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queenimmadolla · 2 years

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𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀

(eddie munson x secret admirer!reader)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • eddie edit © @fefemunson! • ao3

Summary: After four long years of pining, it’s high time you tell your crush you like him and quite possibly your last chance to, luckily there’s no better time for love confessions than Valentine’s Day. If only you hadn’t chosen to do so anonymously, because you’re pretty sure Eddie Munson is hoping his secret admirer is someone else.

Warnings: pining, angst, misunderstandings, very brief (blink and you miss it) descriptions of oncoming panic attack (doesn't happen), Heather Holloway being a sweetie, and a whole lot of fluff

authors note: no, you're not imagining things. i'm reposting a story i already have up. unfortunately, i seem to have an anti who has been flagging anything of mine that gains traction as content that it is not so it's hidden to those who don't have the settings on (most people) and goes to die away, never to be interacted with again. they're attempting to do the same to Magical Mysteria, as they had the original flagged and, therefore, hidden. because everyone seemed to really relate to reader and enjoyed reading this particular fic, i've decided to give that anti the finger, so here's a repost.

word count: 10k

You stood posted by a row of lockers, peaking around the corner of the hall to watch as the longtime object of your affections laughed at something one of his friends said.

“Are you stalking him again?”

You jumped, clutching your biology book to your chest as you swiveled around to face Heather, your best friend.

“Geez!” You hissed out, voice low as you checked to make sure you hadn’t attracted his attention.

But it’s you, so of course you hadn’t. Eddie was still leaning up against his locker and chatting away, face framed by the mane he called his hair. His curls were defined much more than usual—clearly he’d washed his hair before school which meant he must have been up early. Why did you know that????

“I’m not stalking him,” you grumbled and Heather giggled. “I’m just observing him.”

“Well, stop observing him and go talk to him.” She nudged your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile.

“I’m gonna—,” You answered with false bravado that soon wavered, “. . . eventually. Look, I have a plan. Okay, today is a new day, Valentine’s Day and the perfect day for romance. No more watching from the sidelines─”

Heather coughed out a stalking, followed by another cough, all of which you ignored.

“No more quietly pining, I’m telling him how I feel.”

Heather raised her eyebrows, tongue clicking.

“Let me get this straight, you’re not only going to actually exchange words with him, you’re actually going to tell Eddie Munson about your feelings?”

Your heart fluttered just at the mention of him.

Edward Wayne Munson. Eddie.

You’d had a crush on him since your freshman year of high school, and contrary to your best friend’s earlier statement, you had exchanged words with him already. Sorta. Basically.

Freshman year you’d ate shit in the hallway, tripping over literally nothing and all your belongings had scattered, he’d stopped walking to help you pick your things up before he was off again. It wasn’t much conversation, but he did say something about those invisible rocks people left lying around.

Then your sophomore year, he’d sat behind you with his club at the school’s mandatory pep rally. One of his friends had accidentally jostled you and Heather a little too roughly when he was finding his seat and Eddie had apologized on his behalf.

Then last year he’d held the cafeteria door open for you and your friends when you slipped in. That time, you’d been the one to thank him and he had said you’re welcome. Almost unprompted!

So, yeah. Maybe you were a little delusional, it didn’t matter though. What mattered was you were running out of time.

Somehow, Eddie had managed to fail the past two years, allowing you to catch up to him but that meant you were now a senior as well. You’d let the other chances to approach him pass you by because you were too scared of rejection, this was your last chance.

The college acceptance letter you’d received at the start of the week also spurred your bravery, if he rejected you, you only had a few months left until you were on your way to California, there’d be all those states between the two of you.

You had nothing to lose, so today was gonna be the day.

“Yes,” you took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as the determination sank deep into your bones. “I’m gonna tell him.”

“How are you gonna do that?” She cocked her head, the curls of her side ponytail bouncing.

“I’m glad you asked, my friend.” You grabbed her hand, dragging her down the hall to your partially opened locker. You pulled the door open fully to reveal a bouquet of roses, set on top of your books.

Her face wrinkled up in confusion, “You bought yourself flowers again?”

“No.” You glared at her, a hand scratching your head as you hissed out through gritted teeth, “And we promised not to bring that up anymore—these are for Eddie.”

Heather perked up at that, a hand resting over her chest as she fawned, “Dude, that is so cute! When are you gonna give them to him?”

“That’s the thing, I’m not actually going to give them to him directly. I need your help. You’ve got history with him, yeah?”

You already knew she did so it didn’t surprise you when she nodded. You slipped one rose from the bouquet and handed it to her.

“Can you leave this on his desk?”

“Sure! Wow, I can’t believe I get to be part of your love story,” she marveled, twirling the stem between her fingertips.

God, you hoped it’d be a love story and not a tragedy.

“And these are for you.” You pulled out a smaller bouquet of pink roses, and Heather just about burst into tears.

The two of you had been best friends since middle school, and often spent your free time watching corny teen movies, usually living through the main characters of the romance ones. You’d had a couple of almost-boyfriends, in the end you hadn’t been interested in them enough to accept when they’d try to make it official. And Heather simply hadn’t caught the eye of anyone, which was ridiculous to you considering how pretty and nice she was, so you were usually her valentine on Valentine’s Day. This was the first time you actually got her flowers instead of a bunch of chocolates to eat the night away, you’d figured she deserved them.

She’d had a crush on Steve Harrington, but he hadn’t noticed her and ended up dating and getting dumped by Nancy Wheeler. Then he’d dated every other girl except her. You feared your non-existent relationship with Eddie might go the same way.

“Dude,” Heather yanked you in for a hug, squeezing you to the point you thought your ribs might be bruised.

“Uhm. Heather. Ow.”

“Oh, sorry.” She released you, holding you by your shoulders, “Okay, so I just give it to him?”

“No, no, no, no, no. There will be no interactions. Just leave it on his desk.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

You were about to reply when the first bell cut you off and threw you into a panic, nudging Heather in the direction of the classroom so she could beat Eddie there. Heather took off running once she realized the reason for your worry, only you both failed to remember Eddie was late to everything.

You reluctantly made your way to your first period, plagued by thoughts of Eddie’s reaction to the first rose.

Would he like it? Oh, you hoped he liked it.

What if he thought it was some prank? What if he threw it away? Would he do the same to the rest?

Oh, well. There was no backing out now.

Your carefully thought out plan was put into action. You’d made sure to play sick the last 15 minutes of every class to get an excuse note to the nurse, only you didn’t go to the nurse. Instead, you ran around leaving a rose in Eddie’s various hang outs. One at the creepy old bench you knew he did business at. Two roses with the stems placed through the slits of his locker, three on his windshield wipers, one of the younger students in your art class was in Hellfire with him and after swearing him to secrecy, Will had promised to deliver three to Eddie personally, without revealing your identity.

During lunch, you found yourself behind the stage of the cafeteria, in part of the drama department. It’s where Hellfire took place.

You’d been there a handful of times, only when your curiosity for the metalhead got a little too overwhelming for you and you wanted to feel closer to him without having to face him. It was only ever set up on Fridays, the day Eddie got to school early enough to do so.

You made your way over to sit in the chair closest to his throne, casting it a couple of nervous glances.

This would be where you left the last rose, so of course, everything about the set up, the throne had to look daunting to you now; a representation of how you were seeing Eddie as your confession grew nearer. If things didn’t go as planned, it’d be the last time you could come here.

The thought made your stomach hurt, a large void beginning to form there.

The last rose was much too personal to leave just anywhere, where someone without a key to the room would find it. No one but the Hellfire club would occupy this area today. Attached to the rose with a ribbon was a note with a simple message that meant more to you than you cared to admit. You’d written it when you first came up with your plan at the start of the week and had been debating on whether or not to sign your name since then.

The answer should’ve been obvious, right? This whole thing was to let Eddie know how you felt about him, and your romantic intentions were clear with the red roses. This note would finish implying the rest. And if you wanted Eddie to know it was you who admired him, you just had to write your name.

Yeah, simple as that.

You clicked the pen in your grasp, placing it just over the paper.

You wavered, licking your lips as you tried to convince yourself to just own your goddamn name. That’s all you had to do. Write on the paper.

Just write on the paper.

Your hand was beginning to shake, and with a heavy heart, you realized your name wouldn’t be going on this note.

You weren’t brave enough for that. You set your purple pen down, staring down at the words written in pink ink before you rolled the paper up, making sure the ribbon was secured (you’d used a hole puncher to slip the ribbon through) and left it on the seat of the throne before scurrying out of the room as fast as you could.

—

Eddie was at a loss, completely stupefied.

When he’d arrived at his history class, after having mentally prepared himself for the onslaught of boredom he’d face, he was surprised to find a single rose on his desk. By surprised, he meant incredibly suspicious. A glance around the room confirmed he wasn’t being watched, everyone was gossiping about Emmy Switcher’s upcoming party, so he’d settled into his seat and marveled at it.

Eddie wasn’t one to ever really get things on Valentine’s Day, not counting the mandatory valentine’s cards in elementary and middle school. The last time he’d gotten a card was his first senior year, and it had been a prank by a couple of girls on the softball team and their boyfriends. Embarrassed the shit out of him. The following Valentine’s Day he’d faked being sick to avoid falling victim again—god, he craved affection so much it made him pathetic enough to still hope for something gross and cheesy to happen to him.

A rose was harmless though, right? Unless it was poisoned or something. Eddie lifted it to his nose, but all he could pick up was the seductive floral scent and when he didn’t immediately pass out from chloroform, he figured it was just a rose.

He glanced around again in vain, hoping someone would somehow stick out and when no one did, he held it in his grasp, rough fingertips stroking over the soft petals for the duration of the class.

He’d been stunned when he arrived at his locker to find two roses hanging out of it. A few people were staring at him as he carefully pulled them from their place, but they looked more curious rather than shy or mischievous. He had a feeling whoever was leaving the roses for him wasn’t around.

He refused to leave them in his locker, the stems clutched in his hand as he went about his day and found more. Eddie was more than proud to display them, somewhat smug at the attention they were garnishing him.

Yeah, fuckers. Someone finally liked him. Eat shit.

He’d spent his English class convincing himself he’d never find out exactly who this someone was. He was pretty fucking stressed after that. He tried to come up with a roster of sorts, girls he thought might be interested in him enough to maybe leave him pretty flowers and woo him right out of his Reeboks.

He’d only been able to come up with four—impressive—but his first pick he was quick to scribble out. He hadn’t had a decent interaction with her and he figured it was creepy of him to put her at the top of the list all because of his wishful thinking.

The second girl listed was possible, maybe. Chrissy Cunningham. He’d had a crush on her for as long as he could remember since she was always nice to him. She’d dumped Jason a couple of months ago and he’d been dealing to her for a short amount of time, but she seemed pretty flirty to him. Although, flattery did work on him.

The third name made him nervous, and not in a good way. Tina Sawyer. They’d both got pretty drunk at her Halloween party and hooked up in her bathroom but she avoided him like the plague afterwards, obviously embarrassed about interacting with him, which was typical for the lot of Hawkins.

He’d been sure it was a drunken mistake but sometimes, he’d catch her staring at him, and she didn’t look all that disgusted with him.

The last name on the short list was that of Tammy Thompson. She had made her interest in Eddie pretty clear his junior year, always trying to sit behind him in classes so she could play with his hair. Unfortunately Tammy was very, for the lack of better words, aggressive with her affections. He’d made out with her once and it had been sloppy and messy in the most unattractive of ways. It was like tonguing a dog.. Then he remembered she’d actually been able to graduate, unlike him, so he was spared.

By lunch, Eddie was ready to try to figure out who his secret admirer was. Out of the two remaining girls on his list, he was leaning more towards Chrissy, who he felt wouldn’t be ashamed to hold his hand in public.

He and his lunchbox full of drugs—and some snacks—made their way to the Hellfire lunch table where he spent a significant amount of time studying the two girls.

“Uh, are you okay, Eddie?”

Eddie glanced up at the concerned face of Will Byers, who’d arrived much later than the rest of the guys and Stephanie, one of the two girls in Hellfire. The question drew the attention of the rest of the table and Eddie internally sighed.

“Yeah, I’m fine—what are those?” Eddie asked, eyes honed in on the roses resting on Will’s tray.

The younger teen handed them over, “A girl told me to give you these.”

Eddie felt his heart skip a beat, “You know who she is?”

Will nodded and before Eddie could demand a name, he rushed, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy!”

Eddie scowled, carefully setting aside his roses so they wouldn’t be involved in his annoyance.

“Byers, I’m gonna level with you. I’ve been in this miserable prison for six long years. While I’ve had my fair share of hookups, I have not ever had a girl like me enough to leave me roses and do cute shit before. And I fear I never will again. That’s why I’m actually gonna need you to tell me who it is so I can have a girlfriend by the end of what is supposed to be the most god awful romantic day of the year. ‘Kay?”

Eddie’s eyebrows dart up, face set in an intimidating glower but Will remembers how scared you looked when you trusted him with this task. He also knows, very well, how it feels to love someone without them ever knowing because you fear what their response will be. He’d also seen Eddie eyeing both Chrissy and Tina.

Will knew what it was like to have that special person interested in someone else, too. So, he’d protect your secret.

“I swore.”

Eddie groaned, head dipping forward in a brief moment of defeat before he slammed his fist on the table, making the other occupants jump.

“Whatever, I’ll find her myself.” Just as Eddie stands, an idea occurs to him. Will said he wouldn’t tell him who it was, but the youngest Byers hadn’t said he wouldn’t tell him who it wasn’t, “Is it Tina?”

Will shakes his head, nose wrinkling. Nothing against her, she just wasn’t the nicest to him or his friends. Not the meanest, still.

Eddie breathes out a sigh, mumbling an oh, thank god as he makes his way to the cafeteria doors. That only left one possibility, and he was due to meet up with her in just five minutes. He couldn’t fight the grin off his face.

──

Your heart was racing a mile a minute, having witnessed everything transpire at the Hellfire table.

You’d selected your lunch table four years ago because of the perfect view of Eddie it provided you, but right then it was killing you. You’d ruined your manicure, picking aggressively at the polish as you watched Will and Eddie, breathing out a sigh of relief when it looked like Will hadn’t revealed your identity.

Eddie hadn’t seemed too happy about that.

Then he stormed out and you fought very hard with yourself to not follow after him because then Heather would be right and you’d be a stalker.

“Regret it yet?” Heather asked after she’d swallowed a bite of her sandwich.

“No.” You sorta lied. Yeah, you kind of regretted it but at the same time, knowing Eddie wouldn’t have to let you down gently made you less anxious. Besides, it wasn’t like you could just climb up the stage and duck past the curtain leading to the hellfire room without one of it’s members spotting you from their table. They’d tell Eddie in a heartbeat, especially if they found out the last rose and that damn note was there.

“Sure,” Heather drawled, glancing over her shoulder as you picked at your food, appetite suddenly gone.

Maybe you really should have written your name on that love note.

“Well, I hope you mean it, because Dream Girl is on her way to meet Ice Cream.” Your head snapped up at the mention of Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie’s code names you’d given them so both you and Heather were free to talk without either of them suspecting anything. You referred to Chrissy as Dream Girl because you’d known all about Eddie’s crush on her (while Heather had been depressed about Steve and Nancy, you’d eaten your weight in ice cream over Eddie and Chrissy’s more than friendly interactions with each other, which had nothing to do with Eddie’s code name—he was ‘ice cream’ because you wanted to lick him all over).

Sure enough, you looked over Heather’s shoulder, following her gaze to see Chrissy bidding her friends goodbye before she walked right out of the doors Eddie had pushed past minutes ago and as you watched her exit through the double doors, something inside you withers and dies a bit.

You knew Eddie sold to her (gave her a discount because she was pretty and because of their flirting, hearing him say that made you want to drive a knife right through your chest), you and Heather had followed them out a couple of times which is how you were both aware of the flirtationship.

After the first time you’d spied on them, the two of you had gone back to your home where Heather held a mock funeral for you. Now, you wished it had been a real one because you were sure Eddie had not only loved your roses, he also assumed they were from Chrissy. They would send him right into her arms at that shitty ass bench. And when he’d get a hold of the love note, well, you’d be the reason behind why Eddie and Chrissy would be hand in hand come Monday, canoodling by their lockers and kissing like no one else was watching. All the things Eddie should have been doing with you.

You should have signed your name on the fucking note.

─

Eddie had paced a pathway, disturbing the mounds of fallen leaves surrounding the picnic table.

His stuff, another rose he’d found waiting for him included, was on the table and he’d taken off his jacket, despite the chill of the February air. He was working himself up in his head, overheating in the process.

“Eddie?”

His head shot around, grinning as Chrissy—who apparently left him roses—approached him, face broken out in a smile.

“Hey, Chris.” Eddie’s heart was racing a mile a minute, palms sweaty as he rested them over his hips, then quickly realized he looked stupid so he crossed them instead.

She laughed at his nerves with absolutely no malice and they sat down at the bench, getting down to business. She’d been about to hand him a twenty dollar bill after he slid her the ziploc bag of nugs, but he held up his hand.

“On the house.”

“Eddie, it’s always on the house. I feel bad.”

“Then stop.” He emphasized the demand with bulging eyes, smirking when she giggled. She had to like him, right?

Eddie tried to be discreet about it, plucking one of the roses from his growing pile. He played with the stem, even sniffed the petals again in hopes she’d comment about it, maybe look a little excited about it or just give him any sort of reaction to indicate it had been her.

Chrissy was too busy moving things aside in her backpack to make room for the baggy. When she finally did look back up, she smiled, but gave no hint she was even familiar with them.

“Ooh, pretty flowers. Where’d you get those?”

Was she playing coy?

“Uh, someone’s been leaving them for me all around school.” Was it you?

Chrissy’s face lit up and Eddie thought it was finally the moment of truth.

“That’s so sweet! Do you know who it is? Or is it like a secret admirer sort of deal?”

Evidently, not the moment of truth. She had to be toying with him, trying to prolong the reveal. Because if it wasn’t her, he was out of ideas. And he really, really didn’t want to be out of ideas. Not when there was someone out there, maybe thinking about him.

“I actually have no idea who it is,” he sighed out, hoping, if it was her, she’d just put him out of his damn misery already.

Chrissy glanced down at the table and Eddie perked up. Nerves? Was she finally gonna come out with it?

“It wasn’t me, Eddie…but, I wish it had been.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say, mouth dropped open a little as his eyebrows quirked up in surprise.

Okay. Hadn’t been expecting that. He was expecting a yes it was me or a no it wasn’t me but not Chrissy confirming it hadn’t been her while also telling him she liked him.

“So, you haven’t been leaving them for me?”

Chrissy shook her head and reached across the table to place her smaller hand over his, palm warm against his skin. Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, head falling forward to rest against the table.

“Eddie?” Chrissy asked, concern lacing her voice.

He let out a very long sigh, a little miffed at how messy this whole thing had gotten. Now, there was his, Chrissy’s and someone else’s feelings in the mix. Christ.

“‘M’sorry, Chrissy.” Eddie sat up straight, face grim as he slowly pulled his hand out from underneath hers. “You’re great, fantastic, actually. You’re really nice and really pretty, but… I’ve been going crazy all day, trying to figure out who’s behind these.”

He gestures to the roses at his side, the sight of them filling him with an intense wave of longing.

“It’s been like years since I’ve gotten anything with real meaning behind it for any occasion—” he wasn’t counting the hellfire club or Wayne, referring to romantic intentions—“let alone Valentine’s Day, and someone in this school seems to be thinking about me.”

