#can't imagine myself going to school tomorrow

[eleen-io]

life's weird right now

[wendichester]

༘˚⋆ 𖦹.✧˚ after school walks,

summary. dean walks you home every single day.

pairing. teenage!dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 536

notes. am i the only obsessed with teenage dean or...?

The afternoon sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the cracked sidewalks. You’re clutching your backpack straps, your steps matching Dean Winchester’s as he walks beside you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn leather jacket.

It’s the same jacket he wears every day, the one that smells faintly of motor oil and cologne, though you’ve never mentioned it. You’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing how much you notice.

“Benson's a pain in the ass,” Dean mutters, kicking a pebble down the street.

“You’re just mad she caught you sleeping in class again,” you tease, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He smirks, his dimples flashing. “What can I say? She has a gift. Boring me to sleep one history class at a time,”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrays you. It’s not fair how effortlessly charming Dean can be. You tell yourself you’re just friends, that you don’t notice the way his smile makes your knees feel a little weak.

“So, what’d she lecture you about this time?” you ask, mostly to fill the silence.

He shrugs. “Something about ‘wasting potential.’”

“You? Wasting potential?” you tease, feigning shock. “I can’t imagine why she’d think that.”

Dean chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Funny.”

The two of you turn down your street, the quiet neighborhood settling into its evening routine. Porch lights flicker on, and the smell of dinner drifts through open windows. Dean walks a little closer, his shoulder brushing yours.

“You know,” he says after a moment, his tone slightly teasing, “It's really tiring having to walk you home everyday.”

You glance at him, immediately noticing his cheeky grin. “You don’t have to, but you do it anyway.”

Dean’s eyes flick to yours, a glimmer of something unreadable in his gaze. “Yeah, well... it’s not like I trust anyone else to make sure you get home safe.”

You swallow hard, your heart beating a little faster. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Never said you couldn’t,” he replies, his smirk returning. “But it doesn’t hurt to have backup.”

You reach your house all too soon, the familiar sight of the chipped paint and sagging porch steps pulling you back to reality.

“This is me,” you say, gesturing to the front door.

Dean stops at the bottom of the steps, his hands still buried in his pockets. He glances up at the house, then back at you, as if debating something.

“Well,” he says after a pause, “guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You hesitate, gripping the straps of your backpack a little tighter. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

You shift on your feet, suddenly nervous. “Thanks. For walking me home.”

His smirk softens into a genuine smile, one that makes your chest ache in the best way. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

With that, he turns and starts back down the sidewalk, his strides confident and unhurried. You watch him go, your cheeks warm and your heart fluttering in a way that’s becoming all too familiar.

And as you step inside, you can't wait for tomorrow morning, where Dean will be waiting so you can walk to school together.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine

[only-lonely-star]

Your recent fic of the Soda mishap is my new fav fic of the outsiders! It was so funny with just the right amount of angst!

Could I request a fic with a sister reader who is the youngest curtis and develops separation anxiety with Soda after the two of them were in a little fender bender? Neither were hurt but it brought up memories of their parents dying and she can't shake off the thought that Soda not being in her eyesight means he's gone too? She refuses to sleep in her own room goes with him to work (it's summer holidays so school isn't a factor) and anytime he showers she stands outsode the bathroom door asking if he's okay periodically. Just a big emotional breakdown if she happens to get separated from him? I hope that makes sense!

Thanks you!

☁︎ The Accident ☁︎

~ Sodapop Curtis ~

Warnings - Minor car accident, mentions of death, separation anxiety

Summary - You couldn’t imagine losing Sodapop.

Author’s Note - THIS REQUEST WAS MWAH!! CHEF’S KISS! 😽 I’m very proud of this one. It took me longer to write since I got a bit carried away, so I apologize for the long wait. I couldn't bring myself to make the ending sad, so I hope you all like how I closed the story. Thank you so much for requesting, enjoy it my loves !!

Word Count - 3.3k.

»——•——« »——•——« »——•——« »——•——«

You kicked back, finally able to rest after a long morning spent dipping in the lake with your older brother, Sodapop. It was summer break, so what better way to spend the day than being under the sun - swimming and shoving him around in the cool, crisp water? Your oldest brother, Darrel, still had work, even over the summer. Your third oldest brother, Ponyboy, decided he'd rather spend some time with his friends. Being the empath he is, Sodapop decided to drive you down to the lake to ensure you didn't feel left out. He loved spending quality time with you either way - he quite enjoyed your company.

Feet on the dashboard, you turned up the radio and sang along. You could practically feel the funky music thumping in your chest. The bass could be heard a mile away, causing Sodapop to let out a chuckle. "Havin' fun?" he asked, his eyes drifting to see you smile bigger than he ever had since the accident.

You nodded vigorously, a few stray droplets of water that remained on the ends of your hair flying onto Sodapop, dampening his skin. "Of course!" you beamed, removing your feet off the dashboard as you leaned back into your seat.

He gave a head nod of accomplishment at that. Sodapop was glad to have taken you out for a fun time for once. He would have to return to the DX again tomorrow morning, the cycle repeating all over again. "Glad we went swimmin', we could go next weekend or something too y'know..." he suggested, a grin on his lips not faltering once as he offered another trip down to the lake.

You gasped, already looking forward to it. "Really? Like - you'll actually take me again?" you asked, needing the last bit of reassurance before you could truly accept the offer.

He nodded once more, stopping at a red light to gently swat your shoulder with his knuckles. "'Course I'll take you again."

He earned another grin from you at that, proud of himself once more. Sodapop's eyes darted for the rearview mirror, noticing a red Pontiac Firebird riding up on the back of their car. "Well damn, you gonna slow down?" he asked aloud, a slight bit of annoyance in his voice. The car must have been going at least fifteen miles per hour right at the red light. You hadn't paid much attention to it until you noticed Sodapop's eyes go wide. The 'deer in headlights' gaze is the only right way you could describe it. Sodapop cursed under his breath once more, holding his hand out to press against your chest. The sound of screeching breaks against the road scared the both of you as you jerked forward. Sodapop's arm prevented you from moving around that much, but there was still an impact. You slowly opened your eyes, recovering from a wince you hadn't even realized was in effect.

"The fuck - ?!" he hollered, rolling down the window before slamming his hand onto the horn and holding it there to express his anger. Road rage was one thing, but this was totally different. Sodapop rarely acted out on his anger, let alone follow through with it and stick his hand out of the window just to flip him off.

You sat there, breath hitched in your throat as you momentarily dissociated whilst staring at the dashboard.

This was all too familiar for you. ‘The Accident’ is what still haunts the four of you to this day. Having both of your parents wind up in an auto wreck sure wasn’t on your bucket list at all.

It was the sound of the car nearly crashing that frightened you. The fact you could have obtained the same fate as your parents was such a big fear you’d been attempting to hide since the accident. What you dreaded the most was losing your brothers. Put in a life or death situation - you’d hand over your life in an instant if it would ensure your siblings would be safe.

It wasn’t until you realized you and Sodapop were pulled over with that same Pontiac behind you. Slowly returning to reality, the bearded man with salt and pepper-colored hair had his arms resting on the now rolled-down window. “She alright?” he asked, his eyes fixated on you. Your dazed expression had been permanently marked onto your face.

Sodapop scanned your face for any other emotion, but couldn't seem to detect any. He quickly turned back to the man, brushing him off. “She’s a little spooked, she’ll be alright.”

He gave a slight shrug and waved the both of you off. Sodapop immediately placed a hand on your shoulder and shook your upper half. “Gave me some cash to fix the damage…it ain’t too bad, the back is a little dented and some paint got scratched off - but that’s about it,” he explained in an attempt to snap you back to reality.

Your eyes scanned the road, still busy with vehicles buzzing around everywhere you look. Listening was easy, but trying to comprehend his words while your mind raced with panic was a difficult task.

“You sure look out of it,” he commented, moving the gearshift to head home. There was an underlying tone of concern you could easily hear in his voice.

Squirming around in your seat, you found a better position where you could see the road ahead, clear as day. Feeling paranoid was an understatement. “No, no, I’m fine,” you assured him, all the confidence you could muster coming into play. You couldn’t stand the thought of worrying him even further with your newfound state of shock.

The car turned at an intersection, a red Corvette coming at you from the left side. It was as if your body just knew what to do - curling up into a ball as your eyes closed shut. The car isn’t going to hit you. This is how normal cars drive. You weren’t hurt. Stop.

“Why are you all jumpy with me? You ain’t in any danger,” Sodapop piped up, noticing your flinch at the sight of the Corvette. “Calm down a bit, will ya?” he teased light-heartedly, unaware of the true conflict inside your mind.

“Sorry…” you mumbled in response, pushing down any remaining feelings of apprehension. “That car, Soda -…” the crack in your voice said it all, “Just scared me a bit, I guess I just don't want you to… to end up like Mom and Dad.”

The car became eerily silent, the only noise being the zooming of cars outside. The accident was a touchy subject for both of you - Darrel and Ponyboy as well. Just talking about it always darkened the mood.

“No. You’re safe, I ain’t ever gonna let anything like that happen to you,” he assured you, his voice thick with tension. He seemed to grasp onto the wheel tighter as he pulled over just outside your home. “You hear me? It ain’t happening.”

For once, he was stern. Sodapop was never stern nor agitated with you, he was always bubbly and grinning. You knew the mention of your deceased mother and father had triggered it. The accident may have been months ago, but the damage was nowhere near repaired.

“I hear you,” you mumbled shamefully, opening the car door and shutting it behind you swiftly. You stood with your hand rubbing onto your arm. The body language represented was one of dread and concern, but somehow relief. Relief that Sodapop was still standing before you - even if he was completing a mundane task.

Sodapop shut the car door as he hauled the bag of wet bathing suits through the gate and towards the front door. You followed, not once letting him out of your sight. You watched as he set the bag near the bathroom door. “Darry and Pony ain’t home yet, better shower before they come back,” he suggested, offering you first dibs with the shower.

You shook your head and stood underneath his arm, seeking some bit of comfort. “No, uh - I’ll do it later,” the words nervously fell from your tongue.

Sodapop ruffled his fingers through your hair, grinning like always. At least something felt normal. “Alright then, shower after me.”

With that, Sodapop waltzed inside the tiled room, unraveling an off-white and awfully tattered towel. Tossing it on the counter, he placed his hand on the doorknob and pushed it closed. You respected the privacy of course, but the pang of paranoia kicked in once more.

“Soda…?” you called out, the sound only a hoarse whisper. No reply.

It was strangely quiet on the other end of the door. No water could be heard running, no background noise of shifting clothes around, nothing. Your hand balled into a fist, the sound of three knocks beckoning him. “Soda, you okay?”

“Yeah…?” Sodapop responded with a confused tone, leaving the boy in deep confusion. “Are you?” he stifled a laugh at the question. He’d been gone a mere few seconds!

“I’m fine,” your voice quivered, exhaling deeply as you slid down the wall. You rested your arms around your knees and sat on the brown wooden flooring. You could practically feel the sadness washing over you. The corners of your lips seemed to subtly droop, your expression now a worried frown. A warm tear escaped from your left eye, leaving you to wonder why you were crying in the first place.

That car could’ve killed you. It could’ve killed Sodapop too - oh god, anyone but him. You couldn’t lose him. First your parents and now your brother - ?”

