her?" He immediately asked, a hopeful tone in his voice. Each word that came out of his mouth felt like a blow to the gut, killing off each butterfly one by one.

Your head shook 'no' before you could even form the words. "I-...I don't think I could."

"Oh, come on, please?" He suddenly pleaded, turning towards you once again. He wanted you to look at him, whether intentionally or not he knew that if you made eye contact with him you'd fall into his trap just like everyone else.

"Just get one of the basketball players to help. Or one of their cheerleader girlfriends." you tried to reason. "It's not the same," he muttered, tilting his head towards the sky, another whine threatening to come out of his mouth.

"Come on, you'd be the perfect wing-woman. you're good friends with her so it'd be easy and less weird when someone she barely knows tries to set her up with me," he argued, adding onto why he wanted you to set him up with her.

You bit your lip in contemplation. It felt like the obvious answer was 'NO!' but another part of you wanted to agree to set them up. You were happy with the relationship you and Riki had started to build together and you didn't want an elementary crush to get in the way of that.

There was always the lingering possibility that you and him were only ever meant to be friends and nothing more, and maybe, just maybe, Jiwoo was the one for him.

"What do I get out of this?" You quietly asked after the lingering silence.

"Anything you want. If you do this for me I promise I'll pay you back" He swiftly responded before stopping in his tracks, instinctively making you stop alongside him. "Please, just do this for me." He begged, his hands fidgeting with the rings on his fingers as he waited for your answer.

"Fine, I'll help you."

TAGLIST: @sakiimeo @sakuxxi @ilyjxdz @artstaeh @rosas-in-the-garden @k1ttylvr @stilesks @enhagvrl @yourssincerely-mimi @rizzanna-soda @saursoob @haechansbbg @nishislcve @winuvs @kyrojackson @suhiiiies-blog @rikisgeef @soobs-things @jumigurumino @ssukiyakii @baribaaari @eleanorheartschishiya @rikibun @seunghancore @wonik1ss @sheepgardenbahhhh @rksbae @lukesboo @moomis @luvvvash @conwunder @yvjw @bunnbam @eilidiii @riksaes

#ihrtsevyn #enhypen niki x reader #enhypen fic #enha x reader #enhypen fluff #riki nishimura x reader #niki x reader #nishimura riki fluff #enhypen niki #niki fluff #ni ki x reader #riki smau #riki fluff #nishimura riki x reader #riki x reader #htgtg #enha smau #enhypen smau

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seshathawk · 3 months ago

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I’d like to address something from season four that I haven’t seen anyone else address yet, though some people have spoken critically of the plots surrounding it.

A quick caveat: this is based off of my own experiences, and is not by any means an attempt to excuse, forgive, or erase any of the many mistakes that season four made. (This is going to be about parenting, for anyone who would like to avoid said topic.)

Hi. I’m the mother to a 4.5 year old child. When I met my husband, we were both working jobs, although he made more than me. I quit my job eventually for reasons that don’t need to be detailed here, and three years later had a baby and ended up being a stay-at-home mom to our child. At the height of the pandemic, I felt this was lucky; we wouldn’t have to scramble to find child care or anything like that.

Two years later, I was absolutely miserable and a completely different person.

Parenthood changes a person. A lot. Like, a lot. You have to sacrifice things, things that used to be important to you, again and again, in order to support your children, and you do it because you love them so much and you want them to succeed.

But something else happens, specifically to women who become parents. Some women intend to go back to work and never do. In some families, it’s cheaper for mom to provide childcare than it is to pay for daycare. Somehow, women end up being the managers of the household and primary caregiver for any/all children, all day, every day. This isn’t to say that these women don’t love their children. But, rather, that women end up carrying the burden of the invisible load for their entire household, including their husbands.

And this also isn’t to say that those husbands aren’t loving, or that they don’t take care of their kids too, or that these women don’t love their husbands. But it’s a huge burden.

Some examples of the invisible load: meal planning, grocery shopping, packing bags for outings or school, managing the family (kids) schedule, arranging for childcare, managing communication with childcare or school, making all appointments for kids or entire family, planning parties, making holiday (Christmas/Easter/4th of July/take your pick) magic, finding activities for kids to do, packing lunches, restocking things like toiletries or pantry staples, cleaning up clutter or getting family/kids to do same, putting away laundry, doing laundry, and…the list goes on. The list is eternal. There is no end to the invisible load.

And when you’re managing all of this and your husband does things like not know if you have a pantry staple at home, isn’t sure where your child’s clean underwear is, or forgets to do something very simple such as grab extra milk, it’s really easy to feel frustrated and resentful.

This is never explicitly stated in The Umbrella Academy, that this is how Lila feels. But it was pretty obvious to me. Her random statements like, “Why are you doing the cake now?” and “I told you to do the pinata two hours ago!” and “This isn’t about you!” felt true to me. Like, OH MY GOD, I do this every day, HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS SO WRONG. And, also, Diego casually says, “Hey, let’s just up and leave just like the old days, the kids will be fine with your family,” without appearing to have ANY IDEA about what goes into planning for kids to stay with relatives for what has to have been at least two days. (Sidebar: I’m not sure if the writers thought that bit through but I definitely read into it that Diego thinks it’ll be easy to slip away while Lila understands the intense logistics of this suggestion.)

So, when Lila said, regarding book club/undercover operations that she just needed something just for herself, I felt that, SO hard. Because you know what happens when you’re a mom? You’re doing the invisible labor and the emotional labor for (in Lila’s case) a family of five. When you finally have some time to yourself, it’s maybe an hour, and your choices are to try to do something relaxing by yourself, spend time with your husband (who you might resent a little), or do something for the house/family. Getting to escape and do something fun, just for you? That’s SO magical.

I do wish we’d seen more of their domestic life together, because I think that could have said a lot about their relationship. But I didn’t think for one second that Lila was unhappy because Diego is never present and never stops complaining, although I’m sure that’s part of it. I saw instantly that she was unhappy because her personhood has been crushed under the weight of motherhood and wifehood and that she was struggling. And that all she wanted—all any of us in similar situations want—is for her husband to understand that and step up, in a way that husbands really don’t understand, because patriarchy.

Does it mean she’d cheat on Diego? Does it mean she’d cheat on him with his brother? Not necessarily. Does it mean she might look for companionship or friendship elsewhere, outside of her family life? Does it mean she might be happy, for a while, living a more adventurous or quiet life, away from the demands of her family? Maybe! Would have been great if the show had explored that a little instead of turning her into part of a love triangle.

But I thought that Lila, burdened with motherhood in a way that Diego cannot ever truly know (because patriarchy), felt true to me and was one of the highlights of season four to me.

#the umbrella academy #tua #tua s4 #tua season 4 #lila pitts

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brights-place · 7 months ago

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Here me out, clay x librarian reader

Clay X Librarian! S/O

Pairing: Clayy X M! S/O

Warnings: Fluff FLUFF AND MORE FLUFF, nerds

A/N: LOVELYYYY! I love clay so much he is so cuteeeeeeee funfact i'm writing this IN the library... it's my spawn point LOL

- You were a librarian and clay was a nerdy guy and enjoyed books so of course you two would be a good pair! - You were the one who introduced him to books when he came into the library while on a walk and you were there - He couldn't help but be pulled in by your well everything! your f/c skin and 2f/c hair! along with your cozy appearance - He gladly took the book you offered for him to read as he was sitting down in a cozy corner staring at you every now and then as you did normal librarian things - He came by more often and you enjoyed his company every time he would come by to the library he would join you and ask book recommendations as you restock the shelves - You didn't know who he was or his past so he was so happy to have a fresh start with someone new

- He’s a sucker for intellectual people so once you’re bringing up your collections of books and the fact you make regular visits to the library, this guy’s interest shoots through the roof.

- You two soon started to date after 8 months - He helps you restock the books and both of you hsare book recommendations with eachother happily - Viva and others had gotten to hear about you ALOT when clay gets love sick - if you cup his face and squish it he would do it back to you or he has his arm on your waist or ontop of your head to tease you - He likes to grab the book above you sometimes and snickers cause he likes seeing the face you make - Dates where your both sitting beside each other or cuddling and reading - He loves when you soothe and remind him that it’s okay to be funny and goofy in some moments - You tell him that you enjoy hearing his rambling aout nerdy things because you do the same thing - He likes to help you out in the library alot and enjoys watching you read to the children - When he sees you surrounded by a group of younger students sitting around you as you read a storybook to them complete with silly voices and all clay finds himself smiling. - he made you join his sad book club which you allowed him to create in the library - Clay may use to be the funny one but he’s definitely smart (HE’S AN LICENSED CPA PUT SOME RESPECT ON HIS NAME FOOL!) - he has that boyband moneyyy! so he buys you your own books that you wanted to read - You both are the perfect match together both nerding out together about things you both enjoy

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

#fluff #headcannons #x reader #trolls clay #Clay X Reader #trolls 3 #Trolls band together #troll #trolls art #trolls clay x reader #trolls x reader #dreamworks trolls #trolls dreamworks #trolls movie #trolls #Clay from Trolls #art #trolls world tour

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vivwritescrappythings · 7 months ago

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silence

eddie munson x reader

the five times you asked eddie to be quiet (and the one time he was)

tw: ANGST, but also fluff?, hurt no comfort, blood, death, trauma, reader is gender neutral (i think), kissing, alcohol, mentions of drug use, reader is shorter than eddie.

wc: 8.5k

masterlist

—

The first time you discovered that Eddie Munson was an unstoppable force of nature all bottled into the lanky body of a nineteen-year-old boy, it was at work.

The Hawkins Library was not frequently visited on Friday evenings, your shift often filled with the sound of you restocking books on shelves and the squeaky wheel of the cart you pushed around. So you instantly noticed the loud, raucous voice interrupting the calm evening like a knife through butter.

It fired you up, your brow furrowing as you abandoned the cart of returned books to discover the source of the noise. There were a few people lingering in the plush chairs scattered through the atrium that looked up at you as you stormed past, the jingle of the keys around your neck punctuating your steps.

You were young to be working at the library, you were the only person there who was under the age of forty, let alone just nineteen. You liked books, didn’t mind a quiet workplace, and the Hawkins Library had an opening that you managed to squeeze into. There weren’t any other plans in your future, so you figured the library wasn’t a horrible place to end up.

It wasn’t hard to recognize Eddie Munson. He still wore his denim vest over his leather jacket, the patches haphazardly sewn on in uneven stitches. He made it during your senior year of high school… well, his first senior year of high school. You thought he was on his second round, at least that was what you’d heard from Nancy. The frizzy, curly hair on his head was the same, but he had it pulled into a loose bun at the nape of his neck. Hellfire club was seated at a table, the actual boys having changed but they still wore the same shirts.

“Roll for initiative!” Eddie’s voice had a theatrical fullness to it. There was an authenticity to him that you envied.

“You can’t shout like that in here,” you barked in your best attempt at an authoritative tone, crossing your arms over your chest as you stood behind Eddie. You said it a bit louder than was acceptable, wanting to make sure you were heard over the clatter on dice on the wooden table.

He looked like a kid that got caught with their hand in the cookie jar when he turned to look at you, a kiss-ass smile on his face.

“You need to quiet down,” you said, looking at the minions before their ringleader. The boys shied away from your gaze, looking down at the hands and the hand-drawn map in front of them. Eddie, their fearless leader, approached you and took the full heat of your stare.

“Aw c’mon,” Eddie softly whined, clutching his hands to his chest as he started to plead with you. You noticed that his eyes were puppy-dog brown as his lip jutted out far enough to cast a shadow from the overhead lighting.

You scoffed slightly, rolling your eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the drama room, Munson?”

Hellfire had taken a residency there your sophomore year of high school, meeting every Friday night to play Dungeons and Dragons. Eddie had even gotten himself a throne, the self-declared king of the misfits.

“They’re repainting it and threw us out,” he finally sighed, stopping his approach when he was just a foot away from you. “Please, take us strays in. We’re cold… winter’s here…” His voice trailed off pathetically as Eddie pretended to crumble to his knees in front of you.

You managed to stay stoic for a few moments, your arms still folded over your chest in disapproval as one of your eyebrows ticked up. Eddie had always been talented at making a spectacle of himself.

