#hop fic archive

[sarge-barnes-sir]

“Get on the desk for me-keep your legs open,” Hopper said, a wry grin lifting the corner of his mouth. “It’s lunch, and I haven’t eaten a damn thing yet…”

i- s-si-sir??? SIR?????????

also not this gif SSKSKSKA i fucking hate this gif so much bc it just reminds me how i can never sit on/ride those juicylicious thighs 🥹🥹🥹

Jim Hopper x Reader • EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI • Includes: oral (f receiving) squirting, piss, multiple orgasms, office sex

Hopper guided you onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist, cock straining against his pants. The khaki fabric did little to conceal Hopper’s erection beneath it. You rubbed your bare cunt against the outline of his cock, spreading your slick lips over Hopper’s shaft. A shiver ran through you as your clit nudged one of the more prominent veins along Hopper’s dick. He hummed deeply at the sound you made, a cute little gasp that left your lips and went straight to his balls.

“You tryin’ to make me come in my pants?” Hopper drawled. “Keep makin’ those pretty little sounds, and I might have to.”

It was partially a joke, and partially true. Hopper could tell he was close; it had been a few days since he’d had the time or energy to relieve himself. This morning had been particularly stressful, and now that Hopper had some time to himself, he was using it just how he liked: by using you, his naive, lovestruck little secretary, in his office over lunch…

Hopper bucked his knees, bouncing you. Another pretty little whimper squeaked out of you; Hopper grinned at your response. He enjoyed the way you were absolutely obsessed with him, how completely vulnerable you were in his presence. Your infatuation had been obvious since you began working at the station.

Your fingers tugged Hopper’s uniform, clinging to his shirt as you rutted on top of him. The smell of your cunt was everywhere; you were dripping for him, making a mess of his pants that would surely require him to change afterwards. Hopper didn’t mind a little mess, though. He’d told you as much many times before. It gave you the freedom to be as unrestrained as you needed, knowing that whatever the two of you left behind on his clothes, desk or floor, Hopper would take care of cleaning it up before anyone saw.

You buried your nose in the collar of his shirt as you humped the outline of his cock, moaning when it pulsed between your legs. “Hey sweetheart?” Hopper grunted, his voice breathy and low.

“Mm-hmm?” you whimpered into his neck.

“Do somethin’ for me?” Hopper murmured. You parted your lips over his neck, tasting his skin, inhaling the scent of tobacco and musk imbued in his collar. “Anything,” you panted at Hopper’s ear, your eyes fluttering closed, drunk on the taste of him.

“Get on the desk for me-keep your legs open,” Hopper said, a wry grin lifting the corner of his mouth. “It’s lunch, and I haven’t eaten a damn thing yet…”

He lifted you off his lap and onto the desk, holding your legs apart with his big, calloused hands. You let your head dip over the other side of the desk, your eyes closing in blissful anticipation as you waited for Hopper’s tongue. He lowered his face between your legs, pressing gentle kisses onto your inner thighs. Your hips jerked when Hopper moved his kisses to your center, tugging your labia between his lips and sucking gently. After teasing you a moment longer, Hopper gave you the stimulation you craved. He sank his lips over your clit and sucked, tugging the puffy bud between his lips in a pulsing rhythm. Your eyes flew open, head whipping up from the side of Hopper’s desk. You watched his face moving between your legs, bobbing on your clit as he suckled your most sensitive space.

Every nerve in your body seemed concentrated under the seal of Hopper’s mouth over your cunt. When he dipped his tongue inside you, it sent a jolt through your body so intense, it almost hurt. You clamped a hand over your lips, screaming into your palm as Hopper made you come, hard. It wasn’t a pretty orgasm, but the best ones never are. It was brutal, exquisite, Hopper’s lips torturing your clit beyond the point of climax, till a throbbing ache bloomed between your legs. He forced them further apart, not allowing you to buck away from him. Hopper’s tongue licked at your bullied clit, simultaneously soothing and abusing it with further stimulation.

You came again, orgasms consuming you back-to-back. Every ounce of control left your body, and maybe your soul left, too. Because as you gazed between your trembling thighs, all you could do was succumb, allowing Hopper to do with you as he liked, overwhelmed with sensation. He lifted from between your legs, replacing his mouth over you with his hand. Hopper’s chest was heaving, his eyes like lasers fixed on your cunt, sweat lining his tensed forehead as he watched you coming beneath him, pumping his cock in rhythm with his other hand working your clit.

You came a third time, completely at Hopper’s mercy, your hands clamped to the sides of his desk, no longer able or caring to quiet your screams. You lost control of your bladder, spraying a mix of piss and your slippery arousal onto the floor, splashed across his desk by Hopper’s hand working your cunt mercilessly. “Oh fuck,” he groaned in absolute awe as your cum and piss spattered the ground at his feet.

Hopper released your pussy and moved between your legs, aiming his cock at your puffy cunt. He growled as he ejaculated onto you, coating your plump, swollen lips in white. He watched as his cum dripped down your pussy, combined with your release. Piss and cum pooled on the floor at Hopper’s feet, a mess he’d have to clean up, but he didn’t mind. He kept a roll of paper towels in his desk for just this reason. You were still trembling, softly crying as Hopper helped you sit up and then pulled you into his arms.

“…Made a mess,” you quietly observed, your eyes on the floor. Hopper chuckled, stroking your hair at the back of your head. “Nothing that can’t be cleaned up,” he muttered. “Now, give me about fifteen minutes-.” Hopper planted a kiss on your forehead. “And I’ll feed you your lunch too, alright?”

@mrshopper84 @umnitsa

[muffinlance]

Extreme long shot, but looking for a fic I read years ago, that to my knowledge is NOT on AO3 or FF, just on someone's blog or maybe a small hosting site. It's a three(?)-part series.

Stuff I remember: Zhao kills Iroh pre-north-pole; he dies on a beach due to shrapnel, I think. Zuko wanders off in a daze, stays with a nice Earth Kingdom woman for awhile, then embarks on Messing With Zhao's Shit until Zhao catches him. Gaang rescues him (from Pohuai?) after whump.

Zuko leads them back to the Earth Kingdom woman for a safe place to rest, meanwhile Zuko's crew has found her and given her a letter+their location+tell our stupid prince he's not the only one who wants to Mess The Fire Nation's Shit Up. Zuko and the Gaang go to his ship, whose treason against the Fire Nation is already in progress (and they've gotten their families out of the Fire Nation to avoid reprisal, so Jee's wife is there). Katara bonds with the ship healer, who teaches her non-bending healing and is both salty and instructive. Ends incompletely right as Zuko and the Gaang are about to leave the ship.