Wiping the stray tear away, you stood back to your feet and leaned your ear against the door, trying to make out any heavy breathing. The panic set in once more when the running water was the only sound coming from the other end of the door. “Soda, are you alright?”

The knob had been twisted, causing less water to flow from the shower head. “I’m okay - now what in the hell is up with you?” Sodapop demanded as his words echoed through your mind.

Sodapop beginning to feel a bit pestered by you didn’t seem to be an issue, you were at least grateful to have a response. “Nothing…sorry,” you spoke up, giving it a rest for the time being.

The eerie silence only led to the intrusive thoughts of Sodapop no longer being alive. This was torture at its finest. The shower seemed to drag on longer than you would’ve liked.

—————————————————————————

As the day came to a quiet evening, Sodapop had already climbed into bed for the night. Darrel could be found in the kitchen with Ponyboy baking a chocolate cake for tomorrow’s usual breakfast. Clutching your pillow and stuffed bear you’d had since childhood by your side, you crept inside his darkened room. He was lying on his front side, face buried in his pillow. A smile adorned your face once you saw him sleeping peacefully underneath the warm bedding. You tip-toed for Ponyboy’s spot in bed and lifted the corner of the sheets to slide in underneath them. Sodapop stirred and scooted further back toward his side of the bed. His eyes could make out your figure, halfway crawled into bed. “What’re you doin’?”

You were quick to reply, fully laying on your back now that he was awake. “I just wanted to sleep in here tonight…” you shrugged, the stuffed teddy a source of comfort against your chest.

Normally Sodapop would’ve urged it's best for you to not upset Ponyboy by taking his spot in bed. He felt tremendously guilty for earlier’s mention of the accident, it only made him want to ease your concern for his wellbeing. Sodapop could sense the constant fear nagging at you that if he wasn’t with you, he was gone as well. He wasn’t stupid - he was well aware. “Scoot over so there’s room for three,” he sighed softly before pulling your arm closer.

You could feel his lips curled into a loving grin against your hair. It was getting late, so it was a given that Ponyboy would walk in any moment now and settle down for the night. Your back against Sodapop’s chest provided a warm feeling inside. His arm was almost trapping you beside him from how tightly the embrace was. Feeling his heartbeat thumping against your back eased any nervousness that still lingered in your mind.

Sure enough, the hallway lights could be heard flicking off with a quick hit to the switch. A faint ‘goodnight’ was barely audible through the closed wooden door. Ponyboy twisted the knob and saw an unfamiliar shadow beside Sodapop in bed. He groaned once the realization swept over his head that it was you. “Alright, outta my bed,” he commanded with a rather sassy eye roll.

The sheets were flung off of your body as Ponyboy expectantly waited for you to leave. Sodapop squeezed you tighter against himself. “Pony, let her stay.”

Ponyboy scoffed and furrowed his brows in frustration. “Stay - ?! This is our bed, she has her own!”

Sodapop stifled a groan of his own, his hand extending to toss the bedding back over your body. “You’ve got room, either sleep with us or take her bed. It’s just for tonight...”

Ponyboy took one last glance at the two of you before plopping himself down in a huff. “You don’t even need to be here, it ain’t your bed,” he grumbled as he fiddled with the blanket that had been kicked to his side.

You felt guilty enough as is, but now the guilt had grown stronger. You exhaled softly and let your eyes drift shut. “I’m sorry,” is all you could manage to say in response before it turned to a whole meltdown on why you needed to stay close to Sodapop.

Ponyboy’s anger subsided to a calm and aloof demeanor. He was most likely too tired to even argue it anymore.

“I just can’t go back to my room…not when Soda’s all the way in here,” you explained, your voice kept at a quiet whisper. No response from either of them. That sickening feeling of loss had begun to eat you alive yet again now that you lay awake, speaking to your unresponsive brothers.

———————————————————————————

Morning came once again, except this time you weren’t woken up to the bird’s singing outside, or one of your brothers pouncing over your resting body. It was as if your mind already knew that Sodapop had left. Ponyboy too, it was nearly ten o’clock in the morning when the lonely feeling sank back in. You sighed and propped yourself up onto the pillows, using your forearms for support.

A muffled sound escaped your lips, immediately calling for Sodapop. Obviously, he couldn’t hear you behind a closed door. You sprung out of bed, the stuffed bear falling to the floor along with you. With a swift twist of the doorknob, you sprinted down the hallway to catch sight of Ponyboy in the kitchen.

“Soda - Soda - where’s Soda?” you asked frantically, no sign of your two eldest brothers being around.

Ponyboy bit into a mouthful of chocolate cake, not caring to finish chewing before speaking, “Leavin’ for work, why?”

You shook your head without another word and scrambled for the front door, pajamas and all. You saw Sodapop buckling in beside Darrel as he slipped on a shirt. You sprinted towards the car, shouting and pleading for them to wait.

“Soda, Darry!” you called out, your hand smacking the side of the car to stop the vehicle. Darrel looked beyond frustrated to see you causing such a scene. Sodapop was filled with great concern, even as the adrenaline rushing throughout your body masked your fear. He gave a head tilt to signal Darrel to let him handle this.

“I’m here,” he replied in an assertive tone, his empathic eyes feeling every emotion you’ve felt since yesterday’s accident. He understood you better than anyone. Reaching a hand out to pull you closer, his gentle grasp latched onto your wrist. He leaned closer to you and spoke lowly, “You alright, kid? You’re scarin’ us, y’know.”

You nodded. In all honesty, you were okay now that you’d seen Sodapop. It felt like every second spent away from him was hell on earth. He could be hurt, laying out in the street somewhere - dead.

“I’m coming with you,” you insisted, tugging on the backseat door behind Sodapop. It didn’t open. Instead, Darrel’s husky voice backed you away from the handle.

“Coming with us -? No kids allowed, be realistic for once.” Darrel gave you a stern warning that if you didn’t head back indoors then you would never hear the end of it.

Sodapop exhaled sharply and glanced between you both, trying to handle the situation. He locked eyes on you, giving you the same empathic look as before. “Just…” he gave Darrel a wince before facing you again, “You got five minutes to get ready and then we're leaving.”

Your smile reappeared yet again, immediately racing back up the stairs leading to the front door. The sound of your brothers’ voices grew louder even as the distance between you and the car grew. A glimpse of the two arguing caused a bitter pang in your heart. Pushing the feeling away, you darted for the bathroom.

———————————————————————————

“She can stay with me. The DX ain’t in a bad area, she’ll be fine…” Sodapop spoke softly to Darrel, trying to reason as to why you should come along to work with them.

You settled yourself in the vehicle as it began to propel forward. The tension of the previous argument still lingered, but at least Darrel kept quiet as soon as you were in a close enough radius to hear the bickering. He wouldn’t be caught dead speaking of you like that while you were listening.

———————————————————————————

Taking Sodapop’s hand, he led you inside of the gas station in which he worked. You’d been here countless times before, bumming around with your brother’s friends as they smoked and attempted to sweet-talk any girl that passed. Sodapop and Steve never did, they would be fired after receiving complaints for doing such activities. Sodapop would always bend the rules, slipping a few snacks and whatnot into his pocket before leaving work. The DX brought back fond memories even as you stepped inside the front door, a small bell ringing overhead, indicating your entry.

“Now, I ain’t supposed to have company,” Sodapop spoke quietly, holding onto your shoulder and bending down a bit to be eye level with you, “But I couldn’t say no, I just couldn’t.”

Your eyes stung from the tears that dared to form during such a heartfelt moment. Sodapop was aware?

“Soda, I can’t lose you too,” your voice quivered as you quickly closed the distance between one another. Your arms wrapped around his neck, Sodapop immediately reciprocated the hug.

“I know, I know…” he replied as he softly stroked the back of your head, his fingers intertwining with your hair in a soothing motion. “You ain’t losin’ me anytime soon, I can promise you that.”

You willingly let the tears fall from your cheeks, landing on Sodapop’s shoulder which dampened the fabric quite a lot. He didn’t mind at all, in fact - he was glad you were no longer bottling yourself up. You squeezed him tighter, wishing the hug could ensure you’d never lose him. “I love you,” you spat out in a desperate cry.

Sodapop nodded along, the soothing motion of his hand still in effect. “I love you too y’know, a lot,” he said with a delicate tone, one he only used with you. You were his little sister and he would never let anything separate the two of you.

You just don’t stop living because you lose somebody.

It was as if the hug was the one thing you needed - the one thing that could ease your pain. Learning to cope with the death of your parents was by far the most difficult task you’d faced. Memories of the accident only strengthened your love for your brothers, clinging onto them as if you’d lose them next. Living in constant fear, dreading any separation was no healthy way to cope. The only way to cure the feeling of this overwhelming pain was to cherish your brothers like never before. And that’s exactly what you did.

[cre8inghavoc]

Can't help it...

Part 9

inumaki x f!reader

pairing: inumaki x f!reader

summary: Transferring to a new school is tough, but having your three best friends there makes it easier. Things get even more interesting when you start falling for the mysterious boy who rides his motorcycle to school every day. What will happen next?

genre/warnings: [18+] Characters are aged up. Story contains cursing, new friends, alcohol, college!au, no curse!au, dark humour, SMAU and written parts, fluff, smut.

Inumaki's POV:

I’ve been staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours now, and I don’t understand why I can’t sleep. I mean, I’ve always had issues with sleeping—insomnia’s been my constant companion for as long as I can remember—but I thought it was getting better. This past week, for the first time in years, I actually slept well. It was odd, sure, but I wasn’t complaining.

But tonight? Tonight, it’s back to the old ways.

Back to no sleep.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I glanced over at the clock.

4 a.m.

Great.

Should I even bother going to school later? Maybe I should just skip. But then… I wouldn’t see y/n.

Fuck.

The thought of not seeing her tomorrow... or today, technically... made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t want to think too much about. I let out another frustrated sigh and turned my head to look at my phone on the nightstand. For a moment, I just stared at it, my mind running through all the reasons why texting her at this hour would be a terrible idea.

She’s probably asleep. You’ll wake her up. She’ll think you’re being annoying. Just leave her alone.

But then again… what if she’s awake too? What if she’s thinking about me the way I’m thinking about her right now?

Before I could overthink it anymore, I grabbed my phone, my thumb hesitating over the keyboard. I typed out a message and stared at it for a second, debating whether or not to hit send.

This is stupid. She’s not awake. You’ll look like an idiot.

But my thumb pressed send before I could talk myself out of it.

Hey… you up?

I tossed my phone on the bed beside me and ran a hand over my face, already regretting it. But now all I could do was wait.

Honestly, I was kind of hoping she would respond. It’s not like I can sleep, so maybe talking to her would help. But at the same time… I kind of hope she doesn’t even see my message. Because… what if I’m being too much?

What if she sees it, rolls her eyes, and thinks I’m just some guy who can’t get a grip? Someone who’s bothering her at 4 a.m. for no reason?

I sighed, staring at the faint glow of my phone screen as it sat on the bed next to me. What was I expecting? That she’d magically be awake, texting back right away? And if she did… what would I even say?

Hey, I can’t stop thinking about you?

Yeah, right. That would go over well.

I shook my head, feeling the frustration bubble up in my chest. Why was she in my head so much? Why couldn’t I just… let it go? Ignore it? Pretend I wasn’t thinking about the way she looked at me earlier, or the way her voice shook just a little when she was mad?

I groaned softly, rolling over onto my side and staring at the phone again. One minute passed. Then another. The screen stayed dark, and the silence stretched on. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe it was better if she didn’t answer.