Eddie thought about what it must have taken to do something like this, it may have seemed like a trivial thought, something simple to others. He knew it wasn’t. He had no idea who it was, but he put himself in their position. They had to know enough about him to know his schedule, where he spent time, and then make the time to leave them in those spots just before he got there.

He’d spent the time waiting for Chrissy considering the anonymity of it. On the chance it wasn’t her, there was someone else in the school who was too afraid to approach him directly. He’d thought it might be out of fear of being seen with him, seen doing anything remotely romantic with him. Then, why even bother? They had to be afraid of his reaction, it’s what he would be nervous about if the positions were flipped.

And god, he’d never felt more alive before, more seen and all it took was a couple of roses. He felt like those fawning girls in John Hughes movies.

“Before today, I never would have approached you about this, you know? I know we flirt, but I never would have been brave enough to cross that line.” He admitted, looking into her shiny blue eyes. Aw, man. Eddie hated making girls cry but it was true, he would have been waiting for her to make a move, or for Tina to make a move. Any of his past hookups, really. He’d have been with any of them—having craved affection and everything that came with it so bad—if they had just been the ones to initiate things on a more permanent basis.

He would have. Past tense. They could all form a conga line and confess their undying love for him but, unless they were the one who left him the roses—the one who made him brave enough to actually go around confronting people in an attempt to seek her out—he’d let them down.

“She made me brave, makes me feel really wanted and I don't even know who she is. It’s not you, it’s just─”

“I’m not her.” Chrissy finished for him, wiping under one of her eyes. “It’s alright, Eddie. I mean, I’m obviously a little sad, but it’s not your fault or hers. I do hope you find her, though. She’d be lucky to have you.”

She gave Eddie a sad smile, making him feel even guiltier but it’d be pretty shitty of him to try to be with her when he’d be thinking of someone else.

“Thanks, Chrissy.” Eddie stood up and gathered his things. It was clear she was upset and would probably need some time to gather herself, he didn’t want to force her to leave first or linger around and make it awkward.

He left her with a small, parting smile, relieved that he hadn’t charged her. Would have felt like a douchebag to make her pay for weed and turn her down in the span of five minutes when she’d been nothing but pleasant to him.

Eddie shook it off, determination setting in once more. Sure, he was back to the drawing board, but if all else failed, he could corner young Byers again until he finally gave him a name.

He’d come up with a pretty good list of ways he could force Will to give up the name by the time school let out and he got to the Hellfire room.

It wasn’t until he set his little bouquet and the lunchbox down (he didn’t bother with backpacks, just shoved whatever he needed in his pants pockets or the box), walking around the throne in a circle like some fucking animal because he was so restless, that he saw the rose.

The flash of white had caught his eyes and he dove down to grab it, trying to be as careful with pulling the piece of paper away from the stem of the rose, only he realized whoever left it had hole punched the thing together so he ripped the ribbon with his teeth rather than rip the note.

The ribbon was stuffed into his back pocket as he eagerly sat himself down, rose clutched in one hand and the note in his other.

Eddie,

Please excuse my lack of eloquence in this note and also in our real life encounters.

Eddie felt a shiver of excitement wash over his skin, cheeks a bright shade of pink at the confirmation he’d indeed interacted with his secret admirer before. Fuck, she’d talked to him! It made her feel even more real.

She was a real person, someone he could probably hold hands with and kiss. Unless, this was done in a purely platonic way which would be a little fucked up. Red roses to be friends? C’mon. He read on.

I hoped you liked the flowers. I was actually debating on getting you different ones, something a little more personalized to you, but I ended up going with roses because, well, they convey romance better.

Eddie leaned over the arm of the throne, sagging back as he allowed himself to completely collapse with relief. Just for a few seconds, then his eyes were glued to the pink penmanship.

I’m trying really hard not to sound creepy because I’m totally not creepy and I know what you're thinking, ‘that’s what a creep would say’ but I swear I’m not, I just. I admire you. A lot. I have for so, so long. I admire the way you keep going, even when things are absolute shit for you, I like how you watch out for the underclassmen that come in and don’t really have anywhere to go. I like the way you dress, how pretty your hair is (even when it’s frizzy which is so unfair), how passionate you get with your rants (even though sometimes you’re an asshole about it).

And I like your laugh I LOVE your laugh. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had what feels like the worst fucking day of my life and I’m ready to breakdown and cry and scream, but I don’t. Because I can hear you laugh your ass off at something one of your friends said in the cafeteria, by your locker or even when you’re just walking past me. And I wish I was there, laughing alongside you or making you laugh. I don’t know how your laughter makes me feel better, it just does. I get all smiley and I feel warm inside and I want to give you a hug for it, for making me feel better without even trying.

But I can’t. You kind of scare me. Not in the mean, scary way, I’m just not sure you’ll like me. Or that it’ll go anywhere, or even if it should.

You’re so confident, Eddie. And you’re stupid attractive (you are, and I’m sure you’re aware but I’ll go ahead and tell you I’m also physically attracted to you) and it’s so overwhelming that I can’t contain it anymore and I don’t really want to. We only have a couple of months before we’re out of here (I have a feeling this is gonna be your year, you’ll be free of this sentence, too), and I don’t want to have any regrets. The only way I’d ever regret you is by not telling you how I feel.

So, here I am, Eddie Munson. Never thought I’d ever be confessing like this, but for the first time in my life, I feel brave. And it’s all because of you. Thank you, Eddie. I’ll be running around— dodging teachers and detention write ups— like Rocky in his training montages to get these roses to you because you deserve your flowers and I’d be delighted to give them to you today, and every single Valentine’s Day after. Actually, I want to give you even more than that. If you’ll have me.

Love,

What the fuck?

Eddie hastily searched the bottom portion of the back side of the paper, where the note ended for a signature, a name, initials, something but that’s where it ended.

There was no name.

“NO! FUCK! NO! No, no, no, no, NO! I’ll have you, take me, just tell me who you are!” Eddie groaned out, note dropped into his lap so he could clench the roots of his hair with both fists as he doubled over.

This had to be a nightmare. It was the only reasonable explanation for someone to say all those wonderfuckingful things, just for them to disappear.

His heart hurt and he blinked frantically to ward off the onslaught of water and sniffed to deter the tingle in his nose.

The unmistakable sound of his own little rat pack making their way towards the room wasn’t enough to get him to pull himself together.

“Eddie, dude, are you okay?”

Eddie recalled his final option, head shooting to glance around at their faces in search of one in particular.

“Byers. Where’s Byers?”

“His mom picked him up after lunch, wasn’t feeling good,” Mike informed him, completely unaware his grand Valentine’s gesture for Jane had been the cause of his sudden illness.

It was the final straw for Eddie, he snatched the lunchbox and flowers and grumbled out, “Sessions canceled.”

He must have looked pissed as none of them protested, probably having something to do with most of them having dates afterwards.

He almost made it out of the room when Gareth called him back, holding up a purple pen he’d found on the table and figured Eddie was about to forget.

“Is this yours?”

Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“No.” Then he walked out.

Before promptly storming back in, swiping the pen out of Gareth’s meaty hands. Eddie clicked the pen and scribbled furiously over the side of his fist until the ink finally ran. It wasn’t purple. The ink filler was pink.

His secret admirer’s pen.

“What a cruel parting gift,” he sighed, shoving the pen in his pocket before making his exit. Again.

The really sad thing was Eddie couldn’t even sink into depression in the peace of his room. Emmy Switcher had approached Rick about wanting some herbal refreshments at her party and since he was still under house arrest (how Rick managed to deal and supply in his circumstances baffled him) the job fell upon Eddie. He’d driven to Rick’s restocked, then hit the party.

It was a horn fest, couples everywhere he looked. All heart-eyed and attached at the tongue. It was disgusting.

Eddie was pouting, quietly fuming that it wasn’t him and his secret admirer making out or cuddling or doing something equally romantic but noooooo. Just had to take the ‘secret’ aspect to its extreme.

He banished himself to a dark corner, only interacting with people when approached for drugs or weed. He’d caught sight of Chrissy and it had looked like she wanted to come over but he’d purposely shifted his gaze. Despite the gaping hole left where his heart was, it wasn’t Chrissy or Tina, or the girl in the upstairs restroom, who’d thrown herself at him when he’d been searching for a free bathroom to piss in, that he wanted. Eddie wasn’t in the mood to rebound.

Which was kind of crazy considering he hadn’t even been in a relationship, hadn’t been dumped. He wanted everything in that note, especially the promise of more and only with its author.

Now, Eddie hadn’t been in love before. Some serious lust and want, yeah, however, reading that note made him feel like he was falling a little bit in love and he wanted, very badly, to dive headfirst the rest of the way. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

Once he’d sold out the rest of Rick’s inventory, he stole a beer and headed for the front door.

Once outside, Eddie took a minute to breathe. He hadn’t realized how stuffy it had been in there until he was no longer engulfed by the claustrophobic displays of affection.

He trudged down the pathway and paused when he saw the figure of a girl sitting on the lawn. Her head was directed down towards the ground and she was most definitely not wearing the right clothes for the outside weather.

Eddie cursed under his breath, plans to immediately drive home and get crossed put on hold as he walked over, noting the dew already coating the grass.

“Hey, you okay?”

─

Drinking your sorrows away probably wasn’t the best idea, considering how much of a lightweight you were.

Originally, you’d wanted to lock yourself away in your room for the night—and probably the rest of the weekend as well as maybe the next school week; nothing wrong with playing sick to avoid facing reality and your problems─to cry and pass out. Heather, on the other hand, had plans for you. She’d dolled you up, having to force you to wash your face and re-do your makeup once when you had started crying—put you in a cute outfit and dragged you to Emmy Switcher’s party.

You knew her intentions were pure—as pure as underage drinking could be—but she knew her mistake when the party started to couple up. You’d been approached multiple times and she’d try to encourage you to go for the decent acting ones, you just hadn’t wanted to. When Chrissy Cunningham showed up, you’d gone for shots of the hard liquor (over the sink of course in case you gagged it up, which you did a decent amount of), sure that Eddie would soon follow and you’d be forced to witness their affection.

Obviously, you ended up shitfaced and somehow lost track of Heather. Or maybe she lost track of you. You’d very briefly attempted to find her, accidentally spotted Chrissy, now making eyes at Eddie who’d shown up, and you’d promptly headed outside, eager for some fresh air and an escape from the madhouse. The high alcohol level in your blood kept you from feeling how chilly it really was and you settled into the grass, twirling strands of it around your fingers.

You weren’t sure how long you were out there when someone approached you.

“Hey, you okay?”

You looked up, ready to ask them to just leave you when you locked eyes with Eddie Munson. Most of the liquid courage coursing through your veins evaporated, you couldn’t look at him for long, gaze moving back to the grass. What a way to start sobering up.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? ‘Cause,” Eddie sat down next to you, one leg crossed and his other, knee up with his arm resting over it. His unopened beer was at his side, “You’re outside, alone, in the cold and you look pretty fucking sad.”

You scoffed, fingers still playing with the strands of grass as you tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make you seem pathetic. In that time, Eddie took you in.

He knew you, he’d seen you around school and you were nice enough to greet him. Pleasantries in passing. Pretty Hallway Girl, as you’d been dubbed—though never referred to as—until he knew your name. It had been the first one he had jotted down on his list for his secret admirer’s identity, of course he realized with your lack of interactions, it wasn’t likely. He entertained the idea of dating you often, you’d just never shown any real interest in him. Eddie thought about it a lot. Anytime he caught sight of you, really. Your pretty face didn’t make it easy for him to stop. He was a really, really big sucker for your eyes and that smile you’d give him during those brief interactions; like the two of you had some sort of secret between each other. Warmed him up inside.

And here you were, all sad at a party. He didn’t really mind not getting crossed if it meant he got to comfort you, keep you company.

“I’m just drunk,” you finally blurted out, unable to come up with anything else, “And bummed.”

Try devastated.

“You look it,” he joked, nudging his shoulder against yours.

“You don’t look that much better.” You shot back.

“That’s fair,” he sighed, breath visible in the night air as he tilted his head back. “I’m pretty bummed, myself.”

You really didn’t want to ask, figuring he’d already had some sort of lover’s quarrel with Chrissy and you didn’t want to get in the middle of it.

But you were an idiot, so you asked, “Why are you bummed?”

You watched him dig around the pockets of his leather jacket, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out of the pack, clenching it in between his teeth as he shoved the pack back into the pocket before he shrugged off the jacket entirely—denim vest included—putting it around your shoulders.

It caught you off guard but you were grateful, your body having decided to become once more susceptible to the chill of the air and dewy grass. Eddie must have been a freaking space heater because the lining inside was blissfully warm.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, shimmying around in it until you could slip your arms into the long sleeves of it, your fingers barely poking past the hem.

“You’re welcome,” he shrugged, flicking the lighter to life as he lit the cigarette. After he’d taken a drag, he answered you.

“Love,” Eddie blew out along with a wispy plume of smoke, “Didn’t expect it to be so complicated.”

You wanted to mime the action of staking yourself in the heart. Of course he was in love with her. She was wonderful! And on top of that, he thought she’d been the one leaving him roses! Had he read the note? Assumed it was her, too? DUH! You were definitely playing sick next week.

“Yeah, well. Join the club,” you grumbled, hugging his jacket around you. It was as close as you were ever gonna get to actually hugging him.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, hoping to school his disappointment. While he wasn’t looking for anyone else tonight, it was still displeasing to hear you were taken but of course you were. He couldn’t imagine you dating sporadically, you seemed much too wonderful for someone to even consider giving you up. No, he was gonna hurt himself with ideas involving you and a high school sweetheart stemming back to your freshman days, probably.

“Ah, I see. Is he here?”

You froze for a moment, “Uhm, yeah. He is.”

“Then why come? Or did it happen in there?” He jabbed a thumb behind him, gesturing to the party inside.

“No, it didn’t happen tonight, it was earlier. In the day. I didn’t really want to come but my best friend dragged me out here. I thought I was doing good, apparently not ‘cause here I am. I’m mostly bummed because of myself, though. I didn’t follow through on something I sort of promised myself and I messed everything up. For me. Not for him. I think he’s pretty happy, so I don’t want to ruin that. He deserves to be happy.”

Eddie could tell you meant it, you were vague as hell but whatever you’d done, however it ended, you genuinely seemed to want your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) to be happy. He hoped it wasn’t something you had to cave into for one of those meatheads. You deserved better than those jerks.

“That’s pretty selfless of you if you ask me,” Eddie raised the cigarette to his lips, admiring you.

“Eh, I guess. I fully plan on punishing myself for it, though. Really make sure to rub the salt in there, you know?” You finally turned to grin at him, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Eddie thought about how he couldn’t just stop going to school so he could avoid having to look at all the faces in the crowds and wonder if his admirer is one of them.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m right there with you.”

Sweetheart. He really was trying to kill you.

“Eddie, get your ass in there and make up with her.” You lightly slapped his arm and jabbed your finger in the direction of the house. You were not about to let your sacrifice be in vain and he’d better stop unknowingly torturing you like this.

“I can’t!” He laughed, amused with your sudden bossy attitude.

“Why not?” You whined, eager to just get him away from you. It wasn’t fair, he wasn’t being fair.

“Because I have no idea who she is.”

Once again you froze, eyes widening. Luckily for you, Eddie didn’t look too much into your reaction. He figured most people would be surprised over him nursing a heartbreak from someone he didn’t quite actually know, or was aware that he knew.

“What?” You asked, trying to seem as uninterested as possible as you played with the ends of his jacket sleeves.

“Fuck it. Someone left me roses all around the school and this really amazing love note.” For a moment, Eddie entertained the idea of trying to convey exactly what it meant to him, then he thought better of it. He’d either seem crazy, desperate or like some pathetic guy in love (which, he kind of was on the cusp of), “Pretty sure it was a girl.”

Not a single dude in the high school was romantic enough to pull it off, maybe leave him an entire bouquet, but not expand upon it like she had.

Eddie licked his lips, raising the cigarette to them once more and ready to admit that he had no fucking clue who she was, but he figured he might as well make one last rally.

“Wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

“Not me,” you lied flawlessly, with a gentle shake of your head. “Sorry, Eddie.”

Sorry I’m a big liar because HOLY FUCKING SHIT, wasn’t expecting that.

“I figured. Still had to try, your boyfriend probably would have kicked my ass, though.” Yeah, Eddie hated Valentine’s Day.

He stubbed the cigarette out into the wet grass, and laid the rest of the way down, hands covering his eyes as the back of his head met the ground.

You frowned down at him.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Hello.

Eddie peaked at you through his fingers, “No?”

You shook your head and as Eddie moved to push himself back up, he yelped.

He shifted onto his side, digging around his pocket for whatever it was that stabbed him.

“Ouch,” He hissed, yanking the purple pen out. “Damn, that hurt like a bitch.”

Your eyes squinted at it in suspicion.

“Is that my pen?”

“Huh?”

“My favorite—and pricey—pen. I lost it at school today.” In fact, you were sure you had and you were sure that was your pen. You’d broken off the clip of it by accident and you recognized the large crack in the body of it, having once given into an intrusive thought regarding whether or not you had the strength to break it while you were bored in class. You did have the strength and luckily for you, it still worked.

When Eddie made no move to give your pen back, you figured he didn’t believe you so you added, “The ink is pink, right?”

Eddie continued to stare at you, mouth slightly parted in awe, and you suddenly felt very nervous, glancing behind you to see if there was something that caught his attention but all you could see were the empty lawns.

“What?”

He finally blinked, licking his lips again.

“You’re a really good liar.”

“What?” You repeated, this time your question was laced more so with confusion than panic. He was right, but why was he saying that?

His lips slowly parted up at the corners until he was grinning at you so wide, his dimples were showing and you could feel your heart beating wildly against your rib cage, as if it was trying to break free to fly right over to him.

“This is your pen?”

“Yes!” Is that what his happiness was about? That he was holding your prized pen hostage?

“This is your pen?” You could tell he was having fun at your expense now, getting more giddy by the minute.

“Yes!” You laughed out, his joy contagious even if he was teasing you with your own belongings. “That is my pen. Give me my pen!”

He clicked it closed with his thumb, “I found it where we hold Hellfire sessions, same pen that was used to write my love note.”

And just like that, your heartbeat seemed to stop all together, smile dropping instantly as you wished a giant hole could form in the ground below you and swallow you up.

“That’s not my pen,” you denied, shrugging off his jacket as you quickly rose to your feet. “I gotta go, bye, Eddie.”

When you saw him starting to hastily rise, you bolted, literally running back into the house to try to find Heather and get the hell out of there.

You heard Eddie frantically calling your name but you didn’t stop, forcing your way through the bodies as you desperately searched for your best friend.

Luck was finally on your side because you were soon smashed into her back by a passing group.

“Whoa,” she laughed, turning to steady you, “There you are, I’ve been searching for you everywh—hey, what’s wrong?”

You were sure she must have noticed the panic on your face, eyes shiny with tears you refused to let fall in public.

“I wanna go home, we have to leave.” You grabbed her hand, pulling her into a secluded corner as your head darted in the direction of the front door. You wanted to make a run for it but you feared running into Eddie on the way.

“What happened?” Heather asked, voice initially soft before hardening as her protective nature came out, “Did someone do something?”

You shook your head, chest heaving with your breaths. You were so close to having a panic attack.

