#he looks like my old english teacher in middle school | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

calmcoldevening · 1 year

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Pov: You knew slashers, when you was a child (Slashers x fem!reader)

I'm back! Well, it os a lazy post from my drafts, until I end my new idea <3

TW: no

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, brothers Sinclair

P.S.: English is not my native language, so lot of these words was translated by simple translator, sorry for misspells and e.t.c.

Enjoy this!

Thomas Hewitt

The transition to a new school has always been a great stress for a child, especially in the middle of the school year.

You and your parents often moved from city to city. Maybe it was their work, or maybe they just wanted to show you as many different places as possible so that your childhood would remain really memorable — you didn't know. But the constant moving was followed by a change of schools and kindergartens. On the one hand, you liked it — new acquaintances, interests and a lot of positive emotions, after all, you were a cheerful and active child — but it also brought its inconveniences — you didn't have "best" friends, you had no more than a couple of months to communicate with each of them, and multiple the change of the team has made you a real chameleon in society.

You were ten years old when you and your parents moved to Texas. The age when most classes have already been divided into peculiar interest groups, which are quite difficult for a new person to join. That's why your mom decided to bake cookies that you could distribute to new classmates. Who doesn't like homemade cakes? You actively participated in the cooking process. A little more practice, and you could learn these cookies on your own. As soon as the treat was ready — several pieces were successfully taken away by your father — your mother beautifully put it in a colored box, now tied with a ribbon. The inscription "Welcome" was painted on the lid in gold paint.

It was very hot in this area of Texas. Therefore, on your first day of school, you decided to limit yourself to a beautiful white T-shirt with some simple pattern and black shorts. The first impression is the most important, right? Your mom took you to school by car. At the reception desk, your mom introduced you and found out the number of the right office. After kissing you goodbye on the cheek, she left you to your own luck. Although you were already used to it, a nervous feeling of anticipation bubbled somewhere in your chest; your palms were sweating.

After a good seven minutes, you were standing in front of the right class, 212, clutching a box of cookies to your chest. Adjusting the strap of the gray backpack, you exhaled anyway.

Your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Sullivan, introduced you in the office. A lovely woman with curly locks hanging down on both sides of her face and freckled cheeks. Her soft figure, dressed in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, caused a surge of strength and confidence in you. The woman lightly put her arm around your shoulders, so motherly, and asked you to tell about yourself.

"My name is Y/N Y/L," your voice trembled slightly while your gaze ran over the children sitting in the classroom, "I'm ten. I like animals and beading... Mm, my parents and I move around a lot, so I don't think I'll stay here for more than two months. I hope we'll become friends."

You ended your performance with a sincere warm smile. Mrs. Sullivan asked you to take an empty seat. Your choice fell on the farthest place by the window; a guy was sitting behind it, hunched over and staring at the street. Was he weird? No, rather unusual. He had long black hair, so unusual for a boy; his gaze was lowered somewhere on the dusty road near the school, so you couldn't see his eyes. Sitting down next to him, you quickly took out a notebook and pencil from your backpack.

"Hello?"

The boy seemed startled by your voice. He looked at you uncertainly, and you saw a face wrapped in bandages. Sad cornflower blue eyes peeked out from under the white cloth.

"I'm Y/N," you whisper, holding out your hand to the boy, "And what's your name?"

There was no response. Disappointed, you lowered your hand, now paying attention to the teacher's explanation. The woman was writing down her words on the blackboard, and you quickly began copying them into your notebook, clutching a pencil until it crackled.

There was something about this boy that attracted you. It doesn't matter if it was his shyness or isolation — you decided that you definitely want to make friends with him.

At recess, you approached a group of girls. They were dressed up like girls from fashion magazines that you often saw in kiosks by the road.

"Hi," — you said with a light smile.

"Well, hello," said one of the girls, popping a bubble of gum.

"I want to ask. M, that boy," you pointed to the long—haired boy, "What's his name? I asked, and he ignored me."

"Haha, he won't answer you. That's our little Tommy," another girl hissed sarcastically, giggling, "Thomas Hewitt is weird. Very strange. I heard that his father is his brother!"

"And he's also a terrible freak!"

You awkwardly put your hand in your hair. Thomas didn't look as disgusting as the girls described him. It's all rumors. And what to take from these children, they probably didn't even try to talk to Hewitt!

You didn't talk to this company anymore. After waiting for lunch, when all the children went out to the garden at the school, you again approached the boy. He didn't budge. It seems he hasn't even written anything since you sat down next to him.

"Hey, hello?" you waved your palm in front of the guy's face, "Thomas, right?"

This time the boy paid attention to you. There was no emotion visible under the thick layer of bandages, but you were sure that he arched an eyebrow questioningly. He's wondering how you know his name?

"You were sitting alone, so I came over. Your name is Thomas, right?" you repeated the question, finally the boy nodded, "That's wonderful! I'm Y/N, let's get acquainted."

Smiling happily, you hand the guy an open box of cookies. Golden crust with chocolate chips. You had no desire to share such a delicious thing with such terrible and tactless people. And Tommy. Tommy was different. He was timid and calm, unable to cause harm.

"Help yourself," you babble, sitting down next to Hewitt, "I made them myself! Not without my mommy's help, of course..."

You blush slightly and see Thomas's eyes narrow. He smiled! He seems to be starting to like your company.

"Can I call you Tommy?"

• Thomas has become noticeably happier since you met him. The boy began to spend more time outside the house, in your company (Luda was very surprised by this, because usually after school Tommy always came home and sat in his room).

• For your birthday, Thomas himself sewed a soft toy for you, a fox, as he found out later, this is one of your favorite animals. The toy was sewn from different, but matching pieces of fabric, a little sloppy, but quite skillfully. It made you smile. You threw your arms around Hewitt for joy.

• Once you praise him, Tommy immediately blushes a lot. It's good that it's not visible under the layer of bandages. From the moment you became friends, Thomas's self-esteem has risen a little.

• When you first offered to help Thomas change the bandages, he strongly refused. The boy just couldn't let you see his face. But when he finally gave up, Hewitt was pleasantly surprised that you didn't scream and run away. You didn't call Tommy a freak or a monster, but only sympathetically stroked his scarred cheeks.

• Over time, you began to understand Thomas without words, absolutely. You found the right answers in his movements, grunting, awkward head turning or excessive gesticulation. Even Luda was a little amazed at your nonverbal communication, but the woman was glad that her son finally found a real friend.

• Tommy often showed you his drawings. It was like the scribble of a five-year-old child, but you were always happy to accept the leaves and hang them over your bed. Basically, Thomas drew his family: angry Charlie in the corner of the paper, Monty sitting next to him in a chair, a little further away, Luda was cooking, and in the center of the drawing you and Thomas holding hands and smiling.

• It was the first time you begged your parents to stay in this city longer. Fortunately, they agreed after seeing your enthusiasm for the "strange boy".

Brahms Heelshire

• Your parents and the Healers kept in touch for a while, you can say your families were very close. You first met Brahms on his fifth birthday. He was a very well-mannered but private boy, so Mrs. Heelshire was only too happy to introduce you.

• At first, your communication did not work out. Brahms was a rude child in places, took away your toys and teased you.

• His true attitude towards you showed up when you didn't come to his house, although you were visiting the Heelshire family every Monday and Wednesday. He was seriously worried. All morning Brahms sat in his room by the window and looked at the road going through the forest, waiting for your little body in your favorite blue dress to appear from behind the trees. But you were never there. It turned out that you were just sick. That day Brahms went to your house and did not leave your bed, squeezing your hot palm.

• Your parents worked most of the time, so they were not against your games with Heelshire Jr. You stayed in their house more and more often, sometimes even overnight, and you and Brahms made noise all night, forcing his mother to swear. But still, the woman was glad that at least Brahms was behaving quite comfortably and boldly with someone.

• You were only a couple of months younger than Brahms, but you thought it was a good reason to tease you.

• The boy allowed you to enter his room without knocking, consider it a worthwhile privilege, because Heelshire does not let everyone into his personal space.

• When you were sad, Brahms brought you bouquets of flowers hastily made with his own hands. That's why his palms were green most of the time.

• Brahms makes wonderful sandwiches. He often makes them when the two of you are having a "picnic" in the garden. Although in fact he agrees to it only to admire you.

• Heelshire loves sweets very much. Very. His mom doesn't allow the boy a lot of sweets and cakes, so you secretly bring them to him from home. The boy is insanely happy.

• Brahms loves kissing. This habit, or rather the need, appeared in him because you praised the boy in this way. Has he finally cleaned the room? A kiss. Did he break his mom's precious vase during the catch-up today? A kiss! So now he can demand them for any reason. He especially likes it when you kiss him before going to bed, and Brahms falls asleep hugging you.

• You're his best friend. That's why Brahms trusts you with all his secrets. You are the only one to whom he has told about the strange and frightening thoughts that sometimes sound in his head.

"Good night," Mrs. Heelshire said, turning off the light and closing the door behind her.

You smile and blow her a kiss, covering your mouth with your palm. When the woman's footsteps recede, you exhale with relief, plopping down on the pillow with force. Squinting your eyes, you wrinkle your nose, trying to blow away the stuck strands of hair from your face. Brahms giggles and gently tucks your hair behind your ear.

The room is cool. The window is slightly ajar, letting in a light autumn wind. The curtains are swaying from side to side, taking chaotic frightening shadows.

You get under the covers up to your nose. Brahms follows your example, pressing his whole body against you, and you stroke his head.

"If I ever do something very, very bad, will you stay with me?" Heelshire whispers, looking up at you.

You look into his sad emerald eyes and laugh. He likes to put pressure on your pity, because he knows that at such moments you see him as a tiny abandoned kitten.

"I don't think you'd do anything so bad, Brahms."

"But if I do. What if everyone turns away from me. Even mom and dad. Will you stay with me?"

You pressed your lips together, frowning. Brahms had never asked such strange questions before. And how can a child who is only eight years old think about something like that after a while. Looking down at the ceiling, you turned your head, looking into Brahms' eyes.

"Yes. I'll stay."

"Honestly?" Heelshire asks incredulously.

"Honestly."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise you, silly boy!" you abruptly cover his face with a blanket, holding the edges on both sides of his head.

The boy was kicking, trying to get out from under your weight, while you tried not to laugh. Taking pity on his futile attempts, you took off the blankets, admiring Brahms' flushed face. Heelshire was breathing heavily, and his cheeks and nose were burning like Chinese lanterns that your parents launched on your birthday.

"I won. Again," you grin.

Brahms is silent. You sigh and lie down again, turning your back to Heelshire. Your eyes are shining with joy, and your lips continue to curve in a smug grin. You know that Brahms will not dare to do something to you in return. He always let you get away with such antics. Absolutely always.

When you are ready to fall asleep, through the chatter in your head you hear a plaintive whisper. Having opened your leaden eyelids, you groan with displeasure.

"Kiss me," Brahms whines, and you get up on your elbows, chuckling softly.

"Okay," you kiss Heelshire on the lips, "Good night, Brahms."

• "Now I've won," Brahms croaks, pressing you against the wall and spreading his hands on both sides of your head. Just like a child. Except now he's not the victim here, but you. Although was he ever a victim in your games? Rather, he always played the role of a presenter, you just didn't notice it, as if you were looking through your fingers. And who would have thought that that innocent little boy would ever stand in front of you, towering over your body by a good two heads, and grinning with eyes shining in anticipation through the black slits of the mask.

Sinclairs

Christmas is the most mysterious and magical holiday of the year; the day when the whole family gathers at one big table to properly celebrate this moment together; the day when you receive a lot of gifts from all kinds of relatives, which you sometimes did not realize; the day when all wishes come true.

You clumsily shuffled along the road, shaking your back every now and then to adjust the heavy backpack. Things inside rattled a lot, and you tried to straighten your back faster to avoid crumpled packages.

Christmas was your favorite holiday. And although your parents have been working constantly lately, you were glad that you could spend this family holiday with your friends.

You met not so long ago, only about four months ago, when you first moved here. Ambrose turned out to be a very nice and cozy city with friendly and caring people. Mrs. Sinclair, Trudy, and your mom became friends right away— their interests converged on art. That's when I met her sons, the woman suggested that you make friends with them because of their similar age. And it turned out to be a very good idea. The boys quickly became addicted to you.

Once again adjusting the canvas straps of the backpack, you quickly climb the steps requested by the snow and knock on the sand-colored door several times. On the other side, there is a fussy shuffling and dissatisfied grumbling.

"Hello," you say, smiling, when the door swings open in front of you, revealing a view of the timid Vincent.

The guy nods to you and opens the door wider, motioning you to enter. You kiss Sinclair on the cheek of the mask. Brushing off your feet at the threshold, you quickly take off your shoes and leave your backpack at the shoe shelf. Music from an old radio is coming from the kitchen, some station unknown to you is playing old songs from the seventies. As soon as you entered the room, Vincent stood at the stove again, frying something in a frying pan. Whenever Trudy was busy making figures and arranging a museum that she someday wanted to open, it was Vincent who did the cooking and other household duties. Bo was stubborn and didn't want to do "women's" work, and Lester was still too young for such a large-scale activity. The latter was now sitting at the table and skillfully sliced an apple with a hunting knife into neat pieces.

"Morning, Lester," passing by the boy, you leave a small kiss on his forehead.

"Hi, Y/N!" Sinclair winces contentedly, flapping his big copper eyes.

You sit down next to the boy and imperceptibly take a piece of apple from under his nose, throwing it into his mouth contentedly. There were already several plates and cutlery on the table. Vincent loved order, so he prepared everything in advance.

"Where's Bo?" you ask, rocking slightly in your chair, for which you get a menacing look from Vincent.

"Mom asked him to help at the museum," Lester replied, "He should be back soon."

You notice how Vincent turns off the stove and turns his whole body in your direction. The guy takes a notebook lying on the table and quickly scribbles something.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes," you say shortly, when Vincent closes the notebook and puts it back, "Honestly."

Sinclair puts the hot omelette on plates and pushes you a bowl of oatmeal cookies. You happily take one piece. Vincent sits down across from Lester and lifts the mask just enough to see his mouth. You frown, noticing the edge of his deep scar.

"Hey everyone," it was heard from the threshold, when the front door slammed shut with force, "Oh, honey, and you're here," Bo walks past you, lightly touching your shoulder in greeting, and sits down next to Vincent.

During brunch, you watch Lester and Bo actively negotiate. When their plates are empty, you decide to step in.

"Since everyone is here," you babble happily, clapping your hands to attract the attention of the guys, "I want to give you gifts a little earlier than planned, do you mind?"

"Of course not," Bo abruptly pushed away from the table, "I'm all for it, babe."

Bo winked at you playfully, to which you rolled your eyes. Vincent signed something, and you looked at Lester. Your sign language was not yet good enough to understand most of the phrases, you barely remembered the words of politeness. That's why you've always relied on little Lester at times like this.