Because if she did… I wasn’t sure what I’d say next. Or worse, what I’d admit.

But then, to my surprise, my phone buzzed.

I blinked, staring at it for a moment as if I’d imagined the notification. The screen lit up, her name glowing back at me. My heart skipped a beat, and I hesitated before picking it up, as if seeing her response would somehow make this real.

WARNING: SMUT (18+ ONLY) & HEAVY FLIRTING/TEASING

A/N

things are getting veryyy spicy now 👀

hope you enjoyed this little tease

im so sorry this took so look... it was very unexpected ive just been extremely busy and honestly haven't had the energy to write much

yes this is very short butttt i kinda just want some of yalls opinion on this... like would you actually wanna read the smut (next part)

ik its late ASF BUT ENJOY IT PLEASE OR ELSE ILL CRY FR

TAG LIST <3

@madaqueue @mikko-mikko @arabella0001 @swarachxle @s3ns4ti0n4l @jdgfsgdgdvf @tomikixd @arabella0001 @emotionalasf @unofficialsapphire @miowxh @hansl0ver @miowxh

[x0cup1dluv]

SHADOW OF DESIRE

Mafia!jungkook x introvert!reader

Info:

Kim y/n: age 20, introvert, anxiety, future songwriter.

Jeon Jungkook: age 22, confident, manwhore, mafia son.

Both enrolled into Yonsei University.

————————

Warnings: Smut!!!! Dark romance, abuse, toxic relationship, yearning (a man who yearns is a man who earns), smut smut smut smut, bullying, deals, smoking, smut smut smut, virginity lost, smooth sex, rough sex, blood from virginity, etc….

————————

Please be cautious because some themes may be suggestive!

This is my first story I’ve written and there’s gonna be multiple chapters!!!!

It was November 4th 2025. The time was currently 11:43 pm. I have my first day at my new college tomorrow since i transferred. I am so nervous.

I've suffered from really bad anxiety ever since freshman year. I'm on medication but we all know anxiety never truly goes away...

Every time I had anything come up where social interaction was involved I would panic.

Currently, I'm laying in bed looking at the ceiling. I can't stop thinking about tomorrow. What are people gonna think of me? Will I get bullied just like high-school? Oh gosh! People are gonna stare at me while I introduce myself!

Fuck.

I've got to get a hold of myself.

My life can't go on like this.

I turn to the side to get into a more comfortable position to fall asleep.

And around 25 minutes later, I did thank god.

————

I wake up to the sound of my alarm which is at 7:30 am. My class is at 9:15 but I like to get a good start of my day.

I walk to my small kitchen in my studio apartment.

I love my apartment. It's very cozy to me and I love my view of Seoul.

Is it the best apartment I could dream of? No. But it works as I am a college student.

I'm currently trying to get my degree in literature. I love writing and my goal is to become a songwriter and eventually maybe even a producer.

I know I could've avoided college with that job choice. Everyone tells me that. But I just didn't want to miss out on college since people hype it up so much.

I get my matcha and drink it sitting in my chair looking out to the city.

At around 8:00 am I get changed into my uniform before packing my bag. I pop my anxiety medicine in my bag just incase.

Fast forward, it's now 8:15 and I leave my house to get to the train stop. The walk to the subway station is about 15 minutes and I would get to the university around 8:45.

————

I step onto the Yonsei university campus. Gosh it's even more beautiful than I could imagine. It looks like a castle and everything is so gorgeous.

I go to check in and get directions to my class which was easy to navigate.

Once I walk in, I see people all talking to each other. Which was weird to me cause my previous college, no one really talked we all just wanted to get our diploma and leave.

I sit in a non-occupied seat in the 4th row of the class.

As I'm unpacking my bag to get all my stationary out I see 3 girls walk up to my desk.

"Oh! You must be new here?"

A random girl was talking to me? She had longer black hair and was very petite. She was pretty. But I didn't get a good vibe from her. She also had 2 little minions standing behind her giggling.

My eyes widen as I look up at her. "Uh- yeah I just transferred." I say nervously.

"Oh well I hate to break it to you...but uhm that's mg seat." She says pointing her finger at my desk.

"I will move." I say putting my book back in my bag.

"Hey! You should at least apologize for being so oblivious! Do you even know who she is?" One of her minions speaks to me. She's wearing a white beanie with yellow knee high socks and white heels.

I look back at the main girl in the middle "Sorry, I don't recognize you. Who are you?"

She scoffs. "Uhm hello? I'm Karina. Doesn't ring a bell? Guess not to low lives. Well just know my dad owns many companies in South Korea so I'm a pretty big deal." She gives me a creepy looking smile.

I nod my head. "Oh nice...well I'll get going now."

"Wow how pathetic are you? You won't even properly introduce yourself?"

I stand up with my bag and look at her. "Sorry I-"

"Leave her alone." A more masculine voice comes from behind the girls. He was tall, muscular and had dark features. Scared me actually.

"Oh my gosh Jungkook, you're defending her?" Winter asks him.

"She's new here give her a break." He looks me up and down.

"Whatever waste of my time anyway." Karina and her minions leave to go find another seat.

I sit back down and put my stuff back out. Ignoring Jungkook.

"A thank you would be polite."

I look up at him. "T- Thanks."

He scoffs and walks off.

—————

After class I grab my bags to head back to my apartment.

Once I get home I immediately start on my homework just to get it out of the way.

I had some ramen for dinner. I'm pretty short on money so cheaper foods is all I can really afford in the meantime.

Hours later and I lay in my bed thinking about jungkook and why he would defend me?

I guess we will never know....

————————————————————————

HII GUYSSS!!!

What do yall think of this first chapter? This is my first wattpad story so I hope you all enjoy it!!! Comments and criticisms are really appreciated. I'm currently planning out the next chapter.

[precioustarkey]

journalism at its finest

summary: you have made a career for yourself by interviewing celebrities, but are feeling a little uncomfortable when one hits close to home.

warnings: none

i nervously climbed into my car. the engine only makes my nerves rattle more. growing up, i was infatuated with actors and musicians. i found myself watching movies for the actors instead of the plot. listening to songs for the singers instead of the message. i can't explain my relationship with the media. i guess being online a lot as a teenager is to blame.

regardless, i knew from an early age that i wanted to work in the industry. not as an entertainer, but in the background. i wanted to observe the lifestyle up close. going to college for journalism was the best decision i have made for myself because now i get to live out my fantasy. 

i get paid to interview these people. and though i find a lot of them uptight and spoiled, the nosy side of me loves picking them apart. because of my job, i try my best to stay neutral on these celebrities so that they don't feel uncomfortable. apart from the research i do in order to come up with my questions, of course.

today is different. there is a show called "outer banks" that came around during quarantine, so with my free time, i binge-watched the entire first season. as i mentioned, normally i watch tv shows and movies for the actors, but i hadn't seen anyone in this show. 

however, when i delved deeper into google, i found the name of one of the actors to be familiar. drew starkey. i quickly found out that he grew up in north carolina, as did i. confused, i pulled myself from my cocoon on my couch to find my old high school yearbooks. grabbing one at random, i see him grinning in his senior photo. how could i forget? 

ever since i discovered this, i avoided the show like the plague. even though i had been surrounded by celebrities for years now, i had never known one of them personally. it almost ruined the glamorous aura surrounding them. imagining him as a regular teenage boy in the classes we shared was humbling. he wasn't mean in high school, not at all. if anything, i remember finding it odd that he hung around the theater kids because he was a total jock.

because of quarantine, i knew that press would be difficult for the actors, and because of this, i never anticipated having to interview them. which helped ease my nerves. moving to los angeles meant that i would interview every celebrity on the new up-and-coming shows. part of me hoped the hype surrounding the show would die down before the lockdown did.

the entire ride to the studio, i told myself over and over again that there was no way he would remember me. he was a jock, and i barely spoke. it wasn't the fact that i was shy, high school just wasn't for me. i counted down the days to graduation. i was only there because i had to be. i put more focus on my studies than my social life. 

in the back of my mind, i can't help but fear that seeing him will bring back memories of being the closed-off kid i was back then. as long as no one mentions it, everything will be okay. i repeated that to myself a few times before parking my car in the lot. removing my seatbelt as slowly as possible to buy time.

my hands are shaking as i walk to my studio. i send passing smiles to my coworkers as i make my way to the bathroom. i confirm that my hair, face, and outfit look presentable, and read over my questions one last time. 

the cameraman walks up to me as i take my seat to wait for the cast to arrive. "i just got a call; austin and drew are going to be the only ones you're interviewing today. madelyn, rudy, and  madison will be interviewed tomorrow," he says, looking for any sort of confirmation. "that sounds perfect," i say, smiling, still looking at my cards. 

i hear footsteps coming from the hallway and quickly stand up. austin and drew emerged into the room with their crew. "hello! so nice to meet you, my name is y/n," i say with a grin as i hold out my hand to them. they do the same, introducing themselves as they take turns shaking my hand. 

all three seats are now filled, so we can begin the questions. the first fifteen minutes go perfectly; we're laughing, they're thoroughly interested in the questions, and they're giving great answers. turning my attention to drew, i ask, "has this sudden change in lifestyle been difficult for you at all? to go from putting your all into basketball, to then deciding on theater in college?" 

he looks taken aback by my question. that nervous feeling in my stomach is slowly creeping back. i made sure that his sports background was easy to find online, so i was confident he wouldn't be too surprised. "wait a second. y/n? y/n y/l/n?" i can feel my cheeks flush at his realization. 

"can i be honest? i was hoping you wouldn't notice," i said, covering my face with my note cards. we are now sharing smiles. "oh my god. i sat behind you in algebra, you're the only reason i passed that class," he says in between laughs. seeing him in person has brought all of those little memories flooding back. 

after a minute or so of catching up, their team urges us on. "we've got other interviews, guys," the man says impatiently. we carry on for an additional fifteen minutes or so before i have run out of questions to ask. we said our farewells, and i thanked them for coming.

just as they were leaving, drew turned around, brushing past the guys they had walked in with. "y/n can i get your number? i would love to catch up properly whenever we both have time," he says, pulling out his phone. "yes, of course!" i smile, quickly typing in the numbers before they are once again rushed away. 

it felt like no time before my phone started dinging.

part two is here!

[nicnak20]

Bad girl; Charlie Mayhew:

*Yn is the town's bad girl. Charlie catches her in a diner one night and decides to teach her a lesson.*

It was a late night in the small, sleepy town of Willowbrook. The only place still open at this hour was the local diner, a 24-hour eatery that catered to the late night crowd - truckers passing through, shift workers on their breaks, and an occasional lost soul looking for solace.

Sitting alone in the back booth, nursing a cold cup of coffee, was Yn. She was the town's self-proclaimed rebel - a wild child with a penchant for trouble. At 21, she'd already caused more than her fair share of scandals, from sneaking out to parties to rumors of bad boys and worse intentions.

Yn sighed and stared out the window at the empty street. It was another boring night in this podunk town. Just as she was considering ditching out and doing something crazy for the hell of it, like keying the preacher's car, the door jangled as someone entered.

Speak of the devil, Yn thought with an eye roll. Striding in confidently was Pastor Charlie himself. The 20-something man was Willowbrook's resident holy hero - kind, patient, and stern in all the right ways. He ran the local church, volunteered at charities, and never had a hair out of place in his black suit and collar.