Those parts of the series are a good read, but I am dying to re-read the part that's an Iroh POV of the royal family, including Ozai's strategic murdering of all of Iroh's children (he had more than Lu Ten in this AU), and Iroh's extremely chilling "maybe I should do the same to his" thoughts until baby Zuko wins him over. It is PEAK disfunctional Fire Family.

I thought I bookmarked this somewhere, but I can't for the life of me find it. Plz send help.

EDIT: FIC FOUND! See the reblog chain for the link, it's in the second post.

EDIT EDIT: This is. Even better than I remembered. My heart hurts, ow. <3

[rinn-e]

self-care is keeping screenshots of your favorite ao3 comments on your phone and re-reading them now and then 🥺

[wistyxx]

Pokefics woop woop

Dumping the Pokemon fics I've finished so far here toooooo. Idk man Pokemon isn't even my main fandom but it's the easiest for me to finish fics for so all my pieces that are closest to being finished are pretty much all Pokemon related (￣_,￣ )

Maybe Since Forever is Hop x Gloria (my main ship is Bede x Gloria tbh but the fic I'm writing with them is taking me longer lol)

Through Melting Snow is Grusha x Juliana

[voltstone]

pigeon / wrecker

(yet another) JORI SERIES RETELLING

That regret of mine to not kiss her, again, was really when it sank in: Jade may be the one who talks through her scissors, but I go about my relationships like I’ve got a sledgehammer. I don’t know if I just learned from the best, or if I did get tired of being this doll-faced girl who doesn’t have a set of scales underneath the porcelain. I just really, really wanted to wreck something. One relationship specifically, all to scavenge the debris for myself. Turns out? I’m not a good person. [. . .] Next time there was a chance, I wouldn’t hesitate. And I didn’t. I went about her like I had that sledgehammer.

(Loving Jade meant competing against another person was a losing game, and competing for the chance to be bigger than what they were was an uphill battle.)

— — — — —

or basically i want to finish writing the toxic story about the toxic ship that found me again (and is the reason why i'm writing fics at all). so um. yeah. this project is technically eight years old… shut up.

don't look at me. or do. here's the "first chapter". or go find on ao3, ff.net, wattpad. i dunno.

(no but honestly, hope you enjoy! i've wanted to write this thing for a long, long while now, but it seems i had to get better in my writing for it to happen.)

:)

AO3 | FF | Wattpad

BIRDSEED | 0

This started in a million different ways, and I’m dreading how all this will end, but here we go.

It might’ve been the coffee I tried desperately to rub off of Beck, only to make it so, so much worse, and then the coffee after because she honestly saw me as a dog, I guess. Or the next day, when I did knot that whole entanglement together tight, and there was no undoing it, but the look on her face was worth flaying any good girl image I had.

Could’ve been the first time I got it right, and I passed something just to prove myself. The Bird Scene, though I wonder if it had been the chewing out Sikowitz part that got her attention.

The hundred little comments throughout the weeks, then the thousands between those when we’d just pass each other by…

It’s easier to say it started the first time she knocked on my door, and her eyes were scheming, and that smile she wore grew wide. It wasn’t gentle, or genuine. Nothing about her was. She just never bothered for anything better.

“I’ll mug you.”

So when you have someone like this say something like that, every nerve gets shot, the next few hours are a grueling crawl to figure out just what that glint in her eye is getting at, and that smile…twitches in the back of your mind.

Speaking from experience. Of course.

She came and went, though. Nothing happened. 

Then I didn’t hit Jade with a cane the next day. And if that honestly doesn’t sum up everything about her and me, I don’t know what does.

— — —

“I don’t get it.”

. .

“I know André told you that I faked everything.”

. .

We were standing in what was supposed to be, was theoretically, the Blackbox Theater, except it was hardly a black box and was instead the aftermath of someone taking a little too much inspiration from Sinjin’s locker. I also wasn’t wearing my best. They were less clothes and more rags, and it said too much that I didn’t care how Jade West of all people was there, watching me, with sludge over my shoulder and plastered on the wall. All the walls. And floor. …and ceiling too.

“Why are you here?”

“Why are you here?”

Great question. It was, honestly.

For once it had nothing to do with me being this pushover. I was done with going around the same routine. Each week had something new. So I came up with something else. An idea. And it was born the night before, and conceived from André flagging me down between class:

I would back Jade into a corner. She had a reason at first, and it was a valid one. I did kiss her boyfriend, even if it was for the iced coffee over my head. But I would back her into a corner, because I had enough, and I would give Jade every last reason to not give me her cut of hell. She would run out of reasons. She’d be stranded to fumble for her own. Run out of energy. Lose her voice.

This wasn’t being nice. I knew her game, and I knew how to end it.

“You took detention, and a lower grade, and you’re scraping crusty pudding off the wall on a Friday night just so that I won’t get in trouble?”

“Pretty much.”

A little too well, because I backed her into that corner with this one disgusting room. Which also had a security guard—Derek, since I had anger issues, apparently.

“Well y— You can’t be nice to me when I’ve been mean to you! That’s not how it works!”

I looked at her, heard the insistence in her voice—a near-desperation. Because her world had its rules, a logic, and it was very corporate, because Jade would do wonders in the family business. She operated on one equation: one input, then get its output; another input doesn’t mean the same output; the same input doesn’t mean another output.

Except when it came to me. And so I pissed Jade off. Confused her. Because I don’t see the numbers. I don’t read a black and white world in statistics.

I retorted to her a truth of mine, how tired I was:

“Well then try and be nice to me some time. Maybe that’ll work.” And then I turned around, dismissed her, to go and scrape off this onion puss from the wall.

Just as I felt my thoughts slog back to how long this was going to take…, I heard her. Scraping some other puss, off the catwalk pillar. Shock plastered a partial grin across my face, and in return, I got this…smile carved beneath narrowed eyes. I imagined it was the same kind of thing a crocodile would pull off. Which got me weary, because crocodiles preen before they sink beneath the surface, and they roll to maul. I didn’t know if Jade was above that.

She isn’t. For the record.

“This…might be more fun with some tunes.”

I didn’t realize what was brewing in her eyes. Believing in her stumble for the music—rag over her shoulder, bucket at hand—, it was a mistake of mine. She then smiled and turned to Derek, proclaimed that this was now fun, and he should join. Which was a mistake of his.

Jade schemed again. Off the cuff, she duped one to rip away the other.