"He said: "Why are you doing this so early?"", Lester explained, innocently blinking his eyes.

"What's the difference," Bo frowned, "Sooner or later — the main thing is that she gave."

You didn't comment on the elder Sinclair's words, but just got up from the table and went to your backpack resting in the hallway. When you came back, the brothers were already sitting in a kind of semicircle on the floor. Bo sprawled impressively closer to the sofa and grinned in anticipation; Lester, in his usual manner, sat cross-legged; while Vincent tucked his knees to his chest.

You sat down between the twins and put the backpack next to you, unzipping it. You said "Close your eyes" and, as soon as the boys fulfilled your request, you began to take out colorful boxes. All packages had the same color, different sizes. Alternately, you put the gifts in front of them and allowed them to watch. Lester giggled when he saw that his box was the biggest.

"Merry Christmas," you drawled, spreading your arms out to the sides.

The very first gift was opened by Lester. The boy happily tore open the package, scattering the paper around him, and screamed when he saw the cherished surprise. A big stuffed fawn. He had a soft beige body and neat brown horns sticking out in different directions. The muzzle was cheerful, with a big nose and shiny button eyes.

"I knitted it especially for you," you babble, smiling, when Lester looks up at you with an enthusiastic look.

"Thank you!" the boy throws himself on your neck with lightning speed, squeezing your body until the bones crunch; you stroke his back.

Bo was a little surprised when he saw a set of tools under the wrapper. He loved tinkering and was well versed in mechanics; the fact that you remembered about this hobby touched the guy a little; his lips curved in a slight smile.

"Well, thanks, babe," Bo grins, patting your hair.

You're pouting a little. All the time spent in the morning combing this tangled nest has gone to waste. You are dissatisfied with blowing off a few strands that caught your eye.

The last person to open his gift was Vincent. The boy very tenderly unwrapped the package, not trying to tear it, as if stretching and savoring this moment. You watched the deft but careful movements of his fingers with burning impatience. Finally, Sinclair took off all the paper, removing it from the side, and looked down at what he saw. A large set with colored pencils. Exactly the one that the boy looked at with undisguised envy in the window of an art store about a month ago. Did you remember that? With slightly trembling hands, Vincent takes the box and turns it in his hands. There were several more drawing pads under it.

Vincent looks at you, and you see the trembling gaze of his azure eyes in the slits of the mask. Such unbelievers, but at the same time grateful. You crawl up to the boy and hug him tightly, nuzzling his neck. Vincent lets out a ragged sigh.

"Merry Christmas to you, boys," you congratulate them once again, seeing the boys' satisfied smiles.

"So why did you decide to give it to us so early?" Lester asked, clutching the toy to his chest.

"Oh, that," you awkwardly fix your hair, "Well, my parents decided to leave. To another state. We'll leave tonight. So I thought I could have some fun with you now."

There was an oppressive silence in the room. You were afraid to look up, but you could feel the disappointment on the boys' faces. Your heart was painfully squeezed in your chest, from which you gritted your teeth with a creak.

"Will you come back?" Bo broke the silence.

"I don't know. Dad was offered a job in another state. Mom just said I wouldn't be able to see you."

You looked at each of the boys in turn. Vincent's head drooped, Bo's brows furrowed, and Lester's lips tightened into a crooked thread. The elder Sinclair sighed heavily.

"We'll be waiting. All together," he looked at you from under his brows, "Just try not to come back to us."

• Vincent loves sweets; but, often, Bo takes most of the goodies. That's why you put an envelope with several edible bracelets in one of the donated notebooks. Bo will probably consider them girly and will not take them away from his brother.

• You have been knitting a fawn for Lester for about five days; the boy is very happy with your gift. Your relationship is like a brother and a scary sister. He is always ready to rely on you; Sinclair is glad that he has such a caring person, unlike the same brothers (in particular Bo).

• Trudy adores you. You could say that in these few months she began to perceive you as her own daughter. You even know where the spare keys to the back door of the house are.

• Bo always tries to impress you as a self-sufficient high school student. He saw his father's old magazines with tackles, seduction and other materials not for children, so he decided to train on you. He didn't notice how he fell in love.

• Vincent is a good cook.

• Most of Vinnie's drawings in the new notebooks are you. He will paint your portraits for many years after your leaving.

#slashers x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelsire x reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair

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plmp0 · 4 months

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The Nerd

Summary: Jake moved to your school because of his parents work, and you couldn't help but think how a nerd like him would fuck so u made that ur challenge.

Warnings: Nerd!Jake, kinda mean Jake, kinda switch Jake, pervet!reader, kinda uncomfortable, reader is so pushy (whatever that means), public touching, manipulative!reader, hair pulling, spanking, rough!fucking, p in v, unprotected sex (please protect), squirting, fingering, i think that's it.

A/N: Again this was an old draft so sorry if the quality is not the best,i tried to edit some stuff but it's 3 am right now so idk what i was doing 💀, also there might be some typos sorry for that. And finally just note that english is not my first language but yeah enjoy ~~ (also i just realised how long this is)

Jake has been always the top of his class, most of his time is around his books, not having a single friend because for him that means wasting time. So it was quite surprising when his parents decided to move to a new house, and in the middle of the school semester, no less. He didn't like that at all.But when he arrived in his new home, Jake didn't feel so bad anymore. It was a really big house, almost as big as his old school, and with the biggest library he'd ever seen, even bigger than the town's. Not having to worry about leaving his friends was also one of the things that didn't let him have ones, they have to move a lot because of his dad's work so things weren't adding up anyways.

It was Jake's first day in this new school, spending the whole night studying to catch up to their pace and also to maintain his top student image, he went to the asigned classroom. As he expected, no one knew who he was, everyone looked at him weirdly and a boy with glasses even whispered to the person next to him that he "looked like a nerd".He sat down and waited for the class to start, the teacher arrived a few minutes later and greeted the students before calling the attention to the new student. "Everyone, please, give a warm welcome to our new student, Jake. Now, I don't want anyone disturbing his studies, if you do I will make sure the principal knows." the teacher said, giving a stern look at some boys in the back, one of them was the same one who had made fun of Jake's appearance.The boys in the back, as if sensing their teacher's glare, tried to look as innocent as possible. Some of the other kids were talking about the new student while the rest were too focused on their phones or books. Jake nontheless ignored and filtered any meaningless noise, focusing on the class instead. "Alright, now, open your books on page 249. Y/n, you can read until page 270, then we will move on to the next chapter." The teacher said, making Jake shift his attention to you.

You nodded, but Jake was sure you hadn't heard the teacher, as your eyes were glued to the phone, scrolling through something. You didn't even try to look like you were reading, and when the teacher noticed this she went over and took the phone away from you, Jake shaked his head unimpressed not liking that you made him waste a full 10 minutes. You tried to convince her to give it back, but the teacher, Mrs. Smith, didn't relent and kept it until the end of class. Jake tried to focus again on the class, but his mind was somewhere else, you not shutting up talking loud enough as if u were sitting next to him, he huffed turning around to face you and giving you a cold glare, making you stop and shiver, not saying anything else but finding interest on him, you've always liked nerds. He sighed, relieved, and continued to pay attention to the class, writing down everything he was supposed to and more. Once class ended, everyone left except you, Jake and Mrs. Smith, who wanted to speak to him about some important things, as well as talk to him about his grades and how he would fit into the class. You stood up and stretched, yawning before heading towards the teacher to get ur phone back, not caring much for what the two were discussing, "Oh, Mrs. Smith, do you happen to have my phone? You took it earlier and I just want to go to my next class." You said, trying to sound as polite as possible to avoid getting scolded, you didn't care that much but the principal had told you to behave.

"Oh, yes. Here you go. But next time please try not to use it during class, or else I'll have to take it away again, alright?" She handed you the phone, you quickly nodded and thanked her, turning on the phone and walking away rolling your eyes. "Oh, and before I forget, here are the things that are new to the semester. Jake, I'm sure you'll do great." She handed him a folder full of papers, which he took, thanked her and left. He went over the papers as he walked, not paying much attention to where he was going, but making sure to read every line, his eyes were so focused on the paper that he didn't even notice you. "Hey, watch out." But you didn't, instead, the two of you bumped into each other, dropping the papers and Jake huffed losing the spot he was reading. You fell, not being able to catch yourself because your hands were holding the phone, you scoffed annoyed. "What the fuck, watch where you're going." "Says the one who didn't watch their step, dumbass." Jake mumbled, picking the papers. "What was that?" You asked, not quite hearing him, and not happy about being called a dumbass.

Jake turned to face you, giving you a stern look while collecting his papers not wanting to drag this convo any longer. You were about to argue back when you noticed the papers he was collecting, and how much there was. You got curious, how could this nerd get so much extra credit on the first day? "Hey, let me see." You took the papers away from him, skimming through them. "Are you serious?" U exclaimed,"Hey, give it back. And watch your tone, it's very rude." Jake glared at you. "Why should I?" You smirked. "What are you gonna do about it? Tell on me? Go ahead." You said mockingly, Jake massaged his forehead annoyed and grabbed the papers, pulling them from you, making you stumble and drop the phone again, "Hey!" You yelled, looking at your phone. "Do you have any idea how expensive that was?!" "Then be more careful with it, maybe then it won't fall" Jake shrugged, fixing the papers and putting them in his backpack, you rolled your eyes and picked up your phone checking it and you huffed relieved seeing that it didn't break. U bit ur lips this new student is really getting into ur nerves, but you had a better way to deal with him. "Whatever, loser." You turned around and left, not wanting to get in trouble on the first day.

Jake chuckled a little bit as u left, "what a great first day" he mumbled with sarcasm in his tone, heading to his next class but he stopped mid-way, he was so focused on what had happened that he didn't realize how lost he was, not having any idea of where he had to go and now his late for class, great. He spent a long time looking for class that now he has arrived late, sighing relieved when he finds the door open and walks in. "Sorry for arriving late, sir. I'm the new student, Jake." "Don't worry about it. Go ahead and take a seat. You're in the back." the teacher said, and Jake nodded, walking towards the back and sitting down trying to ignore the fact that u were his seatmate as you were already sleeping or that's what he thought, the teacher didn't even stop to breath in the passing 30 minutes making everyone yawn well everyone appart from Jake, he was busy writing when he let a very loud gasp making everyone look at him questionably, he excused himself feeling embarrassed as he felt your hand wondering in his thighs above his jeans, his mind was racing and he wasn't able to focus at all, he looked at you and noticed the smirk on your lips as u rested ur head on the table,

oh that was not good. The teacher didn't say anything and continued the lesson, but Jake couldn't focus anymore. He couldn't believe this, he never let anything shift his attention before neither was he touched this way by a girl in a fucking classroom. He shifted on his chair, trying to move away from you, but that only caused your hand to travel higher, making his face flush and you grin liking the reaction u got from him, ur grin got bigger when u felt his bulge on ur hand. Jake felt a chill go down his spine, he was not enjoying this at all, why would he? This was just distracting, and he wanted to stay focused that's what he tried to convince himself but the fact that he stopped getting away from you made you continue ur movements, you caressed his thigh through the fabric, and then moved on to his bulge, squeezing it gently and rubbing him.

He gasped and tensed up, closing his eyes and trying not to move. He bit his lips as the sensation was getting stronger, and soon his cock was rock hard, throbbing under your touch, Jake was so new to this feeling he was going crazy, you smirked as u felt his member twitch, you looked at him and could see the embarrassment in his face, u leaned on him and whispered quietly "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Naughty boy." you teased, licking his ear. Jake bit his lips and moved his head, trying to get away from you, he was so scared that someone is gonna see the both of u, and seconds later the entire class was staring at him wondering what's wrong when he hitted his knee on the table while trying to squirm. He didn't know what to do, this was kinda embarrassing but it feels so good, and he didn't want it to stop, he opened his mouth to ask what you were doing, but when he felt your hand squeeze him, he gasped and couldn't hold back a moan, causing him to cover his mouth. He was redder than a tomato, and he couldn't look at the teacher or the other students afraid to get caught, you continued, enjoying his reactions, and the fact that everyone was focused on their things. It was obvious that Jake wasn't getting away, and that was fine with you. He was hard and throbbing, and his precum had leaked, creating a small dark stain on his jeans. Jake bit his lip and tried to muffle his moans, but you didn't want him to almost punishing him for what he did previously, you squeezed him again, rubbing his length. "You're so hard, Jake. I didn't think you would like this. You're so naughty~" you whispered.

Jake whined and closed his eyes, shaking his head, not wanting to admit that neither to hear it now it was hard enough from his to muffle his sounds, but it was true, he did like this. And the fact that he was hard as a rock proved it if only he didn't have to be in a space full of people he'd acted differently. He was getting close you could feel it as he was breathing heavily his eyes were tightly shut, his hips were moving with your hand and you thanked god that u were sitting at the end of the class or the teacher would have seen everything, you sped up your movements and that's when Jake lost it, his body tensed up and his hips buckled, he groaned as quietly as he could before releasing his load on his jeans, making a small wet spot. You grinned, stopping your movements and moving away from him. Jake opened his eyes and looked at his pants, noticing the stain, and realizing what just happened, he looked around, seeing everyone staring at him, the teacher was waiting for him to answer a question, and the rest were looking at his flushed form face confused. He gulped and cleared his throat, looking at the teacher, not knowing what the question was.

"Are you okay, Jake? Are you feeling sick?" The teacher asked. "N-no... Sorry, I'm okay..." Jake said. "I would like to believe you, but, I'll let it pass since it's your first day. U should focus or u wont catch up, understood?" , "Yes, sir..." Jake nodded. "Good. Now, can anyone tell me the answer to the question?" The teacher looked around, waiting for someone to answer. "Uh... Y/n." The teacher looked at you. "Yes, sir. 54." You said, knowing the answer and not caring enough about this class. "Correct. Thank you, Y/n. Now, let's move on." The teacher turned around and started writing on the board. Jake felt relieved that he got out of this situation without getting caught, but now he had to deal with the mess you made, his jeans were ruined and he turned to look at you, seeing the mischievous smile on your face. He knew you weren't gonna leave him alone. He sighed and looked away, trying not to think about it and focus on class. But he couldn't. For the rest of the class, Jake couldn't focus, and his thoughts kept going back to you, and what had happened. His cheeks were pink, and his dick was still hard, the cum stain on his jeans didn't go away, and every time he moved, he felt it rub against him.