The pastor's eyes scanned the diner and landed on Yn. His brows furrowed as he recognized the town's bad apple. Yn quickly looked away, trying to blend into the vinyl seat. The last thing she needed was a lecture from St. Charlie.

But it was no use. The pastor saw her and made a beeline for Yn's booth. He slid into the seat across from her without waiting for an invitation. "Well hello there, Yn. Fancy running into you here," he said kindly.

"Oh. Hey Pastor Charlie," she replied, sounding unenthused. "Just grabbing a late bite, you know how it is."

The pastor nodded. "I do indeed. Although I can't imagine what brings you out at this hour. Don't you have school tomorrow?"

Yn scoffed. "School's for suckers. I'll go if I feel like it."

"Now Yn, we've talked about this," Charlie said gently, though there was a note of firmness in his voice. "You're smart. Caring. You could go places if you just applied yourself."

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Holier Than Thou," she snarked. "You don't know anything about me."

The pastor sighed. "I know you better than you think. And I worry, because I can tell you're struggling inside. Lashing out, acting out...it's a cry for help. For love."

Yn made a derisive sound. "I don't need your help or love. I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you think that," Charlie said. "But everyone needs guidance. Goes for rebellious girls too."

Yn narrowed her eyes. "I'm not a girl. I'm a woman who can make her own damn choices."

"Language," the pastor chided. "A lady never speaks that way."

"Oh please," Yn scoffed. "Spare me the lecture. I'm not one of your brainwashed church biddies who hang on your every word."

Charlie's eyes flashed. "I am only trying to help you, Yn. To guide you to a better path, since no one else will."

"Well don't," she said coldly. "I didn't ask for your help. I don't need it. Just leave me alone."

The pastor reached out and grasped her hand. "I'm not going anywhere, dear. You need me, whether you realize it yet or not."

Yn yanked her hand away. "I don't need you or anyone. Just get out of here."

Charlie sighed, a mix of disappointment and frustration on his face. "Very well. But know that I'm here for you, when you're ready."

With that, he stood and left Yn alone with her coffee and impure thoughts. The audacity of that man, waltzing in here and trying to play father. As if she was some orphan who needed saving.

She seethed, riding on the righteous anger. Men always trying to control her, change her, fix her. Well, she didn't need fixing. She was perfect just the way she was.

Draining the last of her coffee, Yn tossed a few bills on the table and stomped out, determined to show Pastor Charlie and the rest of Willowbrook that she answered to no one. She'd do what she wanted, go where she pleased.

The night was still young and she was still restless. Yn swung by Joey's house - the town's bad boy and her partner in crime. He was always down for a little late-night mischief to raise some eyebrows.

They ended up joyriding in his souped up Camaro, roaring down backroads and doing doughnuts in empty parking lots. The wind whipping through Yn's hair, the devil-may-care laughter, the sheepish thrill...it was freedom, even if fleeting.

But as the adrenaline faded and the sun peeked over the horizon, Yn's energy drained too. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. When Joey dropped her back home, she crawled into bed and passed out, not even bothering to change.

The next morning, Yn woke to her mother's shrill voice and the acrid smell of burnt toast. "YN, get up! You're late for church!"

Yn groaned and rolled over, burying her face in the pillow. Church? More like torture. The last place she wanted to go.

"Yn, I mean it!" her mother snapped. "Up, now! We're leaving in 10 minutes."

Yn grudgingly obeyed, throwing on the first dress she found and dragging herself out the door. Maybe if she kept her head down, she could avoid the pastor's notice...

But as they slid into their usual pew, Charlie's eyes immediately found her. He smiled and gave a little wave that seemed to say, "I told you so." Yn looked away, her cheeks flushing.

Throughout the sermon, Yn fidgeted, unable to focus on Charlie's soothing baritone. It was like he was speaking directly to her, every word a personal challenge.

Finally, it was over and they filed out. Yn hurried for the door but Pastor Charlie appeared in front of her. "Yn. A moment, please?"

She halted, fists clenched at her sides. "What now? I thought you gave up on me."

"Oh no, sweet girl," he said. "Never. However..."

He leaned in close, voice lowering. "I know about last night. The joyriding. Burning rubber."

Yn's eyes widened. "I don't know what you're talking about," she lied.

Charlie smirked. "Don't play coy. I have eyes everywhere. I can't have you causing trouble, setting a bad example."

"Well la-dee-freakin-da," Yn spat. "Mama Pastor, is that you?"

The pastor's eyes narrowed. "Yn, I care about you deeply. But I have a responsibility, to you and this town. I can't let you keep spiraling."

"So what, you gonna lock me up? Chain me to the church organ?" she scoffed.

"No, but..." Charlie cleared his throat. "You need guidance. Structure. I'm going to start coming over every night to supervise you. Give you a safe, productive outlet."

Yn's mouth dropped open. "You can't! I'm not a child!"

"I can and I am," he said firmly. "For your own good. We start tonight."

He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving a sputtering Yn in his wake. The nerve! The unmitigated gall!

That night, right on time, Pastor Charlie showed up at Yn's door. Her mother ushered him in, shooting her daughter a warning look.

"I'm not doing this," Yn said, crossing her arms.

"You are," Charlie said. "And we'll start with a Bible study. There's much you can learn from God's word."

Yn rolled her eyes but fetched a Bible. Charlie quizzed her on passages, gently chiding her for not knowing them. Then he had her do homework, looking over her shoulder to make sure she did it right.

At 10pm sharp, he declared it was bedtime and that she should get some rest. "You can't keep these hours," he admonished. "It's not good for you."

Yn stomped up the stairs, seething. But as she changed into PJs, she felt a tiny twinge of something - safety, maybe. Cared for, even.

The next night, Charlie was there again. And the next. At first Yn was petulant, fighting him at every turn. But slowly, she started looking forward to his visits.

He wasn't so bad, once you got past the stiff collar. Funny, even. Their conversations flowed easier, more natural.

One night, Charlie brought over board games. "I thought we could play, have some fun," he said, laying out the pieces.

Yn snorted. "Fun? You call this fun?"

Charlie just smiled. "Oh, I'll have you know I'm formidable at Monopoly. Care to wager on the outcome?"

They played late into the night, trash talking and laughing. Yn couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun.

As Charlie packed up the game, Yn touched his arm. "Thanks. I know you're just trying to help."

"I am," Charlie said softly. "I want the best for you, Yn. You deserve it."

Their eyes met, held. And Yn felt something shift, like a key turning in a lock.

From then on, Charlie's visits were the highlight of her days. He wasn't just authority, but a friend. A confidant.

Slowly but surely, her wild ways faded. She started going to school, even doing Homework without complaint. Pastor Charlie's visits continued, but now they were dates, of a sort.

One night, as they lingered on the porch swing, Charlie took Yn's hand. "You've come so far. I'm proud of you."

Yn smiled, lacing her fingers in his. "Thanks to you. I couldn't have done it without you."

Charlie returned the smile, eyes warm. "Oh, I think you could've. You're the strongest girl I know. But I'm glad I could help."

He squeezed her hand and Yn's heart squeezed too.

"I have something to ask," Charlie said. "Will you be my girl? My partner, in every sense?"

Yn grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

Their first kiss was under the porch light, sweet and chaste. But full of promise.

As Charlie walked Yn to bed that night, she felt a sense of rightness, of coming home.

Maybe being good wasn't so bad, especially with the right guide. Her rebel days were behind her.

Pastor Charlie had taught her that, and she'd never forget it. He'd shown her a different way.

And she couldn't wait to see where this new path led her.

[diaryofaprincesscrashout]

The day is almost over by how fucking fast time flies . I want to stay at home too tomorrow, but your girl has too many absences and I hate myself for choosing to skip/stay at home at the start of the school year. Fuck me, I guess.

I hate people, or at least I hate people I don't fuck with –their vibe, energy. My top examples: classmates (I hope they burn), some teachers (the literature one esp, she talks shit about anyone and doesn't tell you what problems you have in PRIVATE), people from school. Is it just me or am I the only one that gets anxious, even scared, when I step foot into that classroom full of people I can't stand?? I don't really think so. BUT sometimes I choose my peace and I act/am nonchalant about them, I avoid arguments with them because I don't want to be thrown out of school or have my parents eat shit.

Y'all don't know how many times I imagined burning up that school; since I started going to this school (for almost 8 years to be exact) I've been through shit. I thought that highschool will be diff, but NOPE. I hate that classroom, the students, the teachers, fuck it I hate the whole school.

Thank God my besties are in the same school or I would've dropped out long time ago. My parents aren't helpful as well; I tried so fucking much to make them change their minds to change schools and go into another country for their work, BUT NO again. Maybe I could've chosen a subject I CAN ACTUALLY PERFORM WELL ENOUGH and have good grades to be proud of.

I can't wait for spring break. Make it three weeks since our school has a week of activities so attendance isn't necessary since I'm a commuter.

Live, laugh, *love* when the bus driver won't turn up the heat in the bus when you have the immunity of a Victorian child. I HATE IT!

Better days better be fucking comming and April better be good, even better than March.

[futuristicanoe]

ballad of... big nothing

separate from the rest, where I like you the best

1st PERSON POV. [ fluff? feelings, mess. subby al, but it's non-sexual. mentions: blood & alcohol, unspecified mental health issues. tried something a bit different ! ]

Alex is sitting in front of me.

I don't think he knows how to identify the clump of emotions stirring inside him. The only way Alex can recognise an emotion is based on the 'feel' of it. There is no name for any of them. Nothing seems right. He says it's kind of like titling a song — you choose the name for it after it's already done, and not the other way around. That made sense to me at first, then it prodded at the back of my mind after I opened his notebook and saw rough, worn pages filled with nothing but abandoned titles. The words he couldn't find the meaning or elongation for, just pinned in the middle. I can imagine them looking at his angry little face, judging him. I wonder what he feels when it gets bad like that.

If my attempts at deduction are anything to go by, he feels many things, sometimes all at once. Too many things. Some of them intrigue him more than the others, though.

And he likes to chase them down.

Whatever makes his words tug painfully at something deep in his jaws like he has been chewing on caramel, smiling too hard, letting ice-cold vodka stay in his mouth for far too long, he hunts after it like a mad hound. Just to convince himself that he is still capable of looking irresistible, even when something keeps tearing him apart, and he can't find the energy in him to fight against it, or even just call it by its name.

Don't ask me why, because I don't know everything either, but his bottom lip is split, and if it stings as he smiles, he doesn't let it show. Silver lines have crept into the mop of messy, dark hair that Alex keeps brushing back nervously, the same way he would have done twenty years ago, the exact way he will do it tomorrow when he wakes up in the morning and finds his mind devoid of any dreams.

Some golden sunray hitting the sheer curtains can be enough, and he will give me that lopsided grin, then yawn like a hungry cat and laugh at me for staring. Like he doesn't know how much it means to me that I can stare at him whenever I want.

Being one of arguably peculiar nature myself, I've discovered that this Alex, who still holds his belly and covers his mouth when he laughs too hard, can't be changed no matter what.

But that doesn't mean he's 'unfixable,' or in any need of fixing. He can still change himself. He keeps doing it. I know that by now, I've seen him overdo it.

I'm just glad I haven't known him for a long while, you know? I can barely handle all of him at this moment. I can barely find the courage to keep going, keep trying to seek him out. Somehow convince him that it's okay. It's disgustingly primal to feel love and take it for granted, I think. I don't say that to him — I can't let myself be the one to ruin him.