“Eddie. He knows. He knows, Heather.” And because she was your best friend, she understood, mouth and eyes going wide.

“Holy crap. Wait—isn’t this what you wanted?”

“No—yes—I don’t know! I can’t face him!” There was a reason you hadn’t written your name down on the note, regardless of how badly you wanted to. You were just scared.

“Why not?” She bent down, leaned in closer to hear you. This girl and her twenty questions.

“It doesn’t matter, he didn’t want it to be me, anyways. He would’ve asked earlier, and he only did it now because of that stupid pen!” You should have kept your mouth shut and just gone to buy another over the weekend, “Can we just please get out of here? We can try the side gate in the backyard.”

“Is Eddie looking for you?”

“Yes, that’s why we have to leave!” Whatever Eddie had to say, you didn’t want to hear it. Yeah, maybe he could want you but if he didn’t, was searching for you to let you down gently you’d be heartbroken.

“He knows and you don’t think he wanted it to be you?”

“Yes!”

“Then why would he be looking for you?”

You refused to answer her, pushing her towards the back door instead. She went willingly for a few steps, then Heather stopped and you bumped into her back again as she craned her neck to look over her shoulder.

“I think it's too late for that.” She pointed at something behind you and you followed her finger.

Eddie was standing on top of the kitchen table a bunch of guys had carried into the living room to play beer pong on, eyes searching the room with his lips set in a frown.

He was attracting attention, a multitude of heads turning to peer up at him in curiosity.

Oh, god. He was looking for you, you were probably going to get rejected at a fucking Valentine’s Day party in some stranger’s living room.

Eddie must have caught the attention of someone near the sound system because the volume of the music was lowered and you could hear everyone muttering amongst themselves, asking what had happened to the music before they noticed Eddie.

He glanced around, not even a little nervous at the amount of people staring at him. He hadn’t planned on making a huge show of it, figured they were all too drunk to pay him any attention, luckily he was used to being a spectacle.

Eddie used it to his advantage, calling out your full name.

The crowd muttered, everyone looking at each other in confusion or maybe trying to catch sight of you.

It wasn’t long before someone recognized you, head turning in your direction, followed by many more—a domino effect—until just about everyone was staring at you, including Eddie.

He hopped off the table and made his way towards you, crowd parting to allow him. Heather slipped her hand into yours at your side, giving you a reassuring squeeze before she too stepped away, leaving you to finally face Eddie.

Eddie didn’t look at anyone else, gaze trained solely on you.

“Hi, again.”

You blinked, unable to keep yourself from glancing at the crowd around you, curious—nosey—to see what would happen next.

Guess you were going to have to finally face reality, no more running. You didn’t think you could break through the crowd, anyways.

“Hi,” you whispered but you knew Eddie had heard you, his lips pursed into a smile, eyes lighting up when you didn’t shut down.

“You ran away before I could tell you how I feel.” Eddie took another step, pretty much invading your personal space but he was desperate to be close to you and maybe body block you in case you tried to flee. He didn’t want you to run away again, to disappear like he feared you had when you hadn’t left your name on the note.

“It’s only fair, right? Since I know?”

You nodded again, the drum of your heartbeat loud in your ears. You were surprised you could hear Eddie over it.

Eddie stared down at you, lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t look upset or frustrated. It looked like he was thinking about something.

Little did you know he was reciting the note in his head to give him some courage, he’d memorized it.

He didn’t leave you waiting for long.

“I admire you. A lot.” Your breath hitched as the words you’d jotted down were repeated to you, “So much that I want to stand on expensive looking, antique tables and crash parties for you. I like the way you get animated when you talk, the way you give into your intrusive thoughts at the most random of times—yeah, I saw you trying to see if your finger fit in the pencil sharpener in the library once—I like how kind you are, even when people don’t deserve it.

“I like how you’ve never made me feel ostracized, never made anybody feel like that and I like how dramatic you are—storming off, making an exit, falling flat on your face in hallways then staying there like a dead body before you decide to reanimate again once you’re done being embarrassed. I like how you beat up your locker when it won’t open and then you give it a couple of pats to apologize once it finally does.”

Eddie chuckled at those particular memories, having been thoroughly amused when watching you and you feel your face get hot at being the cause of his cute laugh.

“And I really like your face, your pretty eyes, all of this,” Eddie gestured to you, to all of you from head to toe, “… you’re beautiful. Although, I gotta say, you drove me really fucking crazy today. Made me feel emotions I didn’t know I was capable of feeling and you scared the shit out of me when I thought I’d never get to know who the person I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with is.”

Okay, maybe you didn’t want the ground to swallow you whole.

“I know we only have a couple of months left of school and you’re probably going off to continue being amazing at some college in some big city a million miles away—‘cause that’s my luck—but I’m willing to work with that. I want to drive those million miles to give you flowers and hold your hand, kiss you, listen to you complain about your bad days, hear you brag about your good ones, kill all the bugs you’re afraid of—even though some of them freak me out, you make me feel brave, too—and just be all around disgustingly domestic with you.

“And yes, that includes all the not so fun domestic stuff like fights—which we’ll get over, I’ll do just about anything, even cave first, if you give me those big, coy eyes of yours—and taxes. I want to do it all with you. If you’ll have me.” Eddie ended, eyes wide and just a little out of breath.

There it was. He’d thrown it all out there, everything he wanted to offer (because he wanted to give you everything, even though it kind of terrified him).

And you—you were just staring at him, left to gape at him since you’d expected… well, you hadn’t really known what to expect since you usually ran from the consequences—be they good or bad—of your actions.

He wanted to be with you. Holy crap, Eddie Munson wanted to be your boyfriend. Wanted to do boyfriend things like visit you at college and hold your hand. You’d thought, the whole time, it had just been you observing him. You never thought he’d be observing you, too. It all sounded too good to be true, you couldn’t really think, couldn’t really form words.

You didn’t have to, Eddie grew anxious, maybe even a little impatient despite having decided the moment you’d run away from him in the front yard that he’d chase after you for as long as it took him to get you to give him a chance.

He found himself blurting out his strongest desire, “Can I kiss you?”

This was it, you were faced with another opportunity, and this one was the actual last opportunity you had to tell him how you feel, without any anonymity. No more hiding, no more running.

“Yeah,” you breathed out and he was on you before you’d even finished saying that singular word, his surprisingly soft lips pressing desperately against yours as his hands moved to frame your face, one of his thumbs stroking along your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as you returned the kiss and just like that, what he intended to be a simple but firm kiss, turned into your lips moving against each other, a little wet and enough to have Eddie want to pop his leg up like in the fucking movies.

The only reason he kept himself from introducing his tongue to yours like he so badly wanted to was the sounds of encouragement around him; cheering and hollering. You broke away, having also heard your peers whooping and wolf whistling, to hide your face in his chest, bashfulness returning full force.

Eddie laughed and kissed the top of your head, unable to contain his grin and joy. He definitely wasn’t used to this, more accustomed to jeering, not cheering. A couple of people even clapped him on the shoulder.

“You know what, I think they’re rooting for us, sweetheart.”

You pulled away just enough to look up at him, offering a small, pleased smile of your own.

“They’re not the only ones.”

Well, he had to give you some tongue for that one. The cheering and sounds of excitement got louder as he did.

— You hadn’t walked into school hand in hand with Eddie when Monday came around—though you’d spent pretty much the entire weekend with him, driving around town, lounging around your room (he’d come in through your window) and making out—he hadn’t mentioned anything about meeting up in the parking lot and you weren’t offended in the slightest. While you wanted to see him, you appreciated the extra time to calm your excited nerves before you did.

Heather ran up to you the second you made it to your locker, grin stretching from ear to ear.

“I still can’t believe it. It didn’t even happen to me and I’m pinching myself because of how romantic it was!”

“Imagine how I feel,” You were all smiles as you turned the combination for your locker. But of course, since it was openly known as one of, if not, the shittiest of lockers in the school—having belonged to several wrestlers and football players before you, who’d evidently cared for it on the rough side—it didn't budge when you tugged at it.

You wouldn’t miss it when you graduated.

With a sigh, you pulled the straps of your backpack off of your shoulders and handed it to Heather. Then, you yanked aggressively at the small locker handle. It was your routine though, so you knew it wouldn’t open then, either. It was only when you slammed your fist against it, after all the yanking, that it opened.

Roses immediately flooded out of it, piling onto the ground at your feet. You and Heather watched with open mouths, glancing at passersby, who also looked on in surprise, until your stuffed locker finally finished its floral avalanche.

“Like ‘em?”

You jumped up, and then internally scolded yourself for almost trampling a couple of your flowers. You carefully twisted around to face Eddie, who was leaning back against the row of lockers behind you, smug smirk on his handsome face.

“Yeah, what are all of these for?” You asked, still marveling at them as he pushed himself off the lockers to wrap his arms around your middle and press a kiss to the side of your head.

“I realized I never got to ask you to be my Valentine or give you flowers. So, I bought some Saturday morning,” They were on sale so he’d gone purposely overboard, “used my uncle’s collection of mugs as vases to keep them alive, then woke up at the asscrack of dawn this morning to get here before you did. I probably broke your locker even more, by the way. So, be my Valentine?”

“I’m pretty sure it was part of the terms and agreements of our relationship, but yes. I’ll be your Valentine.”

Eddie closed your locker for you, pressing his weight against it to make sure it was secure and no more roses would escape before he scooped up the ones that had fallen out, arranging them into a large bouquet which he handed to you, leaning in to give you a kiss.

You hummed happily against his lips, nose wrinkling in glee when you felt him smile.

Eddie let out a content sigh when you parted before glancing to his side at your gawking best friend.

“Hey, Heather.” Eddie wasn’t at all bothered by the audience. “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks! They’re new. You done sucking face?”

“For now,” he promised, then turned his attention back to you. “I’ll see you later, beautiful. I’ve got a test to barely pass. Gotta make sure I walk that stage with you.”

Eddie pinched your cheek, pressed another kiss to your forehead and rushed off down the hall. You’d barely locked eyes with Heather when Eddie came running back, taking your face in his hands as he muttered something about one more and gave you a kiss that had you a little shaky on your feet.

‘One more’ actually turned out to mean a couple more pecks before he really forced himself away, blowing you a kiss just as he disappeared around the corner.

“He’s whipped,” Heather stated.

“Pretty sure I’m falling in love with him.”

“That’s appropriate.” You both nodded before you turned to face your closed locker, arms full of sweet smelling roses.

“. . . You still need to get your books, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Heather slid her arms through the straps of your backpack, over her front, so she could hold your flowers for you as you prepared to battle your locker again. It was totally worth it.

─

Eddie never ended up giving you your pen back, it’s the one he used to write love letters to you while you were away at college.

2K notes · View notes

thelargefrye · 7 months

Text

February Filth Fest : DAY TWENTY-FIVE : FREE USE ... mature one - shot

pairing : boyfriend!seonghwa x girlfriend!f!reader x san

genre : smut, idol au, established relationship au

word count : 1.2k

smut warnings : language, tit fucking, cuckold (san basically cuckold seonghwa), free use, light cum play

honorary suffer tag : @sanjoongie

seonghwa and you are exploring new parts of your bedroom experience, but it just so happens that it involves his bandmates also getting in on the experience.

DAY TWENTY-FOUR ↤ UNDER THE COMFORTER ↦ DAY TWENTY-SIX

when you arrived at seonghwa's dorm, you originally expected to just hangout. it had been a while since you saw your boyfriend and so really all you wanted to do was cuddle and maybe watch a movie or him play animal crossing.

and that's originally how it started. you lay in seonghwa's bed with him, the two of you cuddled up and his comforter pulled over the two of you to keep each other warm. a movie playing on his tv and the lights dimmed just enough to want to lull you to sleep. it was quiet and peaceful, until san walked in.

the younger of the two males opened the door, walking in like this was his bedroom and not seonghwa's. seonghwa attempted to greet san, but the younger completely ignored him. instead he focused on you instead. crawling onto the bed and obscuring your view of the movie you and seonghwa had been watching.

"what sannie–

san cuts you off, his lips smashing against yours as he rips the comforter off your body and throws it onto seonghwa's. san doesn't say anything, but instead opts to shove his tongue down your throat and swallow any moans that leave your mouth. his hands wander your body, snaking underneath your clothes and groping your breast over your bralette you had worn.

when san pulls away from the kiss, he makes sure to tug on your bottom lip, pulling it out before letting it go. you can't help but let out a small laugh at the action while san trails his lips down your skin. he pushes your shirt up past your chest before pulling your bralette down, allowing for your breast to be on full display to both him and seonghwa.

"i think san missed you," seonghwa teases as he moves from his bed to his chair in order to give san more room.

"i think he's just horny is all," you say back, making seonghwa laugh before his eyes are going to watch as the younger idol begins to suck on your breast as he starts to grind against your clothed core. you let out little whimpers as the material of your panties rub against your clit, giving friction along with san's tongue fondle your nipple.

you run a hand through san's hair, lightly tugging on it before your eyes are flickering back over to your boyfriend who is palming himself over his sweats. you notice a light blush dusting his cheeks as he watches san continues to touch you.

after a few more moments, san is pulling away from your breast and sitting up, straddling your hips. his hands come up to once again to grope and squeeze your breast, "fuck look at how pretty they are," he says more to himself as he grinds down against you.

you watch as san then takes his sweats and underwear off, letting them drop to the floor before he's getting back on the bed and pulling your shirt and bralette off with ease. he drops them with his own clothes before he's pumping his cock as he moves up your body.

"i still can't believe hyung is willing to just let us fuck you like your our personal cock slut. still blows my mind," san says as he takes both your breasts and pushes them together. "i can use you however i want, i don't even have to fuck your pussy, but your breast instead."

you couldn't help but moan at his words, rubbing your thighs and clenching around nothing at the thought of san only using your breast to get off. its something that has plagued your mind a few times in the past and something you've managed to get seonghwa to do a few times. so you're quick to push your breast together yourself, your hands replacing san's and it makes the idol laugh before he guides his cock push between you.

"f-fuck, feels just like i thought it would," he mumbles to himself, but the praise still inflates your ego. san then begins to thrust his cock between your boobs, his tip poking out from the top of your boobs with pre-cum just beginning to form at the slit. you stick your tongue out, allowing the head of his cock to brush against your pink muscle and it causes san to let out a groan while throwing his head back.

"you really got yourself a keeper, seonghwa," san says, eying your boyfriend who for a moment you forgot was there watching you.

"you're just saying that because she keeps your dick wet, sannie," seonghwa says and you watch san bite his lip, hands coming to rest on the bed's headboard as he looks down at you.

san continues to thrust in-between your breast. pre-cum coming out of his tip and whatever doesn't make it onto your tongue, lands on your boobs. its really a sight in san's eyes that he doesn't mind capturing forever. the image of his cum on you, like his own way of temporarily claiming you as his own.

claiming you as his own. the thought echoes through his mind as he speeds his thrust up, eyes never looking away from you and the different parts of you that are in his vision. your breast bouncing with each of his thrust despite being pushed together, tongue out and welcoming the tip of his cock, as if you would be ready to take his whole cock in your mouth at any moment. just for him.

your heart may belong to seonghwa, and after san is done you may go back to cuddling with seonghwa. but right now, in this moment, you were san's.

"fuck," san curses under his breath, his thrust beginning to become sloppy and he can feel himself growing closer to his climax. "i'm– i'm close," he says and you encourage him to finish, to come and shoot his seed into your mouth.

when he finally does come, his seed shoots out and while some of it does make it onto your tongue, it also lands on other parts of you. covering you in his seed, you let go of your breast in order to instead stroke san to full completion.

san doesn't say anything, instead breathing heavily as he looks at you before he's climbing off the bed. he picks his underwear and sweatpants off the floor before pulling them back on. he watches seonghwa get up off his chair, wet wipe in hand as he wipes off any of his cum that didn't land in your mouth.

san notices you get shy when seonghwa presses a kiss to your cheek and he has to stop himself from cooing over how cute you both are.

"sannie, do you want to watch a movie with us?" seonghwa asks but san stretches his arm, rolling his shoulders before he answers.

"nah, i'm gonna go lay down, night," he says before walking out of seonghwa's room and into his own.

when san gets to his room, he can't help but flop down onto his bed, grabbing his pillow and holding it close to his chest. yep, at the end of the day you will always belong to seonghwa and not him or any of the other members.

tag list : @watamotee33 @kawennote09 @mixling-blog @marahleiwhen @kpopnightingale @harry-the-pottypus @pyeonghongrie @sanniesbum @marvelahsobx @khjcoo @mysticfire0435 @exfolitae @dementedaly @simeonswhore @moonm1st @nvmbheart @spooo00oky @frgogh @sookacc @seongwin @burnsmepls @ad0rechuu @tunaasan @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @cheesekimchi @confusedmoonchild777 @mjyungi @innieontop @iweirdthingsblog @s0obinluvr @worcesheshestershiresauce @moonlightgrleric @wineyoungie @jeongwangjessmina @lemineso @darlingz99 @soobiverse @bratty-tingz

networks : @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

#lost paradise : fff.#joongfryefff24 #cultofdionysusnet #cromernet #kdiarynet #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez blurbs #poly ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez seonghwa smut #ateez yunho smut #ateez wooyoung smut #ateez werewolf au

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yikesmary · 1 year

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FINALLY — choi seungcheol x reader

summary: in a last-ditch effort to study before your big final exam, you barricade yourself in your apartment in order to study as much as you can. on the day of your last exam, your boyfriend, seungcheol, finally sees you and comes with gifts.

notes: this is a college au because I feel like I should write more college au since I love them for some reason.

requests are open at the time of posting this, so please be sure to send in anything you want to see me write!

join my taglist!

Once you closed the door to your apartment, it finally hit you that you were finished with exams. Having barricaded yourself for about 4 days and instructed your friends and boyfriend to not see you until after your exams.

Smiling, you grabbed your phone in order to text your boyfriend to come over, but you were interrupted by the sound of a knock on your door.

Confused, you walked to the door and opened it, to see Seungcheol, who had his arms filled with a basket. "What are you doing here? I was about to text you to come over," you said, opening the door wider in order to let him in.

"I was counting down the days until I could see you, and I even prepared this basket filled with stuff for us to eat and do in celebration," Seungcheol replied.

Seungcheol put the stuff down on a table. "It's only been a couple of days since we last saw each other," you said.

He turned to you, wrapped his arms around your waist, and pulled you close. "I can barely be without you for a day, so four days felt like I was going to die," he told you, kissing you passionately.

You kissed back, feeling happy to see him.

Finally, you pulled away, feeling slightly breathless. "What'd you bring?" you questioned.

"I gave you the best kiss of our relationship so far and you want to know what I got you?" Seungcheol teased.

"Well, depending on what you brought, I might give you the best kiss of our relationship," you teased back.

Seungcheol was quick to unpack the basket at what you said. "I have the face masks you like, food, and a list of TV Shows and Movies you like that I thought we could watch as we eat," he explained.

"Actually, can I request something to do first?" you asked and he nodded.

"Of course, this day is for you. What did you want to do?"

"Sleep? You want to sleep?"

You nodded despite the fact that he couldn't see you due to the fact that you were choosing clothes to change out of and clothes for Seungcheol that he left in order to prepare for moments like these where he could sleep over.

"I probably had a total of eight hours of sleep across the four days I was studying," you told him, leaving the closet wearing shorts and a hoodie that was originally Seungcheol's.

"Let's sleep for at least a day, then. We don't have any classes this week and— is that my hoodie?"