Once the class ended, Jake gathered his things and left as fast as he could, not wanting to see anyone, or get more attention. He rushed out of the classroom and walked quickly, heading towards the bathroom. He needed to change and get out of this, it was too much for him, he got to the bathroom taking care of the mess and removing his jacket tacking it around his waist while getting his dresshirt out of his pants hoping that i'll hide something before getting out of the bathroom, he sighed trying to calm down as he felt a hand on his shoulder "Hey, nerd. Wait." It was you, smirking. Jake turned around, facing you, his face still a little flushed from earlier and his body tensed upon seeing you, "Y-yes?" Jake asked his words getting out more broken than he anticipated,

he cleared his throat waiting for you to speak, u scanned him the grin never leaving ur lips " looks like you took care of yourself already" u whined disapointed "too bad i wanted to help you" "Wdym?" he cleared his throat again fixing his hair as he felt some sweat forming at the end of his forehead "no need to do that" he mumbled looking at you giving him your puppy eyes, he shifted his eyes to look elsewhere just wanting to go home at this rate feeling tired already but there was no way u'd give up, you really wanted him to lose it so curious to see what he'd do. "But, Jake... You looked so cute when you were enjoying yourself..." You purred, putting a hand on his chest. "I wanted to make you feel good..." he furrowed his eyebrows not loving how you are adressing him "s-stop" his voice was breaking, he didn't know what was going on but he didn't like this. "Aww, come on, Jake... Just admit it... You liked it... And I'm sure you would love it if I continued..." You smiled, and moved your hand down, resting it on his lower stomach. "Stop, we are still in school!" He exclaimed, his voice slightly louder. "Oh, come on, Jake... There's no one here..." You grinned, pressing your palm against his crotch. Jake bit his lips, holding back a moan and his eyes widened when he felt your hand press against him.

His pants were too tight, and he was already half hard. You didn't know how or when but you felt ur back pressed on the wall Jake leaning to face you as his lips were inches away from your ear "I get that you want to be fucked soo badly but i have things to do" Jake whispered you moaned feeling him suck on your earlobe before he left leaving you hot and confused, a smirk formed at your lips licking them "ahhh m gonna have so much fun" u mumbled adjusting ur clothes and heading to meet one of your friends from the other class. After the incident with you, Jake avoided you as much as he could. But that didn't stop you from teasing him, and he always had an excuse not to interact with you, or anyone else, really. He focused on his studies more than the normal days trying to distract himself from you, he was starting to get really frasturated by all of your teasing. You on the other hand were getting annoyed, you had tried so many times to get close to him, or just talk to him, but he always had an excuse to brush you off, and he always seemed so busy. You knew he was trying to avoid you, and you were determined to make him give in taking it as a challenge at that point.

One day, during class, the teacher decided to choose randomly two people for next week's project and to ur luck Jake was paired up with you for the presentation and you couldn't be happier. He wasn't too happy about it that's what you noticed but he had no choice, and the teacher said the two of you would have to meet outside of class. That's when the fun began. Jake was sure that he was screwed. You had him trapped.You were gonna make him lose his control, and there was no way out of it. It was the day you r supposed to meet up for your project, Jake suggested going to a cafe nearby the school but you being your stubborn self insisted to meet up in ur house saying that it'd be better and calmer and blah blah blah, Jake couldn't help it but agree after his failed attempts. He was standing in front of your door inhaling deeply before knocking a few times, you were quick to open the door smiling at him and welcoming him in.

He was surprised when he saw ur outfit, your small shorts not leaving anything for imagination, ur blue crop top hugging ur breasts perfectly, he clicked his tongue rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly when you told him to sit in the living room and you went to get some water, coming back quickly and sitting next to him body stuck to his with the glass in ur hands. "So" Jake started wanting to start with the project and leave quickly "we should start, what's the theme?" He asked looking through his backpack and taking out a notebook and a pencil, u rolled ur eyes at his words "come on, Jakey, you know we don't have to do this right now." u said handing him the glass of water which he accepted "it's not healthy for you to be always studying, let's take a break." "We need to get this done, Y/n." He said sternly, sipping the water. "We can't waste time. So, what's the theme?" "The theme is... The importance of a good education." You smiled, remembering the topic that you picked out. "Seriously?" Jake said mockingly knowing very well how u r always sleeping during classes or just on your phone. "Yeah, seriously." You smiled, taking the glass from his hands and setting it on the table. "Don't worry. I'm not stupid." "I know." He said, and before you could say anything else, he pulled out his phone. "Let's start, shall we?"

"Sure, Jake." You smiled, and started explaining your ideas for the project, and the two of you started working. Jake didn't like that you kept distracting him flashing ur cleavage every now and then but he couldn't say anything cause you were being very professional. He didn't think it was possible, but you were doing a really good job. Maybe this wasn't so bad. You noticed his reaction and you couldn't help but smirk a little, you knew he was gonna lose it and soon. The two of you worked for a couple hours, and by the time it was over, Jake was exhausted. He was glad you were smart enough to not screw this up, but he was still suspicious. You had been nothing but nice the whole time, and it was a bit out of ordinary.You stretched and smiled. "That was a good session, huh?" "Yeah. I'm glad we were able to get some work done." Jake said, packing his stuff. "Yeah. Me too." You smiled, and stood up. "I'm gonna get some snacks, I'll be right back." Jake nodded and waited for you. You came back a few minutes later, carrying a tray of fruit, cookies, and drinks. You set the tray on the coffee table and sat next to him, Jake had some cookies eyes not leaving his phone for a couple of minutes before speaking "Alright, I think we should stop here." , "Oh, why?" You asked, tilting your head. "Because we're finished." Jake said, closing his notebook. "We're not done yet." You pouted. "I wanna hang out a bit." "Hang out? With me?" Jake asked raising one of his eyebrows, "Why not?" You shrugged. "Well, we have nothing in common." Jake said, standing up. "Besides, I have a lot of work to do. And so do you." "Aw, come on, Jakey." You pouted, wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling him down onto the couch. "We have plenty of time." "No, we don't." Jake said removing ur hands from his body, but you were faster as u landed one of them on his crotch making him gasp loudly.

"W-what are you doing?", "What's wrong, Jake? It's just a hand." You smiled, squeezing his crotch. Jake exhaled his eyes fierceful as he looked u down tongue clicking, one of his hands sliding his hair up "you are really a slut ha" "Only for you, Jakey~" You purred, stroking his growing erection. Jake groaned and bit his lip. "Stop i don't think you'll be able to handle what's coming!" Jake warned, his tone more stern. "I'll take my chances." You grinned, continuing rubbing him over his pants, Jake growled and grabbed your arm, pulling it away and pinning it to the couch. "You really don't get it, do you? This is the only chance you're gonna get." He growled, tightening his grip on your arm. You winced a little at the pain and bit your lip. "Sorry. I'll behave. Promise just give it to me" you said pouting a bit. "Woah" Jake chuckled lowly, "someone is being a needy slut today." He said having enough from restraining himself his frustration takkng over him, and you moaned loving his choice of words,"Please, Jake. Please. I'm sorry. I'll do whatever you want, anything please" You begged. "Anything? (He paused for a second) but again it's not a surprise after seeing how hard you tried to get to my dick" He hummed licking ur lips slowly. "Yes. Anything. Just fuck me." You begged, and Jake leaned down, kissing you roughly. You moaned, enjoying the kiss, and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He continued kissing you hungrily, his hands exploring your body.

He broke the kiss, and pulled back, staring at you, his eyes moved to your boobs who were almost exposed because of this position, the blue complementing your skin and making him lick his lips constantly, he has never really went with a girl above kissing and touching here and there however he watched enough content to know what to do, his hand groped one of ur breast squeezing it roughly his nails digging on the fabric as u moaned loudly. "You're so beautiful, Y/n." Jake whispered, his soft tone contradicting his rough touches, "T-thank you." You said, blushing a little , he smiled seeing how calm you are now that you are getting what u want, he pulled the strap of ur crop top down exposing your breast the sight making him gulp as he massaged the other one he neglected earlier, his other hand moving down to cup your pussy through your shorts making you moan and squirm. He groaned as he felt your wetness through the fabric "Fuck, you're so wet, Y/n." Jake grinned, "Soaking." "J-Jake..." You moaned, arching your back, grinding against his hand. "Shh, isn't that what you wanted? So shut up and enjoy it"he smirked, leaning to deliver kisses on ur neck. He kept rubbing your pussy through ur shorts and you couldn't help but whine wanting to feel him against ur bare skin. He pulled his hand away and looked at you. "You want more, Y/n?" He asked, smirking. You nodded, your chest heaving and your eyes wide. "Then take them off." Jake said. "Your shorts." You gulped, and stood up, pushing your shorts down, and taking them off, tossing them aside.

Jake sat on the couch manspreading a bit and patting his lap, u followed his order and sat on his lap grinding your pussy against his hard member while he cupped ur ass, his hands running over the soft skin, he leaned down and placed his lips on your nipple sucking on it making u throw your head back moaning and grinding ur pussy harder against him. You grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it aside and running your hands over his chest. Jake groaned and moved his hands down, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of your panties, pulling them down, you raised your hips, helping him as he pulled them down, tossing them away. His hand went back to cup your pussy, and he moaned feeling the wetness. "God, you're soaked." Jake groaned, running two of his fingers on ur slit, spreading the juices and making you moan loudly, Jake grinned as u were already a mess, and he has just started. "So fucking wet. Just for me." Jake hummed, his fingers playing with your clit, the pleasure making your body jerk. Jake felt his hands act on themselves, his index finger teasing ur entrance making u buckle ur hips, "I'm not gonna do anything if u don't behave, y/n" he growled,

his fingers going to rub your clit roughly, his eyes were focused on ur reaction and you didn't have to try to put up an act, your body was shaking eyes rolling back. You nodded and closed your eyes, biting your lip and trying to stay still, even though all you wanted was to grind your pussy on his fingers, he lifted his free hand spanking ur ass hard making u gasp, your body jerked a bit and Jake rubbed the spot he had spanked, "Good girl." He purred his finger went to tease ur hole once again. He slowly pushed his finger inside, his cock twitching at the feeling of your tight walls. He has only seen a pussy on videos and nothing could compare to the feeling of the real thing, he pushed his finger deeper and moved it in and out slowly, feeling you clench around him. He moved his finger a bit deeper, looking at ur expressions mouth gaped eyes long gone and he grinned. adding another digit and moving it at the same pace, he lifted u a little curling his finger inside you, hitting a sweet spot. "Feels good, huh?" Jake asked and you nodded, moaning loudly, and he spanked you again. "Words." He growled. You gasped, and let a small cry. "Y-yes! It feels so good, Jake!" Jake grinned, and kept moving his finger, hitting that same spot every time. Your body jerked and he noticed how close you were, "you were acting up just a few days ago and look at you now, where did that attitude go ha?" He chuckled when u didn't answer him his fingers reaching deeper making u spasm on his lap,

"Come on, cum for me. Let go." He groaned, his voice husky, and a few seconds later, your pussy clenched around his finger, and you let out a loud moan as you came, squirting all of your juices on his pants, Jake groaned feeling the warmness of ur juices land on his cock, ur body still shaking as he was still moving his fingers inside you, he pulled out groaning at ur attempt to keep him in by squeezing him tightly, his cock throbbing inside his pants as he licked his fingers clean tasting u making you squirm and he gave them to u, you licked them and moaned at the taste, his free hand moved down cupping ur ass before he spanked u again, you moaned loudly and looked at him, "You want me to fuck you, right?" He asked, and you nodded eagerly. "Please." You begged. "You've been such a good girl for me so far, so I'll give it to you." He kissed ur jaw talking over ur skin "but i'll have to punish you for what you did these passing days" he mumbled making u shiver a bit, his hand squeezed ur ass roughly. "Now get up, i'm gonna bend you over the table and fuck your slutty little pussy" he said patting ur core and you whined, but did as he told u, getting up and bending over the table, spreading your legs for him, he groaned at ur eagerness and quickly unbuttoned his pants pulling them down along with his underwear, his cock finally springing free, you looked behind you and bit your lip seeing his length, "wow, you're big." You mumbled. He smirked and leaned over, his body pressing against yours, his lips near your ear. "I'm gonna make sure to make you scream, and never think about going around whoring for nerds again" He whispered, making you whimper, his hands grabbed your ass, giving it a few squeezes, he rubbed his cock on your pussy, making you moan and squirm. "So impatient. Behave." He growled slapping ur inner thighs and steadying u in place

"Sorry" u mumbled trying to stop yourself, Jake smirked and rubbed the tip of his cock against ur clit, making you whine and bite your lip, you felt like you were gonna explode, the teasing was driving you crazy. His hips rolled and his tip poked ur entrance, you moaned and arched your back, trying to take his length inside, he spanked you again making you yelp and he held you down, "i'm the one in charge here, not you" he growled and you nodded, letting out a breathy moan, he pulled back and slapped his cock against your clit a couple times making u shake, the sensation driving u mad and before u could complain his length entered u, the tip slowly entering u and stretching your tight walls making you cry out, "fuck you're tight." Jake groaned, feeling the warmth and wetness of your pussy wrapped around him, the pleasure was almost unbearable, his hand went to massage your ass and squeeze it a few times, his other hand gripping your hip tightly, nails digging into the skin, his eyes were focused on where his cock met your pussy and how he disappeared inside of you. He pushed himself deeper and pulled out slowly, the drag of his length inside you was incredible, you moaned and gripped the edge of the table, your body trembling as he kept thrusting into you, his cock filling you completely. Jake's hand traveled up, his palm resting between your shoulder blades and applying pressure, making your cheek rest against the table. He pulled out and slammed back into you, his balls slapping against you and you let out a loud moan, the feeling was overwhelming.

You felt his fingers grab your hair, pulling you up and his lips were on yours in a matter of seconds, his tongue invading your mouth, the kiss was sloppy yet intense, his thrusts were getting faster, his tongue moving in and out of your mouth, tasting every inch of it. You broke the kiss and let a loud moan, feeling him brush at ur spot, his hand was gripping the hair at the back of your head, his nails digging into the skin and he was panting, his breath fanning your cheek, he closed his eyes enjoying the feeling of ur walls around him, Jake was scared that he'd become addicted to ur pussy the thought of getting out of you was already not clicking with him, his other hand grabbed your hip and he started slamming into you harder, his cock hitting that same spot again, making you scream in pleasure. He groaned, feeling his orgasm building up, his movements became sloppy and his hips stuttered "Fuck, look at u now, taking my cock so well" Jake said, his words coming out in a mix of moans and groans, he let out a low groan and threw his head back, his hips snapping into you a couple more times and he buried himself deep inside of you, cumming and filling your pussy, you moaned at the feeling of his cum filling you and painting your walls white, your legs trembled and you let out a loud moan as your body jerked, reaching your orgasm and squirting all over his cock, your walls tightening around him, milking him. "Fuck" Jake groaned, his hands leaving your hair and hips, his palms resting on the table as he leaned forward, panting heavily, his chest pressed against your back. He was sweating his skin hot.