Do I think it is possible to ruin him? No. But, oh, god. I can't trust myself that much.

Most people hate to watch someone grow older because they mourn the loss of innocence, the good old "naivety" disappearing with each day. But what makes me feel like I've got a giant lump stuck in my throat is the reminder of it – the sweetness, which I had only seen through blurred polaroids and other shaky handheld cameras before, still so clear on his face. The softness that you are supposed to let go of once you are old enough to leave school, because growing up is hard enough, even when you might not be the one to wear your heart on a jagged sleeve.

He has never been the one to forget easily, and for the first time, I find myself smiling as I remember that.

The red lamp makes his eyes look deep and smooth like apple butter. It's maddening. I could punch him. I wonder what that would feel like.

He has that... quaint kind of sharp, glossy eyes that were prone to sadness from the very beginning. Soft eyelashes, a thin scar adorning the subtle crow's feet. Pretty nose, cracked lips, scruffy moustache. A face made for endless melancholia, it is. Unbelievably lovable.

I lean in for a kiss.

I grasp his jaw, hold him down, keep him still, kiss him until he's shying away, and letting out a soft sound.

Alex has never been good at accepting gifts. And if there is something I'd never let myself feel, I imagine it's superiority — I've always felt unsure about gifts, too. Felt uncertain about giving, so the next moment, it's me, pulling back. Hesitating.

One of us has to move forward.

I look at his mouth, how blood pools on his bottom lip, looking raw and godlike, just like the rest of him. Oh.

Somewhere between spontaneous flirting and mornings filled with hangover-hypnosis hybrids of an unnamed disease, I must've gotten used to our kisses tasting a bit bitter and just like something you'd get dizzy from — alcohol, I suppose. Why does it all have to lead to the same road?

For you are dust, And to dust you shall return, yeah, yeah. He's never been dust. His eyes are shiny, and I have this feeling that he has never seen a single speck of dust in his entire life. I almost hesitate to touch him. Afraid.

Clean. Alex is like a tiny rabbit holding itself still in a snowfall.

"You keep forgetting," I say.

"Forgetting what?"

"To listen."

He shudders. It must hurt him. Alex loves praise, no matter how much he hates that fact, it's the truth. He loves it to death.

"I'm listening."

"To what?"

"You. I'm trying to listen."

"Can you hear yourself?"

"Y-yes."

"And are you listening?"

Alex looks betrayed. He says nothing, halfheartedly pouts and lets his eyes grow heavy with mood. Shakes his head. No. He licks his lips instinctively and grimaces a few seconds later, as if the faint taste of blood only reached him with an echo.

"Do you want another kiss?" I ask softly, tilt my head to the side.

He takes a moment. His shoulders relax, spine curving almost diligently, hands that were previously numb and useless at his sides, now moving to hold his own neck. As if determined to squeeze the life out of something that keeps living, and breathing, kicking kicking kicking — he can feel his heart there, right at his fingertips, but he can’t feel the lump that hurts his jaws and sticks to the back of his throat. It's the same thing, I want to tell him.

I hold back.

But somebody has to move forward, or we will just go back and I don't want that. I never want him to look at me and see a stranger again. So I pat at his hands, and he lets go without a single word.

My fingers dig into the sides of his neck instead.

Somehow similar to how the pointy collar of some older boy's jacket had done when he was a teenager and curious and he hasn't changed at all, has he? My fingers press in harder. He has to see the difference. Has to feel it.

"Are you listening?" I ask, quiet and gentle, because Alex will try to hide from me if I speak loudly.

His mind is just like a library. I'll tell him later, hopefully make him squint at me stupidly.

"Listen closely," I say, whispering near his ear now. "Is it quiet?"

He knows what I mean — I'm talking about the little voice in the back of his head. It never leaves him alone. If I could reach inside and cradle it with my own hands, I would gladly gut it open right away. Just to do him a favour, probably.

Alex shakes his head.

I pull back to look at him, his confused face only making me nervous. I call him, "love?"

His arm twitches, and he looks to the side. A small, shy grin grows on his face. I brush his frizzy bangs back and scratch his forehead lazily. He's warm. Melts in my hold and almost dares to run through the gaps. I tighten the fingers around his neck.

Alex nods, as if saying "yes," and then leans into my touch with a rumbling little "mmm," which actually means "more, please."

It's not my words he wants to listen to, and I realize it's only fair, because he must be tired of those — words, words, words. They are everywhere. And not all of them are sweet, helpful. Not all of them sound pretty or have an interesting meaning.

He is listening, and it's all that matters. If it's the chaste kiss I press to his inner wrist that reminds him to keep breathing, or the playful slap to his cheek that stitches him back together, instead of all the things I'm dying to tell him — then I will stay here, with him cocooned in my arms, my lips next to his ear. I will whisper if silence becomes unbearable, but I doubt it will, because he can't seem to hold back the giggle as I gently peck the underside of his jaw. I can't change him. I haven't even tried. Al doesn't need any of those stupid words. Sometimes, this is just right.

A/N: Well! Two Elliott Smith references, wow. I was listening to Between The Bars while writing. Even if it's probably the... same... I tried something different here. It was interesting. Hope it's not horrendous.

[oh-no-its-bird]

YOU!!!!!!

[Grabs you by the collar and shakes you]

Youuuuu...

I was scrolling around at way too late at night and saw one of your posts, and I love your posts, so I went to your blog, and bing bada boom, I see the Izuna in Wonderland post and I read through it. I enjoy the writing and the ideas and the art (how dare you be good at both writing and art (affectionate)) and I reach the end and that last drawing.

The one where Madara is like "oh yeah only the Senju could heal u so we have a peace treaty with them now-" That fucking drawing of Madara, has grabbed my by the balls and refused to let go, what the fuck.

He looks so fucking soft and sleepy but like in an unhealthy sick Victorian child way. He looks like he would tell me not to go to school tomorrow bc he likes me but I'd go anyway bc what he really means is like hey take a mental health day bc school is hell, he's just too sleep deprived to realize(care) how evil he sounds. He looks like he either has hair the texture of burnt straw or the fluffiest softest hair imaginable, no in between. He looks like he gives great hugs but could (and would and has) also use those hugs to suffocate someone to death. He looks like a sneeze could kill him and also he is the creator of every virus known to man.

It's the fucking soft yet untamed hair, the creasing and maybe slight puffiness around his eye, the slight coloring (redness I assume) to his nose, the sweat that might be nervousness, might be him having literally worried himself sick at his brother's side and now he has a fever.

I already liked the way you drew Madara, I like all your Madara drawings, but for some reason, this one broke something in me and I can't stop myself from wanting to write fanfiction while spinning this specific Madara around in my head like a rotisserie chicken. Idk if what I'm saying makes sense, it's late, I'm tired, I barely slept last night. I just want you to know that this Madara drawing now lives in my head rent free and if I ever get around to writing the various TobiMada fics in my head, this is how I will imagine him.

Also, love how draw Hashirama too. He looks like a Mii character that got ROM hacked to have a Battle Cats face. And also how grumpy and low effort Tobi looks in here too, his more detailed design is great too. Also I like how you draw Izuna- BASICALLY, I LOVE ALL YOUR CHARACTER DESIGNS, THIS ONE JUST BROKE ME FOR SOME REASON. I'M GONNA STOP WRITING NOW, I NEED TO SLEEP.

I'm fucking crying actually thank you??????? Nicest thing anyone's ever told me about my stuff, I'm gonna explode wtf

Also I can tell you haven't slept in a while so oh my god go do that

Pls take this quick Madara in thanks, I tried to do my best to draw him how I did in the Izuna in Wonderland comic but idk if I did him justice

I've been struggling to find a good way to draw him consistsntly, so I will internalize what u have told me and try to keep that sickly Victorian man energy going forward

[remusluvr]

say it ain't so | steve harrington

summary: Byers reader and Steve's last night together before leaving for California. content: female reader, angst, f oral, sex, no usage of y/n

The bedroom you have lived in for the last eighteen years is nearly completely vacant. All that's left in it is your bed and your duffle bag for the trip. It's weird seeing your once vibrant room so dull.

"I don't like it," you say, crossing your arms as you stand in the doorway whilst Steve is laid out on your bed.

"Neither do I, none of your personality is in here anymore," Steve sighs before proceeding to sit up. You shut the door behind you to go sit with him.

Tomorrow morning you'll be in a car driving to California with your family. There was no other choice for you since you still have your senior year to complete, which means you have to leave Steve behind for nearly an entire year.

Curling yourself into his lap, his arms wrap around you. You two have already discussed visiting each other many times, how he'll fly out to you and you'll fly back to Hawkins to see him. And you and he have already made spring break plans for you to come back to Hawkins for nearly two weeks.

It'll work, you'll work.

Your heart aches at the mere idea of not being able to see him every day, or hear his voice, or visit him at work, or have him climb through your bedroom window so you two can have sleepovers. Usually, Joyce was a lot more strict about sleepovers with significant others but with you leaving tomorrow, it's okay for tonight.

All you want is for this night to never end so you never have to leave Steve.

His hand rakes through your hair as you lay on him, "I'm going to miss you so fucking much."

You're already quite emotional that you have to leave everything and everyone you've ever known and Steve is simultaneously making it worse and better. He turns your face up to look at him and he coos down at you when he notices the tears welling in the corners of your eyes.

"It's just not fair, Stevie. Why can't I just live at your house for the rest of the school year? You can work at the video store, I'll go to school, and then at night, we sleep in the same bed like we live together."

"I know, baby. It's not fair at all. But you'll love California and imagine when I come to visit. We'll drive to the beach and spend the whole day there. Just you and me."

"That'll be nice," you hum. The image is crisp in your mind and you're giddy about it. Steve always knows exactly what you need to hear. "Ah, and then you'll come back to the house and I'll show you my new room. I'm not sure how I want to decorate yet."

"Send me pictures. I wanna see everything you get up to out there."

"That's such a good idea but I don't have a camera," you whine, flopping your head down onto his shoulder. He laughs and moves you off of him. "Where are you going?"

He reaches under the bed where he's hidden your going away present. A camera, a stack of envelopes, paper, pens, and stamps. The perfect concoction for when your relationship is about to go long distance.

"I got myself the same stuff. I expect at least one letter a week and at least five phone calls a day," he proclaims, watching as you smile down into the box. You laugh before setting the box to the side and climbing back to him. "Not an ideal situation by any means but everything will be fine. I promise."

You kiss him from your position in his lap. He kisses back with even more fervor. Your hands drape themselves around his neck as his grab at your hips. Any time you kiss Steve, it makes you dizzy but especially now. When he's putting everything unsaid into this kiss, how could it not?

It hits you as he flips you over onto your back that this is the last time you'll be able to do this in a while. Your lips stutter against his and he pulls back, thumb coming up to rub over them. There's no need to bring down his mood by addressing the elephant in the room. Tonight, you'll just enjoy the fact that he's here.

"So pretty," he whispers, leaning down again for a quick kiss before his thumbs slip just underneath the waistband of your shorts so he can slide them down. He moves slowly, deliberately, so he can savor this moment forever.

And once they're off and thrown to the side, he's laying on the bed between your legs. His lips are like fire on your legs as he kisses a path up to where you want him the most. He won't let you rush him though, making sure to take his sweet ol' time to nip at your inner thighs.

He's cruel with his teasing, fingers ghosting idly over your panties. Pulling down your underwear has his vision glazing over as he focuses in on the very thing he's been planning since the beginning.