Not a minute later, before the song finished, we were gone from the Blackbox Theater, and we left the security guard too stunned to follow.

She dropped the smile. Her eyes were serrated, and I walked carefully at Jade’s heel. She worked her jaw. 

“There. Happy?”

I gave you an inch. Now don’t turn it into a mile…

I stopped listening. I read her eyes instead.

They were such a cold, lukewarm, brazen green that day.

. .

This whole thing— This dialogue between us.

It started then. That scheming, and the little things, and all the silent stage directions we were following because it was never in the dialogue.

There is no word for it. The most straightforward thing about Jade and I, it’s in the glances, the promise to keep our mouths locked tight, the corners where nobody can find us…

And the soundless murmurs between us when we kiss, the ones I feel leak down my throat.

I devour her mutely.

AO3 | FF | Wattpad

Ch.2: AO3 | FF | Wattpad

[hopalongfairywren]

the fact that for like 5 whole pages their isn't ONE fic in the hannah tag that actually has her as a major or relevant character and half of those don't have her listed at all. And the ones that do usually have her be a secretary or background character. I just want to find one fic on actual canon hannah. This shit sucks.

[solradguy]

Omg how does Interlude have almost as many views as the actual Begin translation???? That's wild.... Thanks guys haha <3

[inkandpaperqwerty]

Ed gets to find out what an MP3 player is, and he may or may not get a little sucked into the case the BAU team is working... even though he's supposed to be researching ways to get home. Check out Chapter 7 of Through the Gate on AO3, fanfiction.net, and wattpad.

[sarge-barnes-sir]

your honor i need him in my life

dbf!hopper in which your parents ask him to watch you because you twisted your ankle at the pool :( you couldn’t be safer than with the sheriff, but your parents don’t know you two are closer than they think

“it’s absolutely sweltering, how can you still want to cuddle?!”

i’m torn between smutty n fluffy so u choose bae 🫡

Thank you for this my lovely, my love for our one and only Sheriff Hopper is unmatched; Hopper humours your dramatics over a twisted ankle, fluff ensues; 800 words

bambi’s sun kissed summer celly

“Hi, Honey.”

You’re pouting the moment you limp through the police station; you know you are, and it only gets more prominent, your soft little lip pushing further out as Hopper catches a glimpse of your deflated countenance.

You hop your way over to his desk, the door swinging shut behind you, and plant your bum onto the solid wood furniture in front of the older man. Your thighs squish, pushing against the seams of your frayed denim shorts; Jim thinks you’re practically edible.

“How’d you manage that, huh?” He lifts your swollen ankle, resting the heel of your foot against his thick thigh as you whine and halfheartedly explain how you tripped and sprained your ankle at the pool.

“Wasn’t my fault! Tripped ‘cos Hargrove distracted me, fuckin’ shouting.”

“Language.”

You huff and roll your eyes but you don’t curse again. He begins rubbing soothing circles into your calf, squashing the flesh in and then pulling it tight, working his way up your leg until he’s at the pudge of your hip. He squeezes you there, laughs as you prickle and squirm under his heated stare.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

He lifts you with ease, hooking your legs over one of his arms where the other holds you up at the base of your spine. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, what with the chief being your dad’s closest friend; no one ever realises there might be more to your relationship than that.

He deposits you safely in the passenger seat of his car, pausing to pinch your chin and nudge you gently into the centre of the seat.

“Attagirl,” he mumbles, leaning over you to fasten your seatbelt; you don’t bother telling him that you’re capable of doing it yourself. You adore the attention from him.

You’re dozy and content on the ride to Hopper’s cabin despite the throbbing in your ankle. Lolling your head to the side, you gaze at the man next to you with a level of adoration only seen in cringy romance movies.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teases in that deadpan way he jokes; you flush white-hot right down to your toes.

After he parks, you let him lift you back out of the car and snuggle in close; the frayed hem of your cut off t-shirt tickles his arm. If it bothers him he doesn’t say so. You reach up and scratch at his jaw, fingers touching and then spreading out until they’re splayed across his stubbled cheek.

The couch is a welcome comfort; it smells of Jim, feels like him as you sink into it with a happy little grunt. You whine and reach for him when he steps away to toe his heavy boots off, quickly perking back up as he makes his way towards you, towards his permanent dent in the seat cushion.

You knock his hat off of his head with the way you fly across the space between the pair of you and into his lap; he doesn’t even scold you as he usually would. You thank the Lord for your injury. His arms naturally fit around your body and he hikes you up until you’re comfortable cradled in his lap, your hurt leg stretched straight to avoid any unnecessary tension.

“Honey,” he laughs, this deep bellowing sound that pushes his eyes half shut and reveals smile lines mostly hidden from the outside world. “It’s absolutely sweltering, how can you still want to cuddle?”

“Missed you,” you mumble into the fabric of his Sheriff’s uniform. “Need a cuddle.”

He coos something sweet that isn’t quite a word and you make a funny sound somewhere between contentment and a complaint. Your face goes to the juncture of his neck, eyes closed as his hand spreads across the top of your head and locks you tight against him. You go still and limp.

“‘s nice,” you slur, already well on your way to being asleep.

“You fallin’ asleep on me, sweet thing?”

“No,” you mildly protest; you both know it’s a lie. You press a featherlight kiss to his neck, and then another. Jim’s fingers scratch at your scalp the way he knows you like.

“That nice?” he asks.

Your replying snore tickles his neck.

[redflagshipwriter]

Snitches the cat and his favorite bat

I wrote up dpxdc fics based off of prompts I happened to see in the last day to add to the reading pile for anyone who didn't prep for the archive down time today.

EDIT

The idea for Danny as a cat came from @shycorvid, thank you so much for correcting me and letting me play in your sandbox!

Snitches the cat comes from @garbagewith-a-cherryontop (I think??? I couldn't find a definite first post!) but the fantastic linked post is the one with how I think Snitches the cat looks here.

Word count is 1053.

Tumblr reference

masterpost for my AO3 downtime fics

“Ugh- that's not- did we just summon a demon cat?”

“It's so messed up looking. Ew.”

Danny blinked and swayed on his feet. He'd had a tail a minute ago, speeding across the GZ to check in on Walker. There had been an unpleasant lurch in his stomach. And now he was on his feet. All four of them.

Wait, what?

“You fucked this up.”

His ears twitched at the sound of a slap. Danny swiveled towards the sound and then got distracted by the feeling of his ears swiveling back. Whaaaaat?

He looked down at his precious little feeties. They were adorable paws.

“Oh, you motherfuckers,” he said. It came out as a conversational yowl.