He finally broke you, pretending to sob as he lightly tugged on your cardigan. His little whimper for your mercy made you roll your eyes despite the fact that you cracked a smile. A soft laugh huffed from your nostrils, making you shake your head.

“Fine,” you sighed, hoping he would get up sooner rather than later. “But you owe me.”

He clambered to his feet, adjusting his vest and leather jacket as he flashed you a sincere, boyish smile. Your heart stuttered at the sight of it. His pink lips briefly shut, his tongue pressing into his cheek as he looked you up and down. “How about I make it up to you with dinner? Maybe tomorrow?”

Your cheeks heated up as you slid from bossy to bashful. “Dinner? Um, sure,” you murmured, your fingers reaching up to press at the nape of your neck as a small smile formed on your face. You’d never considered dating Eddie, but as soon as he offered you found yourself readily agreeing.

The Hellfire boys giggled amongst themselves and elbowed one another. The sound of their chuckles reminded you that you were at work, making you draw yourself up once more.

“But keep it down!” you reminded him sharply, some of your composure returning as you started to turn away from Eddie and his retinue.

“Of course we will,” he said in an exaggerated whisper, winking as he placed a finger against his lips. You knew it was a complete lie, even as he crossed his fingers over his heart and jostled the buttons pinned to his breast pocket. After a moment you nodded, leaving the group to themselves as you made your way back to your cart of books.

As soon as you rounded the corner you heard what you came to recognize as Eddie’s Dungeon Master voice booming out across the library.

ii.

It was only your third date when you’d learned that Eddie was thoughtful: an evening spent walking around the new shopping mall completed with seeing a movie in the attached theater.

You didn’t think your dinner would end so well, ending up with you two talking late into the night before you’d parted ways. You found yourself calling him to ask him for a second date, having to leave an awkward message with his uncle.

The second was even better, the two of you watching movies you’d rented from Family Video on your thrift store couch in your too-small apartment. What started with awkward smiles each time your hands touched or knees bumped morphed into Eddie clumsily pressing a kiss to your lips in the blue-tinted darkness.

He started this date with a kiss, curling an arm around your waist as you walked up to his van and pulling you in for a quick stamp of his lips on yours. It was so easy, it felt like you’d been kissing for months rather than the first time a few days prior. You melted into it, finding yourself a bit lightheaded as he opened the door for you and ushered you into the passenger seat.

Walking around the mall included his fingers wrapping around yours, splitting a milkshake in the food court, and a long excursion to the arcade.

You were amazed with just how boisterous he was. Eddie was so expressive, moving your hand with his as he talked about his band and his hopes to someday leave Hawkins. You listened like a disciple, wide-eyed and enamored. Life exuded from his every movement, a broad smile on his face as he jumped up to walk on the rim of one of the planters.

But he surprised you by actually steering the conversation your way, making you go into Waldenbooks to listen to you talk about your favorite books and Tape World so you could pick out your favorite songs. You didn’t know until later that he had gone back the next day to buy everything you’d picked up so he could surprise you–that’s how smitten he was.

You told him about how you liked the library but wanted to feel like you were really doing something with your life. He listened as you rambled, his eyes taking in the way you smiled and looked around when you talked and how you swung your intertwined hands even more aggressively to make your points.

He told you later that it was that moment he knew he was in love.

But, nevertheless, you two found your way to the movie theater and sat down in the back of one to watch The Breakfast Club with a blue raspberry ICEE shoved into the cupholder between the two of you. Eddie had only asked the boy at the snack counter for one straw, forcing you to share it.

He talked through every movie trailer, his sarcastic commentary making you laugh under your breath as the two of you looked at one another like co-conspirators. Eddie went out of his way to ask which ones you wanted to go see when they came out. He planned outings with you in barely-hushed whispers, already asking if you liked midnight premieres or Tuesday afternoon movies and if you liked to sit in the middle or the back of the theater.

Midnight premiers. The back of the theater.

Eddie made sure you never missed a movie you’d been talking about, showing up at your apartment at half an hour to midnight to whisk you away to the Starcourt Cinema. He always made sure you sat in the back, once even making some kids he knew from Hellfire club move out of the way so you two could have a seat. You saw so many movies that you could hardly keep track of them.

But this one was special because it was the first. When the lights went dark he didn’t change his volume, his hot chocolate eyes focusing on you like you were the only person in the world.

“Eddie, the movie’s starting,” you whispered, nodding your chin toward the screen as you leaned toward him. You reached around the cup to hold his hand, the cool condensation clinging to the outside of it smearing along your forearm as your temple nudged his shoulder. “You gotta be quiet.”

“Hmm?” He turned to look at the screen, letting out a soft ‘oh’ as he squeezed your hand once.

It only took him a moment to talk again. “Detention s’not like that, you know,” he informed you, his voice still well above a whisper.

iii.

It was early for a Monday when Eddie had imprinted himself on your heart like the tattoo on your hip.

It was your day off and Eddie’s as he hadn’t started school quite yet. He was still asleep, probably sprawling out on your bed like an overgrown starfish and snoring into the pillow on your side of the bed. You’d discovered that you were the early bird of your pair, you often rose well before Eddie was ready to be cognizant. You held your breath and tiptoed while getting out of bed to brew coffee and watch television with the volume turned down low.

You were clad in his Iron Maiden shirt, having staked your claim on it when you started keeping it in your dresser drawers. It was the tail-end of the dog days of summer, loose sleep shorts on your legs as you sat in front of a fan you’d set up in your living room. Eddie was hogging the one in your bedroom, conveniently setting it up on his side of the bed.

Your coffee had long gone lukewarm, the unforgiving August sun stretching in your living room through the curtains as you sat on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. The television provided white noise, some game show playing while you idly sketched on the notepad in front of you.

It was a monster for Eddie’s campaign, he’d been describing it all night and you couldn’t get it out of your head. You didn’t consider yourself much of an artist, but Eddie always praised you like you were Picasso reincarnate. You drew his monsters all the time, he kept the loose pieces of paper tucked away in the beaten-up notebook he always carried around.

The groan of your air conditioner ruined your perfect morning, the machine finally giving out like it had been threatening to for the past few weeks. Cool air stopped trickling through the vent in your kitchen as you fished a partially burnt piece of toast from the toaster.

“Fucking of course,” you sighed, dropping the toast on the chipped Snoopy plate you refused to get rid of. The motions of buttering the bread and spreading jam kept your hands occupied, your bare foot tapping against the tile as you wondered who to call to fix it. You had the landlord’s phone number written somewhere, rifling through your mental checklist of places it could be.

Eddie emerged from your bedroom as you’re rifling through your junk drawer, emptying the contents onto the kitchen counter. What possessed you to keep all this crap? There were too many odds and ends to count, loose batteries and bobbins of thread and scraps of paper and a spring rolling across the ivory tiles.

“What’s got you in crazy tornado mode this early in the morning?” Eddie asked, approaching with slow, groggy steps as he rubbed his eyes. He stood behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist and his chin on your shoulder.

“Air conditioner broke.” You jolted when you found the crumpled slip of paper where you’d scrawled the phone number, holding it up like treasure you’d dug out of the ground.

Eddie chuckled, letting you go with a kiss to your temple before he disappeared into the bathroom. Your gaze followed him as he did, noting that he’d taken his shirt off at some point. The swirling black lines of his tattoos were on full display as you dialed the number, twisting the phone cord around your finger.

Seeing Eddie without all his garb felt like a special privilege. The first time he slept over he’d stripped to just red checkered boxers and his socks, letting you stare wide-eyed at the tattoos that littered his skin. The two of you had stayed up talking about them until the sun was rising, Eddie’s cheeks tinted pink every time you reached out to trace the designs.

You particularly loved the wonky stick and poke tattoo he’d given himself above his left knee, big block letters that said DUNGEON MASTER but were slightly wobbly. He was embarrassed when you’d asked him to give you one.

There were no tattoos on your skin when Eddie had you lay down on the floor of his room in the trailer, kneeling over you with a needle shoved in the end of a pencil eraser. You noticed he stuck out his tongue when he concentrated, worried about messing up the placement of the lines. It stung, the first poke making you squirm and forcing him to smooth a big hand on your stomach to keep you still.

You traced the shape of the healed star tattooed just above the waistband of your shorts as you leaned against the wall near your phone, some of the lines were a little crooked but you didn’t care.

“Mr. Frask’s Office.” The shrill voice brought your attention back. Mr. Frask was one of the biggest landlords in Hawkins, some rich investor from Indiana who owned a bunch of buildings they constructed near the outskirts of town.

“Hi, um, my air conditioner broke down and I need someone to come out here and fix it,” you said, turning so your back was to the bathroom door as you twisted the spiral phone cord up and down your index finger. There was a crackle of static on the other end of the line, you could hear the woman shifting around papers on her desk.

She asked you which complex you lived in, making you stretch the phone cord as far as it could go as you leaned toward the big window in your living room. “Um, Appletree West?” It sounded like more of a question than an answer despite the fact that you were staring at the wooden sign at the entrance of the parking lot.

You hardly could process what was happening before your instincts had you moving. A cold, wet press to the nape of your neck made you yelp straight into the receiver as you twisted away from it. Drops rolled down your spine, the cool water making your skin erupt in goosebumps.

Eddie snickered behind you, letting the ice cube he was holding slide down the back of your shirt. You made a strangled noise, completely forgetting about the phone as you yanked your shirt with your free hand and let the ice cube fall to the carpet.

“Are you okay?” The voice on the phone was quiet, fighting over the short distance to your ear as the woman reminded you of her presence.

You narrowed your eyes at Eddie. “Yeah, sorry about that. There’s some crazy guy running around outside, caught me by surprise,” you said, shooting Eddie a glare over your shoulder. He grinned wide, dimples showing as you rolled your eyes.

You smothered the receiver with your palm. “Eddie, I’m on the phone,” you hissed, scolding him as you returned to where the phone hook was on the wall.

He followed amiably like a puppy, standing right behind you as you turned away from him in an attempt to hide your smile. Lanky arms curled around your waist, nuzzling his nose into the back of your neck. His fingertips drummed a beat against your abdomen.

“What unit number?” the woman asked, sounding bored.

“Unit 1-12.” Eddie licked a long, wet stripe up the side of your throat, his warm tongue pressed flat and wide against your skin. You made a strangled sound, his arms keeping you from squirming away as you pushed his head away with your free hand.

“Ask if they can make your upstairs neighbor stop fucking that lady so loud,” he whispered in your ear, making it hard to concentrate on what the woman on the phone was asking. Your upstairs neighbors had been going at it pretty loud as of late, their yowls making them sound more like crappy pornstars than an actual couple.

You covered the microphone with your hand, turning to glare. “Eddie, I’m on the phone. Can you please be quiet?”

He smirked, loving to get a rise out of you. “You never pay attention to me.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to wrap up the phone call as soon as possible as Eddie continued to mutter nonsense into your ear. The property manager would be coming by in a few hours, the woman rattling off information that prompted you to hum and nod as though you were in the room with her.

Eddie’s hands started to snake beneath the hem of the shirt you wore, his calloused fingertips snapping the waistband of your underwear lightly. He pressed wet, noisy kisses down your throat and beneath the spot on your ear that made you shiver.

“Thank you!” you squeaked into the phone, a blush creeping up on your face. You hung up before the woman had time to respond.

You turned in Eddie’s embrace, his shit-eating grin was wide as he backed you up until you were trapped against the wall. “You are incorrigible, Edward Munson,” you scolded, lips scrunching to one side and nose wrinkling in an attempt to hide the smile on your face.

He snickered, his chocolate brown gaze taking in your expression before he leaned down to worm his way into a kiss. It was quick and chaste, when he pulled away you found yourself following his lips as though an invisible string connected you. He tasted minty like your toothpaste. “I love when you talk librarian to me,” he murmured, a huff of a laugh breathing over you.

“Library assistant,” you corrected, tracing the spider tattoo just beneath his left collarbone.

It was already starting to get warm in your apartment, soon the two of you would be too hot to even talk to one another if the air conditioning didn’t get fixed.

He hummed his understanding, nodding. “Library assistant, that’s wicked hot.”

iv.