"It'll be hard, very hard, to not be able to eat this pussy any time I want," he sighs, leaning in to lick at your clit. You're panting from all this teasing and his words don't help at all. Reaching down, your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling him closer to you. He grins into you, finally giving you what you want.

If there's anything Steve is the best at it is eating you out. He goes to town, sloppy and wet just to make you feel your very best. His lips suction around your clit before moving down to dip his tongue into you. It's world-changing. You don't know how you'll survive months without him.

Your thighs squeeze his head and he moans, letting the vibration move through you. It has your legs shaking as his hands grip at your thighs, keeping them spread enough for him to do his job properly. He loves it though, loves every little thing you do.

"Steve!" you whine, remembering that there are other people in this house but when you're getting the best head of your life, there's bound to be escaped noises. Steve is a cocky boy and you can feel his smile against you. It's boosting his ego knowing you're having this much trouble keeping it down.

You don't even warn him at all before cumming but he knows. Steve always knows. From the clench of your fingers in his hair, to your hips bucking into his face, and your sudden gasp of breath it's not hard to figure out. And he takes everything you give him, watching as you bite down on the pillow beside you so you don't wake the whole house. There's nothing more that he wants right now than to hear you, it's killing him.

He huffs as he settles in next to you, letting you cuddle into him so you can regain some of your breathing.

"Wonder if those cameras do video cause I don't how I'll last without hearing your pretty sounds for so long," he groans, tossing his head back against your headboard. You giggle as you look up at him. You press upward, sucking at his neck whilst you climb into his lap.

"We can always call each other," you whisper directly beside his ear, biting at it for extra measure, "Think I'm getting my own phone for my room."

"P-perfect, baby." He's whining quietly as you continue the assault on his neck, maybe getting too carried away but the look on his face is worth it. There is still a t-shirt and pajama pants on him and while the fabric may feel nice on your bare cunt, you need him out of them immediately.

"Take your shirt off for me, Stevie?" It's off before you can even make it down the bed at all to pull at his pants. He chastises you for teasing but it's no different than what he was doing. "Poor baby, you're so hard."

He's panting and it feels nice to be the one in control of him. Your fingers run over his tip, leaving him to chase your touch.

"Please, put me out of my misery, sweetheart." Smiling at him, you do. His inhale is sharp once he's inside you. You lean your forehead on his shoulder as you get used to him. "You're my lovely girl, god, I love you so much."

He grips onto your hips, helping you bounce on him. All of your confidence faded away as soon as you got what you wanted, turning to mush instead. You just need him to take care of you.

It doesn't take all that long before you're close again, sensitive from your first orgasm. And the way you're clenching around him has right there with you. His lips press messily onto yours as he tries to fight off his impending orgasm so this doesn't have to end. Your hands are glued to the sides of his face and he's never felt this loved.

"Mmpfh, g-gonna cum. W-where you want it?" he groans into your lips.

"Inside please," you whine, grinding down onto him to meet his thrusts, "Please, I want it. I'll get the m-morning-after pill."

It's too much for Steve and he cums with a loud moan that you have to muffle by clamping your hands over his mouth. You don't blame him because you have to bite down on his shoulder as you finish. And when you're both done, he's so drunk off of you that he whines when you get off his lap.

"I don't want you to leave me," Steve frowns as you lay on his chest.

"I know. But I'm not gone forever, you're not losing me." He's still upset and he will be for the next few months as he gets used to it. All he can think about is how much money he's about to make because that's all he'll be doing, work. But he'd be okay with being the poorest man in the world if it meant that you were with him.

"We should get some sleep since you have to be up early," he instructs, trying to be firm and ignore the ache in his chest. Once he's asleep, he'll have to wake up to you leaving him and he's not ready. He'll never be ready and you're not ready but it's what will happen.

"Probably. I love you."

"I love you more."

[erbiumspectrum]

I stopped exercising when I was 15.

Back in school I was your typical clumsy nerdy kid with perfect grades and zero physical coordination. In P.E. class I was positively a pathetic sight and I was painfully aware of it as it was, but on top of that my P.E. teachers hated me. And I have no doubts about it because they treated me like garbage which was somehow even worse than the constant humiliation in front of my classmates.

I managed to stand it for a little over four years, after which I was so wrecked mentally that I stopped going to school. I don't mean P.E. class, I mean school. I was unable to go there, to even walk past the gym, and I only went back to school once I got a doctor's note that I couldn't do P.E.

And ever since then I've had debilitating anxiety over exercising in groups/ in public. That was absolutely out of the question. Just the very thought of exercising next to someone else was enough to make me feel sick. I didn't exercise by myself, at home, either because I felt so bad about myself I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I bought a jump rope two or three weeks ago, I can't remember. As soon as I got it, I tossed it to the bottom of the wardrobe and started trying to psych myself up to go use it. This evening I finally put some comfortable clothes on, stood in the kitchen where my dad was, and said, "I'm going to the park with the jump rope." My dad, a bit of a runner, asked where exactly I was going and when I told him, he said he often sees people exercising there. You can't imagine my relief when I heard it's in fact that kind of spot and I won't look weird there.

And I went. I actually did it. I went out and got some exercise in public.

I was pathetic 😂 I'd only manage two jumps in a row tops before stumbling. It definitely didn't cure my anxiety: all the time that I was there, I kept worrying about the other people staring at me and thinking "lmao what a loser" but I did not let that stop me.

I've just had a shower. My everything hurts. I imagine I'll be absolutely dead tomorrow. But I did something unbelievably brave today and I'm hoping I'll cling to this courage and keep going.

[blushingbubbles]

Imagine being hypnotized so that every time you see someone's pants zipper is down you're compelled to kneel and offer to suck them off. Doesn't matter if it was down on purpose or not, it's all the invitation you need to be turned into someone's free use sex toy ;)

😵‍💫 I'd be succcchhhhhhh a good free use toy then wouldn't i?

(exempt from forbidden-words rule)

you're introducing me to your friends for the first time, and im convinced im going to be better behaved than normal. i need them to like me! everything's going super well. we have lunch and play games. i offer to take care of the dishes, and you all take me up on it. when someone brings in an extra glass from the dining room, i accept it half a moment before noticing his pants are unzipped.

you watch from the door, and i wait for you to stop me. i wait for you to tell me not to do it, because otherwise i can't control myself. but you don't say a word, and i can't stop myself from sinking to the floor in front of the sink. i look up at your best friend since grade school and beg to suck his cock for him.

when we later leave, im cockdrunk and hazy. but u pat me on the head and stress that there was nothing to worry about because they absolutely loved me and we're invited over again tomorrow.

in a writing mood todayyyy send me ur fantasies of making me a freeuse toy and ill expand on them

[specialagentlokitty]

Scott x sister!reader - done trying

Teen Wolf imagine being Scott sister and having a complicated relationship with him and your mother and putting it into a song and singing your heart out at the talent show. - @cokcola4112💜

A/N: the song used is Running by NF

Sitting in your room, you were chewing the end of your pencil as you stared at the homework in front of you.

“Hey (Y/N), we’re ordering some food, do you want anything?”

Looking up at your mum, you shook your head.

“No thank you, I’m just going to get something later.”

“Are you sure? We haven’t eaten together in a while.”

You turned back to your homework.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Melissa sighed and nodded her head, leaning against the doorway as she crossed her arms as she gazed at you.

“How’s Uhm.. how’s school going?” She asked.

You shrugged a little bit.

“Okay I guess.”

She sighed softly and walked inside.

“Are you really not going to eat with us?”

“No. I’ve got school work to do so can you please go.”

“Alright. Alright.”

Melissa walked away and shook her head as she looked at Scott who was waiting for her to come back down, hopefully with you.

“I don’t get it, she’s always trying to do stuff with us.” Scott said.

“She said she was busy.”

Scott sighed and nodded.

You closed your bedroom door, and gave up on your homework, instead you sat on your bed and scrolled through your phone.

You had always had a complicated relationship with Scott and your mom, yes you were twins, but your mom always seemed to favour Scott.

Maybe it had something to do with whatever happened when you were younger, you didn’t know.

But after years and years of trying to put the effort in with them you gave up, and they couldn’t seem to notice what was going on.

You had tried.

You were tired of trying.

You left the house about an hour later, going to meet some of your friends for dinner and you came back, only to be stopped by Scott.

“Are you coming to the game tomorrow?” He asked.

“Hate lacrosse.”

“Oh.. I thought you liked it…” he mumbled.

“Well maybe if you paid attention you would’ve know.” You shrugged.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I’m going to bed.”

You wanted to move in with your dad, but because of school and his work, he knew he didn’t have the time to look after you.

And you hated it.

It’s why you signed up for the talent show, you didn’t want people to see you as Scott’s sister, you wanted them to see you for you.

And singing was a huge passion of yours, so as you stood behind the stage the night of the talent show you felt nervous.

Your name was called up and you walked out, standing in front of the microphone, you took a small breath, and waited for your cue to start.

And what you didn’t know was that your mom and brother found out about you taking part and had come to watch.

You took a small breath and began to play the guitar.

“I'm tired. Of holding on to you, it's time to let My pride Go and learn to love myself again, yeah.”

You paused.

“I don't wanna wait another day, I've waited long enough I'm ready I can see the sun, it's coming up. There's happiness on the horizon, I'm hopeful I can see the light, I've Hesitated all my life but I'm all done.”

Scott and Melissa shared a look. You were amazing.

“I'm done running from you. Spent my whole life in your shadow Scared of who I'd be if I, Yeah, Said goodbye and I didn't have you here.”

You took a breath.

“I wish you well but I can no longer stand aside And watch you sabotage the two of us. I love you to death, but I can't spend the rest of my Life in this darkness, I'm done. I'm done.”

Melissa and Scott grew more confused.

“Is this about us..?” Scott whispered.

“I don’t know..”

You carried on singing.

“I wish you the best, but I'm not interested In giving you more of my life, I've already given you too much. I don't wanna lose ya. I don't wanna keep ya. I know that you mean well but when I fail I don't need ya. Rubbing my face in it and treating me like I'm less than you, tell the truth You know I'd be better without ya. Been in your shoes, don't be a fool And try to convince me that I'm the Real issue, when you're the root to every problem I love you but not enough to allow you to continue to drown the both of us, you're Holding me back, you're pulling me down, you're making me hate myself, I Don't wanna leave, but that's what I need, I ain't got a choice, I can't just Let you deceive and make me believe that I don't deserve to be loved. I am not gonna stand aside And watch you attempt to rob and steal and sabotage What little faith I have left, yeah, haven't I scarificed enough for you? Hate seeing you cry, but I think it's time to let go and say our goodbyes. Yeah, I'm gonna miss you, but I am not gonna spend the rest of my life running From you.”

You paused.

“Spent my whole life in your shadow Scared of who I'd be if I Said goodbye and I didn't have you here. I wish you well but I can no longer stand aside And watch you sabotage the two of us. I love you to death, but I can't spent the rest of my Life in this darkness, I'm done. I'm done.”

Mellissa had tears running down her face, and Scott gripped her hand tightly in his.

Because they realised it was about them, they weren’t sure how but they just knew.

“I have to go..”

“Mom!”

Scott rushed out after your mom, following her into the hallway he hugged her tightly, letting her cry into his shoulder.

He sniffled a little.

“We made her feel like that?” Melissa asked.