"I've stolen so many clothes from you that you shouldn't be surprised at this point," you said, handing him the clothes and letting him get changed in the closet.

"I might start charging you for the clothes you steal,"

"Or you could always start not wearing shirts," you cheekily said.

"Baby..."

"Is it possible you got beefier the last time I saw you? Because I swear you weren't this big before,"

As if on cue, Seungcheol walked out, wearing the clothes you gave him but since they were clothes that were from a while ago, he filled out the shirt more than ever before. "Since you were out studying, I didn't have anything to do. So Mingyu and Wonwoo let me join them whenever they worked out,"

"Thank god for gyms," you muttered, staring at him.

Seungcheol smirked and you instantly knew you were caught starting. "Let me ogle at my hot and thoughtful boyfriend, okay?" you said.

He rolled his eyes at your antics but joined you on the bed. "Hot and thoughtful, huh?" He asked, kissing you on the forehead while wrapping his arms around you.

"Yeah, if only I could see him more," you dramatically said.

"Hey, if I recall, you were the one that told me I couldn't go to your apartment until after your exams," Seungcheol said, closing his eyes.

"Well, that was because they were exams."

"But, if you moved in, it'd probably be easier to see you," you added, following suit in closing your eyes.

Silence fell between the two of you, but he must've processed what you said since he opened your eyes. "Moved in? As in we live together?" He asked, his eyes wide.

You opened one of your eyes and said, "That is the definition of moving in based on the context, yes,"

He rolled his eyes, "I'm serious, smartass. Are you sure about moving in?"

"Why not? We've been together since our first year, and we're graduating soon. I'm not saying we move in here, though, seeing as it is a bit cramped. I say after graduation, we find a place to stay," you explained.

At that point, the both of you were sat up on the bed, the conversation going longer than you anticipated. "And you're sure about this?" Seungcheol asked.

"I've never been so sure about something in my life until now,"

"Well wait until I propose to you in a few years,"

taglist (if your name is not gray, it means that I couldn't tag you): @belladaises @winterpaos @wonhuiful @minhui896 @baekhyunimochibbh @x-alightinthedark @whywontyousetfree @minghaossv @coffeesandrains @slaveofmydreams @bmkgemz @dandycharmer @outrologist @stagefrjghts @dahliatopia @exo-saranghajaaa @uhlatcha @watermelon-sugars-things @miniminimingi @venzline @kokorit0 @withloveyjh @mikopikotobiko @lockburn-castle @mrs-kamisato @userjunhuii @mypsychicpizzaworld @againwithwonu @violetvoo @maevadobreva @hyperhanie @soonyoungblr @miesieu @baekhyunstruly @ryusol @fuzzyblazeenemy @dunixxd @minhwa @ovai @smileyneos @xuenihao @itsrachelsplace @thatcuteandquietgirl @flrtsbin @svtflxwer @autumn-lv @soupbinlily @jw-0717 @swinterr @blobfishbumblebee @shiveringgaze @wonuumelody @dearxia @smileywonnie @lacie220900 @livelikejinki @bulek-tante-bibi-baba-paklek

#seventeen fluff #seungcheol fluff #scoups fluff #choi seungcheol fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #choi seungcheol x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #scoups fic #seungcheol fic #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagines #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen scoups

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pastorfutureletthembe · 3 months

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Here we go again--

TRIP ABROAD TURNS INTO BUTTERFLY EFFECT

First thing worth mentioning is that the prime color in this artwork is pale blue. I feel like it's quite rare, most of INPLICK arts for Link Click have the same palette: burgundy red, shades of gray and black (except for the whole Surprise Beat thing which is splashed with flashy pink). All but this one:

(probably when they were 17 or sth)

For the sake of the argument, let's say it is a significant distinction to make. The reason is simple: the teaser of the airport scene and the trailer prove that shit started three years ago, when CXS and LG made a trip after graduation. If this chronology is correct, then blue probably symbolizes Lu Guang's innocence or happiness. Blue used to paint Lu Guang but now he only sees the world in black, white and red. In the birthday official arts, blue is associated with his character. His flower is freaking Forget-Me-Not; Myosotis.

So yes, that's why I think the color palette here is relevant to the time period we're going to explore in the Yingdu Chapter.

The couch itself is blue when we're so used to the pair sitting on a brick sofa. The cakes and the flowers are the usual shade of red, though.

On the table: red roses in a vase. Petals are all over the place. Ominous.

On the trolley: 1 bottle of wine, 2 CXS's feet, 3 glasses, 4 cakes, 5 individual desserts. The glass half full is Liu Xiao's, since it isn't on the trolley in the original artwork he is absent from. I said it in another post but the plate counts 4 portions, as in 4 antagonists, while the pudding might be Lu Guang's. The cakes are probably metaphors for timelines/curves, clocks dressed as desserts with a red fruit representing a dead Cheng Xiaoshi. V and VI are the only missing parts, just like Qiao Ling's one. CXS put his feet on the trail and I think it's both funny and tragic. I believe the correct saying is "put his foot in his mouth" but in french we say "mettre les pieds dans le plat", which literally translates "to put his feet in the plate" (to say something brutal with no tact or to do something stupid without thinking it through). He has both feet nearing timeline cakes and his head is five inches away from doomed flowers.

On the floor: 1 vintage phone. 1 camera. 2 envelopes, 3 pages of letters. 4 polaroids. Probably: 2 magazines and 3 pages of newspapers. The vintage phone could be relevant to THE TIDES, era-wise. The camera is taking polaroids and two of them are still dark, meaning they just took a shot and are yet to be revealed. The rest must be related to this chapter's plot. So much for holidays, guys (are they investigating CXS' missing parents?)

If you look closely, you'll see four different mentions of time:

Lu Guang's watch (hold this thought)

The polaroid: Big Ben

What looks like newspapers

The hourglass

We also have four mentions of information/communication

Letters

The polaroid: a public telephone box

Newspapers/magazines

Vintage phone (I was wondering why the phone had twelve numbers but after some research, I realized that some of them had # and *)

On another note, I don't know if their hands--

I mean, there's something definitely happening here but let's say for the sake of my sanity that what is supposed to be noticed are the sunglasses. If I'm being honest, this is the real oddity here and the teaser weirdly showed them off?? They're standing out because everything else is so blue for one thing.

They're pink-ish, which is close enough to magenta, so one of Lu Guang's colors (cf. Dive Back In Time). The color itself is weird for sunglasses. Lu Guang doesn't care about fashion, he wants practical. As a girl who loves pink sunglasses, I'll tell you: pink is shit at doing sunglasses' job. CXS told him to wear a cat hat, okay, but did he choose every other accessory?? My guess is that the pink served a purpose in connection with light.

And why is Lu Guang's watch on the other wrist in the artwork? I checked and LG wears it on his right wrist in the donghua and manhua. It can be the opposite for some artworks though... Or blocked from view for some reasons. It's almost as if we're not supposed to know which side is the actual reflection. 👀

Something else is reversed here, actually: the colors AND the pocket of Lu Guang's shirt. It could be a mistake, though.

>>>>> Basically, I think the artwork is telling us that the Yingdu Chapter is going to hurt and make us cry. If we're indeed about to see Lu Guang lose his humanity to try and save Cheng Xiaoshi for the first time therefore destroying worlds, I have no doubt it would be after Infinite Sadness™.

The real question this teaser isn't answering is either we'll go through the original timeline or a rewind. The last episode of season 2 makes me frown. How to be sure that the Lu Guang who dives exists before and not after the events we see unfold for two seasons? Is Yingdu Chapter a flash black or an actual dive itself? Lu Guang seems to be determinate and in a bad mood in the PV after all, could directly happen after one of CXS's deaths.

EDIT: someone mentioned that LG wears his watch on the left wrist when we get images of CXS getting stabbed. (It hurts right here in my meow meow)

#link click #shiguang dailiren #时光代理人 #lu guang #cheng xiaoshi #meta #easter eggs

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blossom-hwa · 4 months

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manège | k.th

pairing: Taehyun x gender neutral!reader genre: fluff, a little angst and comfort, ballet dancer!taehyun and pianist!reader warnings: n/a word count: 1.4k notes: — this pairing's been on my mind for a good year or so, so I'm very happy to have finally written something for them :) please note that I've only been doing ballet for a couple years now, so if I've used any terms incorrectly, I'm very sorry! — for some clarification, mc and taehyun go to an arts school, and mc volunteers as one of the pianists for the ballet studio Taehyun finds his way back to you, again.

TXT Masterlist

manège: a classical ballet term for “circular,” which describes a series of steps done in a circular pattern around the stage

. . . . .

"...Taehyun?"

The question of his name is quiet enough that if he hadn't noticed the opening of the door in the corner of the mirror, he would have missed it. As it stands, his mind barely processes your voice emerging from behind the door, and it takes a moment to shake off the double tours and pirouettes before he can even recognize the face appearing in the mirror. He blinks sweat away from his eyes. "Y/N?"

"It's late," you say, stepping into the empty studio. "You're still practicing?"

As one, you both look at the clock hanging on the wall. It's long past eight, when Taehyun initially told himself he'd stop—long past nine, even.

Suddenly all of the exhaustion of the day seems to hit him at once. His muscles ache, sweat keeps dripping down his face no matter how much he wipes away, and there's a small but consistent flare of pain in his calf that he should really stop and massage out. Really, he wants nothing more than to just sit down against the wall, or maybe even flop onto the floor and stare at the ceiling while seeing nothing at all. He's been here since eight in the morning and his body clearly knows it.

"Yeah," is all he says in lieu of articulating all of this, though, because his throat feels gravelly and words are hard. "What are you doing here?" he asks instead. It's at least as fair of a question for you as yours was for him.

"I had class," you say. Taehyun takes in your leggings, the loose T-shirt almost covering your shorts, and remembers yes, there was a lower-level class held almost immediately after you got off your shift. "I stayed after to practice."

He frowns. "For almost five hours?" You were playing the piano for his company class until it ended at three. Your adult beginner class ends at four thirty, and it's past nine.

"Not ballet." You shift the weight of several books in your arms, and only then does Taehyun see their worn paper bindings, the music markings on the covers, and remember that people practice things besides dance. "Evaluations coming up. There was a free piano in one of the empty studios."

Ah. Taehyun nods. And then the room falls into silence again, broken only by the sounds of your breathing.

"So." You walk to the empty piano in the room, placing your books on the top before looking at him expectantly. "What are you working on?"

It takes him a moment to register your words, to understand that you're not telling him to leave or go home or get some rest. All of which he should do, but the looming specter of the showcase next week won't let him. "You're not going to tell me to go home and rest?" he asks regardless, and even though his throat squeaks a bit after spending so many hours in silence, you don't laugh. Not at that, anyway.

"Well, would you have gone home if I'd said you should?" you reply, raising an eyebrow. He shakes his head and a smile curves his lips when you give a little laugh. "See?"

"Point taken," he says, and when you laugh again he laughs too. "Grand Pas Classique," he answers your original question. "For the showcase. Next week."

Your mouth parts in a little 'o'. "This one?" you ask, playing out a short melody. He nods. "Can I see?"

He should. He shouldn't. He at once wants to but doesn't, wants to let the melody sing in his blood as he double tours and entrechats around the room, spinning and leaping across the floor, but he also knows that you're here. And if Taehyun is his own harshest critic, he becomes even harsher when someone else is in the room.

You look at him, though, and he looks at you, and he knows that you see him for himself. See the sweaty hair matted into clumps, see the muscles aching behind his skin, see the work put into every effortlessly pointed toe and graceful finger as he takes his beginning position in front of the mirror. And when the music begins to play, the melody spilling into his ears and then into his blood, he looks into the mirror and smiles not because he has to, but because your watchful eyes will never hold judgment. Will never hold disappointment. Will only ever see him, see Taehyun Kang the person and not Taehyun Kang the dancer, and will cherish him for it.

When he's done, the applause of one person cuts through the labored silence of his breathing, and it's enough to keep the smile on his face, to let his muscles finally relax, to wipe the sweat from his brow and sit down. Or—not really. He's still a little too wired to sit, but he leans against the wall of the studio and gestures to where you sit at the piano like it's the most natural position in the world, ready to play but not. "Show me something," he says when he has enough breath to speak. "What are you working on?"

There's a moment when you're flipping through your books, skimming pages filled with music and your careful notes, where Taehyun loses himself, for a moment, in you. When you squint at a few pages, then put the book back on top of the piano, then position yourself at the keys. The preparation—the careful placement of your fingers just as deliberate as his pointed toes and graceful hands—the moment where time holds still, before you give in to the song in your mind and your heart and allow the music to flow through your veins.

It all comes back to you, Taehyun thinks as your fingers waltz and whirl across the keys, dance in enchanting patterns of black and white. From him, to you, back to him and then to you again—in manège, arabesques and jetés leaping about the stage, coming away from the center only to reach it again the way everything always returns to you. Your voice, your music, always there. Always constant. Pulling him back to earth when he threatens to topple over the edge, never once wavering in your strength or patience even when you see the worst parts of him over and over.

He's sitting down by the time you stop playing, fingers gentle yet unyielding against the piano, coaxing a last, wavering echo from its depths before your hands rise, suspended in the air, then fall to your lap. When you look up, the fluorescent studio lights seem to burn your figure into his vision, like the afterimage of a lightning strike behind his eyes. "That was beautiful," he says, and he means it in more ways than one.

And you accept the praise in more ways than one, in the smile on your lips, in the twinkle in your eyes, in the moment where you sit down next to him, back against the wall, and let him lean his sweaty head on your shoulder with no complaint about how gross it must feel. "Thank you," you say, and when you do, the melody racing through his veins finally calms.

It's almost ten, now, the clock still ticking away on the wall. But you make no move to get up and neither does Taehyun, even when you murmur "Home?" in a voice that only makes him lean further into you, even when he makes a noise of agreement in the back of his throat. In the end, it takes nearly twenty minutes for you to finally pat his knee and say get up, Taehyun. And then he disappears to change and wash up and collect his things, and maybe in the shower he can feel himself beginning to fade away again, but then you're standing right outside the locker room and when he slips his hand into yours, he comes back to earth. Manège. Circling you, always. Leaving. Returning. Orbiting. Joining.

Music dancing through his blood and yours, a song that he will always be able to follow back home.

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

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kaleldobrev · 10 months

Text

Nice to Meet You (1) — Take Me Back Series

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: After making a deal to bring you back, Sam doesn't see you until years later when your paths cross during a case

Original Prompt: Requested by anonymous | Hi, I just joined Tumblr and came across your blog, it's wonderful! I'd like to make a request, something between Sam and reader. The reader dies and Sam makes a pact to bring her back, but she comes back without remembering him and the hunting life. He thinks it's best to stay away from her. Years later they meet and she falls in love with him all over again, and when they kiss she regains her memory. Do you like it?

Chapter Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter Warnings: Cursing (4x)

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy chapter one! | I'll be creating a masterlist for this pretty soon | Let me know if you have any theories about what's going to happen next | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Read the Prologue Here

"I honestly can't believe this is happening," you said, your head in your hands. This was the fifth death at your shelter in less than a month, and you were honestly starting to feel like either yourself or the place was cursed. But you didn't know what could have possibly changed within the amount of time you've had this shelter. You've had this shelter for almost four years, and this was the first time that something awful had happened here; the last month being a literal living Hell.

You were particularly hard on yourself when it came to these deaths as they all happened while you were in the building, on your watch; and you felt as if you could have somehow stopped them, but you knew there was nothing you could have done. You've never fought in your life, nor have you ever used a gun, you were completely useless in a fight.

Due to the deaths, many of the teens in the shelter, along with some of the staff and volunteers had been talking about leaving, and it was something that you didn't blame them for. They trusted you, and you felt like you had completely disrupted their trust, despite you not being the cause of these deaths. But they came to your shelter for safety, and safety was something that they were currently not feeling.

There was a knock at your office door, and when you looked up, you noticed your friend Mel in the doorway, slight smile on her face. "Y/N, there are two FBI agents here that want to speak with you," she said.

"Fuck," you mumbled, "the FBI are involved now?" You said, exasperated. "Jesus," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. "Okay, send them in."

"Can do," Mel smiled.

"Really happy Y/N was able to start this place up," Dean said as him and Sam looked around waiting for Mel to come back.

"I am too. It's something she always talked about," Sam said, but he knew that he didn't have to tell Dean that, as he knew just as well as he did; as the both of them could recall numerous conversations in which the three of you would discuss you opening up a place like this.

"Y/N can talk to you now. Her office is just back there. Her name is on the door, you can't miss it," Mel smiled.

"Thank you," Sam nodded.

As Sam and Dean started to walk toward your office door, Sam felt as if his heart was beating a million miles an hour. Dean stopped in the middle of the hallway, stopping his younger brother from walking any further by placing his hand out in front of him. "You sure you're gonna be okay? Look I'll admit, it was a bit of a dick move of me to do this," Dean admitted.

"It's fine, honestly," Sam reassured. "I just want to make sure she's okay...given the circumstances...especially since it's her birthday," he slightly rambled.

"About that, don't even mention that it's her birthday," Dean said. "Because as far as she's concerned, she has no fucking clue who we are and we have no reason to know it's her birthday." Sam was about to open up his mouth to protest, but he decided against it, as there was a part of him that had wanted to wish you a happy birthday.

Another knock came at your door and when you looked up, it was the two FBI agents that Mel had mentioned to you. "Ms. Y/L/N?" the blonde-haired agent asked you.

"Yes, that's me," you replied, getting up from the chair. "But please call me —”

"Y/N," the taller brunette one interjected. You looked at him with a slightly confused expression, and you couldn't help but notice that his blonde-haired partner gave him an almost similar looking expression. "Your name. It's uh...on the...on the door," he slightly rambled, gesturing toward the sign outside of your door.

"Oh my gosh, yes, it is!" You exclaimed, almost slightly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry. This last month has honestly been one of the worst months of my life. I’d probably lose track of my own head if it weren’t attached to me.”

Both men gave you both smiles, humoring your joke. “I can imagine,” the blonde agent said. “And I’m sorry that we have to meet under these circumstances.”

“Definitely,” you said. “Oh how rude of me, I don’t think I caught your names.”

“Agents Sam and Dean Campbell, no relation,” Dean said, holding up his badge. He nudged Sam, who appeared to be the more nervous of the two. With that single nudge, Sam reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his badge, flashing it to you.

“Nice to meet you Sam and Dean,” you said, trying to smile again. “Mel told me you two wanted to talk to me about…the deaths here at the shelter.”

“Yes, if you don’t mind answering a few questions of course,” Sam said, giving you a gentle smile, a smile that somehow made you feel at ease.

“Of course. I want to catch the bastard who did these to my kids,” your voice slightly angry. “Pardon my French.”

“All good,” Sam answered, reassuring you.

“We’ve heard worse,” Dean added. Especially from you, he wanted to add.

“Oh I’m sure, considering the line of work you two are in,” you smiled.

“So, Miss. Y/L/N, did any of these victims have anything in common besides the fact that they were all runaways?” Sam asked, his voice genuinely filled with concern.

You shook your head. “Not really. I mean, yeah, they had a few things in common like favorite shows, games. But all five of them came from vastly different backgrounds.”

“Did any of them do or say anything that seemed out of the ordinary before they died?” Dean asked.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Like speak a language you haven’t heard them speak before, draw any interesting looking symbols,” Dean said, rattling these things off as if it were second nature to him.