New Year’s Eve was when Eddie had promised you a future.

The party was a whirlwind.

Hawkins parties tended to be on the stranger side, especially during the holidays. No one had anything better to do, and everyone was back home with their parents for the break. The annual New Year’s Eve house party was an amalgamation of high school and college students crammed into an unsuspecting family’s home. The family of 1985 was the Perkins family, their respectable home in one of the more spacious neighborhoods. Apparently Carol’s parents had gone out of town to celebrate, letting her and her younger sister have run of the place.

Eddie forced you to come along, he had spent the past day rolling joints to sell at a ridiculous markup and didn’t want to go alone. You’d wanted to have a night at home, maybe invite some of your friends over for something small. But he begged, using his sweet puppy-dog eyes against you until your resolve crumbled. Ever the dutiful girlfriend, you went with him under the stipulation that he had to drive.

The music was loud inside the house, the lights were dim and people were everywhere you looked. Eddie had melded into a corner, his metal lunch box at his side. You could feel his gaze on you across the room as you talked with some of your friends, giggling over red solo cups filled with drinks that were too strong.

You’d found your way back to Eddie nearly every ten minutes, his gaze on your spine pulling you over to him like a moth to a flame. It didn’t matter if he was in the middle of a deal, you always clambered onto the couch next to him and nuzzled in close.

It was getting late when you’d flopped onto the couch that time. “Hi Ed,” you whispered into his ear, your voice getting a bit wobbly as the tipsiness settled into your bones. Your drink swirled dangerously in the cup, making Eddie confiscate it with a chuckle and set it on the end table next to him. He pocketed the cash, the teenager scurrying away with a newly purchased joint between their fingers.

Eddie turned to look at you, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as his arm curled around your back. “Hey, how you feeling?” he asked, his voice low as he gently knocked his forehead against yours. You practically beamed under his affection.

Your friends were watching, smiling to one another as they watched Eddie smooth a piece of hair behind your ear. The whole conversation that evening had been focused on how good he was for you, and how you seemed to blossom in a way they had never seen with your previous relationships. Despite his rough exterior, Eddie was the sweetest person you’d ever met: empathetic and kind and boisterous. You’d never been with anyone like him.

“M’good, just missed you,” you mumbled, your fingertips tracing along the borders of the patches on his vest. It was close to midnight, the two of you just a little over ten minutes away from 1986. The energy in the party was already starting to buzz, more and more attention focused on wristwatches and the clocks on the walls.

He grinned, his free hand pulling a strand of his curly hair over his mouth as he started to look bashful. “Yeah? I’ve been right here the whole time, no reason to miss me,” he said, making you roll your eyes.

Another teen approached, making Eddie wave them away with a flick of his hand as he stood. You moved with him, your fingers twined together as he tucked his lunch box under his arm and started to weave through the crowd. “Just wanna spend time with me and you,” he said as he brought you up a flight of stairs off the living room.

You agreed, nodding as he started opening doors in the long upstairs hallway. Bedrooms were full, most of the doors locked or really should have been locked. A fit of giggles erupted from the two of you when you opened a door to see a tangle of limbs on the bed, an embarrassed yelp from the pair and profuse apologies spilling from your lips as you slammed the door shut.

“Maybe I should just start doing that to you out here in the hall,” Eddie suggested, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively as he cornered you against the wall. He set the lunch box at his feet.

“Shut up,” you said with a laugh, your hands finding his biceps as you stretched up to kiss him. His lips were soft as always, your tongue darting out to taste him. Cigarettes and beer and your strawberry flavored chapstick he kept in his pocket just in case you asked for it.

His hands found your waist, smoothing to the curve of it as he shuffled forward, his Reebocks nudging against your Converse as he pressed the length of your body against his. “S’all dark up here, no one would even know.” He was halfway between teasing and telling the truth, his umber eyes sparkling with mischief even in the low light.

You giggled again, shaking your head. “You can just take me home if you want to do that, Ed,” you said softly, biting your lower lip.

Excited whispers began downstairs. One minute left until midnight.

The thrill of New Year’s Eve had often been lost on you, it was just another day, just another year. It never meant anything to you besides the passage of time, crossing days off the calendar as the clock ticked. New Year’s Eve was just a night where you got a little too drunk and maybe kissed a stranger if you were feeling bold.

But the last day of 1985 was different. You had plans, goals for the first time in a long time. You had college lined up in Indianapolis in August, you and Eddie were going to move out of your hellhole of a small town and actually start your lives. He was going to graduate, find a job at a record store in the city and keep making music with Corroded Coffin. He’d make it someday, you could tell from the tapes you’d been passing around at your college tours–people really liked them.

“I love you,” you whispered in the dark, looking up at Eddie with adoration written clearly over your expression.

A sweet kiss to your nose followed, making you scrunch it up. “I love you too,” he murmured, leaning in further so his frizzy, curly hair blocked your view of the rest of the dark hallway. “Eighty-six is our year, right?”

There was a hint of nervousness, you could see the seedling of fear in him that you would disagree. You didn’t understand how Eddie could think that you’d ever doubt him, not when you looked at him like he had single-handedly hung the moon and the stars.

You nodded instantly. “Of course, nothing’s gonna stop us.”

Everyone was counting down, voices shouting and the shuffling of feet as people figured out who they were going to be with when 1985 morphed into 1986. This was the first year since you were a little kid that you didn’t have to scramble to figure something out, content as you and Eddie blended into each other in the shadows of the upstairs hall.

Your voices were hushed, whispering numbers to one another in a way that was so sappy and soppy that you thought it couldn’t possibly be real. He couldn’t possibly be yours.

Eddie kissed you at midnight, so eager that your noses mashed together and your teeth collided. You were smiling into it, holding him as close as you could as your mouth melded to his. You’d kissed him often, dozens of times a day, but it always felt just as electric as the first time he’d kissed you.

And that was how your New Year’s kiss felt, giddy and eager and had your heart swelling in a way that made you think it would explode. He pulled away first, smiling down at you for another moment. “Eighty-six, baby!” he whooped, so loud that it pulled a startled laugh from you.

“Eddie!” you squeaked, your fingers pressing over your mouth. “You gotta be quiet.” You were never serious when you asked him to hush, he always knew that.

“Eighty-six is gonna be our year,” he said again, albeit much softer as he stooped down to pull you into another kiss.

It was March when you learned that Eddie thought he was a coward.

A fist pounding on your front door pulled you from the clutches of sleep. You had a long day and had passed out early, the bright red numbers on your alarm clock informing you that it was only a few minutes after ten.

It was hard to get out of bed, your mind still swirling with the confusion of waking up abruptly as you sat up and rubbed your eyes with your palms. The knocking didn’t stop, if anything it had increased in tempo. Another moment later your feet were shoved into slippers and you were blinking sleep out of your eyes as you made your way across the tiny apartment.

Your movements were slow and languid until you looked through the peephole: you’d never seen Eddie look so terrified in his life. His eyes were wide, every speck of color drained from his face and his expression gaunt.

It only took you a second to wrench open your door after panic made you fumble with the lock, Eddie’s arms immediately wrapping around you as he nearly knocked you onto the floor.

“Eddie, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice raspy from sleep as you managed to catch yourself. The majority of his weight was leaning on you, his face tucked into your neck as he pulled in labored breaths. You ran your fingers up and down his sides, your arms trapped against your body as he clung to you.

It was Hellfire night, the end of his big campaign. He’d been talking about it for weeks, ranting and raving about Vecna and how hard it would be for the Hellfire boys to beat him. You couldn’t think of anything that would make him react like this.

“Chr-Chrissy Cunningham,” he finally muttered against your neck, pitching you even further into the deep end of the pool. Your brows drew together as you nodded in an attempt to get him to talk more. He’d told you about the weird request she had for something stronger than weed, how he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to sell to her. The two of you had met up after he got out of school, sitting in the back of his van as you shared a bag of chips before you had to work. You’d just shrugged, telling him to go with his gut.

“Did something happen, Ed?” you asked, your voice soft. Worry took root in the pit of your stomach as you whirred through scenarios. It could’ve been anything, really. She could’ve taken too much, or could’ve had an accident or ratted him out. Or said something to him, she was a cheerleader after all and Eddie was sensitive beneath his carefully constructed exoskeleton.

The thought that something else could have happened spiked through you, the recesses of your mind reminding you that Chrissy Cunningham had always been a cute, sweet girl whenever she checked out books at the library. She had stunning eyes, and always asked you about yourself. That could be something Eddie wanted, a girl much sweeter than you. You pushed the thought away.

You swallowed thickly, reminding yourself of the situation at hand. He still held you close, your front door wide open and revealing the clear night outside. “Eddie, you gotta talk to me,” you whispered again, squirming in his tight grip.

He shook his head, a pathetic whimper pulling from his throat in a way that broke your heart. There was desperation in the way he pulled you closer, crushing you into his chest. You didn’t protest, letting him work through his thoughts. A breeze floated through your door, carrying in the chilly March air and making you shiver in your flimsy pajamas.

“She’s dead,” he said, and the floodgate opened as your heart stopped. “I don’t know what happened. I was in my room getting the ketamine and I came out and she was, like, in this trance. And I know it sounds crazy and you won’t believe me but she literally lifted off the ground and her eyes rolled back and–oh fuck–her bones started breaking like it was a horror movie and she fell on the ground and her eyes were sucked out of her head. Idon’tknowwhathappened.”

He didn’t breathe once as he rambled. All the air sucked out of the room as you processed what he was saying. Dead. The kind, sweet cheerleader was dead. Poor girl, cut down her senior year just before life opened up to a whole world outside of Hawkins. She was the town sweetheart, known by all and loved almost as much.

And the last person that saw her was Eddie.

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. “We need to go,” you finally said, snapping back to yourself. Normally Eddie was the one who took charge, he figured out the plans or solved the problems caused by your neuroticism. But in his time of need you found yourself naturally taking up the mantle.

“What?” he whispered, seemingly caught off guard as he pulled back and looked you in the eyes. His huge hands were on your shoulders, you could feel him trembling. “What do you mean?”

You gently placed a hand on his face, watching how Eddie flinched before he leaned into your touch. It made you want to bring him to your room and bundle him up in your quilt to protect him from the world. “Did this happen in the trailer?” you asked, your thumb stroking on his cheekbone.

He nodded, not quite grasping what you were saying. “Then we need to go, whoever finds that body is gonna think you did it.” His eyes widened in a way that told you he hadn’t considered that. “We need to get out of here.” There was urgency in your tone as you slipped from his hold, moving in a blur.

You were dressed with a backpack in hand in minutes, working Eddie’s keys from his pocket as you grabbed his wrist and pulled him after you. He was in shock, clumsy and slow as he followed you. There was the soft whisper of him talking to himself under his breath as you charged down the stairs to your second-story apartment. There was no argument as you got into the driver’s seat of the van, peeling out of the spot as soon as Eddie buckled into the passenger side.

“Reefer Rick’s out of town,” Eddie mumbled after a few minutes of driving, looking out the windshield in the dark. You didn’t know he could seem so empty, like someone had cracked him open and spilled all of his joy out. It made you feel helpless. You nodded, driving toward Lover’s Lake like you had stolen the van, cutting corners and running lights the further you got from town.

The description of Chrissy’s body was stuck with you, her limbs akimbo as she cooled on the carpeted floor of the trailer. You thought about what Eddie said, your brow furrowing as you tried to piece it all together to make a picture that felt like reality. It made no sense, sounding like something out of a Stephen King novel. But you believed that he didn’t do it.

There was no way your Eddie could do something like that. He cried when he accidentally ran over a squirrel that crossed the street at the wrong time, he wasn’t a killer.

The two of you left the van parked a ways into the woods, hiking the rest of the distance to Reefer Rick’s in silence. Eddie startled every time a stick cracked under your feet, nearly jumping out of his skin as you reached out and slotted your fingers between his. You could tell his nerves were frayed as he barely held it together, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you gently guided him forward.

The house was locked, leading the two of you to the boathouse for shelter. Eddie tested to see if the door was unlocked as you looked anxiously over your shoulders as though the police had followed you there. There was no way they could have, the only people who knew Chrissy was dead were you and Eddie… you kept repeating it in your head. Wayne would find her in the morning when he got home from work, you would have until then to figure something out.