“I.. I don’t know how…” he whispered.

You had watched them rush out, and you left the stage, handing the guitar to someone else you stuff your hands into your pocket and left.

Wondering around the hallways you stopped when you wondered down their hallway and you paused.

Both of them stopped and looked at you.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart…”

You walked over and stopped next to you, moving aside as she reached for your hand.

“Don’t I love you both but I’m done…” you whispered.

“Give us a chance let us fix this!” Scott begged, “we can’t loose you.”

“Maybe you should give that song another listen.”

You walked away and they watched you leave.

“I’ve spent too long begging for your attention.” You mumbled.

With that, you left the school and got into your car, clenching your jaw as you fought the tears in your eyes.

Part of you wanted to run back inside and hug them, tell them it’s all forgive but you knew if you did that you knew nothing would change.

They had to learn their lesson, no matter how much it hurt the three of you.

You needed this.

And they needed to learn from this.

You had tried and you couldn’t do it anymore you just couldn’t.

And they didn’t know how to fix it, or if they even could change anything and make it better.

Scott held your guys’ mom as she sobbed into his arms, trying to figure out where she had gone wrong, and he was doing the same thing.

They wanted to fix this and now they weren’t sure if they could, or you would even let them.

Maybe it was too late now.

But they sure as hell were going to try, they were going to try anything

[ravenclair]

In the Shadow of You | Hogwarts Legacy

☆ Summary | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

☆ Available on Wattpad

Chapter 9: Hallows

(Word count: 2,067)

You sat at the fountain in the Bell Tower courtyard and told Sebastian everything that had been going on since being back at Hogwarts. The nightmares, the Legilimens, the lessons with Professor Sharp. He sat quietly and listened through it all, just like this summer on the Hogsmeade bridge.

You even confessed about the silence from your ancient magic and how you had been scared to use it again.

"...but I guess I have no choice, now," you sighed. "I need to regain control of my ancient magic if I'm going to defeat this Legilimens."

"It'll probably greatly aid in your Occlumency, too, if you can manipulate it into a mental shield," Sebastian suggested. "Or if you could imbue it into the locket to make Fig's protective charm more powerful...we'll have to do some further research into Legilimency and enchantments."

You whirled to Sebastian and shook your head. "No, no, you swore off anything to do with the Dark Arts. I already feel bad enough talking to you about it."

"Legilimency is hardly dark magic," Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Besides, I have no intention of learning it myself. This is strictly to help you, so it gets a pass."

You shot him a hard look but relented. "I can't believe I managed to perform Legilimency...it wasn't a pleasant feeling."

"I wouldn't think so," Sebastian shivered, both from the thought of Legilimency and the brisk night air. "I have no interest in poking around in another's mind. No telling what you'd find in there."

"I saw what looked like a wand, that must be what they're looking for," you said. "I know I've seen its shape before, but I can't place it."

Sebastian stifled a yawn. You'd been sitting out here for a while now, and it was well past curfew. "If only these heroic quests came with some bloody directions and a map..."

A map...

You shot up. "Sebastian, you're brilliant!"

"Uh, thanks?" He responded, raising an eyebrow at you. "I mean, I know, and it's great to hear you say so, but why–"

"Meet me outside the History of Magic classroom tomorrow after dinner. There's someone I'd like to introduce you to."

⋆｡°✩

As you walked through the halls between classes the next day, you bumped into someone as they rounded the corner.

"Pardon me," you murmured, staggering backward.

"My apologies," an unknown voice said at the same time. They had an odd accent and you looked up to see none other than the mysterious Gryffindor Seeker.

The seventh year Ilvermorny transfer...an American...

He was tall and lean. His dark hair was slicked back in an elegant fashion, but a few pieces fell freely. His green eyes observed you cautiously.

You both just stared at each other in silence.

"You're...the new Ilvermorny transfer, aren't you?" You asked politely.

"Did the accent give it away?" He joked. "Uh, yes, that's me. I'm Emrys."

"Emrys, as in Merlin?" You said in fascination.

He chuckled and scratched his cheek. "Yes, embarrassingly enough–no relation, though. My mother was an admirer."

Was, you noted. You quickly changed the topic.

"How're you enjoying Hogwarts? I'd imagine it's quite different here in Scotland than in the Americas."

"I actually travelled here a lot growing up, so I'm familiar with the area," Emrys replied. "I have family in Godric's Hollow."

Godric's Hollow...he comes from a wizarding family, then...

"But it's nice to be here permanently," he continued. "I've always wanted to attend Hogwarts, even if it's just for one year. It's definitely been an adjustment, though."

You nodded in understanding. "I can sympathize...I just started here last fall, as a fifth year."

"You started wizarding school as a fifth year?" Emrys said, astonished. "I've never heard of such a thing, even at Ilvermorny..."

Realization washed over his features.

"Wait a moment, you're Hogwarts' Savior!" he laughed. "I thought you'd be taller."

You cringed at the title. "So you've heard the rumors, then?"

Emrys smirked at you, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "Well, when you're a hero, people tend to sing your praises. They say you encountered a dragon, is that true?"

"Multiple, actually," you chuckled, adjusting the books in your arms. "It's kind of a long story."

"I'd love to hear it sometime," the Gryffindor replied, pushing off the wall. "See you around, Savior."

With a parting nod, Emrys continued past you. You rounded the corner, resuming your own path and cursed whoever came up with that ridiculous nickname.

⋆｡°✩

"So, who is it we're meeting? It better not be Professor Binns," Sebastian called out as you walked toward him.

"No, he'd bore us both to death," you laughed and gestured for him to follow you.

You both walked downstairs, past the sleeping dragon statue, and into the Bell Tower dungeons.

"I don't think I've been down here before..." Sebastian said as you continued to walk deeper into the dungeons.

"I'm not sure anyone else has," you answered. "I discovered it last year, with...Professor Fig. Think of it as my Undercroft."

Eventually, you came to the ornate arched doorway.

You pushed open the heavy doors and heard Sebastian gasp, "This is much more grand than the Undercroft."

"This is the Map Chamber," you declared, gesturing to the space. "It's where I met with the Keepers last year."

"The Keepers? That's who you're introducing me to?" Sebastian said in alarm.

"Don't worry, they're nice," you smirked at him, patting his shoulder. "They're also just portraits."

You walked down the stairs, across the map-floor, to the left-most portrait. Sebastian followed, surveying the chamber in quiet awe.

"Professor Fitzgerald?" You called to the empty portrait.

After a lingering moment, the former headmistress appeared. "It is good to see you, young friend. I was aware of the new school term starting from my portrait in the headmaster's office and wondered if we'd be seeing each other again.

"However, I do hope your visit doesn't suggest trouble is afoot," Niamh concluded.

Sebastian gulped at her towering image and leaned to you to whisper, "Now that's a portrait."

"And who is this?" Niamh questioned when she noticed Sebastian's presence.

"This is Sebastian Sallow, a close friend," you introduced. "He knows...about what happened last year. He helped me find the triptych and Isidora's memory."

Sebastian inclined his head, "Nice to meet you, Professor Fitzgerald."

"Unfortunately, our visit is due to some trouble at Hogwarts," you admitted to the former headmistress. You explained what had been going on with the Legilimens, and how you had discovered what he was searching for.

"This wand...I believe you showed it to me before, Professor, during your trial," you concluded.

Her portrait's expression was grave.

"The Elder Wand..." she sighed. "The most powerful wand to ever exist. If this Legilimens seeks it...this is a most precarious situation, indeed."

"Does it actually exist?" Sebastian asked, stunned. "I thought that the Hallows were just an old fable."

"The Hallows?" you turned to him, confused.

"The Deathly Hallows," Niamh confirmed. "The three artifacts I showed you during my trial. When united, one can become the Master of Death."

"The Cloak of Invisibility, the Resurrection Stone, and the Elder Wand," Sebastian explained further. "I read about them in The Tale of the Three Brothers, when I was searching for a cure for Anne. I was convinced it was just a children's story, so I never pursued them."

Niamh nodded and said, "They are real, and so is their power. The Elder Wand shows loyalty to any witch or wizard who disarms its previous owner. If this Legilimens is searching for it and believes you to be its current Master, you must be careful."

"But...what makes them believe I have the wand?" You pondered aloud.

"That, you will have to discover on your own," Niamh shook her head. "The only thing I have heard from the whisperings of other portraits is this: the last known owner of the Elder Wand was a wizard named Loxias.

"He's since been defeated, but no one is certain by whom," Niamh went on. "If I discover anything more, I will be sure to let you know."

"Thank you, Professor Fitzgerald," you said gratefully.

"Remain vigilant," Niamh warned. "The Deathly Hallows will only attract danger."

⋆｡°✩

Sebastian and yourself sat in the Undercroft, mulling over what Professor Fitzgerald had shared earlier in the week. You had spent the last few days collecting any information you could find in the library about the Deathly Hallows, which wasn't much.

You rubbed your eyes, tired. You'd had another nightmare last night, about a dark figure shattering your mind. Not a particularly comforting omen.

Perhaps I should ask Nurse Blainey for a stronger sleeping tonic...

"We're getting nowhere with this," Sebastian sighed in frustration. "Maybe we should start asking around, see if anyone knows anything about Loxias."

"That might attract unwanted attention," you replied, already having considered that yourself.

Sebastian closed the book he was reading. "Maybe, but it could be worth it. Maybe it would attract some wanted attention, someone that could help."

He had a fair point. The only other option was waiting around for the Legilimens to attack and hope you could use Legilimency on him again to learn more.

"I've got to get to practice, want to come watch?" Sebastian asked as he stood and stretched his back.

You shook your head. "I'm meeting with Natty and Garreth in the library to work on our Potions essay. After his last one became ashes, I think Garreth's a bit more motivated."

Sebastian laughed and bid you farewell. You collected your things and headed to the library.

Once you arrived, you saw the two Gryffindors at a table towards the back of the first floor, books already strewn across it.

"Hello," you greeted as you sat across from the pair. "How're the scrolls coming along?"

"Not good," Garreth groaned, head resting on the table. "I thought writing an essay on Felix Felicis might actually be interesting, but...it's still schoolwork. Which is boring."

"He's barely written half a page, and we've been here for over an hour," Natty clarified.

"I'd rather be playing quidditch," was his retort.

The three of you worked the next half hour in comfortable silence, until Garreth spoke again.

"By the way, have you met the new transfer student? He was at quidditch tryouts the other day, playing Seeker for our house."

"I have, actually," you replied as you finished inking your paragraph. "We ran into each other in between classes the other day. Emrys, right?"

Natty nodded, "The two of us have had lots to discuss, coming from similar situations and all of that. He is very kind."

"We spoke rather briefly, but he mentioned he has family in Godric's Hollow," you said.

"He and his father moved there over the summer to live with his grandparents," Garreth chimed in. "His father's originally from England, but took a job as a professor at Ilvermorny. Not sure why they ended up back here, though."

You all resumed your work before you spoke once more.

"Have either of you heard anything about a new wandmaker in London?" you asked. "Sirona said Mr. Ollivander was peeved about it back in Hogsmeade."

"My dad was telling me about that this summer, actually!" Garreth exclaimed, obviously excited for another distraction from his schoolwork. "Says the fellow is barely twenty years old, crafting wands. He's from Germany, goes by the name of Mykew Gregorovitch.

"He's already got a good reputation, though," Garreth went on, hand propping up his chin. "Some of my friends back home in London say his wands are pretty powerful."