You raised a brow at his answer, finding it a bit odd. “Um, not that I can think of,” you admitted, sounding a little hesitant and slightly confused. “They were all really, really good kids. They didn't mess with...the occult if that's what you're implying. None of my kids to."

"No, that's not what we're implying at all," Sam interjected.

"Then what are you implying?" You asked, a bit of defensiveness in your voice.

"We're just trying to figure out why these five were chosen in particular," Sam began, his voice sounding relatively calm. "The way they were found and the way they were killed it resembles occult practices."

You sighed. "I'm sorry," you said, your head in your hands again. "I'm just so angry. I don't understand why people would target teenagers. Especially killing them in that way. I mean, who the fuck drains blood like that?"

"That's why we're here Y/N," Sam spoke again, and you raised your head to look at him. "Is there anyone you could think of that might be involved?"

You shook your head. "No. All of my volunteers and staff I vetted myself. All of their intentions are good."

Sam and Dean both nodded. "Is there a way we could get a copy of who was in the building during the time of the murders?" Dean asked.

"Of course," you agreed. "Anything both of you need in order to figure out who did this."

“You know, I was really expecting you to hug her,” Dean said, as the two of them entered their motel room.

“I know how to be professional Dean,” Sam scoffed.

“You know, after this is all over, maybe you could ask her out. I’m sure she’ll say yes,” Dean grinned.

“She’s better off without me Dean,” Sam said opening up his laptop. “Besides, last thing she needs is me lying to her about me being in the FBI.”

“You could always tell her the truth,” Dean suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

“That would not be a good idea and you know that,” Sam scoffed.

“It’s not like this stuff is new to her man,” Dean said.

“The deal was, she forgets everything about hunting. That included the whole monsters are real thing,” Sam stated. “Honestly, asking her out again would be too much of a risk.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

“What if the demon finds out and she drops dead?” Sam questioned.

“The deal was she forgets you. Doesn’t mean you couldn’t still ask her out,” Dean said. “Besides, you’re fucking miserable without her, and you can’t tell me differently.” The past four years without you had truly affected Sam in ways that he didn’t think, and it was something that not only Dean had noticed, but Jack and Cas as well. Sam didn’t think Dean knew about how he constantly still looks at pictures of you, or constantly listens to the last voicemail you had left him, or how he constantly watches your favorite movies or tv shows over and over again. But these were things that Dean had known about, as he himself found himself reminiscing about things you and him had done together. Inside jokes between the two of you, or how you would help him be his wingwoman on occasion. “I just haven’t seen you happy in a long time.”

“It’s better this way. She’s…she’s not in danger anymore,” Sam said, his voice defeated. He was miserable without you, but you being safe was all that mattered to him.

In the next chapter...

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You asked her. “I have literally never met Sam or Dean before this.”

“Aw sweetheart, but you have. But, it’s not really your fault for not remembering, that’s what the deal was,” she said.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @octoberclidan @kidwhofixates @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @fuiabarcelos @foxyjwls007 @crystal555 @hannahisthebanana @seamlessepiphany @madzzz0797 @midorimachisenpaii @sammysnaughtygirl @missscarlettangel @frozenhuntress67 @snakebxtez @crystalandphoebewifey @coldspoons If you'd like to be added to a tag list please follow this link

#Sam Winchester x you #Sam Winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #Sam x you #Sam x reader #reader insert #female reader

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avatar-anna · 1 year

Note

Anything with proff and Harry! They are my favorite couple that you write I love them!!

Happy Easter!!!🐇💐🐣

The Professor Series

"Y/n, tell him to stop!"

"Stop being such a baby!"

"I'm not a baby!"

You looked down at the five and seven year old running toward you with wide eyes, unsure of what to say or how to handle this situation. Harry's family had graciously invited you to an Easter brunch in Holmes Chapel, and since you'd never really celebrated before, you decided to attend out of curiosity.

Things were good. Harry's extended family was nice and polite, not once making you feel out of place. And that went for Harry's godchildren, apparently, who were now bickering in front of you. You didn't consider yourself someone who was great with kids, but you had yet to make anyone cry, so that had to count for something.

"Um...stop," you said, looking at the seven year old, a little boy with curly blond hair.

The five year old, a girl with a big pink bow in her hair, had big eyes filled with tears and frustrated red cheeks. "He's teasing me," she said, tugging on the hem of your skirt. "He called me dumb for saying the Easter bunny came to my house."

You opened your mouth to say what you were told at her age, that there was no Easter bunny and that bunnies couldn't even lay eggs which made this whole tradition absolutely absurd, but caught yourself. The girl was five and had the right to believe in such things. And your original statement probably would've made the situation worse.

So you turned to the boy and said, "Do you have any proof that the Easter bunny didn't go to her house?"

He seemed surprised by your question, but eventually answered. "No, but—"

"To make a sound argument, you need evidence, and it doesn't sound like you have any," you said

The boy mumbled under his breath before running off, perhaps to terrorize another child that was smaller than him. Looking down at the girl, you smiled and tentatively patted her on the head. "Okay, then. Off you go."

You walked away from the girl, unsure what you were supposed to do from there. Not quite ready to socialize some more, you went into an empty room and sat down on a couch, closing your eyes as a sigh left your lips. Harry was probably wondering where you wandered off to, but you just needed a moment to yourself. You'd been looking for a room to decompress when the two kids ran up to you.

You sat on the couch with your eyes closed for a few minutes, letting the silence settle you. Harry's family were thrilled to see you and had question after question about your job and your travels and whatnot. And you'd spent most of the day by Harry's side, but somehow you got separated, though it wasn't as daunting as you would've thought. You were familiar with enough members of his family to feel comfortable, and they were familiar enough with you to somewhat understand your humor and quirks.

As you sat on the couch, you felt the cushions dip as someone sat down. After peeking an eye open, you saw the girl from moments ago.

"Are you sleeping?" She asked, tilting her head to one side as she looked at you.

"No, I'm just resting my eyes," you replied, trying not to sound too abrupt.

It wasn't that you disliked kids, you just didn't have a lot of experience with them. And they were just so...sensitive. You had a very blunt form of communication that was probably too harsh for younger children. Your own childhood didn't give you much guidance on how to speak to them, either.

"Can I rest my eyes too?"

"I'm not going to stop you."

The girl took that as confirmation enough. You expected her to make herself comfortable on the couch and close her eyes, but she took you by surprise.

"Oh, I don't think—Please don't—"

But it was too late. The four year old was in your lap, resting her head on your chest.

Your entire body went still as she huffed out a small sigh and rested her eyes just like she said. You didn't really want her on top of you, but you didn't have the heart to move her, either. So you were stuck, trying not to make any sudden movements as the little girl fell asleep.

Harry didn't mean to lose track of you, he really didn't. He'd gotten stopped a couple times by friends and family he hadn't seen in a long time on his way back to you, and then suddenly too much time had passed and he hadn't seen you amongst the guests milling around in his mother's back garden.

He knew you probably went off somewhere to be alone. It was something you did often when you joined Harry at parties or anywhere you had to talk to people you weren't familiar with. But he normally went with you to help you wind down, or at least keep you company until you were ready to go back out again.

Stepping inside the house, he checked various rooms to see if you'd snuck off while the party continued outside. On the third try, he found you in the living room, but you weren't alone.

Harry knew how you felt about kids. Neither of you talked about it often because you weren't really there yet, but he knew they sometimes made you uncomfortable or out of your depth.

And yet there you were, sitting on the sofa with his goddaughter sleeping against your chest. Harry's heart clenched at the sight for a moment, but when he saw the slightly panicked look on your face, he couldn't help but laugh lightly.

"Make a new friend?" he asked, stepping further into the room.

You turned your head toward him, clearly not as amused as Harry was. "She just...placed herself on me."

"That means she likes you, love," he said, but sat down next to you so he could take the young girl into his arms anyway.

"Why?"

You sounded so genuinely confused it was cute. Harry leaned over and kissed your forehead. "I think you're better with kids than you think you are."

You considered what he said for a moment, quietly mulling it over in your head. "I still don't like how sticky they are."

Harry chuckled and stood up with his goddaughter and offered a hand to help you stand. "I don't think anyone does, to be fair."

You waited for Harry while he laid the four year old down in a bed upstairs. As he walked away, the only thing on your mind was, "He would make a good dad."

#harry styles #harry styles x professor yn #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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telomeke · 9 months

Text

10 (or So) BL Boys I Want Carnally (Plus a Couple of Girls Too)

I was tagged by @neuroticbookworm at this post here and @waitmyturtles at this post here. Thank you dearies! 🥰

Now here's the thing before I get on with the post: after a certain time I think sexual attraction is a phenomenon more intellectual than physical.

So the beautiful people I'm listing below are ones whom I think fit the list in my head as examples of those genetically blessed with sexual desirability. But it's not as though I'm really feeling a carnal stirring in the loins for them. No fantasied jumping of bones (or boners) here; I would probably run a mile in the opposite direction if any of them actually presented themselves naked and available to me, you get my drift?

Still, since the malls are open I do like to look (even if it's only window shopping through binoculars 🤣). So, in no particular order, with tongue firmly in cheek and more admiration in my head (for the obvious hard work at the gym) than lust in my heart (or anywhere else) – here goes: 😍

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1. Nonkul Chanon

youtube

I know Nong Non looked like a little ball of Koreanesque sunshine in I Feel You Linger in the Air (really channeling 2PM's Wooyoung for me), but Mistah Santinatornkul used to be beefier and apparently lost weight to look all sweet and wispy for the role of Jom in IFYLITA.

Dunno bout you, but I miss the beef. (And if you do too, I urge you to click on the YouTube link above. 😁) Also, Nonkul had four lead roles in 2023; I think his star is on the ascendant, so keep an eye out for this one (he seems to have an international presence that most other Thai stars don't, though it beams eastwards). 🤩

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2. Ohm Pawat

I prefer him hunkier and chunkier like he was during his Bad Buddy Pat Napat days (he's too shredded and gangly beanstalk now for me) but I've actually met Ohm in real life and (I've said this before) his smile is supernova dazzling. Like everything else in the room simply fades to a blank whiteness. (Or maybe it was just me feeling faint. 🤣) Supremely photogenic (I don't think he has any bad angles), this boy definitely has the X factor and after Bad Buddy I will always be a diehard fan.

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3. MaxTul

The original kings of BL who never shied away and just went for it when it counted. I rue the loss of Tul to business or real estate or whatever it is he's focusing on now, but this coupling will always be legendary so I'm putting them together as one on my list.

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4. Gap Jakarin

You may be noticing a trend here, but I do like a bit of meat with my two veg. 😜🍆🥩🥬🍴🤣 Anyway I'm all goo-goo eyed at lovable himbo Yai in The Sign, especially when we see how smitten he is with his beautiful girlfriend Sand (who's canon transgender in the show, as Yoshi Rinrada is in real life too 💖). And that's carried over to my appreciation of Gap Jakarin in all his meaty meathead glory offscreen as well.

Plus when he was in the bulking phase (or maybe it was for a role?) Gap was also carrying a fair bit of baby fat in the following photo on his Instagram, and somehow that just makes him even more teddybeardorable in my eyes: 🧸😍

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5. Neo Trai

Always the boy you remember in roles you'd rather forget. I've liked his look (neck up) for a long time now; in his current gym bunny phase the rest of Neo is looking more buff by the day and I approve, aesthetically speaking. More to love. 😘

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6. Force Jiratchapong

youtube

Nice to look at. Only just about makes up for his roles and acting though. I'm not hurrying to watch anything he's in, unless it's for a photoshoot like the one in the YouTube video above. 😮

7. Pavel Naret

It appears he's had a little surgical tweaking recently, but the doctors did a fine job and Pavel is always looking like he's some sort of walking sex buffet, dishing out sass and overflowing sex appeal at every turn. Still not enough to make me wanna watch Pit Babe though. 🤣

8. KaowOat Supasin

Apologies for the fuzziness of this screencap but I can almost feel non-existent ovaries swelling within me when I look at KaowOat's pensive buttcrack and delicately-placed fingers here. Almost makes me want to watch Playboyy The Series. Almost.

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9. Net Siraphop

I'm also on board with everybody's carnal favorite Net, even though I've not watched a single thing he's been in (Uea's kitty ears in Bed Friend did a good job warding me off, like garlic and crucifixes to a vampire so well done James Van Helsing). Nonetheless all the screenshots and GIFs were more than enough to leave me a little breathless at Net's honey-toned beauty. Those eyes telling of mysterious depths! That handsome jawline! That teasing glimpse of buttcheek with no tanline! When upon a time will we finally get Love Upon a Time? I'll be watching, if James can keep his furry ears out of frame.‌

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10. Kao Noppakao

Oh he of the excellent cheekbones and Cupid's Bow lips! Always looking so icy and unavailable, yet Kao utterly charmed his way into my heart in Lovely Writer (and then shattered it within the first few minutes of Until We Meet Again). Like Ohm he literally cannot take a bad photo; it's all Blue Steel and high fashion with this one.

BONUS 1 (because I am no respecter of limits):

Great Sapol is on here because he filled out his tight policeman's uniform so well in Manner of Death (and has me vibrating with pins and needles waiting for Wandee Goodday). And Taylor Zakhar Perez just because he was such a menace in Red, White & Royal Blue (that full frontal above is from Minx though). 😜 Plus TZP's name always gives me the giggles because zakar in a number of countries quite literally means what that eggplant is hiding. 🤣

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BONUS 2 (because these girls have made me feel something):

Zorzo Nathanan (formerly Zorzo Natharuetai)

Ever since she roared up and flicked those lovely long locks (and legs) on her motorcycle in Lovely Writer, I've been going weak at the knees for the ravishing confection that is Zorzo. Supposedly queer in real life too; just adds to the appeal. 🤩

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Namtan Tipnaree

Absolutely radiant and glowing in Last Twilight even though makeup and wardrobe have Namtan totally frumped out for the character of Porjai. If you can look this good with perpetual bedhead and a shapeless gray t-shirt, there's some kind of sexual sorcery going on and there's a part of me that wants whatever it is she's got. 💖

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I always tag too many people so I'm going to buck my brand and tag just one: @non-binarypal7. But consider yourself tagged if you've read this far and would like to play too – I just love reading other people's takes in tag games! 😍

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#tag game #10 bl boys i want carnally #some ql people i want carnally #gamely‚ if not gaily‚ playing along #YouTube

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howlingday · 8 months

Note

So, jaune magic is actually straight-up death. When the brother They're whole strict they made up the 4 horsemen. Adam got war, jaune got death, and I don't know who got pestilencing. And famine.

If jaune would ever go at full power, a Coffin would Appear above the sky releasing death to reap souls. An example of how the power system works for them. The more war that happens, the stronger adam Apostle gets, meaning He can summon more troops and stuff like that. The more you go to war with them, the worse he gets to fight. so counters to him are single strong targets Since that doesn't count as war jaune Doesn't really have a weakness also the four horsemen are The maidens from the original show they're considered myth.

Jaune: Okay... Deep breaths...

Jaune: Mmngh...

Ruby: (Waiting with bated breath)

Jaune: Ngh... Agh! Dang it...

Ruby: Aw, you were so close, too! I could feel it!

Blake: No, he wasn't.

Ruby: Well, maybe from your perspective, but from where I was watching from-

Blake: Penny, did Jaune make any progress?

Penny: Yes, he did!

Ruby: See?!

Penny: Jaune has managed to perspire more than he has in his previous attempts!

Jaune: ...At least I'm working up a sweat?

Yang: Hey, that's my line!

Ruby: Yang! Where have you been?

Yang: Oh, you know, doing dragon things.

Blake: Dragon things that you haven't told us about.

Yang: Because they're supposed to be a secret~!

Blake: If they're so secret, then why would you tell us?

Yang: Because why bother doing them if you can't tell anyone about it?

Blake: (Opens mouth)

Ruby: I wouldn't bother. Yang always wins, one way or the other. Usually by dropping the subject.

Yang: So, what's going on here?

Ruby: See? We're helping Jaune use his mana like he did before!

Jaune: If only I remembered how to do it.

Yang: How'd it happen before?

Ruby: Jaune got into a fight with Cardin.

Yang: Well, ask ol' rock face to throw down.

Blake: We can't. He's too scared of Jaune.

Yang: Yeah, sure. What's the real reason?

Ruby: It's true, though! Jaune's mana was so scary, it puts my hair on end just thinking about it!

Yang: Really? Well, maybe I should throw down with ol' Vomit Boy here?

Jaune: Come on, it was one time!

Yang: Yeah, yeah. So, you up for a spar?

Jaune: Do I get to say no?

Yang: Sure, but you probably won't be able to get your mana out until then. It's how I learned to use mine!

Jaune: ...Alright. Let's do it!

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

Goodwitch: Are you sure we shouldn't intervene, Ozpin? After all, Ms. Xiao Long is set to a higher standard than Mr. Arc.

Ozpin: Yes, I'm sure, Glynda. And you'd be surprised what a little friendly competition can do for training.

Goodwitch: I hate surprises, Oz.

Ozpin: I'm well aware.

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

"Set us off, Rubes!"

"You got it! Ready!" Ruby lifted her arm high into the air. "GO!"

Yang disappeared in a blink, leaving Jaune bewildered on the ground. He looked around for any sign of her, before noticing the shadow on the ground. He looked up to see her hurtling towards him like a missile. He backed away, only to get knocked into the back wall by her landing in his mid-section. She jumped back with a laugh.

"C'mon! Is that it?"

"Ouch..." Jaune groaned as he stood up. "That really hurt."

"Yeah, that's what a kick to the stomach does, Jaune!" Yang called with a snigger.

"Huh? Oh, no, I meant my back." He called back. "I didn't even feel your kick."

"What?"

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

Ozpin: Did you see it, Glynda?

Goodwitch: I did. It was faint, but there was cloud protecting his body from the kick. So, Mr. Arc is a necromancer?

Ozpin: Indeed, and very intuned as well. It normally takes decades to achieve that level of unconscious response.

Goodwitch: It could be a fluke.

Ozpin: We'll just have to see.

Goodwitch: ...

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

"Alright, Jaune, if you didn't feel that kick, then how about I instead kick things up to where you will feel it?" As Yang said this, she drew mana from her scaled arms until they became golden balls of flame. Before was just a sample of the least she could do with her draconic mana, but now she was really wanting to show off. "Don't worry, I'm sure you've got another outfit you can wear!"

With a toss, a fireball launched at Jaune, making him leap to the side. Barely missing to the point where he could feel the intense heat, he watched in slow-motion as another fireball was closing in on his face. Throwing up his hands, he fell to the floor, grunting as he hit the ground.

A black cloud spread from where he landed, the thick miasma reaching across the floor until the whole floor was covered in the foreboding fog. Ruby and Blake scurried to the top of the bleacher, every fiber of their being telling them touching, or even breathing the vapor blanketing the floor could be the last thing they'd ever do. Penny didn't feel this same fear but followed the others up the bleachers as they fled. Yang jumped into the air, watching as hands rise from underneath her to grab at her. She didn't want to think what would happen if she was caught by them.

"Hey!" She called out. "Nice trick, but you're still wide open!" Yang was about to summon another fireball when she suddenly felt something grab her shoulder. Something colder than ice, so cold that it burned! She turned, finding a horrifying skeletal face gazing back at her. She wanted to scream, but felt her body lock up in fear. Was this it? Was this the end?