The door swung open and Eddie stepped out of the way to let you in. The boathouse was full of crap, boxes and small boats strewn about, tarps thrown over various items and disguising their shapes.

“We’ll figure out what to do next,” you breathed with a sigh as Eddie shut the door. You realized that you were trying to soothe yourself more than him as you pulled on the chain for an overhead bulb, setting your backpack down as you looked around.

“I didn’t do it.” Eddie’s voice was quiet, he nervously stood in front of you. His rings flashed as he wrung his hands together, brown eyes wide as he settled his gaze on a boat. You traced the silhouette of his throat and Adam’s apple, his pale skin standing out against his dark hair as you looked at his profile.

You walked over to him, pulling him into a soft embrace. “I know you didn’t, Ed,” you whispered, guiding his head into the curve of your neck. “Never thought you did, I promise.”

The sob he let out was devastating, he took big lumbering steps that moved the two of you to one of the boats that had been discarded. He guided you back onto it, crushed beneath his weight as he started to cry into your neck. The tears were hot against your skin, rolling over your throat and soaking into the collar of your sweatshirt as you held him.

You shushed him softly, running your fingers through his curly hair as you tried to soothe Eddie. “I-I didn’t do it, I swear,” he pleaded against your neck, his voice loud enough to make you nervous as you looked out the windows dotting the living room walls.

“I know, I know,” you murmured, pressing your lips to the side of his head. “You gotta keep it down, we don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”

He huffed, nodding against you as he pulled you even closer. “I just ran away like a coward,” he sighed, voice cracking as he started to hiccup. “How… how could I do that? Just leave her there? I should’ve done something, should’ve called the cops.”

You shook your head in disagreement. “Ed, anyone would’ve been scared. It’s not like something normal happened.” You didn’t know what else to say, there was nothing you could tell him that would make it better. No matter what, there was still a dead girl on the floor of his trailer. “There wasn’t anything you could do.”

There wasn’t a moment of silence until Eddie fell asleep, you whispered platitudes to him in the dim light. The rough wood of the dinghy dug into your back, but you didn’t dare move a muscle as you felt Eddie start to relax and fall asleep in your arms.

It was only a few days later when your whole world fell apart.

Buying more time.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you burst from the Upside Down version of the Munson trailer, a sickening crunch and Dustin’s scream echoing behind you. The sound of the poor kid getting hurt almost made you stop and turn around. Almost.

But you couldn’t, you could only keep going as you thought about your sweet idiot of a boyfriend. How dare he risk himself like that? Didn’t he know that you couldn’t make it, that you couldn’t live without him? If he did, he didn’t seem to take it into account when he cut the rope connecting the Upside Down and Hawkins, running off into battle.

You screamed as the column of bats took Eddie to the ground by his neck. They were pulling at his limbs, scratching and biting him. What did he think that fucking trashcan lid and broom spear would do? Your legs were moving now, sprinting faster than you ever even knew you could. The ground was rocky and uneven, but you somehow kept planting one foot in front of the other. Some distant part of your brain heard Dustin behind you, his shouts matching your own.

Eddie was screaming so loud.

It was the ugliest noise you had ever heard in your life, each one cutting through your heart.

Then the bats fell, the sudden swarm dropping out of the sky like pathetic rubber toys as you reached where Eddie was sprawled on the ground. You stepped on their carcasses in an effort to get to him faster, almost slipping as their thin bones crunched beneath your feet. Blood covered his face and neck, soaking into the white fabric on his Hellfire shirt as you fell to your knees next to him.

“Eddie!” Your voice was too loud, too tight in your throat. Tears were already leaking from your eyes as you knelt over him, your hands vibrating in the air as you hesitated to touch him. It was like everything was frozen as you took in the sheer amount of crimson. There was so much blood, it pooled in every nook and cranny of his body as he slowly looked up at you.

Dustin was soon to follow, limping as he fell on Eddie’s other side. Eddie’s brown eyes rolled in his skull a little as he looked at Dustin, the teen’s face crumpled in anguish. “Bad, huh?” Eddie asked, films of blood bubbling at his pink lips as he spoke.

Yeah. The worst.

Dustin vehemently denied it, speaking where you couldn’t. There were promises of a hospital thrown out there along with the idea that Eddie would get better. He helped you hoist Eddie up, your arms cradling his torso as you pulled him into your lap. You knew it was over when Eddie cried out for a second, but you nodded, your free hand falling to his cheek as you looked down at him.

God, why did he have to be so selfless?

It only took Eddie a moment to smile as he looked up at you. But you could see the tears forming at the corners of his eyes, the way they slid down his temples and into the frizzy mess of his hair. “I didn’t run away this time, right?” his voice was tight and strangled, the sound of it so foreign coming out of Eddie’s mouth. Rowdy, boisterous Eddie, reduced to raspy whispers.

“No, you didn’t,” you managed to gasp, your voice wobbly as you found your breath. It came in harsh inhales, like you were about to drown. “You didn’t run.”

“You gotta do everything we said we would,” Eddie said, watching as you started to cry. It was still stoic enough, a few tears running down your cheeks. “You gotta go to college and live in Indianapolis and become a writer.”

It was impossible to even imagine your dreams, Eddie was there in every single one. You shook your head, your throat closing as you pressed your lips together in a stubborn line. “I can’t,” you sounded so pathetic, “I can’t without you, Ed.”

Thunder cracked over your head, red lightning illuminating the roiling, stormy sky. It sounded like Eddie was choking with each breath, blood bubbling in his throat. Dustin reached out to you, his hand clasping your shoulder as your heads bowed together, temples knocking as you both tried to keep your misery at bay. At least for now.

“You’re gonna, you’re gonna do it all for me,” Eddie argued, his breaths shortening. “You never needed me for any of it, anyways. You were always too smart for me.”

You whined, hardly even able to breathe. “Shut up,” you mumbled, your trembling fingers tightening on Eddie’s jacket in some desperate attempt to keep him with you for longer. “I need you, I need you with me. I don’t know…” You couldn’t even finish what you were saying.

“Dustin, you promise me you’re gonna take care of everyone, the little sheepies.” There was an unspoken promise that Dustin would be taking care of you as well. He denied Eddie the same way you did, mumbling that he wouldn’t have to because Eddie would be there to do it himself. But, Eddie was just as smart as he was stubborn, forcing a promise out of the teenager.

“I love you,” Eddie said, his gaze shifting back to yours. He was starting to look hazy, his brown eyes having trouble focusing on your face. His vibrancy was slipping away.

“I love you so much, baby,” you whispered, molars digging into your cheek as you tried to keep the tears stinging at your eyes from falling. The iron taste of your blood filled your mouth. “I love you more than anything in the world.” Your bottom lip wouldn’t stop trembling, your entire life falling out from under you as your blood-streaked fingers smoothed the hair curling out from under Eddie’s bandana.

Eddie’s breath turned into choking, Dustin saying his name over and over again. You watched his eyes slip from yours, the furrow in his brow smoothing out. The awful choking sound continued, his throat struggling for hair as his head turned to match the slope of your thigh. “Eddie…” you sobbed as you let the knot in your throat release, watching the last glimmer of light disappear from him, the sound of his labored breath fading to nothing.

You’d never heard a silence so deafening.

He was so quiet, so still. Eddie had never done anything quietly in his life. Everything about him was vibrant and genuine, he spent every moment pouring himself out into the world for greedy people like you to gobble up. There was never a moment Eddie wasn’t trying to make someone laugh, bending over backwards for just a smile. He spent hours dreaming up songs for his band, writing down stories he would then perform for his friends over the Dungeons and Dragons table. Hell, he even talked in his sleep.

It had always been you who told him to quiet down, but you never meant it. A world without Eddie was a world devoid of color, of life.

Now that you knew his silence, you regretted every second you’d ever asked him to be quiet.

Dustin was crying, the noise bringing you back into the present. You didn’t realize that you had been speaking, begging Eddie to come back to you, to say something. It felt like you were falling, tumbling end over end as your whole life was ripped from your fingers.

Did you ever stop falling? Was there ever Wonderland at the end of the tunnel, or did it just go on forever?

You clutched Eddie’s still-warm body as close as you could, rocking back and forth as you screamed your throat raw. You didn’t know that anything could hurt so much, almost convinced that the gaping hole in your chest was real. Dustin was right there with you, an arm across your back as he sobbed into your shoulder.

You wished it was you instead, that Eddie was cradling your dead body on his lap. He would be able to recover, to move on. In your fantasy you could see him becoming a huge rockstar that wrote sad ballads about his past lover. Time would heal his wounds.

But for you? Time felt like it had stopped, the entire world paused to mourn the death of one of its best and brightest alongside you. There wasn’t even thunder overhead, just the sound of you and Dustin.

There was no way to tell how long had passed when Steve pulled you off of Eddie, shouting that you needed to go. Nancy and Robin had already yanked Dustin to his feet, Eddie’s guitar pick necklace dangling from his fist as the teen struggled against them.

“Just… just let me…” you mumbled, flinching away from Steve’s arms as you plucked Eddie’s gaudy costume rings from his cooling fingers and hastily shoved them in the pockets of your jeans. You lifted him just enough to slip his vest from his shoulders, easing his limp arms through the holes where the sleeves had once been as gently as you could. It was bloody, there were rips in the fabric.

You could see where he’d stitched your name beneath the flap in the collar, the embroidery haphazard and clumsy and so genuine that it hurt. Another scream ripped from you, your arms curling around Eddie’s shoulders on instinct as you pulled his limp form back to you.

Maybe if you held him long enough he would come back, laughing about how it was a misunderstanding of some elaborate prank he’d decided to pull. He would promise you that he was okay, making you taste the costume blood just to assure you that it was fake. Then he would grab your face between his hands and kiss your forehead and nose and lips, and you’d make him swear to never do something like that ever again because it felt like a part of you had died with him.

But he didn’t do any of those things.

It took Steve forcing you off of him, arms locked around your waist and hauling you up from the ground. You thrashed and screamed and kicked, fighting him every step of the way as he dragged you back to the trailer. He was talking to you, but you couldn’t understand a word he said over your cries.

Even as Steve forced you back through the gate to Hawkins, you could only think about how you’d never seen Eddie so quiet.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #reader insert #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #this one hurt #cried while writing it #stranger things season 4 #joseph quinn #st s4 #eddie munson fic

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nonetoon · 1 year ago

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For blind boxes I have a few single ones here and there but here are some of my main collections:

I have a handful of the Finding Unicorn x AAMY figurines already. The three on the left are from the Melt With You series and the one on the right holding the flower is from the Picnic With Butterflies series.

These are good ones to get since all the options are so pretty you can’t really lose! I’ll definitely be saving up to get one from the new Clockwork Toy City series (if I don’t just bite the bullet and try and get a confirmed/used Dalmatian Waltz), and I know there is also The Magicians Story series that I don’t know too too much about but they are definitely perfect for Halloween!

Another super cute Finding Unicorn figurine set is Molinta! These figures always remind me of children’s book illustrations. The one on the left holding the flags is from the Camping Vlog series and the rest are from the Spring List series.

I for sure want to get my hands on more of the Camping Vlog series, and the Gossip Club series is also very cute! I was going to say though that they’re not really my style but upon giving them another look uuuh I may also need to add one to the list 🫣

And of course the ones that started it all are Smiski figurines! They are by far the most I have, but ones I’m most likely not going to be able to get more of in the near future.

For whatever reason they’re kind of a little more expensive and on the scarce side (at least for the series I’m looking for). I definitely lucked out in having a local store have almost every series stocked up and for much cheaper until they ran out and never restocked them 😭

Who knows, maybe one day they will be back but in the mean time I’m fine saving to boost up my other sets.

Side note though, if you do get some Smiskis, I recommend having them by a window or lamp. I have them set up on my desk directly underneath a light and it’s always very fun turning it off at night.

#text #dumb stuff #long post #blind boxes #figurines

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ofliterarynature · 1 year ago

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Responding to your request for LGBTQ+ recs, some of my favourite 90s adult fantasies - hope these will be niche enough!