The humans looked at him from about ten feet away and five feet up. “Annoying…”

He was pretty sure they were high schoolers. There were five of them, two girls and three boys. They were all bigger than him. High schoolers were usually bigger than he was, but this was just ridiculous.

“Count yourself lucky, dimwits,” one of the older kids said. He took a step towards Danny. Danny pressed his ears flat against his head and hissed at the approach. “If you managed to sacrifice Patches to a demon, your Mom would straight up murder you.” He laughed when he said it, like anything about that was remotely funny.

Uh- what now?

Only now, Danny noticed a very distressed calico cat underneath a laundry basket on the other side of the room. There was a stack of textbooks weighing the basket down. A large rug had been rolled up and- he sneezed rapidly, eyes watering. Chalk! They'd drawn on the floor with chalk!

‘This is some incompetent summoning,’ Danny realized, way too late. ‘Did they- how did they turn me into a cat?’ He looked at his unfortunate brethren under the laundry basket. Her ears were flat against her skull and she looked scared.

He remembered the word “sacrifice” and his blood flushed hit with fury. They'd wanted him to eat her! They'd wanted something to eat miss Patches!

The teenagers froze and looked at him, aghast at the angry sounds that were coming out of his throat.

“Shut up!” One hissed. She took off her shoe and threw it at him. Danny dodged and then threw his head back to yowl even louder. Sonic attack! Aural damage, you big jerks!

“The neighbors are going to- make it shut up!”

Danny had to run, dashing over furniture and tearing his way across a crowded table to avoid being grabbed. He screamed the whole time, eager to alert whoever they were so afraid of. Someone should see!

The window burst in.

Danny stopped running, shocked. He hadn't actually expected-

Someone snatched him up from behind and smacked him on the face with a palm. His jaw exploded with pain. It cut off his yowling.

Stunned. He was still for a moment and then he struggled for his life. The grip on his ribs was way too tight-

He looked over at the sound of a sword being pulled from a sheath. Holy shit, that was bomb as hell. His eyes went wide at the sight of a heavily armored small child crouched on the windowsill. The boy's eyes were covered, but Danny could still see him look at Danny and the poor calico under the laundry basket. He sneered.

“Unhand the cat or lose your hands at the wrist, you wretch.”

Danny loved him.

The teenager dropped him. Danny caught himself with a stumble. He let out a sad mraow before he could stop himself.

Fight club baby was enraged. “What have you done to this animal?” He hopped down into the room, revealing he was at least a foot shorter than the smallest girl in the room.

Danny trotted to him and started winding around his ankles admiringly. What a good kid! He purred.

“I will be taking both of your cats with me. If you ever harm an animal again, it will be your head that is found in a chalk-”

“Robin.” A hugeass grown man squeezed himself through the window that the kid had broken. Danny craned his head up, up, up, to see him case the joint.

The older man radiated incredible judgment. “I see that you require education on animal welfare and demonic summoning. Go on, Robin.”

“That's my Mom's cat!” One of the teenagers protested. “You can't take her!”

Robin growled at her. Danny jumped in his skin at the sound.

“Then we shall return it to your Mother and her alone, when we explain what you've done.” Danny let murder baby scoop him up and purred at full volume. Hell yeah. He looked at the cowering teenagers with condescension.

“Not that fugly thing.”

Danny blinked. He ended up making an inquisitive mraow. Why was a finger being pointed at him? He was baby.

“That thing showed up, you can get rid of it. But Patches is Mom's cat, and you can't steal a cat because-”

“Batman can steal any cat!” Robin bit out, gathered up Patches, and jumped out the window with both cats in an expert grip.

That didn't sound right, but Danny just enjoyed the night air as a line pulled Robin up to where yet another masked vigilante was waiting, cackling himself to tears.

“Batman can steal any cat,” he wheezed. “Brilliant. Good detour, Robin. Can I hold one?” He held out his blue-striped palms expectantly.

He faltered when he saw Danny, visibly surprised.

Danny… was starting to feel bad. He curled into Robin, hurt. He wasn't ugly. Why did people keep reacting to him weird?

“No,” Robin said curtly. “You have damaged his pride, and Patches is still reeling from her shock.”

The man let out a sigh but let the topic go. “That's Patches, and this is…?”

Robin hesitated. “He is the Snitch.”

That unlocked cooing. “Snitches? Snitchy Snitch Sni- ow!”

Danny snapped at the hand that came way too close and he let out a warning growl. No baby talk!

Robin seemed very pleased. He rubbed behind Danny's ears. “Snitch… I suppose that Snitches will suffice. We are taking him home.”

“....Maybe, just for fun, we should take him to get treated for mange first!” The guy made jazz hands to go with his statement.

Robin and Danny both growled that time.

[spectra-bear]

(first comic's coloring was done by my beloved friend @r0b0t1me)

And thus this story comes to a close... Thank you so much to everyone who's been following up since the beginning, and to those who hopped in along the way til the end, and to @apatheticrobots for allowing me to participate in the making of this fic (be sure to drop kudos and a kind comment when reading, and check out more of his other works!!!),

Sal and I have never stopped appreciating the endless support coming from both ends 💜

Alt versions of the comic + t&e fleo ref!

Dont forget to check out the extra snippets that comes along with the main story! A visual of chapter 2 from another perspective~ ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

[sarge-barnes-sir]

i want forehead kissies from him too 🥹

Wisdom Teeth - Jim Hopper

You had to take a holiday day from working at the station to have your wisdom teeth taken out, after putting it off, the pain was horrible so you decided to bite the bullet and get them taken out. They had originally advised that you have someone to look after you for the first 48 hours, you had originally declined stating that you didn't have anyone around Hawkins. When you informed Jim that you would be off, he said he would look after you until you were better, you reluctantly accepted. 

You were sat next to Jim in the dentists office, your hands were shaking, you had a fear of needles so being here seemed like a nightmare. Jim grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze, in an attempt to calm you. You both stayed like that until the dental nurse came and shouted your name, you sighed and stood up, your legs wobbled but Jim put his hands on the bottom of your back to keep you upright. 

"I'll be right here waiting" Jim promised while looking at you. You nodded and hoped he meant it. 

You woke up from the anesthesia, slowly opening your eyes and looking to the side of you and smiling when you see Jim at your bedside reading a gossip magazine, you let out a small laugh which alerted Jim. He smiled at you, placed the magazine down, scooted the chair forward and kissed the back of your hand. 

"How you feeling sweetheart?" Jim asked. "I'm ok" you slured. Jim laughed and kissed your forehead. 