"ENOUGH!" Professor Goodwitch stood panting from the top of the staircase, and the black fog and the grabbing hands and the skeleton face all now fully disappeared. "I think... I think that..."

"Allow me, Professor Goodwitch."

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

Ozpin: While I encourage pushing each other to our very limits, I also believe that setting boundaries is just as imperative in our mana development. Especially when canceling mana puts a strain on our dear deputy headmistress.

Goodwitch: Hah... Hah...

Ozpin: So, let's all take a break and discuss what we did right, what we did wrong, and how we can improve on ourselves. Hm... In fact, sparring matches such as these shall be postponed until you all write an essay on the subject.

Ruby: Even us?

Ozpin: I considered having only these two writing it, but I believe the bystanders are just as at fault as the participants. So yes, I will expect essays from you three as well.

Ruby: Ah, man... (Looks to Penny)

Blake: Don't even think about it.

Ruby: I wasn't!

Ozpin: Are you alright, Professor Goodwitch?

Goodwitch: ...I am now. It's been a long time since I've had to undo mana that powerful. Ozpin, you knew, didn't you? You knew that he-

Ozpin: Yes, I did. (Looks to Jaune) And that is why he is here. So that he can use it in the best way possible.

Jaune: So, uh, how'd I do, guys?

Blake: (Stepping away)

Ruby: (Hiding behind Penny)

Jaune: Guys?

Penny: They are terrified of you.

Jaune: What?! Why?! What happened?!

Penny: Your magic had nearly harmed them, as well as Yang. If Yang had not taken to the air with her draconic mana, it is very unlikely that she would have survived.

Yang: Sheesh, way to talk about a girl behind her back. (Slaps Jaune's back) And you, man! What the heck was that? Nearly had me, ya know!

Jaune: I... don't really know.

Yang: Well, whatever it was, you only scared me a little bit!

Penny: Actually, you were the most terrified of the group.

Yang: Would you get outta here!

Jaune: Ruby? Blake? Are you guys... Are you guys scared of me?

Blake: ...Fear is beneath me.

Jaune: Huh?

Yang: Always the poet, huh, Blake?

Jaune: What about you, Ruby? Are you scared?

Ruby: ...Not anymore. You did scare me, though! Something about your mana just... It doesn't feel good Jaune. Like, it feels dangerous.

Jaune: Oh...

Yang: ...But?

Ruby: But... so did Yang's mana.

Jaune: Huh?

Ruby: Yeah, like, when I was starting to use my mana, Yang's mana used to scare me so bad! Then I started to get used to it. And now my hair doesn't even stand on end anymore!

Yang: Just give it time, do some practice with it, and everything should be fine. Right, Blake?

Blake: ...We still have to write our essays.

Yang: Always gotta bring down the mood, don't you?

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

Ozpin: That went quite well.

Goodwitch: Our students nearly died, Ozpin.

Ozpin: But they didn't. We got lucky, and lucky isn't always a bad thing. We caught the issue in time, so we don't have to worry about the council taking matters into their own hands.

Goodwitch: They will eventually, Ozpin. Sooner or later, they'll find out we don't just have a necromancer in attendance. We have one of the four horsemen.

#rwby #rwby au #monster school au #supernatural superschool au #jaune arc #ruby rose #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #penny polendina #ozpin #glynda goodwitch

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neverchecking · 1 year

Note

How about Yandere! Wild and Twilight X Lynel Reader?

I'm not sure if you wanted poly or not? So I went separately.

I also wasn't sure what you meant by Lynel reader? I think you meant a hyrbid, which is sort of what I went with. I hope you like!

・❥・You were such a rarity. Something he never would've thought possible if it weren't for the fact that you were right here with him.

・❥・You had the horns, the claws, the teeth, and even fur around your wrists and neck. But the rest of you seemed so...Hylian.

・❥・It threw him for a loop at first.

・❥・But when he got over it and realized you were in fact more scared of him than he was of you?

・❥・Oh, you were so cute.

・❥・He lures you in with meat skewers, gently building a bridge of fragile trust between the two of you. It strengthens over time as you reveal that you aren't as dangerous as he originally thought.

・❥・Your more of an oversized cat if anything.

・❥・You'll chase the reflected spot of his shield on the grass, pouncing on it and peering into your hands as if something would be there, tail flickering wildly behind you.

・❥・You'd scrunch your nose and swat at things that displeased you, even going as far as skittering away if he insisted with a goofy grin.

・❥・You purred when you rested you head on his thigh and he scratched that one particular spot behind your hear, burrowing further into him.

・❥・Everything about you was so gloriously you.

・❥・And he couldn't let that be taken. He knew that people would take one look at you and deem you a threat. Baring their weapons at you and demanding you leave.

・❥・Which just wouldn't stand. No, he had to make sure you remained by his side no matter what.

・❥・Since his house is on the outskirts of town, it's rare people come close enough to spot you, but on the rare occasion someone does he's hunting them down and swearing them to secrecy.

・❥・If that fails to work and they blab, he can rest easily for a few reasons. 1) He's still the hero. People won't ever believe that piece of scum. Because Link is the good guy. Why would he be hiding any spawn of a Lynel in his home?

・❥・2) He now has a reason to prove his point. He's dragging the person to a remote place, maybe literally with the help of rope and the back of the Master Cycle Zero, maybe not, and making sure they would never talk again.

・❥・Because he can't lose you. He can't. He's lost so much and he just can't lose you.

・❥・He's gotten too used to your warmth and your weight when you sleep beside him

・❥・The way you just curl around him to keep him safe, even when he feels the worlds against him.

・❥・The way you know just what to do and can not only keep up with him on adventures, but surpass him in some things (You are one hell of an archer) , and he can count on one hand how many people can do that.

・❥・(It's one. It's you.)

・❥・He can't lose that. So he won't.

・❥・Twilight doesn't even know what A lynel is man, (I don't remember any ever being in TP) so when you come up to him, sniffing at his wolf form, he's taken aback.

・❥・...What in Hylia's name are you?

・❥・Your friendly in the very least, even if you lope like an animal on all fours. Your claws gleam with fur thick enough to rival his own. He would almost thing you a shifter like him. If not for your very Hylian, very attractive, face.

・❥・ He regarding you like a wild animal, keeping low with his ears back.

・❥・In response, you flop onto your back, tail covering your fragile tummy, but otherwise making no move to roll over when he approaches once more.

・❥・It kind of rattles him, with the trust you show him right off the back, but it does it moreso when your hand gestures to the center of your collarbone than back to him.

・❥・ He tilts his head, an ear flopping with it, before your rolling over and- did you just roll your eyes?

・❥・ You keep to all fours, looking down at your hands than back to him before standing and gesturing to your full stance and then back to him.

・❥・...What-

・❥・Lynels are probably pretty good at getting reads on body language and magic since most (In botw and totk) don't get agro unless you draw your weapon or run past them), so Reader can probably pick up Twilight's dark magic relatively quickly.

・❥・When he shifts in front of you, your not even shocked.

・❥・He is, staring at you like some unknown entity.

・❥・But you grow on him, especially when you refuse to leave his side.

・❥・You help a lot in Ordon. Your amplified strength help Rusl and Mayor Bo with the farming and such.

・❥・Your able to better communicate with the goats so Fado loves you.

・❥・Hell, even the kids love climbing all over you, snuggling into your hair and fur and tugging on your horns. All of which you take with all the grace of a lazy cat that cannot be bothered.

・❥・You do give a low groan when fingers start toying with your lips and pointing at your sharp teeth, in which Twilight steps in to shoo them off.

・❥・Any time an outsider tries anything with you, Twilight doesn't even have to do anything because the Ordonians do it for him, telling them off and forcing them out of the village.

・❥・You don't even have to hear about it because Twilight is leading you back to your shared home for a well earned bath.

・❥・That if nothing else. Karma will come back to bite them.

・❥・Afterall, the woods are dangerous at night. Especially with the uptick in wolf attacks.

・❥・Nothing stops him from tracking them down when your well and asleep and tearing them to shreds.

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deafsignifcantother · 2 months

Text

if music be the food of love chapter 9

♥ here you go lovies, it’s series time | chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter ten ♥ summary: just some cute interaction shit, him references the beginning paragraph of chapter four. ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (now it's in the stage between queerplatonic to romance) ♥ word count: 4.1k ♥ pinterest board ' it has outfit inspo in it now ♥ notes: alastor picks up reader, the ending is ambigious but THEY DON'T HAVE SEX THEY DON'T HAVE SEX I SWEAR. ♥ also: i wanna thank the two ppl who actively comment / reblog my posts bc you keep my motivation up and on tumblr for someone who does niche shit like me sometimes it's like posting into a void of people who don't gaf so I'm grateful for you two, off topic but my sweetheart is incarcerated and i talk about this show/story so much he asked me to print it out and send it to him so in a few chapters i'll show his review LMFAOOOO

"You look so handsome," you sign before running your fingers across his poofed ascot and feeling how his chest moves as he breathes. The flicker and yellow hue of the fireplace stretch over the walls and against your body. He steps forward and looms over you, gaze downwards, hands crossed behind his back. He lets you pamper him so.

You tilt your head, getting a good look at the outline of his angular face, and he mirrors your movements, keeping his eyes on yours.

"Alastor," you tap your thumb against the side of your head, "if you swear your loyalty to me you're going to let me dress you like you dress me, but only for today. Let me humiliate you just this once."

But to you, it's not humiliation. The white lace ascot is tucked into a button-up similar to the one he already wears, hidden behind a brown vest. Instead of his red overcoat, you've fitted him into brown, as you call it, "morning coat." He shouldn't be so stubborn; it's still a tailcoat. The floral vest makes him want to vomit, especially since there's no single breast pocket. He's lucky you didn't force him into shorts.

Still, his hands remain locked behind his back, putting no effort into responding. Your face has an unforgettable expression; you're pretty proud of yourself. The switched roles are having you giddy, whether or not he decides to wear the outfit outside this room. You dress modestly to your living self, as he intends to with himself, but if he tried to warp your sense of style into his generation, you will return the favor. He's dressed as modest as he prefers, with a dash of upper-class flare.

"Look, we're matching decades. It's not that bad, is it?"

The silent treatment is the most childish thing he's pulled in a while.

"Is it the vest?"

He shivers when you touch it, no matter how light your fingers press into the thick fabric. Are you doing this on purpose? Testing your luck?

He half-listens, half-focuses on the look in your eyes. He's lost himself, truly. There's an undeniable eerie similarity: 'You had lost your mind' is how he described you—how hypocritical. There's something else keeping him locked in your eyes.

His outfit does not fit his aesthetic but perfectly matches your outfit. He's scared that if he looks down at the two of you together, the word love will be truer than he originally intended.

Your late-18th century scooped neckline, lace outlining every curve, how dare you, is more appealing than he ever imagined. Every portrait he's seen in museums could not portray how gorgeous the intricately silky dresses look on a woman as exquisite as you. The coffee-colored fabric with deep green layers on the hips screams royalty. Is this your ideal appearance or how you appeared when you were alive? A special glow emanated from the dress when the fireplace's glimmer reflected off the pale flower pinned next to your collarbone. You were born for compliments.

Consideration is what keeps you two from clawing at each other.

You turn away, ultimately giving up on trying to garner a reaction from him, pulling open one of the drawers on his bookshelf, already far too comfortable in his room. He relaxes his arms.

You pull out a hairbrush, turning to him. Did you hide that when he wasn't looking? Your cocky smile answers his internal question.

"I'm making myself at home," you tilt your entire body by the waist when you sign, your smile remaining its tone. The intense conversation the two of you had nights before had boosted your confidence by an unmeasurable amount. You now enter his room without him, folding your night clothes and placing them in the corner of his desk. A few pairs of your shoes stay next to his door. The pins you use to keep your hair up when you dress closer to your generation sit on his bedside table. And he allows all of it.

The red dress stays draped over his lounge chair.

He palms his hand towards you, waiting for you to give him the brush. You keep it in your grasp, signing. "It's not for me."

His spine straightens. "No."

"Let me."

"No."

"We can make a deal."

Though sparking his interest, he still shakes his head and keeps his fingers in the same shape. "No."

You put the brush handle in your mouth, using both free hands to scold him. "Don't be such a baby, Alastor, come here. I doubt it will even do anything to your hair, it'll just be fun."

"And what makes you think I would ever let you do that?"

"Because you like me, and I'm serious, I feel as if the only way I can get you to agree is if we make a deal, you selfish man. So let's make a deal. What do you want me to do?"

His head tilts slightly. His eyes circle your face, landing on the brush still between your teeth. His cheeky smile widens. "How about this? You get to brush my hair, and in return, I get to ask you a question. Simple enough, wouldn't you say?"

You bite down a bit, your eyes blinking with uncertainty. Your emotional response gets pushed away. "Fair. I do love these games you play. Now come here."

You motion him to approach the bed, striding over. He waits until your hand stops moving before stepping closer, looking down at you before sitting in front of your body. "Be gentle, my dear."

That's his last response before you climb on the bed behind him. If you scoot any closer, your knees will straddle him. Your eyes fall to your thighs, where you genuinely consider being so close to him. Not now.

Your fingers find their way to the back of Alastor's head, the coarseness of his nape leading to a softness. He jolts, mind going to calm himself with a deep breath. His eyes narrow, flickering around his room, trying to find something to cling to. He lets out a quiet huff of air.

The bristle goes through smoothly. There's nothing to this activity except you trying to conclude why he likes sitting you down and doing the same. You avoid his ears, knowing well his distaste for them. You've never wanted to touch them, and you aren't going to start now.

Seeing him in the position reminds you how much you adore him from behind. He seems so vulnerable. It takes everything in you to not run your hands across his shoulders and down his back. You've only touched his shoulder blades while hugging, so what do they feel from this angle? Your eyes explore his body while your hands stay working.

You don't notice when he reaches behind him, bending his hand to run his knuckles next to your thigh. When you don't react, he presses his nails against the bottom of your leg, a warning, and your hands stop.

Chest to back, you peek your head over his shoulder. He tilts his head slightly, nose close to yours, meeting your eyes in a side-eye. From this close, you can see the individual hairs of his eyelashes and the deep shade of his eyelids.

"You're very pretty, Alastor." The signs come absentmindedly, hardly visible to him. You don't even look at his eyes when you say it; your gaze goes from his face to the front of his hair. His smile wavers.

As if you hadn't said anything, you slide off the bed and stand before him, altering his bangs and seeing more of his face.

When you finally meet eyes again, you're brought back to reality by his sly gleam.

He puts a finger on your speaker, pushing you back just a bit, giving you room to see his hands. "You're flattering me, my dear. Careful, or someone might think you have a crush."

"How horrible that would be," you just give him a casual grin. The hairbrush goes back in your mouth while you manipulate his hair from the front, aimlessly adjusting his locks, simply fidgeting. A part of you wants to stay here, your hands on him, standing over him. He's so docile sitting in front of you. When you take a small step back, his stare follows your face, his bright red eyes gaining your attention. He has to look upwards to meet your eyes.

Without an ounce of self-control, you reach forward and place your hands on his cheeks, thumb brushing against the soft fuzz on his cheekbones. The tips of your fingers are lost in his hair, and your palms' temperature gets corrupted by his warmth.

His eyes widen. You hold his face with a firm grasp. You're holding The Radio Demon with a firm grasp. He should kill you for this. But instead, he takes a steadying breath and tries to smile wider. "What are you doing, my dear? Trying to make me lose my composure?"

Your hands fly back, teeth piercing the handle of the hairbrush. You step away from him. "Don't be weird, jeez." And with a racing heart rate, you tuck the brush back into his drawer. Not even a few seconds go by before he places a hand by yours, making you jump. He leans his body into your vision.

Both of his hands lift, fingers loose, his signs smug. "But we're not done yet, remember? I get to ask you a question."

You calm your face, your demeanor slipping into an overlord's professionalism. You turn to him fully. "Right now?" You've both returned to normalcy: him looming over you, staring down through his monocle. He is hovering so generously that it's hard to think.

You give him a slow blink. "Yes, go ahead. I promise honesty."

For a second, he considers asking a more invasive question, something personal. But he decides it would be unfair to catch you off guard. "Darling... I'm curious. Did you know you sing when you sleep?"

Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls open. Sing? You've never been told that before. He continues before you can find words, recognizing he caught you off guard anyway.

"It comes through here," he taps on the speaker. "I can hear it clear as day."

When you still don't lift your hands, he shrugs with glowing eyes, taking up the space for conversation with his own signs. "Oh sweetheart, you looked shocked! Are you surprised by that information? Were you not aware? Isn't it strange~? What do you possibly dream about?"

"I haven't the slightest clue." And then you look away, tired of the interrogation, leaving him by the dresser as you approach his bed again, sitting down before falling backward. Your feet dangle off the edge by your knees. What can you even make from this information? It's been so long since you've been alive that you have no recollection of any details. Perhaps you were a gorgeous singer, or perhaps you were still Deaf but dreamed of fame. There's not even a way for you to find out. It is hardly surprising you would acquire any emotion other than peak uncertainty.

If he was trying to respond, then you couldn't tell. He made no effort to get your attention. But by the slight bounce of the mattress, he sat down hard enough to let you feel his presence. He stares at your fingers, how the rest limply against the mattress, and fights a battle in his head to not touch them. He loves your fingers, the beautiful way they wiggle when you sign something teasing, and how they grip his hair whenever he wraps his hands around your waist. Very enticing, welcoming.

You only look over when another bounce comes, and Alastor is lying by your side, on his back, just like you. His eyes flicker over your softened gaze.

You can almost read his mind as you interlock your fingers with his, only loosely, enough for him to pull away if he wanted to with a mere flex of his hand. But he stays there, not tightening the grasp and not inching away.

You give him a small smile, lifting your other hand. "Do I sound good at least?"

"Sweet like honey."

"That's good," you say, wanting to end the conversation by looking back at the ceiling, but something in you tells you to stay looking at him. His hair spreads across his blanket, almost blending in with the shade. The back of his head will definitely need brushing now, and your smile grows at the thought.

His claws wrap around the joints of your fingers delicately, and his rough gloves prickle your skin. Fingers with remarkable penmanship are fingers that would tear you apart without hesitation.

You lift your other hand again weakly, signing with the ghost of your second. "That means a lot coming from you."

His smile grows, other hand lifting, and with the purest form of fluency, "What does that mean, my dear? Surprised that the Radio Demon can be so honest?"

"Definitely. Darling, you're a pessimist."

His fingers grip your wrist, pulling you closer to him by the hand. With one hand pinning yours, he puts his weight on that elbow to prop himself up. "A pessimist? Me? I beg to differ, sweetheart. I'm just a realist, I see Hell for what it is."

You let him grip your hand, holding you in place, and you hide a laugh. As if you'd run away.

"Every pessimist says that." Time slows. The two of you had plans for today, but they seemed to melt away. You'd rather spend eternity in this moment, him wearing clothes from your era, leaning over you, hand on yours. "So cliche, my love."

Alastor gives you a roll of his eyes. My love. You've called him that before, but with you laying so close to him, the words strike his heart. He doesn't overlook the twitching in the corner of your lips, the teasing amusing you more than him. He mentally prepares to grab your face but fights the urge and pulls away to respond. "Ah, but says the one getting close and personal with a man like me, using words like 'my love' and 'darling.' You're the cliche one."

You let out a childish laugh before you can stop it. You wiggle your wrist, getting your hand free enough to wrap your fingers in his. "That's fair, you win."