The Fire's Stone (Tanya Huff) - fantasy quest but with a MM romance and an ace main character

The Stone Prince (Fiona Patton, Huff's wife) - classic Anglo-Saxon medieval fantasy but with a wholly queernorm world and a central established MM couple

Astreiant (Melissa Scott) - series starting with The Point of Hopes, mysteries in a super interesting fantasy city with a very low-key MM romance

Ahh, thank you so much! We’ve mostly read newer books so far and I’d love to fit in some older titles, I’ll just have to see if the library has enough copies.

We did read one of Huff’s urban fantasy books last year (which was declared not objectively good but a good read nonetheless lol) so now you have me curious about her high fantasy!

#asks #lost-hitsu #if there’s not copies *i* might still read them #hmm I need a tag for these recs don’t I #book club restock

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cozzzynook · 4 months ago

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Idea!

Rodimus while with the habit of shirking his captain duties is actually pretty proactive in taking care of his crew

Like he loves his found family obviously (knows everyone’s name even cause he’s THAT good) so like short of paperwork (the horror) he’s willing to do a lot to make them happy

For example, the medics have been complaining about the quality of their supplies and Roddy overhears (or heard through Drift) and strings are pulled and the next time they restock on supplies they’re hooked up with a different and probably better supplier

Or gossip around the bar says there’s this big racing event on Velocitron coming up and people were talking about how they wish they could watch (like they’ve haven’t seen a race since before the war or smt) and suddenly their next pit stop for energon is conveniently Velocitron within the timeframe of the event

Brainstorm needs a super specific mineral but it isn’t high priority so he doesn’t ask for it? Tracked down and included in their next supply list. Crosscut needs a custom set piece for his next play? Set up for him on his stage within a week. Blaster wants to start a radio show on the intership comms (because let’s be honest they don’t use it that much)? Approved and green lit (mayhaps behind Mags’ back but he won’t find out until too late)

At some point people do start noticing but no one really acknowledges it you know?

There is however a secret Rodimus appreciation club (secret because they’re afraid of what it’ll do to his ego if he knew) because if Rodimus is taking care of everyone else, there should be people taking care of him

The founder may or may not be Thunderclash and Drift may or may not be super salty about that fact

Oh my gosh i love this idea!

Roddy really does a lot for his crew he just hates paperwork. It makes him break out in a viral rash, literally. Ratchet has never seen anything like it lol

I say he makes it up to Magnus by getting him books and poetry artifacts because Magnus is into that kinda stuff. He also makes it up to Megatron by doing his shifts often just not the paperwork lol and by sneaking the mech some high quality high grade and home cooked fuel that he made personally. Roddy’s a great cook and mixologist its just the stuff he makes will sneak up on you and its heavy engenx not for the light weights lol

For Ratchet he gives him a full week off every month with Drift of course. He’s fine picking up the shifts because he gets something to do and socialize. He also makes sure he keeps a good stock of Perceptors favorite fuel since the mech is with Brainstorm all day.

He even makes sure Whirl gets to let his rage out on old equipment or things they need to get rid of. The mech is a lot less violent since allowed to have a rage room of sorts. In fact a lot of mechs are leas violent since Roddy put the rage room in. He thanks swerve for his service and the idea by having Blurr on the ship for a solid week.

No one went near Swerves hab but the occasional metal clangs told them he was getting lucky. That and Blurr leaving his personal comm with Swerve covered in blue paint.

Roddy definitely doesn’t need to know about his appreciation club. Definitely not.

They do all wonder why Soundwave of all mechs greets Rodimus at the vacation planet he was mysteriously given tickets to and why the mech has a servo on his lower back leading him somewhere private.

#transformers #rodimus prime #transformers lost light #lost light crew #drift #ratchet #dratchet #hinted Soundrod #soundrod

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enderpearlll · 2 years ago

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Yandere!Kevin Headcanons.

Needed a break from writing Bob. Pretend Kevin isn’t dating Streber in for the sake of the story, please. Sorry if this is too OOC, based it off of the song “Go-Getter Greg” by Ludo.

Gender-Neutral reader.

TW/CW: Yandere content, harsh language, stalking, harassment, creepy behaviour, etc…

• Kevin was a friendly guy at first, rather awkward and off standish. It was oddly charming in a way. When you first started working at the Candy Club he was more than eager to show you the ropes. The place was always short staffed so Kevin was overjoyed to have a new coworker that was reliable.

• The two of you clicked quickly, seeing as you two were the only competent employees there. Now, you liked Kevin but you weren’t willing to take the friendship out of work just yet. But Kevin couldn’t help but fall for the cute new employee. You were just so amazing and he felt the need to impress you, to get to know you better.

• Now Kevin is usually an uptight cynical guy that had no patience for bullshit, but around you he just becomes the most mushiest, soft, and attention seeking guy. You just have an effect on him that he doesn’t understand. It’s like Cupid shot him in the head twenty times over and over. Kevin is the most lovesick fuck around you and it’s sort of terrifying because everyone can tell he has a crush on you.

• He always helps you out around the shop and will let you take longer breaks than him. Kevin is a fucking simp. He is glad to do anything for you if it means you’ll give him attention. Are you struggling with restocking the shelves? Don’t worry, he can handle it! Gotta clean out the back? It’s okay, he can do it by himself! Kevin will happily sacrifice his own time for you.

• You feel bad, but he is really, REALLY persistent. You’re essentially getting paid to sit on your ass all day while Kevin does your job for you. It’s sort of creepy in a way… You try to tell him that it’s okay but he’s stubborn. Weirdly stubborn. Kevin does it to impress you, can’t you see that?

• He is an anxious person, so it’s only natural for him to worry about you 24/7, it’s normal behaviour for him. So he starts to follow you home. It’s just to make sure you make it there safely, honest! Oh, sometimes he’ll bump into around town when you’re both off of work, what a coincidence! Or you’ll even cross paths at one of your favourite cafes, and wow, he can’t believe that you both like the same drink!

• Kevin usually butts into any conversation you have with other coworkers, and will often pull you away with an excuse. Even if you’re having a friendly conversation with a customer Kevin will always interrupt or intimidate the customer. Especially if they’re a guy. “You’re holding up the line. Hurry up already. ” “… There’s no one here, dude.”

• Kevin is secretly a nerd and is into a lot of movie franchises and comic book series, so if you even mention or reference one of them he is on your case immediately. He can’t believe his crush likes the same stuff as him, it’s unbelievable! But if you have any other interests that Kevin doesn’t know about, he will pour hours of dedicated research into it. Then when he brings up random facts and what not, you’ll definitely want to talk to him more!

• Kevin blushes at just the tiniest amount of physical contact with you, it’s unbelievable. You could reach over to grab something from him and your skin will barely hover over his and he will explode internally. He stutters and stumbles over his words when you get remotely close to him, especially if you have a huge height difference.

• Kevin is definitely one of those people that dress to impress, so he always makes sure to look his best around you. He feels embarrassed if there’s even a string out of place on his uniform, since he wants you to see him at his absolute best. If you compliment him, Kevin will literally melt.

• Kevin is always trying to invite you to do stuff outside of work, but you had other friends and what not so it was always a no. He feels defeated at times but that doesn’t mean he’ll give up, no way. You think it’s scary, since he does it almost everyday.

“S—so, um, d—did you want to go watch a movie tonight?” “Um… Not tonight, Kevin.” Your friends also think this is creepy behaviour.

• Hell, your stuff even goes missing at work because of him! You’ve lost more lip balms than you could count, you lost your wallet, gloves and hats go missing, and you even lost your favourite hoodie! You quickly begin to suspect Kevin, but when you ask he vehemently denies it. He’s a horrible liar, by the way, if you didn’t notice. Kevin feels horrible, but it’s so wonderful to have your stuff for his own.

• Now, one can’t see all of this and not pick up on the ungodly obsession he has with you. Especially if you’re the target of said obsession. You slowly start to avoid Kevin when you can help it, and you begin to distance yourself from him. Your friends constantly beg you to quit but your budget was tight at the moment and you couldn’t exactly find another job immediately.

• So you tried to make excuses for Kevin, desperately trying to delude yourself into believing that he was a good guy. It wasn’t until you witnessed him dig through your jacket that you finally snapped under the pressure. You felt like you were going to puke. You quickly gather your stuff and leave, ready to call your boss in the morning to report everything that was going on. You were done.

• Kevin quickly notices you approach and is mortified. You pull your jacket on silently, before leaving the store without a goodbye. He quickly followed you out like a lost puppy, pelting you with a million apologies. You’re trying to stay rational, but dear god you wanted to punt him. This is also when you begin to notice that he was the one following you around, and when he tries to lay a hand on you that’s when you snap.

• “You’re a fucking creep, Kevin! You better knock it off before I call the police on you!” You screamed, pure anger in your voice. Kevin is frozen in his tracks, disbelief evident on his face. No, this couldn’t be… “No, wait! I can explain, please!” Kevin cried, falling to his knees and clutching onto the fabric of your pants. “I love you so much it hurts, please!” He rasped, tears welling in his eyes.

• “What the—?! Get off me, you sicko! I hate you!” And with those three words, Kevin’s world came crashing down around him. You… Hated him? After all he’s done for you? You kicked him off of you and ran down the street, leaving Kevin behind with a broken heart.

• No, no, no, no, no— This couldn’t be happening! He needed you to live, without you he was nothing, he’s never felt more alive when he was with you. Kevin needed to do something to win you back, and quick. Before he loses you forever. He doesn’t care if he loses his job, he doesn’t care if he gets in trouble with the police, all he needs is you.

#yandere headcanons #yandere blog #yandere fic #yandere x reader #yandere spooky month #yandere writing #yandere x you #yandere #spooky month x reader #spooky month #spooky month kevin #sm kevin #yandere kevin #kevin x reader

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eowynstwin · 1 year ago

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Any Price headcanons please? 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

MORE SOFT PRICE COMING RIGHT UP

Outdoorsy. On leave, Price likes to fish, hike, and generally spend time outside.

He’s also a casual birdwatcher. He doesn’t make trips for it, and he certainly doesn’t know the names of every bird, but he does like to look at them.

His favorite book genres are mysteries and westerns. He has all of Cormac McCarthy’s books, but he HATES Louis L’Amour (all my homies hate Louis L’Amour).

He takes very good care of his facial hair. There’s a certain beard oil he will go miles out of his way to restock if he can’t find it close to home.

His tea of choice is chamomile. He’s got high blood pressure as a result of his job and smoking habit, so he drinks it to chill out.

Shows of choice are Midsomer Murders and Death in Paradise. He doesn’t like slick, modern crime dramas, since they hit too close to home. Quirky little mysteries suit him far more.

Would not miss a single football game for his favorite club (team? hashtag I’m American) if that was an option. He fucking LOVES game day. Doesn’t matter if the weather sucks, he wants to be there.

A very simple cook. He doesn’t bother with complicated dishes unless it’s a special occasion. Tries to eat as balanced of a diet as he can, though, since he’s getting older and he wants to stay in good shape for as long as possible.

Actually dresses pretty well! He doesn’t wear a lot of graphic tees (unless it’s for an aforementioned game) and he thinks trainers look juvenile on grown men. So he’s got a lot of henleys, and usually wears leather boots or casual loafers.

One of his biggest joys in life? Getting to pour drinks for his friends<3

Him and Laswell’s wife always get along swimmingly when they meet up. It drives Kate insane actually. They’ll tease her mercilessly.

On that note, one of the few times John won’t smoke at all is when he’s hanging out with the Laswells, because the missus doesn’t like it.

His men are his family, full stop. He knows about birthdays, partners’ names and jobs, dumb childhood stories. If anyone will remember someone else’s anniversary, it’s gonna be Price.

He keeps thinking about retiring as time goes on. He daydreams about a vegetable garden and birds in his backyard. He knows he’s never going to get it, because he’s never going to quit.

Does a lot of living vicariously through others. He won’t let himself have that garden, but he’ll kick your ass if you don’t give one to yourself if you want one.

In general Price will go out of his way for the people he cares about. He could be just getting out of the hospital and still be totally willing to drive someone across town if need be.