"You're so handsome" you said at him. He offered no response, he let you babble on about how handsome you thought he was, although most of the words came out as slurred, Jim got the message. He had no idea you thought this about him, you two became fast friends when you started working at the station. You had a lot of mutual intrests, although the officers who worked with Jim thought that it was more but you both always insited that it was just a close friendship.

Jim had always hoped that maybe, that the friendship could blossom in to something more but he would never put any pressure on it. He didn't know that you felt the same, as soon as you met him it was like your soul was finally free, finally saying there you are. You always hoped that he would make a move but he never did, so you accepted the fact that it was just never meant to be. 

The dentist's cleared you to go home, Jim packed your stuff in to the bag, chucked it over his shoulders, helped you up and walked you out to his car.

Jim did as he promised and stayed with you the whole time you were recovering. On the second day after the operation you were feeling a lot better and managed to trudge your way in to the kitchen where he had a towel slung across his shoulder and hunched above the stove cooking bacon. "That smells delicious" you said while sighing. Jim turned around and smiled, holding his arms out for you, you smiled and walked towards him, wrapping your hands around his waist.  He kissed the top of your head and ordered you to sit down and wait for him to plate the food. 

It didn't take long for Jim to bring the food across and place yours in front of you, while placing the other in the place across from you and sitting down on the chair. You both talked about work, your plans for the future and intrests. He eventually decided to confront the elephant in the room and asked you if you meant what you said. You didnt realise what he meant until it hit you like a ton of bricks, heat rushed across your cheeks and you shyly nodded. You looked away, not wanting to see his response, even when you heard the chair scrape across the kitchen floor, you fought every instinct to look up.

Jim pulled you up by your arms and placed his hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. He leant down and kissed you, you eagerly kissed back, getting lost in the feeling. You didnt know how long you both stayed like that, you pulled away breathless. You laughed at the absurdity of it, you dreamt of this day often and you couldn't believe it actually happend.

Jim nudged his nose against yours and softly whispered "So you think I'm handsome?". You chuckled offering no verbal response, just pulling him down by his neck and kissing him once again.  

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Be My Wife: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: A “friend” freaks out when you split a Coke with Eddie the Freak.

Warnings: references to A Clockwork Orange, bullying, STI/STD mention, backwash drinking

A/N: So… I know this isn’t a Christmas fic. But I wrote this because I had those times in my youth where someone spread horrid rumors about either me or my friends, and I had to make those split second decisions to determine my loyalty. I always try to be loyal as best I can.

Thank you to @writhingg for giving the green light on this fic. And big thanks to @rxqueenotd and @melodymunson as well. And big thanks to viewers like you. Thank you. ❤️

Resources: @strangergraphics-archive for the dividers.

Taglist: @ali-r3n @melodymunson @twihard28

“Hey droogie, can I have a sip of your Coke?”

You looked up from where you were perched on the pony wall by the Seven Eleven bike rack. You had been chatting with a classmate, Chessie Hagar, about purchasing a purse from her mother’s Avon Colorworks catalog. It was a new collection for the year 1977. Said eye catching magazine with its spread of rainbow themed products was currently held between the two of you, and the pages began to rattle as Chessie shook in fear upon hearing the deep voice.

A flutter-smack sounded from the girl dropping the catalog when Eddie The Freak approached. His stride was casual as one could be, whilst battling both midwestern humidity and pit sweat in a white hand-me-down Jimi Hendrix shirt and sleeveless denim vest. As one of the middle schoolers who had been blessed with a growth spurt, his lanky height, shredded second hand clothes, and shaved head often made those in your grade— and some of those above— piss their pants.

You alone did not fear him.

The Fates had elected to weave you both in a tangled web of coincidences: you had been his project partner in every shared class since you started at Hawkins Middle School together, and you just so happened to live in the same neighborhood on occasion. The distance from Al Munson’s janky two bedroom home to yours was but a hop skip and a jump. Eddie used to ding dong ditch your house when he was six, until one day your mother caught him by the ear and brought him in to mend his tattered jeans and offer up a hot meal.

To any other rando, he was an unstable pariah. But to you, he was just Eddie Munson— the cute boy next door who sometimes ate at your place. And you had become his droog after spending winter 1972 sneaking into the Hawk Theater, and making Stanley Kubrick films your new big boy personalities.

Without thinking, you handed the soft drink over. His fingers brushed against yours as he took the Coke out of your grip and went for a swig, with plush pink lips wrapping around the transparent jade glass of the lip and neck. His protruding Adam’s apple was bobbing with the rhythmic gulping, and you couldn’t stop staring.

“Thanks.” He belched out.

“You said a sip, not half the goddamn bottle!” You whined.

Eddie grinned sheepishly and backwashed a good mouthful. Giving a half assed apology and a promise to pay you back mumbled under his breath, he handed the bottle back.

“Still up for doing last minute project prep?” You asked, swirling the leftovers he’d saved for you.

“Nah, let’s take a break from the train wreck brothers. Catch you tomorrow, though?” He said, scratching a blackhead off his nose and snorting a bit, “I had an idea for the oral report that might earn us a little extra credit. Think you can mimic a British accent?”

“Eh. Can’t do an accent without sounding like fucking Alex DeLarge.” You groused.

“We can work on that. Leave your milk-plus at home, though. Don’t want me own droog reenacting some Roman ultra violence on me.”

“Just don’t go popping out from behind your curtains at me again, that’s a good way to get stabbed in the neck with my mom’s kitchen scissors.” You snorted.

“Ahhh, the droog’s no fun. I guess I can tone down the surprise pop ups, though. If you insist. Catch you later?” Eddie said, waving.

“Later. Peace out, man.”

Chessie let out a shaky, sobbing exhale when you made to drink the dregs of your soda, and you turned and raised an eyebrow.

“Whassamatter?” You asked.

“Are you nuts?! You just shared your drink with the freak!” She blurted out.

… since when the hell was sharing with Eddie a crime?

“Yeah, so? It’s hot out. He looked thirsty.” You said.

“Did you seriously forget everything we’ve heard about him?!” She whisper-screamed, “Don’t you care what everyone talks about?!”

You rolled your eyes. Everyone talked about Eddie. If you hadn’t heard at least one rumor from a faceless student whenever he walked by, you were either stupid or living under a rock. They said he was a bad boy— yes, even with a full vocabulary of slurs and insults available, they still called him a bad boy. Like if he was still in diapers drawing with crayon on the wall, and needed a spanking.