He pauses. He lets out a deep hum. Seeing you laugh and knowing your happiness affects him sends waves of contentment through his entire body. With a few deep breaths, he pushes the biased feeling aside, playing it off with a purposeful flicker of his ears and a bend of his neck. "What can I say, my dear? I always win."

"How I've always loved your charisma."

He finds himself unable to do anything but stare into your eyes. He takes a few seconds to cherish your features. The position you both find yourself in is casual, and though he struggles with the emotional pull, he doesn't leave your touch. His signs are small. "My charisma? You flatter me, my dear."

There's a comfort in his eyes that is foreign to you. It's a bit terrifying. How is somebody so evil finding such peace with you? Alastor feels his breath catch in his throat when your eyes cushion against his stare. Something within him aches in response to your affection. He wants to look away but can't tear his vision from yours. He squeezes your hand almost automatically. He doesn't know how to deal with the sensations your kindness gives him. You are practically perfect and here with him, tolerating him. For once, words fail him. With a shaky breath, he simply looks at you with a bewildered expression.

"Alastor?" You whisper, almost to yourself, before you return to signing. His breathing had quickened, his eyes locked on yours as if he couldn't look at anything else. You furrow your eyebrows. "Do you want to sit up?"

His pupils dilate at the sound of his name. He nods mutely. "Uhm... yes. Yes, I do."

His eyes never leave yours as he sits up, wholly memorized by the sight of you. The fact that you are willing to be so close to him and that frail tone of voice screams weakness in a way that he loves. But you are bolder than most, which will always remind him of your status. He can't name a time when you've openly feared him.

You sit up with him, nervously keeping your eyes on his, put off by his adamance. Throughout the years you've known each other, he's always offered you kindness, but this is different. This is sensual, personal. Your heart rate increases.

You pull your hand back, trying to gauge whether he wants you to stop touching him.

He watches your hand slip away, and a quiet panic sets in his stomach. He doesn't want this moment to stop. Not this sudden. The thought of losing the feeling of your hand in his breaks him. As if on instinct, his hand shoots out, gently grabbing your wrist. His eyes widen as if surprised by his own action. It takes him a second to remember how to sign.

"Wait... wait a minute, darling. Please, just stay close."

"Okay..." You fingerspell. Your eyes widen. The desperation in his bewildered eyes provokes nothing but caution. Is he just touch-starved? Or does he want this touch from you? You make sure to stay close, to not pull away. The warmth of his body gives you goosebumps; he's much warmer than you are. He had taken your wrist in his hand. What is he doing?

You are so close. Almost unimaginably so. Alastor doesn't dare move a muscle, afraid he will ruin the moment. He swallows, gathering every ounce of courage he has. Slowly, gently, he pulls your wrist forward, moving your hand close to him. "Stay here. Please."

"Alastor, are you okay?" Your eyebrows furrow. Your hand stays in the air while your brain searches for a follow-up question. What happened? Did I do something? "Do you... want a hug?"

What a strange question. A hug? Are you pitying him? His ears threaten to fold back, but he holds his breath. If he wanted a hug he would have taken one from you. But his hands move before he can stop himself. "Yes... yes, a hug."

With another okay, you pull your hand away from his grip and wrap your arms around his torso. He knows immediately where your hands are going to find themselves. You grip between his shoulder blades, head laying against his chest. Your head rests against his silky ascot. His breathing moves your upper half. His hands tremble when he gingerly wraps his arms around you, keeping you secure against his body. He has to resist the urge to press his chin against the top of your head and hold you with all his strength. He closes his eyes, imagining how pliable your body would be if he broke all of your bones in his grip.

After a few seconds of glancing around one side of the room, you press your chin against his sternum, looking up, eyes only able to capture the edge of his jawline. Your music gives you away. Should you wrap your arms around his shoulders? Run your fingers through his hair? Those thoughts go ignored as you stay in place, waiting for him to move.

But you don't have to wait long.

He can hear your quiet breaths, feel your face against him. When you move your head, even though the movement is small, something in him breaks. Without thinking, he adjusts his arm to grip your waist, the other finding its way to the back of your head. He pulls your head back so he can look you in the eyes. Your lips part, and your breathing quickens. Your body language shatters all your composure. You can practically collapse against him and give your life to him. In this moment, if he asked for your soul, you'd say yes without hesitation.

You're so kind, so sincere, so vulnerable in his arms. You trust him and look at him with such intense eyes. His claws dig into the fabric of your dress, his fingers gripping you like a lifeline. He refuses to remove a hand to say anything.

But you wiggle a hand between the two of you, signing with only three motions. "Are you going to kiss me?"

The words hit him like a truck. Heat flushes in his chest. He almost forgets sign language; his eyes are locked onto your fingers as you touch them to your lips. You had asked if he was going to kiss you, to kiss you. The thought is almost too much. Without a second thought, he removes one of his hands, not caring for the little to no space between you two. "Yes, I am... may I?"

And with a bright smile, "You may."

Your hand rests on his cheek, he leans into your palm. He wants to say something witty, or clever, or charming but instead he just presses the smallest of kisses on your lips, multiple of them, each equally experimental. Once he pulls away, he cups your cheek, brushing his thumb over your lips.

The feeling of a pair of lips against his is new, but not unwelcomed. His mind tells him to push your body into his and ravish you right then and there. Instead, he focuses his mind on your chest as it moves up and down, your music drowning his senses. The people outside will surely be able to hear it. An explanation will be needed. He presses his forehead against yours, and you lean forward, practically nuzzling each other like cats. He doesn't dare to shut his eyes, even though you close yours. Your smile is addicting and beautiful; it would be lovely and stitched into permanence.

The soft moment is broken when he grips your chin, pulling you to meet his gaze. His signing is low but obvious. "You're going to be the death of me, my dear."

"Then we shall die together." You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into another kiss, trapping him in. There's no reality where you continue fighting the urge to press yourself against him. Though not sexual and not perceived to be, you have been daydreaming about this moment for decades, and you won't let it go to waste. He makes an unheard, involuntary noise when you pull him forward into another kiss. You're maddening. He reciprocates, interlocking his fingers around your waist. Your nails pull at his hair, and he clenches his fingers. He's positive you can feel his heart, just as he can feel yours through the pulsing of your speaker. An almost embarrassing shiver courses through his body.

When his body starts to tense, and his hands grip so hard that he causes himself to bleed, he pulls away, fighting against your grip. His fingers release, and he takes a quick step back. When your eyes misjudge his actions, his hands lift. "My apologies, I'm afraid I need some air."

You place a hand on your chest and feel your beating heart. "That's okay."

He slackens the knot of his ascot, pulling it loose with one movement, releasing his neck and removing it from his body. You think he will grab your hand when his claws reach you, but he pulls your speaker out of you, silencing the giveaway. With it being tossed on the bed, his hands go to your thighs as he lifts you, your dress puffing up around his arms. You gasp, hands reaching his nape again, and he lifts his head and presses kisses against your neck.

The breath you release is loud, giving away his actions more than your music ever could. His ears even wince at the sound. How salacious of you.

With his tongue dragging up your skin, he gets a good taste of you. Perhaps one day, he'll make you his meal, and the two of you will be together forever. But that thought will be put on the back burner.

"Oh, my dear," he whispers into your neck. "Aren't you a special one?"

When your fingers tug tighter, he lifts his head, meeting your eyes.

Without speaking, your lips mouth four words. "I love you, Alastor."

His open-mouthed smile widens, tongue dragging across his teeth. His following words go unread by you. "Good girl."

anyway wedding day outfits from her culture but it's them. my friend said his fav thing about them is that "alastor is with someone whose titties are out 70% of the time".

#hazbin hotel #x deaf reader #x reader #reblog #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #x deaf s/o #deaf community #if music be the food of love

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komorim · 1 year

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to generations after us

-> kamisato ayato x f!reader

[ synopsis. ] a while has passed since the death of your husband, and everything seemed to have changed but nothing seemed to have changed at the same time. your routine and life will always be constant, yet the scenery and people of inazuma will never be identical to the ones before. and neither will your heart.

‣ when the sky weeps ⋮ find the masterlist here !!

[ content warnings. ] character death. reader has children with ayato. angst. mentions of suicide. suicidal thoughts. there’s not a lot to say; it’s not dark content. reader is a kitsune from japanese folklore.

[ word count. ] 1.7k

[ author’s note. ] hooray! the first one shot of my pair of one shot collections! i’m starting to regret making myself suffer through writing twelve oneshots, but it is what it is :p please bear in mind that updating of the collections won’t be very fast (like any of my updates :x) but i will try to upload two at a time, one for each collection. i originally planned on having the initial upload be four one shots so you all have something to read while i’m cooking up the rest, but i only got three done and i decided to just post one first :x

day one, day two, day three. how many days has passed was originally clear to you at first, but then there came one point in time that you lost track. when you lost track of the number of days passed since one of the biggest milestones in your ever lasting life.

since the day your husband, the love of your life, the father of your children, had passed away.

looking back on it now, you don't believe that your life had much of a change after his death. after all, it wasn’t your first time experiencing loss. yet this time was somewhat different. it wasn’t just a friend or a mortal you had attachment to that passed. no. it was your husband, the one who who married you, the one you mothered children with, the one you gave your heart to.

the first couple of days were dreadful, trying to comfort your children from the pain of losing their father and having to deal with awful words thrown at you because you haven’t shed a tear.

but what do they know?

as a mother, how could you make your children worry for you when they’re already mourning? how could you cry your heart out and voice your desire to die with him? you didn’t have the liberty of doing so.

so you could only resort to silently weeping as your hand rests over what was once ayato’s side of the bed. in the middle of the night, all you could think about was how regretful you were that you weren’t by his side, how you couldn’t hear his last words nor caress his face like you once did one last time. yet after weeks of barely sleeping, you still had to act as if you were okay in order to not raise the attention of your children.

though day by day, you continue such behavior and the negativity that surrounds you only grows.

seeing the kamisato estate as it was before, the same the last time you saw ayato slowly crumbled your will into pieces. you can almost see him in the shadows, smiling at you as he calls you to come join him for dinner, frowning as he scolds your laziness, smirking as he looks at your flushed face when he walks out of the shower half naked, humming as he walks down the hallways.

it’s all too familiar.

everything and anything reminds you of him. his cologne is still placed in the same place last time he used it. his toothbrush still sits in the stand next to yours. his coat still hangs by the door. his shoes still rest on the rack.

nothing seems to have changed, but everything did.

the streets on inazuma city still look the same as when you and him last went on a date. your favorite food stand is still selling your usual order. the trees are still in full blossom.

yet your loving commissioner isn’t there anymore.

how are you supposed to keep pretending? how are you supposed to reassure your children again and again that you’re taking his death well when that red moving object in your chest cavity has long withered and died?

how can you hug them and looks at them when their features resemble half of his?

you had missed him too much, and wanted to feel him and smell the scent of him terribly. you wanted to hug him, and kiss him, and ask for him to comfort you as he always did. then your attention fell onto the the white coat he wears everyday. it was bound to be covered in his scent, and after contemplating whether it was worth it to destroy the way he left things, you gave in to the urge.

bringing the coat back to the bed, you cuddled up to it and hugged it tightly, breathing in the faint scent of ayato. the crumpling of paper you heard was odd, knowing that it wasn’t a sound a normal coat was supposed to make. and when you pulled out the now slightly wrinkled envelope, tears started to pool in your eyes when you recognized the familiar penmanship.

you opened the seal carefully, not wanting to destroy the last thing he left you, and you pulled out the piece of paper that has already aged. it made you wonder how long ago he had first wrote this.

how long ago was he expecting his abrupt end.

my dear, the love of my life, my darling fox,

you hadn’t even begun to read its contents before a choked sob forced its way through your throat, emotional already at the mention of his pet names for you. names that you loved to hear.

how are you doing? probably not so good since you most likely are reading this after the news of my death. you can almost hear his light chuckle. i once remember you asking me why it is that i started to keep one hand in my pocket out of habit. now you probably know why. even without me telling you, you were always so very smart and perceptive. which was why it made me so nervous trying to keep this letter a secret. as your beloved husband, i know i shouldn’t be keeping secrets from you, but i had to. i knew you’d give me an earful if you knew about me writing such a letter when i’m “so young and have many years ahead of me.” but i had to write something like this soon. because who knows when i might die? the thought of it breaks my heart as well, but we both knew this would happen one day. after all, i am a mortal. if i had the choice, i would sell my soul and more to obtain immortality, since how could i bear to just leave you one day? but it’s the inevitable truth that my end will definitely come before yours. so i keep looking, keep staring at your face and features, trying to engrave them into my mind and heart and soul so that i never forget you even long after i’ve passed. even as i write this, i often glance up at your sleeping features on the bed. how beautiful you are. and how it saddens me to imagine those beautiful features i love distort into pain and grief. which is why i hope i can stay longer, just a bit longer. one more minute, one more hour, one more day. i hope that with my presence, i can make you smile for that much longer. though i understand that your smile from the day i die on will probably only be for the sake of presentation. to reassure, to comfort. after all, you never truly smiled until you fell in love with me. and that’ll always be the proudest achievement of my life. but please, don’t be too saddened by my passing. i understand the love you harbor for me, but please don’t let it be the reason you’re awake at night. a mortal’s life is short compared to yours, and you still have many years, many decades, many centuries. without me, you still have our children, and their children, and their children, and many generations after. you are never alone, my love. and there will be much, much more people in the future who will love and accompany you as i did.

the letter wasn’t complete, since you had a habit of calling him to bed every time he stayed up working. but you knew the purpose that the letter was supposed to serve. to make you feel better. but the day by day torture and regret that you put yourself through has already put you into an abyss so deep that a simple farewell letter couldn’t pull you out.

you became secluded, just like how your life was before a certain kamisato rudely interrupted.

he swept in, rescuing you from fox hunters when he was no better. the hunters wanted your life, and him making you fall in love and then leaving is no different. and the more you think about it, the more resent grows, and the moment of comfort that the letter brought you was long forgotten.

he wooed you with his sweet words and warm smile until you willingly handed him your heart. and then he left you alone, just like nothing had happened. but what was worse was that he didn’t just leave, no, he took your heart with him too.

you were used to loneliness for centuries. you enjoyed the leisurely life you had. but now that you’ve seen happiness, seen companionship, seen love, how were you supposed to go back to your previous life?

it’s cruel. what he did was unforgiving. and asking you not to despair? it was selfish.

he was alike a caretaker that has made an animal dependent on him and then pushed them back into the wild. a caretaker that stripped the abilities of hunting and survival from a wild animal before abandoning them once again. a caretaker that rescued an animal in need before blowing out the fire of hope.

how could he? more importantly, how are you going to survive without your caretaker? you’ve grown used to it all in this habitat that you loved, and now you can’t imagine a life without him.

you’ve grown miserable, resentful, to the point that you can’t help but want to tell him that you’ll never forgive him for the rest of your life.

but you can’t. you love him too much, gave him your all and more. he’s the man you loved, the first and only man you loved, and the one that loved you the most. how could you ever have it in your heart to hate him? how could you hate someone that first thought about you when the idea of their own death comes into mind?

one moment you’re screaming, sobbing from all the pain and anguish, and the next you’re begging for something, somewhere, that they could bring him back to you.

because without her caretaker, the silly fox that already gave her heart away would die in the wild.

do not copy or repost my works. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated.

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 8 months

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Falling Part Four | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Lana meets some of Jae's friends and you have your first close look at what Jungkook has become. Pairing: Guardian Angel f!reader x Fallen Angel Jungkook Word Count: 1.6k~ a/n: this chapter is a bit shorter but I wanted to have everything what happens at the party be in one chapter and that would've made this one a little too long (plus I'm not even sure what's going to happen at the party yet hehe. I guess we'll all have to wait and see 🤭)

The next few days are almost exactly the same, Lana gets up, we go to classes, she goes to lunch, meets Jae in the hall and they go to trigonometry class together. Lana tries to focus as much as she can while still taking shy glances over to Jae where he somehow always seems to already be looking at her which makes it even harder for her to focus and then after that he walks her to class. The same things day in and day out.

Jae has offered to give Lana a ride home a few more times when they've bumped into each other after school but she, like the smart girl that she is, hasn't said yes yet. As she sits in the place she always waits for her mom at she sees Jae and a few other guys who by the looks of it are probably some of his close friends walking up to her.

"Hey, Lana!" Jae calls out, a smile blooms on her face as she waves, waiting for them to get closer before saying anything. "You waiting for your mom?" he asks, pretty much stating the obvious at this point.

"Yeah, she said she's gonna be a little late but with the weather being so nice I decided to skip out on going to the library today" she replies and takes a couple of glances at the two guys that seem to be just a few steps behind on either side of Jae.

"Hello" she says giving them each a soft smile. "Oh sorry my bad, Lana this is Slash and Rocket, guys this is Lana" he says turning around to stand next to me so I can see them better. "So this is the girl you've been talking about" the one I believe is Rocket teases.

"You've been talking about me?" she questions, turning back to Jae who's ears seem to be getting a little red at the tips. "Um yeah, just a bit" he says scratching the back of his neck.

"Just a bit? More like everyday" Rocket continues, receiving a elbow to the ribs from Jae as a waring to quit talking but he decides to do it back to him in retaliation.

"He comes to hang out with us after he walks you to class so that's why we all know about you" Slash explains to Lana in a monotone while Jae and Rocket continue to mess around in the background.

Despite his clear nickname that I don't even want to know the origin story to, I wouldn't mind being friends with him based on his chill nature alone and I think that Lana agrees from the reaction she gives from learning this new information.

"JK is the one that gets on his case the most though" Rocket yells, earning a playful punch to the gut. "JK?" she questions. If I had a choice I would tell her to stay as far away from him as she possibly could since I know exactly who this 'JK' guy is.

"He's just another one of the guys in the group" Jae explains, slightly out of breath after calling a truce with Rocket and walking back over to us. "Is he the guy yelled your name in the hallway the other day?" she asks.

"Yeah actually, he was. Speak of the devil" Jae says as he looks past Lana and seconds later my bracelet starts to go wild again. Jae's wording although playful is far closer to the truth than he thinks but no one but Jungkook and I will ever know the truth. "Hey JK!" Rocket says, the ever energetic one of the group. (His nickname I can see now matches him perfectly)

"Hey" Jungkook says flashing a smile at the group, but not one I'm used to. This one is cocky and full of confidence that I can only imagine stems from his nature of being a newly materialized fallen angel. A deviously glint in his eyes shows when he finally takes notice of Lana.

"Hey" he says in a husky voice which I hate to admit still affects me no matter how much I would love to lie to myself. Lana simply replies with a shy smile and a barely audible greeting, clearly caught off guard by how handsome he is.

I get it girl, I really do but trust me, no good can come from falling for a heartbreaker like him. I would know...

"This must be Lana" Jungkook says and Jae stands next to her protectively, trusting Jungkook but also making it clear that she's his. "Yeah, you're JK right?" she asks, "Smart girl" he taunts, knowing that it'll get under Jae's skin. I swear if this man doesn't back off of Lana I will-

"Anyways, are you gonna bring her to the party tomorrow night?" Jungkook asks before Jae can scold him for talking to her like that.

"What party?" Lana asks, turning all of her attention to Jae. "It's a party JK is throwing for Jae since he's new in town" Rocket says, jumping the gun to bring some focus back on him.