Truly I just want him in my life so bad dear lord why can’t he be real

#answered #price #mwritesprice

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winchester-reload · 1 month ago

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Also joining to the "can't afford the book at the time club", I see that you gonna get some extras, so I hope I could get one, also I wanna ask if there's gonna be restock for the destiel heart holo sticker, it's beautiful and just discovered the shop.

Ah, don't worry, my friend. You're right, I did order a few extra copies, so people will hopefully still be able to grab one a little later, but I don't have a ton, so I apologize in advance if it causes any stress for you! As far as the shop goes, I'm reevaluating everything right now to see what things might be good to restock. I can't guarantee you'll see that one again, but I will make a note of it, so thank you!!

#asks #wonderful people #my art #destiel

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schrodingerspsycho · 10 months ago

Text

There IS a Book Club - Oneshot

Pairing - Van Palmer x Reader

Warnings - Angst and fluff, hurt/comfort, happy ending

Word Count - 1.8k

Summary - You're subscribed to a horror novel book club service, and Van finds your newest book upsetting.

Author's Note - You can imagine that this is part of the same timeline as I Just Want You To Be Happy, but this is an independent story.

Help Palestine by clicking this link!🇵🇸

The day started like any other day. You and Van had breakfast together and opened the store, Maddy came in looking for another queer movie and getting another one of Van’s lectures, and you explained what a VHS tape was to no less than three teenagers who really should have at least known about them. And then Van got the mail.

“Bills, bills, an invite to another one of Mrs. Hammond’s dinner parties we won’t be attending-”

“Hey-”

“And a new book,” Van said, waving the package for you to see.

“Oh, great! I’ve been waiting for that,” you smiled.

“You want me to open it for you?”

“Yeah, just put it on my nightstand. Thanks, babe.”

Van nodded and carried the mail up to the apartment.

You carried on with restocking the tapes and helped a customer find the movie they were looking for. It took Van a bit longer than it should have to drop off the mail, but you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary until she came back down.

“So I was thinking I could pick us up some sandwiches from the deli for lunch, does that sound good to you?” you asked, but Van didn’t answer. She was staring ahead, her eyes glossy and distant. “Van? Are you okay, babe?”

“What? Yeah, no, I’m… I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” you put a hand on her shoulder, your eyes full of concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did something happen?”

“Nope.” She gave you an unconvincing smile. “I’m good, babe. Really. And sandwiches sound great.”

“Okay,” you sighed, kissing her cheek. You knew you wouldn’t get anything else out of her. But you kept an eye on her as you continued stocking the tapes. You could always tell when something was off with Van, and something was definitely off.

Van smiled to herself as she walked up the stairs. You had complained about the last book being too short on multiple occasions, so she was glad you now had a new one to read. And while she wasn’t into horror novels, she loved hearing you recount the terrifying twists and turns of the latest chapter you had read before going to sleep. It was adorable how excited you got about stuff like this; it was honestly what made her realize she was in love with you. You had been gushing about the new book like you did every month, and something in her heart just clicked. Now she loved your Horror Hungry Book Club subscription almost as much as you did.

She wondered what kind of novel you would get this time as she decided which envelopes to trash. You had been hoping for a good mystery, and she knew you loved stories with cryptids and haunted houses. Then she went into the bedroom and tore the package open with her teeth, sliding the book out onto the sheets. But before she could move it to your nightstand she caught a glimpse of the cover.

The artwork depicted the remnants of a plane crashed in the middle of a dark forest, with a wolf standing in front of it. Its eyes were drawn to look as if they were glaring menacingly at her, and Van had to resist the urge to throw the book across the room. She turned it over slowly to read the description and was confronted with a very detailed illustration of a deer skull with bloody antlers on the back cover. Van gulped audibly as she read the blurb.

Kayla’s life was finally looking up until her plane crashed in the middle of a large forest in Montana. She and the other passengers must work together to survive in the wilderness, but they soon discover that they might not be alone. As time goes on, food, hope, and sanity grow scarce. She and the other passengers are haunted by demons from their past and present, and what was supposed to be a relaxing trip to L.A. becomes the ultimate test to see how far she’s willing to go to survive- and how much she really wants to.

Van quickly set the book down and stepped back. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and she suddenly found it very hard to breathe. She dashed out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, busying herself with getting a glass of water. There was no way she was letting a book do this to her. It wasn’t her life. She might not have talked to any of the others in over a decade, but she knew none of them would talk. They had an agreement. This was just fiction, nothing more. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. There was no need to get worked up.

Van took a deep breath and headed back downstairs, doing her best to act like everything was fine. You clocked her uneasiness immediately, and she silently cursed you for being so observant. But you didn’t push, and her thoughts of the book faded as the day went on. She almost got away with it.

Almost.

Finally, you and Van were alone in your room. You had finished the workday, gone out to dinner, and watched a movie together, the whole time aching to ask Van what had happened. You hated seeing her in distress, and although she was good at hiding it, you could tell that whatever it was was still weighing on her mind. But you knew Van well enough to know that there was a waiting period before she was ready to talk about her feelings. So you decided to start your new book while you waited. The title was Call of Oblivion, and you knew it was the problem the moment you picked it up.

“Van?” you said softly.

“Yeah?”

“Is this what made you so upset earlier?”

She turned to you slowly, her eyes wide and her face slightly pale. She looked so scared and ashamed, and the sight broke your heart. “What? No.”

“Are you sure? Because I noticed that there are some… similarities.”

Van looked away. “Okay, yeah. Maybe it did feel a little… familiar.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.” You dropped the book and went to stand at her side, but she still refused to look at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m fine,” she chuckled unconvincingly.

“I wish you would’ve told me,” you sighed. “I just want to help you with things like this. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Van murmured, burying her head in your shoulder. You hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, rubbing her back. “I won’t read it if you don’t want me to.”

“What? No, I’m not going to stop you from reading your book.”

“I don’t care about the book. I care about you. If it upsets you, I won’t read it.”

“I can handle some scary pictures on the cover,” she said sarcastically.

“That’s not what I meant. I know you don’t want me to know about what happened. And this might be fiction, but it could be similar to what you went through. If the thought of me reading something like this scares you, or if you think it’ll be too similar, then I won’t read it. I promised you I would never pry about that stuff, and I meant it. Even in a way as indirect as this.”

“But that’s exactly why I want you to read it.”

“What?”

“I hate keeping secrets from you,” Van said, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I can’t stand that there is this huge part of my life that I can’t share with you. I mean, I would never want you to know- god, I don’t know what I would do if you found out- but it kills me that I can’t share everything with you. But I know I can’t. And if this book has any insight into what I went through out there, however unrelated… then I want you to read it. It might be the only way for you to get some idea of what happened. Then maybe I won’t have to hide so much anymore.”

“Oh, Van,” you breathed, pulling her into another hug. “I had no idea you felt that way. Of course, I’ll read it. But you know I don’t care about that stuff, right? You can tell me as much or as little as you want.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I know.” She pressed herself against you, and you could feel her wiping her eyes on your shirt.

“Thank you for telling me this,” you said softly as you pulled away a few moments later. Van smiled.

“Yeah, can you just not read it in bed? That fucking deer is- it’s really gross.”

“The what?”

“On the back.”

You picked up the book and turned it over, careful to block it from Van’s view. “Whoa, you’re right. That thing is gnarly,” you grimaced. Van chuckled.

“Told you.”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be keeping that away from the bedroom,” you said, shutting it in your bedside drawer and walking back over to Van.

“Good,” she smiled, grabbing your shirt gently and tugging you in for a kiss. You pulled each other onto the bed, and soon you had all but forgotten about the book.

Over the next couple of weeks, you conveniently only read the book when Van was out of the room. She wanted to tell you that you didn’t need to do that, but truth be told she appreciated it. And you never talked about it, instead choosing to gush about the newest vintage toy you’d found and whether you wanted to display it in the store or keep it in the apartment. Thoughts of the book stayed in the back of Van’s mind, but she couldn’t fully forget about it.

Then one day as she was bringing in the groceries, she saw you stagger out of the bedroom with sorrow in your eyes. But before she could say anything you wrapped your arms around her tightly and buried your face in her neck.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” she asked, hugging you, her voice full of concern.

“Nothing,” you sighed, shaking your head slightly.

“You finished the book, didn’t you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you insisted, pulling away just enough to look her in the eye. “All that matters is that I love you. No matter what. Nothing could ever change that.”

Van felt tears begin to well up in her eyes and you held her to your chest, placing feather-light kisses along her scars. She closed her eyes with a sigh and leaned into your embrace. And for the first time in her life, Van felt truly safe. “I love you too.”

#van palmer x reader #van palmer #yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfic #yellowjackets x reader #fanfic #oneshot

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snippychicke · 1 year ago

Text

For the Sake of a Smile (V.2) Chapter Ten

Title: For the Sake of a Smile (Revised)

Overall Rating: Mature (18+)

Chapter Rating: M for Mature. We've begun the 18+ content

Trigger warnings: Nothing beyond the child abuse hinted in the series, though we do explore the consequences a bit more.

Main Pairing: Balam Shichiro/Reader

Summary: Hell on earth was your motto for your job. Granted, you were pretty sure earth really was hell, considering the shit you had seen in your life. And the fact your coworker was a child.

A child named Suzuki Iruma, in fact. A kid who’s life was decidedly worse than yours, but yet he smiled despite everything. It wasn’t long after meeting him that you decided you’d do a lot for his smile. Including summoning a literal demon and signing your soul away.

But as it turns out, hell (The Netherworld, actually) was a lot better than living on earth. Demons were more humane than a lot of humans you knew.

And Iruma’s smile wasn’t the only one that would change your life.

Masterlist | Ao3| Mairimashitai! Simps Discord

After the harvest festival, Babyls returned to its usual chaos. Students were once again focused on their classes and clubs; or, you supposed they called them battlers here. To you, they seemed just like the Netherworld version of highschool clubs.

And now that they were more or less done with their intensive training, it seemed like the Misfit Class spent the extra time in the library; filling the space with their rambunctiousness.

On top of that; to your shock, embarrassment, and yet also slight joy, more than a few had followed Clara's lead and started to call you 'mom' instead of Miss Suzuki.

It had started with Lied, but quickly followed by Jazz - and then most of the rest followed suit as well. Except for Asmodus, who continually insisted on using your proper title. Sabnock also, who refused to call his rival's mother his own.

So yet another rumor began to spread, this one claiming that you were the 'Mother of the Misfits' - which seemed to overtake the 'courting Balam' rumor. Granted, part of the reason that rumor was dying down was due to the fact you were self-restricting how often you spent time with him - as much as you personally hated it.

Instead you had holed yourself up in the library, doing your own studying of Netherworld culture; between helping students find books, or aiding the battlers research new ideas and theories - and of course, restocking books and keeping the place tidy.

As it turned out, there were no true guides on the different aspects of demon society with the sole purpose of explaining the multitude of intricacies. You supposed mostly because demons learned them from birth, so no one saw the need to write them down. Each family was different, holding their own customs as closely guarded secrets. You had gleaned that the first few years of a demon's life was devoted to teaching them the rules of society, all the proper mannerisms and such long before they were allowed out of their family's home.

Your mind often repeated Opera and Sullivan's idea that Balam would happily explain those things to you - considering he knew your true situation. And the thing was, you could easily imagine him becoming excited and probably making a whole series of picture books on the subject. They'd be so cute too; because his art skills were exquisite, as well as easy to read and understand despite the heavy subject.

Given the chance, your mind would drift away for extended periods of time to imagine how the situation would go.

Which came back around to why you were avoiding him. Because absence absolutely did make the heart go fonder, and you weren't quite ready to face that.

If you thought you had a crush on the demon before, it was worse now as you realized what all you liked about him. You missed the easy physical contact, and your heart would still thump every time you remembered what it was like being in his arms. You missed his deep baritone voice, and the way he would excitedly lecture you about some aspect of the Netherworld. Or the way he was overwhelmed when asking questions about the human realm, and his face would pinch together as he tried to focus.

Hell, you even missed sipping tea quietly together as you reviewed notes in his office while he was training Asmodeus and Sabnock. You saw the intellectual side of him often enough, but watching him train those two had given you a chance to see the more - ehem - physical side; reminding you that the kind and gentle professor was just as strong as he looked.