Depending on who you asked, Eddie either did or sold drugs, it was never clear which. Some of the other trailer park kids said he was a mean scrapper when he went to his uncle’s on alternate weeks. Women’s restroom lore stated that he carried a switchblade in the back pocket of his Wrangler jeans, and that he used it to torture animals for his Satanic rituals.

A million and one things were said about him on the daily, but you knew none of them were true in the slightest. None of the talk deterred you from spending time with him. Sometimes he came to your house, more often than not you went to his.

Every other day found the two of you parked in front of his mom’s turntable, jamming to Deep Purple and putting together an elaborate poster board with some spray painted fake leaves made into laurel crowns, along with a block of text about your chosen co-emperor of the early Roman Empire.

You had wanted to write about Caligula so you could use the word ‘orgy’ in the report without getting in trouble, but Eddie had insisted he had a better idea when he discovered a two years tumultuous ruling of brothers from 209 AD to 211 AD.

“As much as I love a good sex party on paper, you just know that’s what everyone else is gonna write about. Let’s write about this nut job Caracalla instead! Dude killed his brother in the arms of his mother, and struck his name from the record. That’s like, the most metal shit ever! Also, here’s a better word for you to learn: fratricide. Apparently there’s a whole list of technical terms for when you kill a family member.”

“… what’s the rumor mill gotta do with my Coke?” You deadpanned.

“If you drink after him, you’re gonna get mono like Cindy! You gotta throw it out!”

Cindy Bishop in your science class had told everyone that had functional ears— swearing up and down on her life— that Eddie Munson had kissed her and given her mononucleosis. A dreaded affliction whose nickname to you sounded like one of the variations of sound formats for any sort of audio.

“Mono…?”

“Yes! Or the syph!”

You knew Eddie had to have heard Chessie’s vitriol. Turning around, you could see him staring at the two of you from across the parking lot, one leg over his bike. There was a stinging look of betrayal on his face. Telltale signs of a wet cherry nose and shameful red cheeks gave away his mistrust; as if he was expecting you to do as your friend told, and throw the bottle he drank from in the trash.

His imaginary affliction was just that: imaginary. You knew that to be gospel.

The kiss with Cindy was real, unfortunately. It happened way before Cindy was kept home with mono, and you remembered the incident well. Eddie had come running to your house just to brag that he’d finally gotten his first kiss, and that pretty soon he’d be popping girl’s cherries left and right.

Just learning about the simple kiss had pissed you off, because the closest you’d ever gotten to kissing Eddie was sharing the same fork whenever you both roasted Vienna sausages on the gas burner in his kitchen. Eddie hadn’t been sick when Cindy stayed home, he came faithfully to school to trap you on the playground and speculate about the thousand and one hidden meanings behind the kiss.

With all the excitement, he never noticed the smallest details like you did. One of the guys in your PE class had been sent home with a rash and a high fever, and it was only a month after Cindy was rumored to have also kissed the collapsed boy that she got sick. You had always shared cups, utensils, and other things requiring mouth use with Eddie and had been fine. Yet Cindy and Tommy Hagan swapped spit once, and both were out of commission.

But no one would ever say anything about Tommy Hagan getting mono. They’d always redirect every disease outbreak to the poor loser who split time between Cherry Street and Forest Hills Trailer Park. The same poor loser who had the misfortune of wasting his first kiss with Cindy; a girl who frenched behind the portable classrooms with anything that had a pulse. People could be so blind and stupid, they failed to notice the sickness timelines were not matching up.

No one deserved their first anything to be with Cindy. Not with the way she stabbed people in the back.

You took a long, hard pause as you stared into Eddie’s wet brown eyes. He was asking you a silent question you already knew the answer to: were you a stinking traitorous droog, or a loyal one? Were you, his one friend in the entire world, going to stand against him?

Without saying a word, you looked at Chessie, then looked back again at Eddie.

In a world of traitors— where brothers stabbed brothers in the arms of their mothers, or where violent men disowned each other with drug laced milk bottles to the face, you would always pick instead to be Eddie Munson’s loyal droog.

You lathed at the lip of the bottle and stuck your tongue down the neck, and shotgunned all of Eddie’s backwash.

Chessie’s mouth dropped open as she began to gag, and Eddie opened his mouth in an obnoxious and breathless laugh as you chugged the entirety of his germs. The carbonation caught up to you, so you let a belch rip before turning back around to face him.

“I GOT YOUR MONO NOW, MUNSON!” You screamed out to him, “NOW YOU GOTTA MARRY ME!”

“IS THAT HOW IT WORKS, DROOGIE?” He shouted back, a shit eating grin stretched across his face, “YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME KNOW BEFORE I TOOK A SWIG, I WOULD HAVE MADE SURE I GOT YOU A RING POP FIRST!”

“IT'S GODDAMN ROMAN CONFARREATIO LAWS, EDDIE! YOU GAVE ME MONO INSTEAD OF SPELT BREAD, NOW YOU GOTTA MARRY ME!” You joked.

You noticed from the big, smart ass grin that he was about to do something outrageous, and your heart began to sing. He immediately got to his knee on the asphalt, everyone in the Seven Eleven parking lot watching as he began to scream like an orator in the colosseum. He used your full government name and everything when he called out to the small parking lot audience.

“HEAR ME, CITIZENS OF HAWKINS! I AM BUT A VESSEL FOR THE GODS, A BEARER, A MESSENGER OF THAT MOST HOLY WORD FROM MOUNT OLYMPUS! I HAVE SHARED OF THE COOTIE WITH A WOMAN, AND THUS OUR MARRIAGE BETWEEN EMPEROR AND DROOG IS SOLEMNIZED-…!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, FREAK!” Someone called out, immediately flinching back when Eddie rounded on him.

“THE GODS. HAVE. SPOKEN!” Eddie screeched, a glob of spit flying out of his mouth and onto the hot asphalt.

He was wide eyed. Deranged. Eddie lifted up the hem of his denim vest and held it out and to the side, to look like wings unfurling, screaming to the heavens as you began howling with him.

“YEAH!” You screamed out, raising your bottle and shouting every bit of nonsense you could think of, “GOD SANCTIONED DROOG MARRIAGE CO-RULER ULTRA-VIOLENCE! MAZEL TOV!”

“THE IMPERIAL HUSBAND NOW DEMANDS TO KISS THE DROOG BRIDE!” Eddie screamed, “PLANT ONE ON ME, GODDESS DIVINE OF THE REPUBLIC OF HAWKINS!!”