Jake's cock slipped out of you and he let a small groan. His eyes focused on your pussy and how your juices were mixed with his cum, and the sight alone made him hard again, he grabbed your legs and spread them, making you whine. His other hand stroked his cock and he guided his tip to your pussy, pushing his cock inside making you whine "J-Jake, what are you doing? I'm sensitive." You mumbled, your voice tired. "We're not done yet, baby. I need to teach you a lesson." Jake growled, his hands going to rest on your hips squeezing them, he started thrusting into you roughly, not giving you time to adjust and his hips snapped into you, his balls slapping against your clit, you were a mess, moaning and whimpering, begging for him to stop. Jake growled and bent down, his face next to yours. "I warned you before but u didn't listen. So shut up and take it." He growled, and his hand went to slap your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh. Your body was trembling and the feeling of his cock pounding into you was amazing, it felt so good!

tbh u didn't imagine him to go this hard on you and ohh god how you love it, no one has ever fucked you this good. The sound of his skin slapping against yours and the lewd sounds of his cock entering you filled the room you were a mess, ur hair sticking on ur face, juices mixed with his cum dripping from your pussy messing up the table. Jake groaned, his breathing uneven and his hips stuttered. He was close again, and so were you. "Cum for me, Y/n." Jake groaned, his thrusts were getting faster, he was losing his rhythm eyes closed biting his lower lip until he couldn't hold it anymore, his hand reached ur clit rubbing it fastly making u whimper "OmG" u rolled ur eyes ur release hitting u like a truck and with a couple of hard thrusts he followed u, cumming inside of you, his cum mixing with the previous one, his hips kept rolling, riding out his high, the feeling was intense, his cock twitched and he pulled out, collapsing on the couch, panting heavily. "Holy shit." You mumbled, trying to catch your breath. Jake nodded, running a hand through his hair.

The two of you were quiet for a few minutes, then Jake got up, helping u getting up too and bringing u to the bathroom. "I'll clean the table." Jake said, leaving and coming back with some wet wipes, he cleaned the table looking at u wearing a robe while scanning his body "u okay?" He asked suddenly feeling nervous not knowing what to do now, u smiled and nodded, "yeah, thanks" u mumbled, he nodded back and looked away, he was wearing his boxers now looking at his pants that are full of ur juices, he sighed and grabbed them cleaning them with the wet wipes and getting dressed, u stared at him confused, "what are u doing?" You asked. "Leaving." Jake said, buttoning his shirt.

"It's getting l-late" his voice stuttered when he felt your hand helping him with his shirt, he heard his phone ringing and went to get it seeing his mom's name on the screen, "hi" his voice was low as he answered, and u could hear his mother's voice asking where is he, he told her that he was busy with his homework and forgot to call, he was glad that his parents are never home so he wouldn't have to explain anything, he bid goodbye to his mom and hang up. "Is everything ok?" You asked, and Jake nodded. "I gotta go." Jake said, gathering his stuff. "I'll see you tomorrow." You said, and Jake nodded, giving you a small smile and leaving, making you finally drop on the floor as u couldn't feel ur legs anymore but u smiled nonetheless u had so much fun, and this will not be the last time for sure.

Woah i couldn't edit this whole thing so m gonna comeback to it after having some sleep, also this was supposed to be a virgin Jake fanfic but yeah i got carried away and forgot about that sorry

#enhypen smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #enhypen jake #enhypen jaeyun #enhypen jake sim #enhypen jake smut #enhypen jake x reader

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call-me-maggie13 · 2 years

Text

My late 40s to early 50s boss just asked what’s wrong with 18-25 year olds these days

And as a 21 year old all I could think was

The world has been on fire since we were born and we’ve been told the adults are putting it out and now we’re old enough to realize they’ve been pouring kerosene on the flames instead of water.

Before my first birthday, 9/11 happened and the world wouldn’t let us forget it. When I was 6 years old, on September 11th, my teacher sat us down in front of a tv and showed us footage of 9/11 and then told us we weren’t allowed to cry. She said that it was real and those were real people jumping from the building because jumping was a faster death than burning.

When I was 7 years old, the economy collapsed and my family went from lower middle class to poverty, we went from healthy home cooked meals every night to mac and cheese and beans for weeks in a row. We started skipping holidays because mom and dad couldn’t keep the lights on and buy us new toys. We started wearing clothes and shoes until they fell apart.

When I was 11 years old, Sandy Hook was attacked by a grown man with a gun and 26 children and teachers were brutally murdered. My teachers never looked at us the same and I haven’t felt safe in a school since. After that, once a month we would have active shooter drills and we were taught to fight and cause as much damage as possible if an armed man entered our classroom because it gave other classes a few extra seconds to escape, it gave our siblings a few extra breaths of safety. We were taught to cover ourselves in other students blood and play dead if we weren’t hit, we were taught that we weren’t safe and we wouldn’t be safe as long as we were in school.

When I was 15 years old, my high school art teacher locked us in the classroom and told us if we heard gunshots we should line the desks up lengthwise so that they reached the other wall because that would be harder to break through than a barricade. She told us that she knew about the threats and she wouldn’t judge any of us that wanted to leave. She told us to get our siblings and stay in the buildings as long as possible, to duck in between the cars so we couldn’t be seen until we got to ours. She told us about the trail behind the auto shop that was lined with trees and led off campus. I got my brother and his friends and we left, we spent the day sitting on the floor in my living room waiting for a phone call that the people we left behind were dying.

Two weeks later, one of my friends dragged me out of a football game and forced me to go home with him. He grabbed my brothers and my best friend and forced the six of us into a two seater car before he would tell us anything. His mom worked for the school board and had told him the police found an active bomb under the bleachers in the student section, and they weren’t informing anyone because they didn’t want to incite panic.

When I was 16 years old, ISIS set off a bomb at a pop concert in Britain and killed 22 people, injuring at least 100 more. The next day at school, our teachers went over how to stay safe if we ever experienced something like that. They told us the most important thing to remember was to not remove any shrapnel because it could be keeping us from bleeding out, they said it was more important to get yourself out safely before you worried about anyone else.

When I was 18 years old, my teachers stopped teaching and put the news up on the projector and we watched as the Notre-Dame burned. The boy I had sat next to since second grade spent the entire day trying to call his sister who was studying abroad in Paris, I watched this kid I had never even seen frown fall apart in English because she wouldn’t pick up the phone. We didn’t know it at the time, but she was okay.

Six months later, my history teacher put the news on the projector again for another fire. This time, we watched as an entire continent burned for three months. We watched their sky turned orange from the smoke and their wildlife drowned in pools because they were trying to escape the heat.

When I was 19 years old, the whole world shut down because of a global pandemic. I didn’t meet a single new person for eight months, despite the fact that I had just moved across the country. I watched as people didn’t wear masks and spread it to everyone around them, I was so scared when I went back to my room every night because my roommate was immunocompromised and I was terrified I would give her Covid and kill her.

Just two months later, I watched a video of a black man being murdered by police officers. I watched the world around me explode after George Floyd’s death, people destroying businesses and police stations. I watched some of my friends realize police officers didn’t exist to keep them safe, they existed to keep the people in power in power. I learned that some of the people I had grown up with would rather watch a black man die than admit that maybe, maybe, the system was broken.

When I was 20 years old, I went to the mall with a friend to buy a birthday present and I was pulled to the ground by a twelve-year-old girl after gunshots went off in the mall. I held this child’s hands as she cried for two hours until we were evacuated by police, and then I waited with her outside and helped her look for her mom. I gave her my phone to call her mom and I watched as she called the number over and over and never got a reply. I waited with her until a police officer took her to the station to try to find out more information about the girl’s mom, I hugged this girl I had never seen before and I wished her the best. I never found out what happened to her or her mom, it keeps me up at night sometimes worrying that this little girl was orphaned.

When I was 21 years old, I started working at a daycare and exactly a week later, Uvalde happened and I found myself crying because my students are the same age those kids were. When they came in after school the next day, one of them had asked me if I had heard about Uvalde and I told her I had, I asked her if she was scared of going to school because of it. Her reply broke my heart. “We practice for it every week so that when it happens to us, we know what to do. I’m just worried that the shooter is going to start in my baby sister’s classroom and not mine.” I listened as other students with younger siblings agreed with her, one of them saying “I would take fifty bullets, if I had to to keep my little brother safe.”

Early this year, I watched Russia launched bombs into Ukraine, blowing up churches and schools and hospitals and apartment buildings. I watched as the estimated death count rose from the hundreds to the thousands to the tens of thousands. I watched men send their wives and children to bordering countries for refuge while they stayed behind to fight, knowing they would probably never see each other again.

Just four months ago, I watched as my right to medical privacy got taken away. I watched my old roommate fall apart because she was denied the right to have her dead fetus removed from her body for almost two days, I worried every time I looked away from her that the next time I saw her would be in a casket. I watched as the women around me realized the military-grade weapons that had torn children in classrooms apart were protected by the government but our bodies weren’t.

There is nothing “wrong” with my generation, we’ve experienced all these things as children and were expected to respond with patriotism for a country that continuously sacrificed their children for the “right” to military-grade weapons, that took away my freedom of choice. We are tired, we were told the world was a wonderful place then shown, at every step, how the world was a place of destruction and pain. And we are angry. We are angry because no one but us seems to be trying to fix anything. And we are scared. We are scared because our children, our nieces and nephews, our cousins and our friends children are growing up in a world that won’t protect them.

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morganbritton132 · 1 year

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For the teacher!Steve trying not to curse I think it’s harder when he becomes a middle school teacher. He definitely will slip into the second grade teacher voice when he is in his civilian state (aka at metal concerts) when he is a second grade teacher, but like as a ninth grade English teacher it becomes much easier to slip back and forth when you’re faced with a bunch of pre/baby teens. It is much harder to not slip up and just go “what the fuck man” when you’re faced with a fourteen year old getting his phone out to play some stupid iPhone game thirty seconds after you told him to put it away, bc there’s something about little kids that makes it easier to not curse around them. So I think the fact that the shenanigans Eddie gets up to are way to similar to the thirteen year olds’ shenanigans makes it super hard to remember which ones he can curse at freely.

Oh man, I love this. And also, absolutely yes to all of it.

Steve really thought that he had it in the bag when he decided to started teaching middle school because he already has experience dealing with the worst kind of middle schoolers. At least none of his students will be adopting monsters as pets or shoving his unconscious body into a car, but no. He was not prepared for pre-teens in the age of the internet.

He was also not prepared for how much he wants to swear at these kids.

He could swear at Dustin. And he did! Often!

When Steve starts teaching middle school, he started to get more creative with his swearing substitutes (i.e. he uses the substitutes that I use at work). So, when one of his students switches out his dry erase marker with a permanent marker and he realizes it halfway through writing an equation on the board, he doesn’t say ‘are you fucking kidding me’ like he wants to. He says instead, “Are you shark-finning me?”

The first time he uses this exact phrase backstage at a CC show, it’s when he accidentally spills coffee on himself. Jeff turns around to look at him so fast that he walks into a wall.

Steve’s been know to drop a ‘frickity-frack’ or a ‘bull shark’ once or twice, and his students think it’s hilarious but it nearly kills Corroded Coffin every time. Eddie once snapped at him for interrupting him in the studio and instead of telling him that he was acting like an asshole, Steve said that he was ‘being a bunch of words’ and ‘not very nice ones at that.’

It honestly was more hurtful than being called an asshole.

Sometimes Steve will tell his students that they’re acting like a real ‘Dustin Henderson’ and they don’t know what exactly that means, but they don’t like it.

The opposite happens too, Steve has accidentally swore in front of his students and they freaking love it. It’s the funniest thing in the world to them.

Once a kid brought a baby squirrel into his classroom (a true thing that happened in my nineth grade Spanish class) and Steve said without thought, “Jeremy, what the fuck.”

#I love all the insight I’m getting from real teachers #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson tiktok saga

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siriusleee · 10 months

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Like Blood on Iron | Part 4

Historical Executioner AU

Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

Warnings: smut, female x male sex, blood, death, decapitation

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: Three very important updates for you guys, please read:

My tag list has gotten way longer than I'd ever expected it to get. Honestly, I thought I'd have like 3 readers and that's it. It is taking me almost an hour to get everyone tagged, update the tag list, and go back to old posts and comment to people who Tumblr won't let me tag. Because of this I will no longer be doing a tag list. In an effort to make this easier on myself and get these posts out faster, please subscribe to my Ko-fi page OR enable notifications for when I post. Subscribing to Ko-fi costs nothing, and I do not expect you to send me any money. It's just the one page I have that I can send out quick updates.

However, I am currently super poor. For anyone that doesn't know, I am an English Literature teacher. This year I moved from middle school to high school, and buying all the supplies that I need for this new grade level is killing me. I am working at a part-time job to afford it, but if you can and want to, I'd love it if you donated. I just bought $40 worth of glue sticks; it's very expensive. You can donate through my Ko-fi. Thank you to @gazs-blue-hat and @devcica for donating to my wisdom teeth surgery - I just made the first payment; I love you guys.

I did not edit this. I literally finished and am hitting post; school starts tomorrow and the first 3 weeks are so exhausting, I will be going to bed at 4 p.m. each day. So I wanted to get this out to you. Adamantine Chains will have a new chapter posted tomorrow. If you see any egregious errors, please point them out and I will fix them. previous chapters + future preview: - one - two - three - preview

The sound of Lily's soft breath in your ear tries to lull you to sleep, tries to force your jaw to relax but you can't. For the first time since your outburst with Jonathan, Lily had crept into the bedroom the two of you used to share. She had curled into your side; her breathing wasn't even before the door cracked open again and Maggie snuck in to sandwich Lily between yourself and her.

Lily's hair tickles your shoulder as you keep your eye on the window - the warmth is fading faster each night, but when you tried to close it before you went to bed you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You needed the feeling of the cool air in the room.

"Are you going to watch?"

Maggie's voice is so quiet it seems to get carried away by the wind. The bed shifts as she turns to look at you over the crown of Lily's head peeking above the covers. You turn, fingers brushing Lily's hair out of your way. In the darkness, Maggie's eyes gleam at you.

"I don't know. He told me not to, but I think Father will make us."

Maggie breathes in sharply - once - just enough for you to know whatever she's about to say angers her.

"I think Father is making everyone go. Why did he tell you not to go?"

You want to tell her his name - as much as you know - is Ghost. To call him by his name, but you keep that information tucked close to your chest.

"I don't know; he didn't say."

The conversation hangs in the air between the two of you, floating with the dust that blows in from the windowsill. Maggie's eyes burn across to you before she rolls back away from you, her hair dark against the pillow, curling down her neck. Mirroring her you roll away, eyes focused on the silver starlight you can see out the window.