You hummed a response and stored the information away for later.

⋆｡°✩

You trudged up the stairs of the Grand Staircase, hand hurting and full of ink stains. You had stayed late in the library to finish your essay and some other assignments, until Scribner kicked you out for curfew.

Natty and Garreth had left earlier for dinner in the Great Hall, but you hadn't had much of an appetite. You were waiting for the moving stairs to lead you toward Ravenclaw Tower, when you heard a small voice whispering.

"Psst, you there," it said.

You whirled around, but there were no other students about.

"On your left!"

You looked to the wall and came face-to-face with a landscape oil painting. Peeking out between the grass at the foreground was the watercolor image of a fairy.

You blinked at it in surprise. "Are you...talking to me?"

"Obviously," the small fairy said in a cheeky manner. "The former headmistress sends word: find the tombs of Arcus and Livius."

"Who's that?" you replied.

"How should I know?" the fairy hissed, clearly annoyed.

It retreated back into the painted grass without another word. 

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Stuck Between a Jock and a Metalhead

Summary: Nancy, on a whim, decides to visit Steve at Scoops Ahoy, which leads to her overhearing confessions from Steve that leads her to think about the decisions she's made. A few days later, she decides to come back. She finds him being hit on by the town freak. What's a girl to do? Oh, get stuck in a freezer with the both of them.

A/N: I imagine Colbie Smulders as Lily.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Nancy sighed as she lay in bed, staring up at her ceiling. Technically, she was no longer grounded, and she could leave the house if she wanted to, but around this time, she would be heading to the newspaper. That was out of the question, considering she lost her job. Was she still fired? Tom was possessed by the Mind Flayer at the time. She closed her eyes and tried not to think about it or to feel guilty about all of the times she hated Tom. She also tried not to think about Hopper's funeral would be tomorrow. A soft knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts.

"Come in," Nancy called out.

Mike's head appeared in the doorway before he came all the way in. He looked downtrodden.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," Mike said softly.

"I'm not really sure," Nancy said softly.

"Yeah, me neither," Mike said. "I still can't believe that Hopper is. . ."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Nancy said.

"We didn't get along, and I was rude to him, but he did help us out. I just hope he didn't think. . .," Mike trailed off.

"He knew how much you cared about him and how much you cared about El," Nancy said softly. "El was his only daughter, and I think it was her extenuating circumstances that made him on edge. I mean, you two have a lot in common. After you thought El was dead, you weren't exactly the happiest person to be around. You were very rude to Max and extremely protective of letting her into your group, kind of protective like Hopper was with El."

"Yeah, I guess so," Mike sniffed.

Nancy got up and hugged her brother tightly. She pulled back and smiled.

"You're getting too tall," Nancy said. "Asshole."

She was about to say something else when the phone on her beside table rang. Nancy spoke quickly and eagerly before hanging it up.

"What was that about?" Mike asked.

"I got my job back at the post!" Nancy grinned. "They got a new Editor!"

"Already?" Mike asked.

"Well, the one female reporter didn't want one the assholes to become the new Editor, so they called in a favor with a friend. The new editor is going to be a woman from a competing newspaper. The new mayor is hoping to clean house and reopen businesses that were closed because of the mall," Nancy said. "And he is hoping to clean up Klein's mess as quickly as possible."

"Man, Eddie's lucky he got to witness Joyce slug the guy," Mike said.

"I got to admit. I'm a bit jealous myself," Nancy said. "Anyway, she wants to meet me, so I guess I'm going in today."

After allowing her mother to drop her off, Nancy walked into the building and headed directly towards the editor's office. A woman with long dark hair and a powder blue pantsuit was unpacking her new office. A nameplate sat on the desk: Lillian Barnes. It matched the name on the diploma on the wall from Emerson College. Nancy stared at it for a while, imaging her own name there.

"It has a great journalism program," the woman's voice startled her out of her musings.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Barnes," Nancy blinked.

"It's Lily, please, and you never have to apologize to me for being ambitious," Lily replied.

Nancy realized that her eyes were just as blue as her pantsuit, and the woman was very tall. She practically towered over Nancy.

"It's a great school?" Nancy asked.

"The best, in my opinion. I might be biased. It was home away from home for me for quite a few years, and it certainly never let me down," Lily said and sat down before pointing at the seat in front of her. "And I love Boston. Do you have a particular college in mind, yet?"

"Not really, keeping my options open," Nancy said. "I plan on applying to lots of places."

"Smart. Well, if you plan to get a degree in journalism, then my suggestion would be to apply to Emerson as well," Lily said.

"I might just take your suggestion," Nancy grinned. "I'm looking forward to seeing what you bring to the table here."

"I bet you are," Lily said. "I bet it was frustrating working with people who are so misogynistic, not to speak ill of the dead or anything."

"It was frustrating, and I did come close to quitting, but then I realized that's probably what they wanted me to. I didn't want to give up this job, and I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me quit," Nancy said.

"Determined, I like that. What made you get involved with journalism?" Lily asked.

"My friend, Barb, she went missing a while back. Turns out her death was covered up by Hawkins Lab. It had been a chemical spill," Nancy said.

"And who uncovered the truth, I wonder," Lily said, her eyes sparkling.

"I broke into the lab and got them on tape admitting to the cover up, then I worked with a former reporter to reveal the truth," Nancy said and Lily laughed.

"Damn. I like you," Lily said. "Tell me, are you willing to use that same stubbornness that used for your friend to find the truth for other people?"

"Absolutely," Nancy said without hesitation.

"Well, it's definitely going to be interesting working with you. I'll be sad to see you go once school starts, but until then, I'll be putting you to work. Now, you'll still be an intern and do the usual things like answering phones, but I'm not going to waste your other skills either," Lily said.

"Thank you! You won't be disappointed!" Nancy exclaimed.

"I know I won't," Lily grinned. "I look forward to seeing what you bring to the table, Nancy."

A weird feeling settled over her as she started to work throughout the day. Slowly, but surely, life was moving forward, and it felt strange because it was still happening even without Hopper. Nancy knew it was strange to think that time would stop because he did, that the whole world would come to a complete crashing halt because Jim Hopper had died. But no, Jim Hopper had died, and the world kept turning. It left an odd, bitter feeling in her stomach. There was one less grown-up who could keep them safe, and suddenly, Nancy didn't feel quite so safe anymore. She had decided to walk back home after work. She made sure to call her mom and let her know. As she was walking she saw Otis's salon door open and Steve's car out front. Nancy started moving and walked in to find Steve playfully arguing with Robin. He brightened when he saw Nancy.

"Hey, Nance, my parents and siblings just left," Steve said.

"What?" Nancy asked.

"Oh, the Sinclairs and the Hendersons adopted Steve," Robin said.

"Well, that's good. You definitely deserve it," Nancy grinned.

She stepped into his space and pressed her cheek up against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"What's this?" Steve asked.

"Oh my God. You're so damaged you can't even recognize a hug," Robin said and Nancy giggled.

"Very funny, Robin," Steve said.

"I got my job back at the Post," Nancy said. "There's a new editor and she's amazing."

"That's great!" Steve said. "You deserve it, Nancy."

Nancy sighed, and she gazed up at him.

"I'm not ready for tomorrow," Nancy said softly.

"Neither am I," Steve whispered and kissed her forehead. "I think my lip has done enough healing to risk a little pain."

"Are you sure?" Nancy asked.

"Worth it," Steve said.

"Are you guys allowed to kiss without Eddie here?" Robin asked.

"Yes," Steve and Nancy scoffed.

"I wasn't sure how three people relationships work. Hell, I'm not even sure how people relationships work," Robin said.

Nancy grinned and moved to wrap her arms around Steve’s neck. She pressed her lips to his and sighed in contentment. Kissing Steve again felt a lot like coming home. It was warm, familiar, and safe. She giggled when she felt him smile against her lips. She pulled back when she felt him wince but stayed wrapped up in his arms. No, she definitely wasn't ready for tomorrow, but she felt like she could get through it with Steve there and Eddie. She knew, though, that Eddie would be there mostly for his sister. She burrowed deeper into Steve’s arms, trying to get the image of a sad El out of her head.

The next day dawned bright and early. Nancy woke up before anyone else in her house and sat at her desk, her journal open before her. She stared at the blank page, not knowing what to write, and she sat there until the sun finally came up. Nancy stared at the clock. Time to get ready. Her movements were slow as she showered and put on her black dress. How many times were they going to have to do this? The ride to the church was quiet, and Nancy sat in the back with her siblings, sharing looks with her brother over Holly's head. When they walked into the church, Nancy spotted Eddie standing awkwardly at the front. He was wearing a borrowed suit that hung off his lanky frame. Nancy moved forward to greet him. His eyes lit up when he saw her and immediately pulled her into a hug.

"Glad you're here," Eddie said with a smile.

"Where's El?" Nancy asked.

"Oh, she's in the back with Uncle Wayne and Joyce. She's not handling it very well, which is understandable. I was a basket case myself when my mom died. It helped having Wayne there, though. She hasn't been sleeping, and she tried to run away once because she thought she was being too much," Eddie said and ran his hands over his face, carefully avoiding his nose.

"You haven't slept either," Nancy said softly.

"How can I when I have nightmares of my own?" Eddie asked softly. "And when I'm not having nightmares of my own, it's El. It's back and forth so Wayne's not getting any sleep either. When I'm not having the nightmares, I lay awake at night trying to figure out how to help my own little sister with hers."

"I'm not sure if there's anything you can do except to let her know that you're not going anywhere," Nancy said softly.

"Yeah," Eddie said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Talking about your own will probably let her know that she's not alone," Nancy said.

"This sucks," Eddie muttered.

A moment later, El was coming out from the back of the church, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She approached Nancy and hugged her.

"Thank you for coming," El said softly.

"You're welcome, is there anything that I can do?" Nancy asked.

El shook her head and then she moved past Nancy when she saw Mike. They hugged tightly, El clinging to him as tight as she could. It was then that Nancy noticed Steve walk through the door with Robin. He moved politely through the crowd of people and made his way over to them. He hugged Nancy, kissed her cheek, and then hugged Eddie tightly. El broke away from Mike and moved to wrap her arms around her brother's waist. Lucas, Dustin, and Max arrived last. Lucas and Dustin were with their parents, but Max was by herself. She was by El's side in an instant and stayed there, ignoring everyone else. Nancy heart broke at the thought of Max suffering through her own loss, and she remembered that Max had to watch her own stepbrother die. They all went through too much shit.

Eddie, Wayne, El, and the Byers sat up front while the rest of the party sat behind them. The pastor stood in front of an empty coffin and spoke empty platitudes about a man he didn't really know. If only he knew what Hopper had really done for them, for everyone in this damn town. It was Joyce who stood up and spoke about the man she had known for years that drove the party to tears. It was Joyce who struggled to keep it together, and Nancy knew that this woman had one foot out the door. When they moved things to the cemetery, El had to be carried by Wayne to the grave site.

"What are we going to do now?" Dustin asked as they lowered Hopper's empty coffin into the ground.

Nancy shared a look with Steve, Robin, and Eddie. They realized at the same time that with one less adult in the know, these kids were going to need them now more than ever. What are they going to do if it all happens again? Suddenly, they didn't just lose the greatest man they ever knew, but in some way, they officially lost the last bit of childhood they had been clinging to. It was time to grow up now and make sure that these kids still had something to hang onto.

Chapter Thirteen