You looked at Chessie, who looked as if she was going to throw up or scream. It wasn’t immediately clear which. Instead of ending the joke, you grinned. Shrugged. The glossy magazine paper pages of the forgotten Avon Colorworks catalog ripped under the tread of your shoes when— without warning— you took off towards Eddie, and planted a fat wet kiss on his mouth. He froze for a moment, but returned the kiss with fervor, making an obnoxious hum and wet smack when you pulled away.

“Yum.” You gushed, licking your lips and changing your cadence to the unhinged Kubrick Cockney, “Them’s tasty cooties, they are, brother sir!”

“Yeah? Them false cytomegalovirus germs are what taste good to ya, droog?” He laughed, wrapping his arms around you and putting on his own terrible accent.

“That they are, sir, that’s what gives all me food and drink that plus flavor.” You grinned.

The two of you cackled, thoroughly enjoying throwing out random quotes and various insanities that to the normal person would put them off of your insanity and edge-lord humor. Chessie had long since taken off for the gated community of Loch Nora on her bike, but you didn’t care. You could live without a selection of eyeshadows, a rainbow tote purse, and all of your false friends if the choice came down to choosing them, or Eddie.

“Wanna go into the gas station and split another bottle of mono before we blow this joint?” You asked.

His grin could have rivaled that of Malcolm McDowell.

“Now, how can I say no to my new wife?” He grinned, holding out his arm for you to take, “But I am a man of my word, so you’re getting a new Coke, plus that Ring Pop so’s we can make this thing official.”

“Spare no expense, huh?” You grinned, and he pulled you in closer. Both of your hips knocking together.

“Hey… Only the best and finest gems and refreshments for Empress Droog the First of Hawkins, Indiana.” Eddie said with a confident smile.

You smiled at him, nudging one another with your bodies all the way into the gas station, until he pulled you in for another sloppy kiss in the middle of the snack aisle.

[hephaestiions]

day 7 of @hprecfest — the best of your OTP

wit's end with this prompt, went through all my oldest bookmarks to pinpoint what about harry potter & draco malfoy sank its fangs into me eleven years ago and— look—

i can't remember the first h/d fic i read, but it would have been from @dictacontrion's daily drarry quotes initiative— a splendid system queueing delicious h/d snippets that ran from 2013 to early 2022. dicta wrote many of my early h/d favourites, the stuff that really got me into this ship, but the DDQ initiative was my first exposure to what prolific reading & fandom engagement looked like. DDQ led me to dicta's curated recs here on tumblr and here on LJ— gorgeous selections that were a crash course in learning my tastes.

hungry for more lists (still didn't quite trust myself with ao3/ffnet's search functions), i found @capiturecs' meticulous & immensely navigable LJ rec archive + rec tag & @gracerene-recs' drarry tag. i still go back to these, especially for older fics i don't see recced all that much anymore.

@drarryspecificrecs' reccing & fic finding catalogues running since 2017 are something else; their work on their main blog, on @drarryspecificrecsdaily & as part of @lostdrarryfics (if i'm not mistaken) is an enduring force in this fandom. their consistent contributions put so many underrated fics on my dash i wouldn't encounter otherwise, and it's always a joy to get the tag notif when i post something on ao3. (also here's a drarry reccers masterlist curated by LDF, i haven't checked out everyone on it, but go forth & enjoy!)

@bridenore has been reading fic on a scale i can only aspire to, their continuously updating rec tag is such a diverse list of reads across tropes & fests. @mxlfoydraco's one-stop-shop masterlist is also glorious.

@thedrarrylibrarian's friends of the library initiative is such a fun take on showing love to fanwork & building community— every rec, interview & adjacent commentary felt like having a warm mug of hot chocolate with a friend. here's the masterlist!

i'm also loving the collaborative brilliance of @drarry-reccage ('get recced!' is phenomenal energy)— seven pals putting time into fresh recs. individual tags: @cailynwrites' tag here; @dontthrowsticksatme's tag here; @garagepaperback's tag here; @kk1smet's tag here; @mallstars' tag here; @pl0tty's tag here; @sweatersinthesummer's tag here.

i also love @sweet-s0rr0w's recs (masterlist & tag); i love how inventive she is with themes (the collaborative sex scene rec initiative is fucking inspired). sweet is also doing recfest, check out the tag!

@ghaniblue's monthly reading lists are always fun & fresh + acari's rec tag includes their recfest entries, featuring some drarry, some other ships (including rarepairs), so go have a look!

in general, i've always loved creative recs, so @onbeinganangel's embroidery recs were some of the most fantastic stuff to ever cross my dash (i was lucky enough to get one for my birthday a few years ago & it changed my life). wistfulrats themed recs + commentary were also brilliant. this author list by @bogglebeans was also wonderfully unique & had great takes.

and! of course! @sitp-recs whose blog & person are both gems, whose participation in this fandom is an absolute beacon of light. liv reads & recs with such infectious enthusiasm & i only realised how much of a love song reccing could be for works & creators i enjoy and admire through following her. here's her masterlist of masterlists & every link is delightful. liv also runs incredibly, incredibly kind initiatives, the hidden gems series stands out, as does running @yours-drarry blog which is a platform to send appreciation to fandom participants, so if you've got some love to show someone this holiday season, hop on over!

this is by no means a comprehensive overview of all the reccing that goes on in this fandom, i'm probably missing much more than i've counted (speaking of, if you rec & i've missed you, let me know and i'll follow your tag). but among the many things i adore about h/d fandom, the robust reccing culture occupies one of the top spots, not only because it shows appreciation for creators but because it's such a distilled display of excitement for participating in fandom— all of us poking each other and being poked to go look at that cool, brilliant, fantastic thing, jittery to wax poetic about it. reccers held my hand in fandom when i didn't know what i was doing, relentlessly cheered (other) creators on, cultivated a participative space for readers & lurkers and set the bar in so many ways.

to everyone who keeps the h/d fandom alive— reccers, but also writers, artists, podficcers, fest moderators, editors, cheerleaders, readers, lurkers, everyone, everyone, past & present: you are the best of this ship.

for all the love, time & effort you've poured into this space, thank you.

[queenie-avenue]

There's no solution for whatever this was.

💌 ⤻ THE ACADEMIC RIVAL, SEO MIN-JUN

—> when you come crashing into his life, his focus for his studies are lost.

⤻ reader is gender neutral, reader's race is not mentioned but it does take place in korea, stalking, obsession, slightly suggestive, possessiveness, stealing, damage to personal, slightly suggestive, property, encouraging suicide, mentions of academic stress and korea's expectation for its students, inspired by @moyazaika 's academic rival yandere (go check the fic out, it's amazing), a drabble for now but I will be posting longer fics of him

🦋 ⤻ archives.