You awake to soft hands shaking you awake; through your sleep you see Mother pressing one finger to her lip. Her eyes say it all to you - it's time. You slip out of bed leaving the warmth of Lily behind as the cool morning washes over the bare skin that shows from your nightgown. Mother hands you a dress, a thick black one. The same one you knew Maggie wore two years ago when Father's mother died.

You pad out the room behind her, trying not to wake Lily up. You let the bedroom door shut softly behind you before you speak.

"I have to go?"

"Lily is staying behind with the Morris girls. Your father expects the rest of us to be there." Mother's voice is tight; she's already dressed in a black dress, simple and loose fitting. She refuses to make eye contact with you as she speaks. "I will be downstairs. You have to be dressed soon."

You dress quickly, ducking back into the room to grab your boots and underdress. Back in the hallway, Maggie crosses you, dark purple shadowing under her eyes - you expect the same exhaustion to be painted across your face.

The temperature feels twenty degrees colder downstairs; you wrap your arms around yourself. Father is absent from his place at the table. A single slice of toast sits in front of Maggie, the neatest nibble taken from one corner. You drop down across from her and neither of you speak.

A knock at the door jolts your heart - you shove away from the table before Maggie can. On the other side stands Mrs. Morris and her two daughters, still in their sleeping clothes and barely awake. Without her having to ask, you take one of the girls from her; Mrs. Morris follows you quietly to your bedroom where you tuck both girls in beside Lily. They fall asleep almost immediately.

On your way out of the room, you shut the window, pulling the latch down so that they can't see outside.

You wait at the dining table with Maggie; Mother and Mrs. Morris speak quietly in the kitchen. When the morning bell tolls, the two of them emerge out of the kitchen. You and Maggie follow behind them, pulling your cloaks off the hook by the front door when you pass by. You wish instead to have Ghost's cloak, the heavy and warm scent of him enveloping you instead of the cold wool you wrap around your shoulders.

The four of you fall in line with the rest of the village, letting the wave of bodies push you toward the town center. Each step you take is heavier, harder to take than the one before. Ghost's voice, warning you not to come, not to watch, rings in your ear with a high-pitched drone that grows louder with each moment. The square is almost full whenever you arrive; you let yourself get pushed away from your Mother and Maggie until you're situated near the far side of the square, right where Ghost will first walk in.

The crowd tries to situate themselves as the council shuffles onto the platform. Your father stands at the back, face pale and empty. Even from this distance, you can see the tremor in his hands as he walks. Behind him, shackled in heavy iron chains, Uncle Henry walks up the platform escorted by two men you've never seen before. His face is gaunt and slack, his lip torn and blood dripping onto his chin.

The abject horror of it hits you all at once and you realize why Ghost had warned you not to come. All at once you think about the executions you had sat in your bedroom trying to strain to see, all the times you watched Ghost come up the street eager to get a glimpse of him and all the families that had been in the same place as yours is now. You think of all the times Father left his boots outside after execution and wonder if blood had splashed on them. You feel sick, horrified. You want to search out the families who had been ripped apart by the executions and beg for their forgiveness.

A hush falls over the crowd like a velvet blanket pulled up too high. You strain past the ringing in your ears to try to hear the heavy sound of boots that you've gotten used to hearing in the midnight light. The sound is different now, leadened and sinister. Drawing your hood over your head you keep your eyes fixed on the point you know Ghost will emerge from.

He seems to dwarf everyone in the crowd when he arrives, sword glinting in the early morning sunlight. You're torn between trying to press closer to him and pulling away as the thought of what he's about to do courses through you. He walks slowly, regret heavy in each of his steps as he mounts the platform.

The head councilman speaks, but you can't hear him above the roar in your ears as you watch Ghost situate himself to the side of Uncle Henry. He turns his face towards the crowd and his eyes search through every person before they land on you. He shakes his head just a fraction of an inch, and you know he's telling you to look away - to walk away before he swings his sword.

But you're rooted to the spot - you can't move as the councilman stops speaking and Ghost raises his sword, his eyes still locked on yours.

There's a moment's pause when his sword reaches its apex - a moment where you hope he'll lower it down and walk away. But the sword falls heavy; you manage to clench your eyes shut at the right second, but you still hear the heavy sound of Uncle Henry's head hitting the wood, and your mother's scream.

When darkness falls, no one stops you from walking out the front door. Father had not come home - you knew he was burying Uncle Henry somewhere, and Mother had to be carried to bed by you and Maggie. Upstairs you'd heard Lily sobbing; Maggie was the only one to witness you slip out the front door.

The red that dripped off of Ghost's sword as he walked back home is long gone in the dust and daytime; even so, you imagine that you can see it trailing in front of you as you walk, tripping over stones in the dirt. There's betrayal here, you know, running away to the home of the man who executed your uncle, but you don't know anywhere else to go.

Eyes peer down at you from their windows as you pass through the village, but for once you don't care if anyone runs home to tell on you. You're not sure Mother or Father would even be able to comprehend what you were doing anyway.

Like he knew you were coming, Ghost sits on the step, hands folded neatly in front of him. He doesn't look up at you, doesn't rise until you're within touching distance. An empty glass sits at his side; without speaking, he pushes himself to a standing position, glass snagged up in his large hand. You don't wait for him to beckon you as he walks inside.

You grimace at the warmth of the whiskey as it goes down your throat. You had never liked the taste of alcohol, but when Ghost sat it down in front of you you had reached for it without hesitation. The glass is heavy in your hand.

"I told you not to come," Ghost says, lowering himself down into the seat across from you. His voice is stern, but without any judgment for you attending the execution.

"I didn't have an option." You speak so quietly, you're not sure if he hears you over the wind and the crackle of the fire.

"You always have a choice."

"No, you always have a choice. You are a man; you don't understand what it's like to have someone dictate your entire life to you. I had no choice because my father said I had to go. And soon it won't be my father telling me what to do, but Jonathan. And I'll be shackled to a life of listening and obeying."

You shove the glass you'd drained towards Ghost, shaking your head at him when Ghost moves to fill it again.

"I'm sorry your father forced you to watch."

"My father," you pull your tangled hair over your shoulder, running your fingers through it to distract you from Ghost's eye burning at you over his mask, "thought that if we didn't come, it would show some level of guilt. I should be thankful that he let Lily stay home, but-"

"But what?"

"But I saw what the execution did to my mother. My mother is not a weak woman, but she didn't want to go. She can't do blood - it makes her sick for days. My father told me once it had to do with something she saw as a child, but wouldn't tell me more. She never attends the executions. But he forced her, knowing she's going to be regulated to the bed for the rest of the week. And I-"

You can't get the thought out - that you are a horrible person for how excited you used to be for the executions. Ghost waits patiently, leaning back in his chair, the wood creaking underneath him. You study the patterns of scarring on his fingers as they splay across the table. They're clean, no blood and dirt crusted beneath them.

"I am a horrible person," you finally sob out, fingers pressing into your eyes to try to press the tears that threaten to come out, "I have spent months waiting for an execution to come around; all I wanted to do was see you - I didn't think about everyone that was losing their life. Or their families, or you."

"Or me?" Ghost's voice is rough; you pull your fingers away from your eyes to look into his; they're dark and unreadable.

"I've never thought about what you must experience - doing the bidding of the council."

"I think you'll find I know more about being forced into doing things I don't want to do than you think."

The wind increases outside, the sound of leaves and sticks hitting the sides of Ghost's cabin. You wonder if it's Uncle Henry, angry with the town and determined to tear it apart.

"How did you end up here?" The question tumbles out of your mouth, and you feel ashamed as soon as you say it. Ghost's eyes flash, his nails dig into the wood of the table. You expect him to ignore you, but he pushes his hands into the collar of his tunic, and pulls out a necklace. With a flick of his wrist, he pulls it from around his neck and flings it to you. It lands a tangled mess in front of you.

"Read it." His voice is a solid command you follow, fingers tracing the edge of the cross as you pick it up; the metal chain snakes across the grain.

"Lieutenant Simon Riley - King's Guard 141st Division - you were in the King's army?"

"I was a part of the King's Guard; we were tasked with protecting the king when he traveled or during battle. There were four of us."

"What happened to the others?"

"I'm all that remains of the 141. We were-" his voice is whiskey thick, and when he swallows, you hear the heaviness of it, "ambushed. I was not able to save them. And so my punishment for not dying with my brothers was to live out my days as an executioner."

The metal is warm against your fingers, as you trace the engraved letters of his name. Simon Riley. Thoughts swirl in your head, and he seems to read them as you reach across the table to pass the necklace back.

"In this house you can call me Simon. Outside only Ghost."

The weight of the day - of Simon's background pushes against you. The small patterings of rain begin to hit the windows as you stand, taking your glass off of the table. You leave Simon as you refill the glass, bringing an extra for him. You drink yours in one go, refilling it again before you pass Simon his.

The corners of his eyes are tight as you step beside him, the glass held out to him. His hand wraps around your wrist, warm and electric. A stone settles in the pit of your stomach as a fire spreads across your skin from where he grabs you.

"You drink much more and you won't be able to make it up the path home."

"Just put me under the table then."

The corners of his eyes relax, and then turn up just slightly as he takes the glass from you with the hand not holding your wrist. He keeps you close to his side as he uses the hand with the glass to push his mask up just over his nose; the edge of a ragged scar peaking out on his cheek. He downs the drink in one go and grabs the glass you'd intended for yourself before finally letting you go.

You'd never enjoyed the way being drunk had made you feel, but as the world outside Simon's cabin swirls around you, you feel nothing but the warmth of the whiskey in your veins. The rain falls slow and heavy, warm despite the cool wind that had taken over the village. You reach one hand out to let the droplets pool into your palm, the rest of you shielded by the small awning above you.

The door opens behind you, the dim firelight spilling onto the rain soaked ground in front of you. The shape of Simon wraps its shadow around you along with the musky smell of him. You watch his shadow as he leans against the doorframe.

"We could run away together."

You had thought about it for a few weeks now. It had started out as a ridiculous fantasy - the two of you riding out on horse in the middle of the night and disappearing into the forest together. It had started out innocently enough, just the two of you escaping with each other, but now -

"Where would we even go?"

Simon's voice is soft, rolling through the rain drops as it passes by you. The timbre of it makes your mouth dry, or maybe it's the whiskey.

"Anywhere. Across the sea. Somewhere just far enough that know one would know who we are."

Simon's shadow ripples; you watch his shadow as he reaches to his chest, to where you know the cross hangs.

"You could go," he says, "but I will always be marked."

You don't know what he means, can't remember if he's told you something or not. But you let the reckless abandon that started building at you so much earlier in the day take over you. Simon's figure backed by the firelight makes your fingers itch to reach out and tangle them in the front of his tunic.

"But would you go?" You ask, voice rising and falling. "If you could, would you go with me?"

The silence stretches thin. Simon chews on the inside of his lip; the doorway groans beneath his fingers as they dig into the wood.

"You're drunk," he finally says, the words falling from him. "And you're not happy. I should take you home." His warm hand wraps around your elbow; you jerk it back and in your drunken state stumble. You try to catch yourself, but your feet slip. Simon tries to catch you, his hands wrapping around your elbow, but your feet tangle together and the two of you fall. Simon twists, getting his body halfway underneath yours.

The two of you land hard in the mud, your forehead clipping his chin. The two of you lay awkwardly, one of your hands on Simon's chest and the other buried in the mud. You try to push yourself up, hand slipping, to peer down at Simon lying beneath you. Mud is splattered across the exposed skin around his eyes. He reaches the hand that had wrapped around your back - the only part of him that has escaped the mud- to your forehead, fingers gently wiping away the warmth that had started to form there.

"You're bleeding."

"Is it deathly?

"I think you'll live."

He pulls his hand away, covered in your blood, and the rain washes it away slowly - the red tinge traveling down his wrist and disappearing into the hem of his tunic. You feel his heartbeat quicken in his chest as you shift so that you're straddling one of his legs.

"Can I ask for a favor Simon?" You swallow heavily, trying to swallow down the nervousness and embarrassment that's threatening to explode out of you.

"Anything."

A red blush starts to creep up your chest as you speak, each word measured and bitten off carefully - worried that if you speak too fast, Simon will disappear.

"I won't lie and say I haven't kissed my fair share of boys. But I've never - I've always been too worried to - to do anything more."

You feel Simon's thigh tense between your legs, and the feeling tightens the knot inside of you.

"If I'm going to be forced to give myself to someone I don't want to, I want to keep something for myself. I-"

Simon's hands tighten painfully around your waist; you hadn't even realized he'd grabbed you or that your hands had snuck down so that they framed his face, your wet hair creating a curtain between the two of you and the rest of the world.

"There are some things you can never take back - that you may regret."

"Why would I regret you?"

Your question cracks the tension between the two of you for weeks. You collide together, the kiss frenetic, your teeth clicking against each other as Simon tangles his hands in your hair and pulling you closer to him.

He pushes the two of you up, grabbing you beneath your thighs as he rolls and stands, pulling you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist as Simon stumbles back into the cabin. Your fingers tease the edge of his mask; Simon shakes his head and you pull them away, still worried that at any second he's going to tell you to go home.

Your shoulder hits the doorway of his bedroom, but you barely feel it as Simon kicks the door shut behind you, darkness enveloping the two of you. This time when you reach for his mask, Simon doesn't stop you from sliding it off of him. His hair is warm and wet; your fingers catch on the tangles there.

Simon presses your back against the doorway as he lowers yourself to your feet. You pull away from him, unable to catch your breath as your hands slide beneath his tunic. His skin is soft and scarred; you trace your fingers across a jagged one that bisects his chest. Simon's breath hitches when you trace it to his nipple, your fingers ghosting across the sensitive skin there.

Simon lets you pull his tunic off of him, his fingers tracing the lacing on the front of your dress. He hesitates there, waiting for you to say no, to push him away.

"You've seen me naked before," you whisper, trying to loosen the tension, your fingers curling around the waistband of his pants. "No reason to be nervous now."

"It's different," Simon says, pressing a kiss to the base of your neck, tongue trailing upwards to the shell of your ear, "to think about what it would be like to touch you, and actually doing it."

His admission that he's thought about you like that - the same way you had shamefully thought of him on nights alone in your bed - sends a spear of want through you. You pull him closer, straining to reach up and kiss him again, but Simon keeps himself away.

"You can go home," he whispers in your ear, teeth nipping the sensitive flesh, "I wouldn't be angry with you. I would find no fault with you at all."

And you know he's telling the truth - if you said so at any point, he'd let you leave and wouldn't hold it against you. But you can't even entertain the idea - the instinct to wrap yourself around him, to claw at him and at yourself until the two of you are open for each other, is too much.

You reach up and place your hands over his, guiding them so that they pull at the laces of your dress, the bodice falling open. You shrug out of it, letting it pool at your feet as you kick it away. Simon's hands linger chastely at your side, fingers barely skimming your skin.

"I'm not breakable Simon."