Then there were your dreams, borne from the confusion and frustration you were experiencing. Many nights a week you were waking up gasping, body aching for release as your heart's fantasies played over and over in your mind's eye.

Which of course, was another reason to strictly avoid him. How could you face him when you remembered your mind trying to supply what it would be like to be pinned down to a table beneath him, husky voice praising as you screamed his name.

You couldn't. You just… couldn't.

Of course, fate had other ideas.

--+--

"Hey, mom!"

You looked up from your book at Lied's words to half the Misfits in front of the counter, with varying expressions from guilty to pleading.

Something was up - which meant your peaceful afternoon was about to go haywire.

"Yes?" You answered slowly, eyeing the blond-haired demon who was leaning on the counter with a grin on his face, trying to act completely nonchalant - and failing. Mainly because you felt like you knew him - all of them - too well.

He didn't give up the charade and continued persistently. "You're friends with Professor Balam, right?"

Instantly your face felt flush, and you scratched at your burning cheek out of nerves. "I mean, sorta?" You answered, looking towards Iruma for an answer, but the boy shrugged his shoulders helplessly, looking a bit awkward himself. "Why, what's going on?"

And here you thought he was the unofficial leader of the class.

"Professor Balam has been…" Asmodeus started after no one else spoke, then trailed off as he debated his words. That alone filled you with dread.

It had to be horrible if the refined demon was at a loss for words.

"Moody?" Jazz offered after a moment. "I mean, he's always been weird but…"

"He's been crabby," Elizabetta stated bluntly with a soft sigh. "Not at all like his usual self. But we don't think it's an evil-cycle, either."

"Er, I'm afraid I haven't been around him much lately," You admitted, though you had been texting him rather frequently despite avoiding him, and he seemed his usual self. Asking questions, patiently explaining the answers to your own.

Though you had deftly avoided any questions related to relationships or reproduction, despite the growing curiosity beginning to burn in your mind.

"A demon denied his lady's affections?" Kamui gasped, placing a wing against his chest. "No wonder the professor has been out of sorts!"

"It's not like that!" You, Iruma, as well as Asmodus answered at once, and you felt a brief flash of relief that at least someone was understanding.

That relief died quickly as the students talked amongst each other.

"Wait, they're not courting? Does Professor Balam know that?"

"You know, I wonder if that isn't the problem…"

"Exactly! Miss Suzuki is a sublime example of a mature woman. I would mourn being denied her lavish bosom if I was the professor!" Several fists found themselves planted on Kamui's head as you groaned.

"Balam is well aware of this," You insisted. Except you had to wonder… did he miss you?

No - surely he would have said something. Or asked why you hadn't dropped by. Or he could have dropped by; his mood probably wasn't tied to you at all.

Right?

"Could you… maybe see what's going on?" Goeman asked carefully after a moment. "We don't know how else to tackle the problem."

"Him and Kalego are close," You answered and then quickly chided yourself. 'As if they weren't already aware of that.' After all, everyone knew the two were close as brothers just by the fact the dark-haired demon was always referring to him as Shichiro instead of his title.

(You had to remind yourself frequently that you were not on such casual terms - though part of you all but ached to say his name aloud, to allow your tongue to play with the easy name. He was Balam, or Professor Balam. Nothing else. Not even in your head.)

Their dark expressions were all the answer you needed to your implied question. None of them were going to volunteer to talk to Kalego about the situation.

Maybe you should? Then again, Kalego had glared daggers at you last time you had visited him, making you think twice about traveling to his office again.

"Please, mom?" Iruma asked, giving you those soft blue puppy eyes. "He really is acting odd."

You groaned, your resolve crumbling like soft sand against the ocean waves. Damn your boy and those eyes of his. "Okay, I'll… I'll pay him a visit."

You prayed to whatever deity you could to stay focused while you were with him. No thoughts about the crush that was holding your heart for ransom. Or about Opera's words from the other morning that continued to replay in your head.

Just focus on Balam; what was bothering him and what he needed to feel better.

And keep your mind out of the gutter.

--+--

Usually as soon as you approached the biology prep room's open door, Balam somehow knew it was you and would greet you before you could knock on the doorframe. Yet you were able to reach the open door - and even linger in the doorway without a hint he had even noticed.

Instead, you could see him hunched over his desk, obviously lost in thought. The general atmosphere of the room seemed… tense - or maybe it was just your imagination.

It was hard for you to tell at the moment, considering how anxious you were. Your heart was thumping rapidly in your chest, your hands felt shaky and clammy as you clutched a tray you had grabbed from the kitchens, loaded with a pot of Devil Grey Tea and some treats.

"Heya," You announced your presence after a moment of awkwardly trying to reign in your worry and also selfishly admiring his form. The thick muscles of his neck and back, how his wide chest narrowed at his waist and hips. And then his clawed feet that were curled beneath the chair that was almost too small for him, able to study the underside of his feet and wonder briefly if they were ticklish. "Um, I brought some tea and cookies."

He finally looked up, causing you to pause. He looked… haggard; his dark eyes had darker circles, his skin paler than normal, and - had his hair grown that much without you realizing it? What was once a buzz cut, now was in that awkward stage between short and long around his ears.

Yes, it had been several days since you last saw him - but surely that wasn't enough time for his hair to floof out like this.

"Tea sounds nice, actually," He grumbled distractedly as he scratched at his messy hair. "Thank you."

Well, so far so good. You entered and set the tea down on his desk before going ahead and pouring two cups.

You took a deep breath as you picked one up and offered it to him. Best way was to be direct and to the point, right? "If I'm prying, let me know," You started softly, "But the students are saying you've been a little rough around the edges lately. Is everything okay?"

"Fall is the molting season for many avian demons, such as myself," He explained with a sigh. "And constantly itching tends to shorten one's temper." Your heart fluttered as his fingers briefly grazed yours as he accepted the cup from your hands, reminding you how much larger his hands were, and how warm they were, even through his gloves. "You… don't mind if I remove my mask, do you?"

It took you a hot moment for your mind to catch up with his question; causing your flushed face to heat up even more, both from embarrassment for being distracted by such a trivial thing as well as forgetting to bring a straw for him.

You really were out of sorts today.

But, it was just the two of you, and you certainly didn't mind. "I don't mind at all," You replied, giving a reassuring smile despite your nerves. "But, if you'd prefer that I leave…"

"Never," He answered instantly with a slight smile; one you could actually see once he removed the metal plate of his mask.

However, the smile was short lived and was quickly replaced by a grimace as he itched at his hair once more. "Though, I admit I'm not the best company right now."

You didn't even think, your body moved of its own accord as you set down your cup and moved to stand behind him. Sitting down, his head was at chest level - which was perfect for you to run your fingers through his hair to scratch lightly at his scalp.

Devi, his hair was soft as downy fur - or maybe feathers in this case. Your ministrations elicited a soft sigh as he leaned into your touch, which reassured any worry about overstepping. His head fell back, resting against your chest and silently all but begging for more.

And how could you resist?

"I take it that feels good?" You asked, your heart once again racing. Maybe you were just reading into it, but it felt like a tender show of trust with him relaxing against you, his eyes closed peacefully and throat bared to you.

"You have no idea," He mumbled distractedly, making you smile.

Who knew demons really liked head scritches?

You gathered your courage and continued running your nails along his scalp, noticing the bases of some of the silvery-white hair had the stiff coverings that reminded you of pin feathers, making you grin. You remembered the few pet birds you had seen in your early years, and how they loved it when you helped work the waxy bits from their feathers during…

During molt. He really is a giant bird.

You worked a bit, alternating between scratching his scalp and rubbing the waxy coverings off between your thumb and forefinger.

Then, in a moment of impishness, you ran your fingers from the back of his head towards his face, floofing his hair even more. It gave you a rather brief moment of amusement before a sensual moan escaped from his parted lips.

You froze, feeling warmth flare in both your face and lower abdomen at the noise. Devi, your baser-self wanted to hear that again - putting it with the faded memories of your more… spicer dreams.

Part of you - most of you - wanted to continue, secretly more than a bit thrilled at his reaction; while your rational sense was screaming at you that there was a strict boundary you were threatening to break - if you hadn't already. Friends did not cause friends to moan wantonly like that - or feel a sudden burst of arousal because of it. That was definitely not appropriate.

One of Balam's dark eyes cracked open, looking straight up at you with a soft, pleading, expression. "Please, don't stop."

That - that just made things worse. Your heart hammered in your chest as you frantically tried to make a decision. Do you step away with some lame excuse, making things even more awkward? Or should you give in and continue despite the new realization that this was possibly more than helping a friend with an itch.

Or rather, with a different kind of itch.

You bit your lip, so many parts of yourself at war with each other.

He did ask you to continue. (With his own version of puppy-eyes that made your resolve crumble even more.)

Yet that was a rather lewd noise.

Was this really okay?

But… if it wasn't okay he surely would have stopped you, right? If it was inappropriate, he would have told you. He - he knew of your ignorance, he wouldn't allow you to make a faux pas like that.

And, if he did… like you as Opera and others seemed to believe… he wouldn't take advantage of you, right?

Actually, you knew the answer to that with certainty. He was always so careful and polite during anything remotely awkward that it left you confident you could trust him in that regard.

You bit your lip as you slowly continued, though you were cautious not to repeat the earlier motion.

Still - soft, pleased noises rumbled from the back of his throat, making you feel a bit awkward (if only because you were rather… aroused by the noise).

But you also realized how much he had relaxed, virtually melting into his chair. 'It was just a good massage,' you told yourself. 'Nothing sensual about it.'

You repeated the revelation to calm yourself down with little success. You wished desperately your body would stop reacting as if it was a risqué situation.

"Are you going to let your hair grow out?" You asked after a moment, mostly to fill the silence and switch subjects - but also because you were rather curious. You didn't really have the chance to appreciate his long hair before he had rather brutally cut it himself.

And now that you felt the soft silky strands, it seemed like an absolute shame for him to cut it so short.

"I'm not sure," He answered, still sounding rather dazed. "It seems either way I'm still terrifying towards others. Of course, if I cut it now it would just grow back, so I would have to wait for a few weeks if I decide to."

"Maybe put your hair up?" You offered. "Or keep it pinned back? I know I only saw you a few times before you cut it, but I think part of the reason it was so intimidating was the fact it was so wild and unrestrained."

His eyes cracked open again, a faint frown on his face. "Were you intimidated?"

You paused, remembering that first meeting. Looking up to see him ducked behind a bookcase, trying to hide his massive frame as he watched you intently, his hair looking wild and giving the impression of a mad man. "A little," You answered honestly, remembering his bloodline ability. "But more because you were just… staring."

"Of course," He replied simply, surprising you as his eyes fell shut again. "Discovering not one, but two humans? And then you were nothing like I was expecting. You still manage to surprise me nearly every day."

"Me?" You paused briefly, though your fingers were still tangled in his hair.

"Before you and Iruma, I thought humans were meek, peaceful, and weak. You have proven quite the opposite." There was a hint of both exasperation and fondness in his voice.

You worried your lip. "Is that a bad thing?"

His eyes opened once again as he reached up to brush your cheek softly. "No, far, far, from it. You are far more than I could have ever dreamt of. I have learned so much from you and Iruma…. I am forever in your debt."

You felt your face flush as you slowly resumed finger-combing his hair, avoiding his gaze as his fingers fell away from your cheek. A hundred different thoughts sifted through your mind, your heart torn on how to interpret his words and the possible meanings behind them.

Was this an opportunity to ask him about if humans and demons could… intermix? Or should you open with how different demon and human societies were - even though that was a subject you had touched on many a time - but maybe see if you could steer the conversation towards the more romantic aspect?

Test the waters to see if he… if he really could be interested in you.

"I have to admit I've missed your company," He continued as you wavered internally. "Though I've heard you've been assisting many of the students, so I can understand you'd be quite exhausted by the end of the day."

"They can be quite overwhelming," You agreed weakly, guilt bubbling in your stomach. Had he simply assumed you were too busy, and kept to himself out of consideration? (The realization did not help your infatuation any). "Plus, I, uh, have been doing some studying of my own, which has kept me rather busy."

"Oh?"

You bit your lip, gathering your courage. You couldn't ask for a better opportunity. You had to ask it.