He's clearly more excited than the rest of them at the thought of inviting Lana. Why you might ask? Honestly I have no clue. I swear it's like this boy is the embodiment of the energizer bunny.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to" Jae says, knowing that Lana's mom probably wouldn't want her there and hopefully taking some of the pressure off of her. "Of course she does. You can't have a party without your girl there" Jungkook says, guilt tripping both Lana and Jae. "Your girl?" Lana says again turning towards Jae this time with a playful look on her face.

Jae throws a sideways glance at Jungkook and he's met with a mischievous glint that I can probably assume is one of his new accessories to his personality and it's not something that I'm particularly fond of.

Jae take Lana's hand and pulls her away from the rest of the group as they tease Jae mercilessly still as they walk away but he makes sure to stop when they're far enough for the sound to drown out a bit so they can talk without an audience.

"Don't listen to them they're just teasing" Jae says, a little more on edge from the whole scene. "They seemed nice" Lana laughs, taking some of the weight off of Jae's shoulders. "You think?" he asks, feeling a bit better by seeing her unfiltered reaction. "Yeah! They're a little rowdy and not my average crowd but they were fun!" she says making eye contact and smiling up at him.

Jae visibly melts at Lana's reaction, thankful that she wasn't upset and is clearly getting even more whipped for her than I had originally thought. They've both got it bad for each other.

"Okay good. I was a little nervous when Rocket practically demanded to meet you when we were walking by and then with JK coming too I just-" "Jae, it's fine. I promise you I'm not made out of glass" she says cutting off Jae's rambling and reassuring him.

"Okay good" he lets out in a sigh of relief. "So what do you think?" he asks, anxiously awaiting her answer. "What do I think about what?" she says catching onto what he's referring to but playing coy nonetheless. "Will you go to the party with me?" he asks taking a step closer to her and brushing a strand of hair off of her face.

"Yes" she says smiling up at him, suddenly losing that shyness that she had when she first met Jae and replacing it with a funny feeling, almost as if she would melt if possible.

"Perfect" he says and just before he can say anything else Lana gets a text from her mom saying she's about five minutes away. "Crap my mom is almost here, I've gotta go" she says, rushing over to the bench to grab her stuff. He follows after her, smiling at her cute reaction and goes up to say his goodbyes.

"So I'll see you tomorrow?" he asks, looking down at his shoes for a second with his hands in his pocket, clearly shy about the whole ordeal. She hums in approval and gets on her tippy toes and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. "See you tomorrow" she says and walks off to the pickup spot where her mom will pull up a few minutes later.

As Lana waits for her mom to get here I look back over at Jae and his friends where they are all giving him high fives, clearly congratulating him on the kiss as well as getting Lana to say yes to the party but one in particular has his eyes lingering on Lana, or more in Lana's direction as I can see how Jungkook's eyes are looking every where looking for something as he messes with his bracelet that he's been trying to ignore this whole time.

I can only assume he's looking for me but I can't tell what kind of reaction he would have if he were to see me already. Without a doubt though I know that he knows I'm Lana's guardian angel so I guess it's only a matter of time until we meet again. I just wish that Lana wasn't turning eighteen so soon because I still don't know what I am going to do when I finally have to face him...

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maladaptiv3 · 2 years

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you're not a kid anymore (pt. 1)

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Content: JJ's dad is back, JJ self-isolates to deal with it!

Warning: allusions to past abuse, angst, past trauma, JJ is mid-20s in this, I don't like to write teenage characters (since I am not one)

Word Count: 3,811 - this is long, sorry! I got carried away (it will be multiple parts)

this playlist would be nice to listen to while you read

*original content by maladaptiv3* please do not repost my work

(new screen name hey)

Time was slowly creeping into the territory where you would begin to really worry about where he was and what he was doing. Sure, he would get sort of distant and spend time by himself on the water once in a while, but you always knew where he was and you always, always knew he would trudge in here in the morning before you left for work. This time was different. His dad was back in town. You didn't know much about their relationship, just the small pockets he would share with you and rumors that would make it to your side of the island back in high school. Even as a sometimes acquaintance, you knew no one deserved to be treated like that, especially by someone meant to protect them. Now, you feel an ache in your heart whenever he shuts down because you know why it is happening. Trauma was not just something that one could get over just like that. No matter what you did to try and take his pain away, it was always there, just right behind his bright blue eyes. You often wondered how his eyes could be so soft and inviting when they held onto so much pain and anger.

*four days ago*

He texted you while you were at work, which he rarely does. You opened the message and all it said was, "He's back." You knew exactly who he was, but you did not know what that meant for him. You wanted to run out of your classroom and go to where he was and just hug him—to catch him when he fell. You knew you couldn't. It was remarkable how he could make you want to give in to reckless abandon like you were a teenager. Unfortunately, you were not a teenager. You sent a quick text back, "I love you, baby. I will be home right after school." Your hands trembled for a second as your attention turned back to the lesson you were supposed to be teaching.

The instant the dismissal bell rang you grabbed your bag and walked as fast as you could to your car. The short drive home seemed to take hours. You could not get there fast enough. Thoughts swirled in your mind. You did not know what to expect when you got there. You felt like you needed to prepare yourself for the worst. His car was in the driveway. You slowly turned the key to your front door and cautiously pushed the door open. You walked in and it was quiet. His hips weren't swaying to the radio while he did dishes, how you usually find him when he gets home before you. You set your bag down and peek around the corner and see the back door is open, "Babe?" There is no answer. You make it to the open door and he's sitting in one of the patio chairs, his eyes are red, and he has a cigarette burning between his swollen lips. Your heart sinks as he just holds a hand out for you to take and join him, "How was work?" You begin to sit in the chair next to him but he lightly pulls you toward him indicating he wants you closer, "It was fine, J. Are you okay?" You settle on his lap swinging your legs over the side of his chair as he wraps his arms around you. He flicks the cigarette into the ashtray and buries his head in your chest.

You being to stroke his hair and you feel his body simultaneously relax in your grip and begin to tremble. He's crying, "I don't wanna go see him." You try to pull him closer to you than he already is, "You don't need to, baby. You don't owe him anything." It was quiet for a minute as you ran your fingers through his hair. "I'm gonna go see him tonight." The tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes as he continued to fall apart in your arms. You try your best to keep it a secret, "I can go with you." He looks up at you, his face wet and hair matted to his forehead, "You don't need to." "I want to." He presses a kiss to your clothed chest, "I need you to stay home. I need to do this alone." You tenderly cup one side of his face with your hand and he relaxes into it, kissing your palm, "J, he can't hurt you. You're not a kid anymore." He just takes a deep breath, "I know."

He leaned back in the chair and you guys sat on there for what felt like hours just listening to each other breathe and the waves crash onto the shore. He broke the silence, "I gotta go, sweetheart." You stood up and he followed you. You threw your arms around his neck, balancing on your tip toes, "Be safe, please." His hands found their home on your waist and he squeezed it lightly, pressing a long and deep kiss to your lips. He broke the kiss and looked down at you with those big blue eyes, "I love you." You sniffled and wiped a tear from falling down your cheek, "I love you, too." He kissed you again, "I'll be back tomorrow." You couldn't hide your tears anymore, "Please come home tonight." He kissed you on the forehead before walking away, "I love you so much. I'll see you tomorrow." You shouted after him, "I love you. Forever." He didn't look back as he walked out of the back gate. You knew if he did he wouldn't have left and you knew he needed to, no matter how much neither of you wanted him to go.

That was four days ago.

day one

Admittedly, you hoped he was going to walk through that door sometime during the night. You knew deep down that wasn't going to happen, but you couldn't help yourself from trying to will it to happen. You lay awake most of the night, tossing and turning, worrying about what was happening between him and his father. You knew that it was not an easy decision for him to make—to go and see his father after everything that had happened when he was growing up. At the same time, you knew that he needed to go to see him. He had always wanted more closure than he was afforded when he left that day when JJ was a teenager. Still, selfishly, you wished J hadn't gone. Somewhere between putting your headphones in, playing your and J's favorite songs, and letting your mind wander, you had drifted off to sleep.

You were startled by your alarm. You groaned at the sunlight peeking through the blinds you couldn't be bothered to close last night. You didn't have any messages from J and he still wasn't home. You had a sinking feeling, but he always comes home. Maybe he went straight to work to open the shop. You call him, but he doesn't answer. You swallowed the lump in your throat and decided to leave early to go drive by the shop. You pull into the parking lot and his car isn't there. You notice his motorcycle had been taken out of the garage, which felt unusual. You rummage through your purse for a minute looking for the spare key to the front door. You finally find it and make your way into the garage. It was still dark enough outside so the garage's sensor lights were still on. JJ's truck and the boat were gone. You still didn't like not knowing where he was or if he was safe, but you had some peace knowing where he likely was. You wrote a quick note and left it on his desk before locking back up and heading to work.

Before going to your classroom, you stopped by the office to check your mailbox. You walked into the front office and noticed your box was empty. You walked up to the receptionist counter and you were greeted by the office manager's, Rhonda, smile. You smiled back at her, "Morning, Rhonda." She pushed her bowl of Jolly Ranchers closer to you, "Morning, honey. Want a Jolly Rancher for the road?" She knew your weakness. You picked a couple from the bowl and turned to leave. You stopped and thought for a second, "Hey, Rhonda. Can I ask you something?" She stopped typing on her computer, "Not if you're gonna ask me to change the toner." You smiled and laughed weakly, "No, you don't have to worry about that. I know you too well." Her smile was warm and I think she could tell something was on your mind, "What's on your mind?" I cleared my throat, "Did Joe mention seeing JJ at the shop last night?" She looked a bit puzzled and shook her head no, "I'm sorry, no. Is everything okay?" You quickly shook your head yes, "Yeah, everything's fine. He's just going through something right now. Have a good day, Rhonda." "You too."

day two

It had been just over 24 hours since you had last seen him. These days, he never disappears for this long without checking in. You tried your best to keep your mind from going to dark places. Sometimes those thoughts go the best of you though. You were at a loss. You checked all of his usual corners after school yesterday and came up empty. You couldn't exactly take the boat out and look for him on the water, he had the damn boat.

You didn't want to get anyone else involved. What use was it to worry everyone if he was fine? Probably fine. He's fine. You were going to drive yourself crazy if you didn't at least reach out to John B. It was early, but you still dialed his number. You could tell you woke him up by the rasp in his voice, "Hello?" It was a question, not a greeting. He was still half asleep and probably very confused as to why you were calling him so early, or even calling him in the first place. You took a deep breath choking back tears, but your voice still trembled, "Hey, I'm so sorry to wake you." You could hear Sarah in the background, "Is she okay? Put her on speaker." They spoke almost in unison, "Is everything okay?" "Have either of you talked to JJ? He hasn't come home for two nights in a row." You heard John B. clear his throat, "He came by the other night before going to see his dad, but I figured he would have been home by now. Has he called you?" You clenched your fist, nails digging into your palm, to keep from breaking down completely, "No, I haven't talked to him since he left that day. I think I need to go to the police." Sarah chimed in, "Do you want me to go with you?" "No, I'll be fine." Her voice was reassuring, "Are you sure?" "Yeah, I am. I'm gonna go before work. Text me if you hear from him?" They answered together, "Of course."

You had two preps this morning, so you had plenty of time to head to the station before your first class. You parked and pulled down the visor mirror to make sure your eyes weren't too red. You took a deep breath, counted to three, and got out of the car. The walk to the door felt hundreds of miles long. Chills covered your body as you walked up to the counter. An officer you recognized as a parent of one of your students was sitting going through files when she looked up, "Oh, don't tell me this is about my son." You chuckled a bit, "It's not." "Thank god. What can I do for you then?" You leaned forward against the counter a little, "Is Shoupe in yet?" She sat back a bit to get a better look through the frosted office window, "I think so. Can I tell him what this is about? Everything okay?" You bit your bottom lip to keep it from quivering, "Can you please just tell him I need to talk to him about something?" She got up from her seat taking her coffee cup with her, "I sure can." "Thank you."

Shoupe stood in the doorway of his office motioning his head as an invitation. He waited until you were sitting to close the door. You fidgeted with the loose thread on the sleeve of your sweater. He sat down opposite you and took a sip of his coffee. The warm scent reminded you that you hadn't smelled coffee in two days, JJ drank it, not you. The scent filled your nostrils and you closed your eyes for a second basking in it. Shoupe broke you out of your thoughts, "What brings you in? How are your parents? I ran into your dad at the dealership the other day." You nodded, "My parents are good. Yeah, he mentioned you were in the market for a new truck." He just shook his head yes, confused about why I was making small talk about my dad's business at 7:30 in the morning on a Wednesday, "So, are you gonna tell me why you're really here?"

You smoothed down your dress nervously running your hands back and forth on your thighs, "JJ hasn't been home in two days." Shoupe didn't look surprised, "Isn't that kind of what he does?" You kept yourself from rolling your eyes, "It's what he used to do. He's not a teenager anymore, Shoupe. He has responsibilities now. A good life, he just wouldn't run off. He wouldn't do this to me. I'm really worried about him. No one has seen or heard from him in two days. I don't know what else to do. I'm freaking out." You felt the tears begin to form on your bottom lash line and broke down completely, "Shoupe, I need you to do something. He wouldn't do this to me." He leaned forward in his chair and pulled paperwork from the bottom drawer of his desk. He offered you a box of tissues and a pen, "Let's just fill out the missing person's report and go from there." You nodded, drying your tears, and taking the pen, "Okay, let's do that. But then what?" He typed something into his computer, "We wait."

day three

The last thing you wanted to do was get out of bed and deal with teenagers all day. You loved your students to death, but it had been a long couple of days, especially because you weren't sleeping all that well. You were physically and emotionally exhausted. You finished your tea before you even made it to work, so you headed to the office to make a new cup and see Rhonda so she could fuel your Jolly Rancher habit. Rhonda can usually see right through you so you tried your best not to look as tired and worn out as you actually were, "Morning, Rhonda." She put her candy bowl on the counter so you could reach it, "Morning, honey." You stood there waiting for the electric kettle to heat up. You absentmindedly spun the ring that sat on your ring finger. Rhonda took notice, "Your boy not back yet?" You shook your head no, "Can you thank Joe for opening up the garage this week?" She smiled that warm and comforting smile at you, "Of course. He really did get you a beautiful ring." You plopped your tea bag into your mug, "Thank you. He had some help." She placed her hand onto yours, "He loves you. He'll be back." You just smiled back and nodded slightly, "Have a good day, Rhonda."

You really didn't want to spend another night alone in your and JJ's home. You texted Sarah.

*text chain*

Hey, would you mind spending the night tonight?

Not at all, do you want me to come by after you get home from work?

That would be great. You know where the key is if you get there before me. :)

You pulled up to your house to see Sarah's car already in the driveway. You unlocked the door to see her drying some dishes. She turned around abruptly, "Oh, you startled me. You're home early." You pulled her into a hug, "I had a prep. You didn't need to clean my kitchen." She squeezed you a little tighter, "I know, I just wanted to help." You released each other and you thanked her. You changed and sat down on the couch. She sat on the loveseat adjacent to you, "You haven't heard from him?" You sighed, "No, but I talked to Shoupe yesterday." She rolled her eyes, "Did he say anything worthwhile?" "Nope." You enjoyed not being alone and got lost in reality TV to occupy your mind for a bit.

Sarah broke the silence, "You hungry?" You nodded, realizing you hadn't eaten much of anything the last few days. She took her phone off the coffee table, "I can have John B. go pick up a pizza or something." You snuggled deeper under your blanket, "That sounds good." You were thankful for your friends. Even though they were JJ's first, you were welcomed quickly and found a best friend in Sarah that you had wanted your whole life. You didn't talk much in high school, she had a certain untouchable aura to her back then. She was far from untouchable, however. She was warm and fiercely loyal to those whom she loved.

day four

You were thankful that both Sarah and John B. decided to spend the night last night. John B. took up residence on the couch insisting that he didn't need to sleep in the guest room if Sarah wasn't going to be in there. You insisted that you could sleep alone, you think she knew you didn't mean it. She was still asleep when your alarm went off. It was a half day and you literally could not be more thankful. All you had to do was make it through four hours of teaching AP English and you could retreat back to your safe haven, to your friends, and maybe to JJ. You couldn't help but think that every day when you came home this week, JJ would be there waiting for you. It hadn't happened yet, but you weren't about to give up hope.

When you got home, both Sarah and John B. had left. Sarah left a note on the kitchen table: "Went home to get some stuff and John's at the surf shop. We'll be back later." You told them they didn't need to spend another night but you were thankful they chose to. You made a cup of tea and settled onto the couch, trying your best to take a nap. Your mind was racing but listening to music always seemed to help. You were startled awake by the door lock clicking closed. Sarah muttered to herself, "Shit." You sat up, "Hey." She looked apologetic, "I am so sorry, I was trying not to wake you." You got up from your place on the couch, the hair on the back of your neck was sticking to it and all you wanted to do was take a shower, "It's okay, I'm gonna take a shower." Sarah placed some grocery bags on the kitchen table, "You'll feel much better after that. I'll fix us some dinner. John B. will be by later, he's got inventory coming in tonight."

The steam filled the bathroom as you stepped into the hot water. You let the slightly too hot water wash over your shoulders. For a just moment, you felt everything melt away. There was truly nothing like a hot shower. You sat with your thoughts for a few minutes. You missed JJ so much and were really starting to get concerned. You hadn't heard anything from Shoupe yet, though you were wondering if he was actually doing anything. You wanted nothing more than to go back in time and not let him leave or force him to take you with him. You regretted not going after him, making sure he was okay. You kept telling yourself you could have prevented this, but in reality, you knew couldn't have.

After your shower, you and Sarah sat down to eat dinner. You spent it reminiscing about old times—talking about everything and nothing at the same time. You have to admit, the banter was a welcome distraction. Shortly after dinner, you guys settled in to watch a movie. You were tired but you enjoyed doing something other than worrying about your wayward fiancé. You could feel yourself starting to fall asleep, "Hey, I'm gonna turn in." She nodded and pulled you into a side hug from her spot next to you on the couch, "I'm gonna wait out here for John B. Shout if you need anything." You squeezed her hand, "Thanks, Sarah."

You rummaged through JJ's drawers searching for his favorite t-shirt—his faded Sex Wax shirt. You wanted to feel close to him. He had had the thing since high school, so it was perfectly worn in. You slipped the shirt over your head and crawled under the pile of blankets that you couldn't sleep without but JJ always complained about. You had been lulled to sleep by the sound of the TV in the living room. For the first time in the last few days, you were actually asleep.

After a couple of hours, you were woken up by whispering coming from the hallway. You didn't think anything of it. You checked the time on your phone. It was 2:38 in the morning. You had a message. You opened the messaging app and it was from JJ, almost an hour ago. It just read, "I'm sorry." Before you could manage to untangle yourself from your pile of blankets (JJ was right, you really didn't need all of these), the bedroom door opened slowly, the light from the kitchen peeking through. Your heart sank when his familiar backward cap and his blonde locks fluttering out from beneath it were illuminated in the doorway. You choked back a sob, "JJ?" He rushed over to you taking you in his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tears streaming down your cheeks. He broke the hug and your eyes met. He wiped a tear from your cheek. You were so unbelievably angry and thankful at the same time. He kissed you. You cried harder. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, "Shhh, I'm here. You're safe. I'm safe." You pulled back a bit, "You look like hell." "I feel like hell."

part 2

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank adult #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #obx #jj maybank obx #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj obx fic #jj obx imagine #obx 3 #outer banks #sarah cameron #john b routledge

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