"Of course you are," Simon sighs as you trace your fingers softly up his neck and to his cheek. His breath hitches as your fingers tease the edge of the scar you'd caught a glimpse of earlier when the two of you were drinking. You trace it, trying to map the features of his face. It ends at his hairline, a second scar bisecting it.

"It's my cross to bear." Simon's voice rumbles deep; you can feel it in your chest. "It's my mark as an executioner - the righteous hand of God."

I will always be marked, he had said earlier and you realize what he'd meant.

Simon wraps his hands around the back of your knees; he pulls you up until you're forced to wrap your legs around his waist to keep from falling. He kisses you again, clumsy - you can feel him shaking beneath the soft skin of your hands. He pulls your hair so that your neck is exposed to him; Simon trails kisses down, nipping at your collarbone.

He's hot, his skin and mouth burning you up. You try to grind yourself against him, to get some sort of friction, but Simon's hands keep you just far enough away from him to drive you crazy. His knees hit the side of the bed and buckle; he drops you gently to the bed. The dark scent of him, and the whiskey that still pulls at you makes your head swim.

Simon's hands are firm on your knees as he pushes them apart and pinning you down.

"If I start to hurt you-"

"Simon, please."

He presses your thighs down harder to the bed, stopping your squirming.

"It can hurt. If I start to hurt you, I need you to say something; I need you to promise that you will."

His fingers have inched upwards and you try to buck your hips and make the connection; Simon digs his nails into the sensitive skin of your thighs and the feeling makes you gasp - more electric than anything you've experienced before.

"I," you swallow hard, Simon's nails scratching down you lightly pulling all the air from your chest, "I promise."

You're ashamed of the moan that you let out when his mouth finds your core, your back arching off of the bed. Simon's tongue is velvet on you, lapping at your wetness with a gentleness you wouldn't have expected from his size.

You'd listened to other girls in the village talk about this - about their quick trysts with the boys in the village and how it felt to be pawed at. But this - this was like nothing you'd ever imagined it could be, and nothing like the girls described it as.

Simon's hands keep your knees apart as his tongue swirls your sensitive spot; your back arching off of the bed as you grind down onto him. His fingers trace patterns in the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. When his fingers reach your wetness, you can't help but clench your knees around him, nervousness and embarrassment filling you. You had never let any of the boys you'd kissed touch you - the thought of their fingers inside of you disgusting, but the want for Simon to stretch you out is enough to make you pull away - not sure how to react.

Simon's tongue slows as he pushes your knees back down with one arm, his mouth pulling off of you with a pop. In the absence of him you buck your hips, but he doesn't move. He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, and when he speaks, the brush of his lips on your skin makes you shiver.

"We don't-," he swallows, heavy in the darkness, "we can stop if you want."

"No." It's a pathetic whine. You can feel his smile against your thigh, teeth nipping at your skin.

"You're going to want me to stretch you out a little."

His words pull a gasp out of you; you clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. Simon's hand traces your wetness gently, before he pushes in one thick finger. It burns as he pumps in and out of you; you're so tight he can barely move in and out of you. You can't tell how long it takes before the burn starts to dissipate; like he can read your body, Simon slips another finger in.

Simon works you until you're comfortable; the sounds you make are filthy. You're so wet you feel yourself dripping onto Simon's wrist. He latches onto your apex, and the feeling sends you over the edge. You come with a choked sob; you try to reach down and stop his hand, but he pushes you away and continues until you can't take it anymore.

He pulls his fingers out of you, as you beg incoherently - but you're not sure what you're begging for.

Even in the darkness, Simon's a shadow when he crawls up your body, lips skimming your hip bone, your stomach, your collarbone. A muscle twitches in your thigh; you can't catch your breath in the heat that radiates off of Simon as he dips his head down to kiss you. You dig your nails into his side, and buck your hips up, but he pushes them back down gently with one hand.

Simon pulls away just enough to speak, lips brushing against your as he does.

"If you want me to stop-"

You feel crazed - the way you claw into him, trying to pull him into yourself, the way your lips crash against his, teeth clicking together in a way that would be painful any other time. Simon snakes his hand between the two of you; you jump when it brushes past your clit. You can feel yourself dripping already - wetter than you'd thought you could get.

Simon lines himself up with your entrance, and pauses, resting his hand on your chest. His fingers stretch across the expanse of skin, calluses raising gooseflesh.

"You're shaking."

And you are; it's overwhelming - the smell of him enveloping you, the expanse of his body, hard muscle under a layer of soft downy, and being broken down by him. The thick feeling of being stretched out.

"I'm alright."

It comes out whispered and broken, but you are. You've never felt like this; never thought that you would. You wrap one hand around this wrist at your chest and beg.

"Simon please. I can't - I," you can't get the words out, can't explain that you can't take the feeling of being empty; of being without him.

Simon presses into you, just barely, but it's enough to make your back arch and your nails to scratch down his arm. He hisses at the feeling, teeth nipping at your earlobe. He moves slowly; the sharp feeling of him is enough to cause you to hyperventilate. On instinct, you press your hands to his chest; you can feel his desire to move faster in the way his muscles bunches beneath your touch.

"Do I need to stop?"

"No - it's just - you're too much."

You can feel his smile, brief and small, as he presses his face into your shoulder before he bites down. Hands finding his hair, you grip tight enough that you're sure it must hurt him, but he doesn't say anything.

You can feel every inch of him stretching you out; Simon's voice is soft in your ear as he whispers to you to relax - that you're doing so well. One of his hands trace down your side, trying to soften the gooseflesh. The other pushes your hair away from your forehead, fingers pausing at your temple.

The world pauses when he bottoms out; you can feel him in your throat - he's burning you up from the inside, his skin fire against your own. Simon's mouth his hot against your skin as he trails kissed across your neck. You know there will be marks there tomorrow - something you'll have to hide - but you don't ask him to stop; you beg him to keep going.

"I need you to relax, my love." His soft voice in your ear makes your fingers curl against the blanket bunched beneath you. "You're too tight."

You try to relax beneath him, but you can't - you can't.

"I can't."

"Just breathe love."

You focus on the movement of his chest against yours, and try to synch your breathing with his. Simon lays his hand against your throat, your pulse slowing beneath the pads of his fingers. His tongue snakes out to trace the shell of your ear, and he rocks himself against you.

You're ashamed of the sounds that escape you, you press your hand to your mouth to try to muffle yourself, but Simon pries your hand away and places it on his shoulder.

"Don't try to be quiet."

His words cut into you, and you grind yourself against him trying to match the rhythm he's setting.

Sweat and slick mix between your thighs; Simon pushes your knees towards your chest and the shift in angle tugs at something inside of you; you can feel yourself unraveling faster than you did earlier. Simon's nails dig into your skin as he moves faster. Your hands press on his chest, his stomach, trying to find some space to breathe, but his grip on your waist doesn't let you move.

Simon finds a brutal pace. You dip your fingers between the two of you until you can feel him pumping in and out of you; Simon moans at the feeling, nails piercing your skin hard enough to make you gasp.

He grabs the hand you have between the two of you and guides your fingers to your apex, forcing you to swirl your fingers around yourself.

You try to commit the feeling of him to memory: the texture of his skin, the sound of him panting in your ear, the feeling of his thumb tracing the contours of your nipple. Your second orgasm starts to break around you, and in the haze, you realize that you will never have this kind of moment with someone else.

The thought puts a knot in your throat; you pull Simon down to kiss him; he must sense your desperation as he slows down, hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you closer.

His body shudders once and he pulls out; you feel the heat of him spill out across your stomach. The wild thought of reaching down, and taking some onto your finger to taste possesses you, but your fingers are still clutching at Simon. You can't figure out how to loosen your grip.

Simon pants between your thighs, one hand still wrapped around your neck as he shifts so that he's laying down beside you. You shuffle, kicking the blanket down beneath you until you're able to pull it up around you.

You want to say something, anything to dissipate the air that stills around the two of you. But as Simon pulls you into his chest, anything you could think of is washed away.

Tag List:

tag list: @silverianni, @milfs4lifee, @koi-feish, @shirabeastly, @pookie90, @ghostlythot, @hearts4sky, @crystallizedtime, @the-worlds-tempest, @myconglomerateromance, @elena-ph, @chaoticgoblindev, @pipocfamily, @canadianmilkbag, @caspertheassholeghost, @2512121morningstar, @glitterypirateduck, @elli0t3r, @clairdelunelove, @captainprice4life, @generaldestinychild, @crowsjourney, @c0pernicus, @wistfullyhypomanic, @arbesa-mind, @ray-rook, @daisyfrubies, @september-22-1996

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#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #my fics #ghost cod #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty mwii

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burntheedges · 5 months

Text

Maintenance Request: Chapter 6

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ (minors DNI) | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 2.1k

a/n: it's Friday! now that these two are on ~better footing~ let's see what's going on. also, I forgot to say this last week -- thank you to @katareyoudrilling for beta reading this fic!!! you're amazing. 💖 chapter tags/warnings: fluff, hint of angst (the lightest hint), banter

Chapter 6

Wednesday, October 2 Sixth week of the semester

After Joel (you’d been practicing calling him by his name in your mind, rather than Hot Construction Guy or HCG) answered your maintenance request, you felt like you had a new start. There had been a misunderstanding between you, and maybe it was a mild one, in the end, but you were on new ground now. Possibly flirting-allowed ground. (You’d waxed lyrical about his shoulders at length to Beth, about the way they’d flexed while he worked in your office, until she demanded a picture or for you to shut up without supporting visuals. Fair enough.)

Just two days later, on Wednesday, you were standing outside of your building and chatting with a student who had walked with you from your morning class when you saw him again. This time he wasn’t alone. A young girl, maybe 13 or 14, walked next to him as they made their way across the quad. She was right around Ellie’s age, with curly hair and a huge smile on her face as she poked him in the side. He dodged, laughing, and you realized he was carrying a small backpack. Must be the daughter.

Jen, your student, cleared her throat. You looked back to her and realized you’d trailed off in the middle of whatever you’d been saying. “Sorry, Jen. Got distracted. Come by office hours this week? We can chat about your paper more then.”

“Sure!” She looked over her shoulder curiously, but you didn’t look back at Joel. You didn’t want to give away what you’d been looking at. Jen nodded and headed off towards her next class, and as you turned, you realized Joel had come much closer on the path across the quad. And he’d obviously spotted you. You waved and smiled.

“Mornin’,” he greeted you as he and the girl you thought might be his daughter came to a stop right in front of you. “This is Sarah, my daughter,” he confirmed. He elbowed her in the side as he introduced her, and she laughed and elbowed him back. You introduced yourself, smiling.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sarah! I heard you have great taste in books. And that you keep this guy up to date.”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I do my best to keep this old dinosaur using his brain.” Joel grumbled and rolled his eyes back at her in response. You laughed.

“So what brings you to campus?”

“Her school’s out for the day, for some teacher in-service thing, so she’s coming to work with me. Right now we’re doing a tour, though.” He gestured around the quad. “I think we’ve covered the basics.”

“Sure, dad, you pointed out like four buildings and every single plant between here and your office.” You laughed again, wondering if he was on the crew that always did the landscaping? Come to think of it, you weren’t really sure what his job was, exactly. You decided to ask later.

“Sounds fun. Where are you off to now?”

“Well, lunch soon, after a bit more tour.” Joel hesitated, and you noticed Sarah squinting at him before she suddenly interjected, “you should come! Join us for lunch.” The invitation surprised you and warmed you, a bit.

“Wish I could. I’ve got a faculty meeting over lunch.” You sighed. “Lunch with you would be way more fun, believe me.” Sarah looked a little disappointed, and you bit your lip, considering. “I could show you around the English department, if you want? It’s not that exciting, but you could see what it looks like. Before you go to lunch.” Sarah perked back up.

“Yeah! Let’s do it!” Joel smiled at her obvious excitement and you made yourself look away. It would probably be weird to stare at him like that in front of his daughter. Right? You gestured to the steps behind you, and Sarah led the way into the building. You fell into step with Joel and studied him out of the corner of your eye.

“Thanks, darlin’, for the tour.” Joel nudged your shoulder with his own, and your breath caught. You smiled.

“It’s no problem. Sarah seems fun, I do wish I could have lunch with you instead.”

He laughed. “I’ve met your colleagues, I believe you.”

“Oh? Does Trevor terrorize your department as much as he does us?”

At the mention of his name, Joel actually frowned. “That as—, er, man works with you? Darlin’, I am so sorry.”

You laughed, and waved your hand. “I know, believe me. It’s fine. There’s one in every program.” He studied you, and you weren’t sure what he was thinking, but you’d caught up with Sarah so you had no time to find out.

You showed her around the building’s lobby, which usually had rotating exhibits of students’ art and short stories. The collection featured that day had been put together by the Creative Writing Club and focused on a spooky theme, since Halloween was approaching. She actually started reading some of the short stories that went along with the art, so you promised you’d send them to Joel so she could read them later when she had more time. She grinned, and followed you down the hall to your office, with a quick pit stop by the kitchen on your way to grab coffee (for you and Joel) and tea (for Sarah) in little paper cups.

“Is this what all the offices are like?” She asked, studying your colleagues’ doors and varying levels of decor.

“Some of the buildings are fancier than others, especially the business school and the engineering labs, but generally, yes.” She hummed in response.

You unlocked your office door and gestured the two of them inside in front of you. “Feel free to look around,” you told Sarah, who was already engrossed in your bookshelf. You plopped your bag down on your chair and started unpacking from your class. Joel hovered for a moment, awkward, before settling into one of your two small armchairs for visitors. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, smiling a bit to yourself.

“Ooh! Dad, look, it’s the book we read!” Sarah tapped the spine of the same book of short stories you and Joel had talked about a few days before.

You nodded. “That’s the one he told me about, the one he said you gave him to read. What did you think?”

It turned out she’d loved it, and she told you all about why as she looked over the rest of your shelves. You listened, but turned to check on Joel, who you found was already looking at you. His expression was soft and almost too much for you to take in. Your eyes met and he half smiled at you, just an upturn of one side of his lips. It was too charming. You bit your lip and tried to tune back into what Sarah was saying, ducking your head.

“Do you have a favorite genre?” You asked, glancing back at Sarah, who had found the bound copy of your dissertation, apparently. She’d pulled it off the shelf and started flipping through the pages. “Ah.”

“This is so cool!” She turned the title page towards Joel, where you could see your name and the title of your dissertation, and you felt your cheeks heat. “Look, dad.” He leaned forward to read it, and then looked back at you. There was something warm in his eyes that made your stomach twist.

“Impressive, darlin’.” He held your gaze again as Sarah read through the table of contents, murmuring about the themes you explored and the novels and poems you included.