In Korea, students are shown to be almost always studying. Many news outlets have covered multiple schools and how much pressure Korean students are going through with their studies. It's difficult, no one can deny it. Yet, some of these students just find it normal, they view studying as perhaps their only form of control they have in their world.

One of those such students is Seo Min-Jun, a student belonging to a prestigious private high school. Someone who is in his final year of high school, soon to graduate and take his university exams. Top of his class, the son to a minister in Korea's government and a rather popular film actress, and the president of the student council. He was destined for success once he graduated.

The moment he crawled out of his mother's womb, his fate was paved for him in gold.

That was, until you — the sweet scholarship student — showed up.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

At first, he didn't understand you. Both of you were literally in your last year of school, but you waltzed in like you owned the place. At least, from his perspective. He thought you bland. After all, you got in from a scholarship. You may be smart, but were you as rich, or was your status in society as high as him? It didn't matter, he still viewed you as below him and didn't pay much attention to you, relegating his secretary in the student council to give you a tour of the elite private school that you should honestly be honoured to step your grimy shoes all over.

Sure, he'd never say these things out to you or anyone else in public. After all, he was still a model student, and he was taught to act humble. Key word: act.

He honestly didn't take an interest in you till he saw your name, above his, on the monthly test evaluations.

"What?" He muttered out, not believing his eyes. In almost every damn subject, you managed to score higher than him. He was almost always one mark off from you. His eyes shot to you, the you who stood there in your crisp and cut uniform on the other side of the crowd, looking up at the papers pressed onto the walls with a look of pride. What was that look of pride for?

Pride, something that existed strongly in almost every culture, and you had just ruined his.

Your life was never the same afterwards.

Letters of hatred piled in your shoe locker. They ranged from being written like some crazed man worshipping your feet like you were a god to someone who wanted to see you hop off the building of your school. The handwriting was typically crazed, but you could recognise whose handwriting it was solely because the both of you were in the same class.

As usual, the school board did nothing to help with that. And when you tried to accuse Min-Jun, the teachers especially scolded you for attempting to defame the student council president.

It got so bad that your things were going missing too, your homework — which the teachers unreasonably scolded you for even if you were user sure you placed it in your bag this morning — and then your notes too. Technically, they did return. They just returned torn up, and some were even burnt with mysterious stains on them.

One day, you couldn't take it anymore after receiving a death threat, and you stormed to the student council office, knowing that if you went to the general office, they'd turn you away again.

You would take matters into your own hands.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

When Min-Jun first saw you enter the room, he was left breathless. Your blushed cheeks from running all the way here, no doubt, the way your uniform crumpled, his mouth was almost drooling. No, no. He refused to let himself lust over you in such a manner that you were a rival, for goodness sake! Not some... potential love interest. Though that thought did pique his interest but he pushed it down with any other thoughts he had about his rival.

"I can't take it anymore." You said, which shocked him. Was someone bullying you? Only he could do that! "I know it's you. I've seen your handwriting on tests before, I just know you're the one who's been planting those notes and stealing my things." You accused your one-sided academic rival.

He didn't bother to defend himself. What was the point? His family would protect him, the school would protect him, and most importantly, the student body would rip them to shreds if they ever tried to act out against him. He knew how cruel students could be. After all, he had seen all the outcasts almost drowned inside toilet bowls by bullies multiple times.

He could not have that. Having you tortured would mean he would not be able to have a proper rival. As much as he disliked you for being in his way, he preferred to keep things... somewhat fair.

"And your proof?" He inquired.

"I have all those notes stored in my bag." You hissed.

For some reason, the thought of you keeping those notes made his heart beat faster. Were you a freak like him too? Did you have such sinful thoughts just like him? You broke his twisted fantasy with your next words, though.

"I don't understand why you're doing this to me. It's- it's," you struggled to find a word for his disturbing actions, "ceaselessly cruel!" You finally exclaimed.

Cruel? What was cruel were your actions, driving him mad, making him lose focus on his work. Who were you to call him cruel when you made him like this?

He got up from his seat and approached you, causing you to fall back, landing on the couch that you swore was not there when the entered the student council room. Taking this chance, he pinned you against the seat, taking in every part of your body, your face, your eyes... everything. God, you were so perfect but so infuriating. Just why did you have to confront him?

"Are you that fucking naive to think that when you present the school with your proof, they'll do anything about it for you? That they'll go against me and my family for the sake of defending the poor scholarship student?" He hissed, grabbing your face harshly as you whimpered. He wished the circumstances of your whimpers were different; in his bed rather than on the couch of the student council office. Still, that did breed intriguing fantasies into his mind. "You think they'll do that for you?" He repeated.

"I-" you started, but you had no idea how to end.

"Exactly." He let go of you, almost smacking your head to the other side as he straightened himself, readjusting the blazer of his uniform.

"You should get used to the circumstances of your situation." He said which only made you shudder. "Let yourself out." He said cooly as he exited the student council room, "I trust you'll keep this meeting a secret." He said with an air of finality before sauntering casually towards the male bathrooms where he promptly slammed the door shut and sat on the toilet seat, practically fuming.

That look on your face, the scrunch of your nose, the furrowing of your eyebrows. You were so unfair! He could practically feel all his blood flush downwards as he thought of you.

Now that you knew he was the culprit, what would you do?

It didn't matter.

He would find ways to pester you and find ways to mark you as someone who could not be touched by anyone else other than him.

"I left another note in your bag. You should look at it. Or else."

[shalaaex]

ALRIGHT SO THIS IS MY FIRST LONG TERM COMIC THAT IS PURELY AN ADAPTION (with permission from the creator) OF MY FAV FIC OF ALL TIME CALLED “When Worlds Collide” by @celestiangell on AO3!! This is a comic adaption for those who don’t read ao3 AND NEED TO SEE THIS INCREDIBLY WELL THOUGHT OUT STORY. So if you read ao3, READ IT HERE!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46730908/chapters/117695395

And if you don’t, and wanna follow along the story, THEN HOP ON BOARD BECAUSE THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG RIDE!!

Also this part doesn’t directly described in the fic, I added it in to set up the next part 🫶

Please bare in mind that I’m really new to comics and so the art will be sloppy, esp during the action parts… anyway SET UP AND STYLE STRONGLY INSPIRED BY @pinetreevillain !!! Love your comics very much🫶🫶

SEE YA NEXT TIME IM SO TIRED IM PASSING OUT

Master post next