Right here. Right now.

Devi, you were going to be ill.

"Well, you know there's a lot of differences between our cultures, and some are more… subtle than others." You started, hoping your voice didn't sound as shaky as you felt. "But there's no real materials that cover some things like - say - molting, or - uh - courting?" You trailed off, forced casual tone turning into a squeak.

His eyes opened once more, and you swore he could read your thoughts as he stared up at you. "You…want to learn more about courting?" He asked, a faded pink dusting his nose and cheeks.

"Well, I mean," You looked away, focusing on his hair but sure your flushed expression was giving your intentions away. "It's bound to pop up eventually, maybe, possibly? And I don't want to look completely clueless…"

In a flash of movement, Balam virtually jumped out of his chair, startling you. You instinctively jumped back, primal mind screaming to run as he towered over you.

Yet before your body could act on the instinct to run, he gripped your shoulders firmly as he crouched slightly to look you in the eye.

"Has someone asked for your permission?" He asked urgently, almost strangled by the thought. No, he was worried - the expression on his face made that very evident. "Did someone approach you already?"

"N-no!" You stammered out. Instantly, he slumped with relief, making your heart flutter as it jumped at the implications. He cared. He really did care for you. Your heart soared at the thought, but your logical side, still filled with doubt, demanded a straight answer. "Why?"

Balam paled slightly, his grip tightening before he suddenly released you and stood to his full height. "Well, it's just… with you being human, it would be a rather precarious situation, I think," He explained awkwardly after a moment. "I mean, I'm not saying that you shouldn't be able to court, or Iruma for that matter. I-I just worry about your safety. I worry for both of you."

His words crushed you more than you could have ever anticipated, making you feel ill. Of course. He… he really didn't like you in that way. You had just been misreading the mixed signals, your own emotions coloring the truth.

He was looking out for you as a friend - he was just being protective of you out of concern, and not jealousy or anything.

It was fine. Completely fine.

"So, what about molting," You quickly changed the subject, hoping he hadn't noticed any hint of dejection on your face. Or the roughness to your voice as you spoke past the lump that had formed in your throat. "Anything I should know about that?"

His face turned a darker pink and it was his turn to avoid your gaze. "A remnant from our ancient ancestors. Our hair and feathers are replaced or grow out for the upcoming seasons. And, um, it's generally a time spent with…families, since grooming builds stronger bonds."

Family. Maybe a significant other, but maybe he also meant just family in general too. So nothing inherently romantic or anything else in the action.

But you would take it. You were such a lovesick dope you would take any kind of relationship with him. "Well, um, I know we aren't related, but I'm willing to fill in if needed. That's what friends are for, right?"

His gaze met yours again, studying you for a moment before nodding. "R-right. I appreciate your assistance, I really do. But…I suppose we both have duties to return to."

Oh. Right. You had been gone long enough, and he probably had classes to prepare for. "Yeah, I promised one of the battlers to help with a project. So I, uh, should go. Text me if you need anything!"

You hadn't even finished your sentence before turning and bolting.

Devi, gods - whatever. You were such an idiot. Obviously Opera and Sullivan didn't know Balam that well. You had, though. Why did you allow yourself to hope - to dream - of so much?

Ambition - desire - were for demons; but you were completely human. You needed to learn to be content with what you had.

--+--

Why? Why had he said that?

Balam groaned after you left, furiously rubbing his face. When you had asked about courting - it was like all rational thought fled his mind, and he was terrified someone had asked you before he did.

Thank Devi you had said no. But when you asked why…

He couldn't admit that he wanted the honor. That he had been thinking - planning - on asking you; and given the opportunity, he… couldn't. His words failed him and he gave another, more basic answer. And then, the same when you asked about molting. Yes, families did help each other, but parents and children. Siblings.

Or mates.

Had he unwittingly taken advantage of your naivety? You hadn't asked - or even hesitated before your fingers worked through his hair - and as soon as you touched him… all the stress and frustration had simply melted away. Between your touch, your scent - you just being there - he had a short sweet moment of peace.

How did other demons do this? He knew the basics, yes. But in actual practice, how did one go about asking another to court?

He groaned as his head thumped against one of the bookcases. He felt like a teenager all over again - and he hated it. He thought he had finally gotten over his awkwardness around other people.

Nigyul chirped from his nest among the vines that covered the ceiling, his golden eyes staring down at the demon. Balam sighed, knowing Nigyul could sense the tension just from the changes in his mana, and was likely concerned in his own way. "Yes, I know. I horribly messed that up."

The small dragon jumped from his perch, landing heavily on his shoulder where he settled. A deep rumble echoed from the wood dragon's chest as he tried to soothe Balam, making the demon sigh once more. Animals were so much easier than people, it was easy to tell how they felt just by their actions alone. But people--demons and now humans alike-- weren't so straight forward, even with his bloodline ability detecting lies and deceit.

Despite countless hours and thinking, dreaming, rationalizing, he was still unsure of how you truly felt. Sometimes he was sure you were as interested as Kalego said, but other times he was sure that you weren't.

Would a human even be interested in a demon such as himself? You may not be bothered by his scar or the problems it caused when eating, but that didn't mean you could be attracted to the rest of him; considering how different he was.

Granted, you were different from him, but he… he couldn't deny his attraction to you; some of which was because of how exotic you were, but little things like your smile - your caring nature.

How easy you were around him despite everyone else's natural fear.

Devi, he was sure he loved you. He just didn't know what to do about it.

--+--

Balam set the stack of picture books on the table, happy to see Iruma smile excitedly. "These should go over the subjects you're having difficulty with. Bahamut's reign over the southern waste, and some of the magic fundamentals you may be missing.”

"Thanks so much, Professor!" The boy grinned, flipping through some of the pages carefully, examining the artwork inside. "I know mom will love to read the ones on magic to help her with those Runes."

"Er, speaking of your mother…" Balam started, rubbing his neck, and then itching at the prickly hair growing there. You probably hadn't been able to reach it since his head had been resting against your chest.

He could easily recall the softness of your breasts, providing a perfect type of pillow to rest against. He could feel every breath, the subtle movements of your muscles as you worked. The hint of your human scent beneath Sullivan's cologne.

"Oh, yeah! Did she go see you earlier?"

He blinked at the boy's question, blushing at the realization of where his thoughts had taken him. Here he had been meaning to ask Iruma a question and he had been so easily side tracked.

Maybe he should take a few days off like Dali had recommended, but he hated the thought of not being there for you or Iruma should you need him. (Nevermind Lord Sullivan and Opera were both available too…)

Iruma naively assumed the expression on Balam's face was from confusion, and chuckled nervously. "My class and I…. Well, we noticed you've been rather distracted and on edge the last few days. And - well - one thing led to another and we ended up asking mom if she knew what was going on. She agreed but… she's avoided us ever since, so I was worried about what happened."

"It's… complicated," Balam admitted after a moment of contemplation. Maybe he should write a book on molt and other such cycles of other types of demons. Not just for you and Iruma, but maybe for future students as well to help foster understanding.

Though so far only a few from the misfit class seemed interested in them. Clara in particular, from what Iruma had said in the past.

"She did help," Balam continued, pushing those thoughts away until later. "Hopefully things will be a bit more normal." At least, for a day or two. Then he secretly worried he'd go hunting for you, tempted by your earlier offer. To be able to indulge in such bliss once more. "But, something she said made me wonder… how exactly do humans… court?"

It was awkward asking Iruma such a thing, but his alternative was asking you - and he feared that would be even more awkward.

"Court?" Iruma repeated thoughtfully. "Well, from what I understand that's pretty much what we call 'dating'. And it's kinda complicated, and really depends. But usually people will spend time together, and maybe bring each other gifts, like chocolates or other sweets, and flowers. Plus, you know, hold hands and stuff like that."

That's really all it took to court in the human realm? It seemed so… tame. Granted, he had always theoriezed their world was simpler and kinder than the Netherworld.

Wait - spending time together? Bringing gifts like sweets, holding hands and being affectionate?

Those… were things you had been doing. You would often come to visit and spend time with him when you could. And ever since Opera exposed his secret sweet tooth, you often brought something from the kitchens to share while you talked.

While you never really initiated anything, you never complained about his skin-ship habit. If anything, you embraced his touch - often happily leaning into him.

You hadn't argued when Kalego teased about flirting as he had expected. Instead, you had looked at him silently - obviously flustered, but he had been too flustered himself to really think.

Actually… that's when things had seemed to change, and you had more or less withdrawn from him.

Had he missed some kind of basic human cue? Had you already been courting him? And he had been completely oblivious as Kalego claimed.

Both panic and excitement gripped his heart as his thoughts became a disjointed mess. Could you really have been trying to court, was that why you asked about it today? Had he unknowingly messed things up?

"Uh, professor?" Iruma spoke, shocking him out of his thoughts. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yes," He answered, forcing a smile. "Just… distracted for a moment there. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I just agreed to meet Ameri in five minutes…"

Balam's smile became more natural, though equally hidden by his mask as he reached over to ruffle the boy's hair affectionately. "Best not keep the council president waiting. Just let me know what you think of the books later."

"Of course!" The boy carefully placed the books in his bag before holstering it over his shoulder. "Oh, and Professor Balam?" He paused halfway towards the door. "I really do hope you and Mom figure things out, and I know Grandpa and Opera are cheering you guys on too."

With that, Iruma left while Balam was struggling to process his words, and the implications behind them.

--+-- Su-Ki-Ma--+--

You sat on Balam's desk, his head resting once more against your chest as you teased the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands rested on your thighs, lightly kneading the supple flesh.

This was bliss; having your arms wrapped around him, being close enough he could smell your true scent, your fingers working deftly to help ease that frustrating itch.

He groaned as your fingers combed through his hair, and felt your breath hitch in response. You froze, and for a moment he distantly wondered if he somehow upset you when he noticed it. A change to your already appetizing scent, becoming sweeter, muskier.

Balam gripped your thighs in realization, which only made it stronger. Your human pheromones were actually quite similar to demons and…

And you were aroused right now.

"Like that, did you?" You teased, trying to pretend as if nothing happened.

He should act like he hadn't noticed anything. It could just be an instinctual response and nothing else. Yet he looked up from your chest, and saw the deep flush of your cheeks, how you worried your lip as you avoided his gaze.

Devi, you were so beautiful.

You finally looked at him after a moment, and somehow became even more flush. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tease you like that."

Tease him? "I don't understand."

"If I made you feel uncomfortable…" You explained as you pulled your hands away.

And no, that was the last thing he wanted. He grabbed your wrists without thinking, making you pause. "Uncomfortable is the last thing you make me feel."

You moved to cup his cheeks, your hands so small and delicate compared to him. His eyes fluttered shut as you caressed his face, absolutely uncaring about his disfigurement.

To be touched so gently, so lovingly. It was more than he could ever hope for. And for it to be you. His dear little human.

"My handsome demon," You sighed, making his heart clench in his chest.

He couldn't resist anymore. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours. Any fears that you would be disgusted were quickly quieted as you eagerly reciprocated the kiss, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you clutched to him. That delicious smell of yours became stronger.

He wanted you.

He needed you.

He had to have you. All those pretty sounds you made as he allowed himself to touch you. Your supple breasts, so soft in his hands that made you whine. Your inner thigh, his thumb brushing against the junction of thigh and groin, making you gasp and arch into him.

"Please, Shichiro," You all but begged, clutching him tightly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, his hand moving to cup the swell of your backside. Devi, why were you so soft and perfect and…

Balam groaned as he woke to morning light seeping into his room, far too familiar with the throbbing need between his legs. He relaxed into the edge of his nest, his hand reaching for his cock, struggling with the thoughts of you.

He could admit he was attracted to you, there was no denying that. Everything about you was so… beautiful. Enchanting.

But thinking of you while he touched himself left him torn. Because dear hell did he want you, but to use his memories of you in such an obscene way, recalling how it felt to have you in his arms, your smile, your smell left him feeling as if he was somehow taking advantage of you. Your trust, your companionship.

Yet it was always you he ended up thinking about, calling and pleading your name as he came.

#mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #balam shichiro #balam/reader #suzuki iruma #lord sullivan #naberius kalego #balam shichiro x reader

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