You tore your eyes away from her dad and said, “I can send you a copy of that, too, but I promise it’s pretty boring. Dissertations are just overly long proof that you learned something, not particularly exciting reading.”

Sarah regarded you skeptically, but nodded and said she’d like that. To distract yourself from staring at Joel (again), you reached out and picked up the flyer for the exhibit in the lobby. “Hey, this has the link to all the stories we saw in the lobby.” Sarah took it and nodded, looking over it.

“Here, darlin’, let me give you my regular email so I can forward stuff to Sarah more easily.” You nodded, a bit surprised, as Joel reached out for a post-it and a pen. He jotted down his email and passed it back. You smiled at his neat handwriting. “We should probably get going to lunch, get out of your hair.”

Sarah sighed but agreed. “Thanks for letting me look at your books.”

You smiled. “Anytime, really. If you have to hang out on campus you can always come bother me instead of your dad. If you’d like,” you added, realizing that maybe that was a strange offer from an adult she’d only just met.

But Sarah and Joel both smiled at you, and she nodded her head. “His office is pretty boring,” she teased. Now it was Joel’s turn to sigh, but you could see he was trying to hide his smile.

You stood up to usher the Miller duo out of your office, glancing at the clock. You had about fifteen minutes until your meeting. They both said goodbye and waved. After about a minute, though, you heard Sarah call down the hall to her dad that she forgot something, and sure enough her head poked around your door a moment later.

“Sorry! I forgot my flyer.” You looked down and found it on your desk, and handed it back to her. “Thanks! Um. I wanted to say, too that, well.” She peeked back down the hall behind her before continuing, lowly, “my dad said you were really smart and cool, and he was right. I’m glad. He needs more cool friends. And he loves people who are smarter than him.” She grinned sunnily at you before running back down the hall to meet her dad. You were left leaning against your desk, stunned. Cool, huh? You smiled and bit your lip.

…

Ellie (12:42 PM): can I come over after school

you (1:03 PM): you know you don’t need to ask (1:04 PM): but yes, obviously

Ellie (1:07 PM): 🫡 (1:08 PM): mom’s going to work and I need to study

you (1:10 PM): study buddies, assemble (1:10 PM): 💪

Ellie (1:11 PM): nerd (1:12 PM): i don’t think grading counts as studying (1:12 PM): it’s like, the opposite of studying

you (1:15 PM): study and grading buddies doesn’t have the same ring to it

Ellie (1:20 PM): 🧐 (1:20 PM): but i had to ask you never know you might have ~plans~ these days (1:22 PM): since youre running into your big crush and his DAUGHTER and not TELLING ME ABOUT IT (1:23 PM): ?????

you (1:25 PM): 🙄 (1:25 PM): it just happened like 2 hours ago

Ellie (1:26 PM): you already told beth about it

you (1:26 PM): i’ll tell you about it tonight

Ellie (1:32 PM): you bet your ass you will

…

Later that night, the three of you were crowded around your coffee table over takeout, Ellie’s books, and your students’ homework assignments. Beth had heard Ellie was coming over for dinner and invited herself along, unsurprisingly.

When you told them the whole story, Beth sighed.

“Babe. Listen to me.” She grabbed you with one hand on each side of your head, looked you right in the eye, and said, “listen. He introduced you to his daughter. He told her that you’re cool. He called you ‘darlin’ in front of his daughter.” She shook your head a little as she talked. “He. wanted. you. to. eat. lunch. with. them.” She punctuated this piece of evidence by tilting your head from side to side with each word, squishing your cheeks. “The man wants you. And I’m pretty sure you want him, too. Just let yourself believe that, the next time you see him. Alright?”

You laughed, but it felt hollow. You closed your eyes, but you promised to try. Everyone in that room knew how difficult that could be for you. After everything.

She squeezed your face again.“Ok, I’ll take it. But just remember, it might be worth it even if it feels difficult. Good things take effort sometimes. That doesn’t mean he’s one of the bad ones. Right?”

You took a deep breath. “Right.” You felt Ellie nudge you with her knee and you smiled.

Beth nodded. “Right. And don’t worry, if we get even a whiff that he’s anything like The Asshole we’ll tell you before anything happens.”

Ellie nodded, too, clearly in agreement. “Fuck yeah we will.”

You hugged them both, knowing they meant it.

It helped.

...

a/n: what's next for these two? well, Joel still has to come back and fix that shelf. he promised. 👀 prev | next

tag list: @ilovepedro @auteurdelabre @katareyoudrilling @anoverwhelmingdin @myloveistoolittle @iknowisoundcrazy @beezusvreeland @screechingphantommaker @bigboiseason123

@jupiter-soups my deepest apologies ily

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller fic #maintenance request fic

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 9 months

Text

Family love(less). Prologue

Self-Aware! Platonic! Yandere! BSD Characters x GN! Child! Abused! Reader

Description: You are unwanted by your family because of the circumstances of your birth. Your only company are Internet and Books.

You want to escape from this place. You want to have friends and real family.

One night, something strange happened.

You woke up on streets of Yokohama.

And a silver-haired man was looking at you.

But you didn't get here alone.

Tags: Found Family, Isekai, Spoilers for Bungou Stray Dogs Anime, Manga and Light Novels.

Warning: OOC, Platonic Yandere, Bad Relatives, Abusive Family, Bulling, Hurtful comments about Reader and about BSD characters, Physical punishment. BSD Cast want to deal with bad relatives accordingly. English is my second language.

A/N: Multi-chapter fanfic. There will be named OC. All similarities with real people are accidental. This fic wasn't created to mock or to insult anyone. I just want to write something about Platonic Yandere. Hope you enjoy.

Prologue. Storm

School bell rang. The long day of studying was finally over. Students started to put their stuff back in their backpacks. It was time to go home.

You were on a mission. You needed to leave school as fast as you can, without getting the attention of teachers and other students.

You hoped that today you will be lucky enough and no one will notice you.

You quickly grabbed your backpack and hurry to the school's exit.

Getting from class to the corridor - SUCCESS!

Getting from corridor to school exit - SUCCESS!

Getting across School Yard - SUCCE....

"Out of the way, Thing!"

Someone shoved you forward. You lost your balance and fall. You tried to stand up or, at least, rolled on the side.

Someone stepped on you. They continue walking, like you were a part of the road.

Cousin Janie...

Second person followed.... Then third... Then fourth...

Bill... Lily... Jack...

You saw, how adults just moved past you. They pretend, that they didn't see, how children just walking all over another child.

It was nothing new to you.

Miss Agatha... Mister Frank...

You were glad, that, at least, adults wasn't trying to step on you.

Finally, the last of your classmates walked away. You could finally stand up.

Slowly and carefully. Your body was sore. You were dirty. All your clothes were covered in shoe marks. Your hair was dirty. Someone spit on you, you were sure of that.

You start walking home.

_____________

To get home, you need to walk near the park. Small green 'island' in your little town.

"Hey, little rat, were you playing in the dirt again?"

Your Big Brother Steve was waiting for you here. You hoped that he already was home.

Steve was grinning. His tone of voice was full of poorly hidden hate.

"Little rat, you can't go home like this. Little Pig like you need to take a bath. Don't worry, your Big Brother will help you."

He was too strong. You could never overpower a seventeen-year-old.

There was a river in the park.

And Steve threw you and your backpack right in the river.

You were glad, that river wasn't deep.

But now you were completely soaked.

"Now you really are a Rat. A Wet Dirty Rat"

Steve is gone.

You still need to go home.

__________

You reached your home.

________

Ten slaps on left cheek for been wet.

Ten slaps on right cheek for been dirty.

Spanking for trying to leave the school without been noticed.

_______

You were tired and sore.

After the shower, you limp towards your room.

The only place you can be somehow safe.

You barely manage to get into your room. It was small. You had a bed here. A shelf for clothes and books. A small table.

And no windows.

____________

You were a middle child.

Your older siblings were called gold siblings.

Smart, beautiful, handsome, future of the family.

Your younger siblings were called rays of hope.

Cute, precious, hope for the family.

And there were you...

You were you.

For some reason, no matter, what you do, it wasn't good enough for your parents.

No matter, how good your grades are, or if you've won anything.

There were always 'Don't bother me' or 'You don't matter'.

You aren't enough.

Other adults in your family ignored you. They didn't care about you.

They don't see anything wrong with your parents' attitude towards you.

It's not like you are their child.

Besides, your parents never hurt you... much.

Every parent discipline their children.

Your cousins and siblings on the other hand...

They hate you. For some reason.

They saw you as a toy or a servant.

Because adults never tell them to stop bothering you.

They learned, that they can do anything they want to you.

Your family don't care.

Under the influence of your younger siblings, other kids start treating you worse.

In good case scenario, you were ignored.

In worst case scenario you had to run away.

Teachers in your school don't care.

They have better things to do, than dealing with your problems.

__________

You learned few things.

First, always be quiet. Don't draw attention to yourself.

Second, hide important things in your drawer. Your family won't search through your underwear.

Third, there was some wrong with your birth. Something was different. Different in a bad way. You tried to learn more, but no matter who you ask, they didn't tell you anything.

Maybe, one day, when you are older, you will find the truth.

Until then, you need to live in current day.

Right now, you need to have dinner with your family.

With every member of your family.

Today was the first day of Family Reunion.

And it will be hosted in your parents' house.

_________

"[Y/N], eat slow. You are not a pig."

"[Y/N], eat faster. Don't make us wait."

"[Y/N], eat less. You are already fat."

"[Y/N], eat more. You look like a skeleton. People might think that you are starving. Your parents will be in trouble."

"[Y/N], don't you dare shout at your younger siblings! What do you mean, they deserve it? They are younger, then you, they want to play. Yes, even if by play they mean throw food at you."

__________

After taking another shower, you finally were back in your room.

You lay down on the bed. You had some free time.

You need some energy.

You open your phone.

They bought it for you to make neighbors shut up and stop gossiping about your family been so poor, they can't afford to buy a phone for a kid.

You open the app that helped you during bad times.

Bungou Stray Dogs Mayoi Inu Kaikitan

________

You learned about BSD from your siblings.

Almost all of your cousins of all ages were big fans of anime.

They liked to watch anime and manga together during video calls.

Bungou Stray Dogs were among many titles they have watched.

And they have a very strange relationship with this manga.

They hate it and love it at the same time.

They love character designs, you were sure about that.

But you are also sure, that they hate the fact, that characters were based on writers.

You remember, how your cousin Ralph failed a test about John Steinbeck. He was on a video call with your older sister, and you could hear how he was cursing Steinbeck from manga... For some reason.

You can't understand your older relatives.

And you remember, how angry your older sister Jane was on Gogol from manga. She decided to read real world Gogol works. She bought books. When she realized, that books weren't funny, she wanted to drop it. But, because your parents already knew that 'their dear princess' start reading serious literature, she couldn't do it without disappointing them.

So, she cursed character, instead of telling parents the truth.

___________

Despite the fact, that your family has a bizarre relationship with Bungou Stray Dogs and you were too young to read it, you wanted to watch BSD too. Or read it.

There was no problem with watching it. You managed to find a website where you could watch it for free.

But, no matter how hard you try, you couldn't find a way to read BSD for free.

There were all Manga volumes and Light Novels in your house. Your older brother and sister have their own copies.

And you can't ask them to let you read their copies. Because they don't like you. Because they will laugh at you. Wondering, how someone as stupid as you can read.

You can't ask your parents to buy you manga. Because your family don't care if you want something. Phone was necessary. Internet is needed by all family members. There's no law that said that parents must provide a source of entertainment for a child.

But, one day, you were in luck. A very strange luck.

Two months ago you got a whole set of BSD manga and light novels.

_____________

Your Older Brother Steve and Older Sister Jane were... very impulsive.

They tried to stay in trend. To be loved by their classmates. To stay popular in school.

So, when another popular school group decide, that Bungou Stray Dogs manga was for nerds, because cool kids don't read anything, where they can find information about real authors, your brother, sister and your cousins (who attended the same school and were 'loyal' to your older siblings) threw away their BSD Manga and Light Novels. Before that they rip some pages out, tear apart a few books, try to drown them and dance on the poor books.

Then they tell you to throw the garbage away. That's how you manage to salvage the books.

They were in need of some serious repairs, but, you could do it by yourself. And your family wasn't that petty to count, how many tapes you were using or if you take the scissors.

You spend three nights repairing books. You were searching through a big pile of manga and light novels copies for pages in good condition. You use tape and glue on pages to make them whole again.

With great care, you manage to make yourself a full collection of BSD Manga and Light Novels.

After job well done, you were finally able to read manga. You were looking forward to that moment.

__________

In BSD World. Two months ago.

__________

BSD Characters were gathered in the Meeting Room of Port Mafia.

All of them looked tired. They were on the verge of a breakdown.

They don't know why they deserved it.

But they hated that terrible creatures, that called themselves Real People.

Time and time again, they were forced to relieve the worst moments of their lives.

And every time they have heard THEM.

Many different people that were mocking them. Laughing at them. Saying disgusting things about them.

"Why this crybaby Atsushi even here? If he suffers so much, why won't he off himself?"

"Is Chuuya really a Mafioso? I mean, he is mourning the death of the Flags. Aren't mobsters supposed to be cold and emotionless?"

"Ha! Think, what you want, but Oda's dub in this scene make brats' death hilarious."

"I think that Yosano's backstory should be more tragic. Right now it's bland. Her favorite solder killed himself and called her an Angel of Death. It would be better, if Mori was..."

"OH NO! The Clown is alive! Why?! Just Why?! He is a stupid character!"

Comment. After comment. After comment.

About how terrible they are. How useless they are.

How real people wish that BSD cast suffer.

Cursing them for having similar names with some other people from their world.

And now, they did something with them.

All BSD characters feel pain. Someone was tearing them apart. Someone was trying to drown them.

And they can't do anything to protect themselves.

And then another Kitsunebi¹ appeared.

This one was purple.

So, real people decide to end them.

No one from BSD Cast has power to fight. They were waiting for their end.

"Well, I have everything I need. Let's start with the first volume..."

_________

This one was healing them...

BSD characters feel, how their bodies wasn't sore anymore. How they're getting their strength back.

For three nights, Purple Light was taking care of them.

And talking...

"Okay, this goes here... Here we go, good as knew."

"Wow, this page will be beautiful again, when I finish with it."

"I can't wait to read BSD from the beginning. It must be wonderful. Anime was good."

BSD cast were confused. You...

Why this one was different? Was that a trick? Are they going to curse them?

The time reset again. Time to relive their lives. Again.

_________

In Bungou Stray Dogs World. Nowadays

________

"Our Dear [Y/N] are opening the App! Everybody ready?" called Yosano, finishing adding another ten power up materials in her present to you today.

The choir of "yes" was an answer to her.

No one can tell, that two months ago they all were broken and could barely stand.

Dear [Y/N], their precious Guiding Light, saved them.

Not even once they say something hateful about anyone of them. There was only love and understanding. And warmth. Warmth of a child who loved them unconditionally.

All of them cherished [Y/N]. Because they were the only one, who saw, what a great child [Y/N] were.

When they got access to [Y/N]'s phone, they heard it all.

Bullies. Relatives. Siblings. Parents.

Their comments. Their hate, that was aimed at [Y/N]. A defenseless, innocent child.

BSD Cast hate [Y/N]'s family. For what they are doing to them. And for what they have done to characters themselves.

Soon they will be in Real world. They will save Their Dear Guiding Light.

But, before that, they need to punish everyone, who wronged [Y/N].

The Portal was almost ready.

They only need to wait until Midnight.

_________

In real world

_________

You spend an hour playing BSD Mayoi. You got many notes from characters. They were cheering for you. They mentioned that they love you.

You were happier, than before.

At least someone was glad, that you exist.

You hopped that one day you will escape from your family. And find a real family and friends.

You looked at the clock.

Almost 11 pm. You need to go to bed.

Dozing off, you hear, that storm has begun. Raindrops start falling down from the sky.

_________

At the midnight, your phone start glowing white.

The lightning struck.

White light fill all rooms in your house.

When it faded, the house was empty.

And pages of your BSD books start glowing white.

_______

Time resets.

Fukuzawa Yukichi was a thirty-two years old bodyguard again. His client died recently. But right now, he has more important things to do.

Fukuzawa Yukichi was cradling a sleeping eleven-year-old child.

And, for now, he was ignoring the four people laying on the ground at his feet.

#self-awareau #self-awarebsd #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #yandere #platonic #familylove_less #SABSD_Familylove_less

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runningupthatvecna · 1 year

Text

the law of seat partners

alrighty so ya gurl had a dream about eddie last night and here i am trying to use that to base the following something off of.

part 2

cw/tw: eddie munson being a slightly touchy precious bean. a slight bit of angst. feeling left out/mentions of feeling unwanted if you squint. otherwise, none that i could think of, just my silly brain fluff. if you find something else, please let me know yaaa. no mentions of y/n.

summary: you're going on a high school field trip with your friends. and thankfully, a long haired metalhead is also there to keep you company and ease the pain of being around obnoxious children.

side note: this is literally the first fic thing i've written in literal YEARS (also in English) and first ever time writing for Eddie, so bare with me here, i've gotten quite rusty i guess so i truly apologise if it's rather bad. don't mind me and please reblog/leave me comments if you did enjoy this pure fluff something!

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It was the sunniest May morning the town of Hawkins had ever seen. The bluest sky above the forests and fields, downtown, the infamous trailer park and the parking lot of Hawkins High.

You sighed as you placed your car in parking mode before opening the door and sliding out, just so you could grab your belongings - a rather big bag filled with all sorts of items that you were certain you were going to need for surviving the next week - out from the backseat.

A field trip with students with an age range from bloody twelve to the wise years of nineteen, well, twenty to be specific, was on your agenda in the almost last month of your last year of high school, and thankfully you were not gonna be stuck in some forest next to Lake Superior alone by yourself.

Being forced to exist around screaming twelve year olds who were about to enter puberty was your least favourite part of the whole expedition, which made the presence of your group of best friends so much more valuable.

There was one person whose attendance you'd specifically been hoping for. And yes, of course you and your friends had been talking about the trip months ago so it would be clear who would join in the fun, but with Eddie's tendency to be flaky when it came to decisions like this, one could never be fully sure.

I mean yeah, certainly you were looking forward to spending this week by the lakeside with Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and the younger kids in freshmen year, but nothing could make the thought of being stuck with a group of middle schoolers and teachers more bearable than being stuck there with the one guy who you - to put it frankly - had a thing for.

You couldn't really say that you were as close with him as you were with Steve or Robin, you never really spent time with him outside of the group hangouts. But that didn't mean that there was any weird distance between the two of you when the lucky occasion of hanging out did come around.

Eddie Munson was a metalhead. Through and through. Tough exterior, soft baby cow personality but could turn stone cold when necessary. When people tried to shame him for being different, for example.

You were also very certain that his love language was touch, based on the times he would throw his arm around you when casually walking you to your next class or the way he would playfully wrestle Dustin or Lucas in the cafeteria during lunch break to show he didn't hate them.

"Oh my god, I'm so glad you're here!"

Max had spotted you in line and apparently didn't feel too much guilt for cutting it just so she could hop on the bus together with you.

You mumbled the same thing back to her, wondering if you were the first or last ones of your party to go through Miss Kelley's check-in.

She greeted the both of you with a toothy smile before she turned her focus onto the sheet with students' names. Your eyes wandered over the rows of seat pairs, and since you had arrived at the parking lot, let's say not late but also not early either, most of them were already filled with loudly chatting kids.

"Hopefully the others saved us a seat", you heard Max say from in front of you. Unlike you, she already had a pre-determined seat buddy. "Oh please, it's obvious that Sinclair kept one for you", you quipped back, silently hoping you could potentially be sitting next to Steve or at least Robin.

And even if Eddie was going to join you, he'd probably be sitting with Chrissy. Or Gareth.

"That might be true, but I'm sure you'll be just fine with where you'll end up."

Max stepped further into the bus after she gave you a wink and a slight grin.

Did she know more than you?

Good boy Steve was rather easy for you to spot. With that amount of hair peeking out above the sea of headrests? No wonder. In fact, most of your friends were already seated further in the back of the one-story bus.

A slight hint of disappointment clouded your brain at the sight of Steve and Robin sharing a seat pair, with Nancy and Jonathan right behind them. Your fear of being the one left out and behind was creeping out from the back of your mind, acting up.

People had always been kind enough to endure you, but no one ever really chose you. Or at least made you feel like you belonged.

Lucas indeed had the seat next to him reserved for Max, to where she continued her strut down the aisle to plop down, while Dustin and Will had agreed to share theirs.

Surprising they made it out of bed this early.

You took a few more steps towards the back of the bus. A wide grinned Erica was seated amongst her friends in the center of the very back row, your eyes scanning the seats until they landed on the wild dark mane of a certain metalhead, who was occupying the pair of seats right behind the stairs down to the back door.

He was practically lying in the window seat. Head resting against the glass, staring out to observe the students who hadn't set foot onto the bus yet. Parents who were lecturing their kids one last time before letting them go.

Was he daydreaming? What could possibly be going on in that pretty head of his?

Your heart jumped and your stomach fluttered when he shifted his gaze to the aisle where you were standing. The widest smile spread over his face at the sight of you, and you hated to admit to yourself that it did not leave you unaffected.

The seat next to him was empty.

It took Eddie a few seconds to remember what his initial plan was. As if something in his brain clicked, as if a bolt of lightning had hit him, he straightened himself and got up.

"Uh hi there. I, uh, kept you a seat if, uh, in case you'd like to sit with me."

Eddie the freak Munson. Had thought of and would be willing to sharing seats for a 10 hour bus ride. With you, of all people?

In the light of the sunlight flooded bus, you could see his cheeks adjusting to the colour of your own. Flushed pink.

And you just couldn't help the wide grin that was pulling at the corners of your mouth.

Now both of you were standing in the aisle facing each other.

"I would love to, Munson."

Quickly you took out the essentials for the journey from your bag: headphones and your walkman, your tape collection that you wouldn't leave the house without, a novel, some water and a tote bag with your carefully selected snacks.

Eddie waited patiently for you to get comfortable, standing there in the aisle in his signature leather jacket and denim dio vest, while leaning against the backrest of his own seat, watching your every move.

Once you swung yourself around into your seat, Eddie plopped down next to you with an equally wide grin plastered across his face while pointing his ringed index finger at the snack bag.

"You know, you're gonna have to share those with me."

You turned your head around to face him, eyebrow raised.

His chocolate brown doe eyes were so so softly looking at you. If you didn't know better they'd melt you on the spot.

"Oh really, do I?"

"Yeah, it's the unspoken yet official law of seat partners, sweetheart."

You chuckled at his silliness and the pet name, the nervousness which you had gotten from the thought of him very obviously thinking of you when it came to the decision of who to sit next to, all gone.

He wanted to be physically close to you.

He wanted to spend that time on the bus around you.

He chose you.

After Steve, Robin and all the others from your group had acknowledged your presence as well with genuine smiles, and the last few kids had found their seats, it was time to leave Hawkins.

The bus hit the highway towards Chicago pretty soon after departure.

Eddie let you sit in the window seat, which eventually led to him conveniently using your shoulder as a pillow. And no, you didn't mind the weight. It was Eddie.

Hell, you were having a hard time keeping yourself from wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer.

"Does this also fall under the law of seat partners?", you asked curiously, placing a hand on Eddie's head and slightly scratching his scalp.

The only thing you got in return was a satisfied, sleepy "mhm" and a squeeze and rub of his warm hand over your thigh, but it was enough for your mind to drift off, wondering which other of Eddie's love languages and further details of his ridiculous seat partner law you'd come to discover on this trip.

-----

tagged: my beloved ellen @josephfakingquinn <3

#eddie munson #nora writes #oh wow this turned out to be longer than expected #lol #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #stranger things #stranger things fluff #eddie munson fluff #the law of seat partners

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 8 months

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Imagine...Tailgating With Your Family

Pairing: Jared x daughter!reader (with Uncle Jensen)

______

“Dad,” you groaned as he tugged you along through the parking lot. “Oh my God. Dad.”

“Am I embarrassing you?” he teased. “Come on, you used to love tailgating the games last year.”

“Well now I actually go to this college so you know, odds are I see someone I know,” you said.

“You want to sneak a beer while mom’s not looking or not?” he asked.

“Oh mom doesn’t care,” you said. “She says don’t be a dumbass is all.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll be on as good of a behavior as you are,” you said with a smile.

“Had to be a little smartie,” he mumbled, throwing his arm around you, pulling you into a noogie.

“Dad.”

“There’s some cute boys over there. Want me to say hi?” he laughed.

“I will murder you,” you said, your dad chuckling as he stopped at the back of the Ackles’ truck.

“Who we murdering?” asked Jensen, sipping on his beer from his lawn chair.

“Father. Potentially,” you said.

“You just let me know when and where, kiddo,” said Jensen.

“Dude,” said your dad, taking a beer out of the cooler.

“Eh, I’m joking. Mostly,” said Jensen, your dad rolling his eyes as he handed you a beer. “Oh. Look at the rebel.”

“Uncle Jay,” you said. “You literally gave me my first-“

“Ahhhhhh,” he said, Jared crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Your child is delusional.”

“Well I knew that,” said your dad, digging through the back of the truck and tossing some sunscreen at you.

“Dad.”

“Don’t complain when you get a sunburn then,” he said.

You groaned as he smirked, heading over to the grill close by.

“You do burn pretty easy, kiddo,” said Jensen.

“I know, I know,” you said, rubbing some cream into your skin. He stood up and got the back of your neck and shoulders where you’d missed a few spots. “Where are the kids?”

“Bathroom trip. You know that guy over there is checking you out,” he said.

“No he isn’t,” you said, cracking open your beer. You took a sip, Jensen chuckling as he walked over towards the grill. “Tell dad I want a hotdog please.”

“Mhm,” he said.

You felt a poke on your shoulder and you spun around, staring straight at Billy Dalton’s bare chest.

“Hey, Padalecki,” he said with a smirk.

“Hi,” you said, forcing your head to stay up and not at his shirtless chest.

“You mind if I borrow some of that sunscreen?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said, handing over the tube.

“Thanks. I didn’t think you were much into football,” he said.

“My family’s always been super into UT football since we moved here,” you said.

“I thought you were local,” he said.

“I had an untraditional childhood,” you said with a smile. “But I’ve been here since middle school.”

“Me too. I was always too tiny to play football at my school if you can believe it,” he said.

“Really? I totally thought you were a jock...and that sounded so bad.”

“It’s cool, Padalecki. I played baseball and I got a 4 on my AP English test. Complete package right here,” he said.

“Seriously? No one in my school scored a 4,” you said.

“Life was very interesting being the dorky cool guy,” he said. “Trying to leave that behind now that we’re in college and all that.”

“You’re an English major, right?”

“Education. I’d like to be an English teacher though,” he said.

“My grandma was an English teacher,” you said.

“Seriously? That’s awesome,” he said.

“Hey, Y/N,” said your dad, wandering over with a smile and a hot dog for you. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Billy. He’s in my English 203 class,” you said.

“203, huh. You must be a reader then,” said your dad.

“Mhm,” you said, your dad still smiling at you. “Thanks.”

“Hey Billy. How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty.”

“Twenty and you’re a freshman?” asked your dad.

“I had to take a year off after high school. My dad was in a bad car accident over that Fourth of July that year. I stuck around home to help out,” he said.

“Well that’s a very selfless thing to do,” he said with a nod. “Y/N, you can go hang out with your friends if you want.”

“Mhm,” you said as he walked away. “Sorry about him. He likes to you know, be a dad and harass his children.”

“That’s cool. Mine’s the same way. Thanks for the sunscreen, Padalecki,” he said as he turned to go. “You uh, want to grab lunch after class Monday?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. See ya, Padalecki,” he said. You smiled and turned around, your dad and Jensen sipping on a beer at the back of the truck with shit eating grins. “What?”

“I smell a boyfriend incoming,” said Jensen.

“She knows what she’s doing,” said your dad with a smirk.

“I will tell mom and Aunt De what you two got up to last weekend unless we never discuss this again,” you said.

“How is she so scary for being so tiny,” said Jensen.

“I learned if from you two,” you laughed, throwing your head back. “Shit, I forgot to get the sunscreen back.”

“Take it from two previously twenty year old boys. He kept it on purpose,” said your dad.

“When was that? 300 B.C.?” you asked.

“Why don’t you go get back my sunscreen or I’ll tell your parents what you got up to last night,” said Jensen with a smirk.

“I thought you were staying over your friend Sara’s,” said your dad.

“Of course I did,” you said, shooting Jensen a look. He sipped on his beer and smiled.

“Oh yeah. Of course she did,” he said, knowing very well you called him and asked him for a ride and to crash in their guest room when you partied a little too hard the night before.

“I hate you both,” you groaned as you headed back towards where Billy was with his friends.

“Love you too, kiddo. Now hurry up. Game starts soon.”

_____

#supernatural #spn #jared x daughter!reader #jared fluff #au #rpf #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert

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kaylinlmao · 2 years

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Fight *Edited*

Warnings: swearing, violence, r is 17, boys are 18

Summary: The new kid doesn't know any better and challenges the toughest crew in school, so they come to teach her a lesson in front of everyone. What they didn't expect was the new kid can fight.

"Hi. I'm Y/N L/N." I said quietly. I've gone to a new school every year of middle school and the first three in high school. Now that I'm in my last year of high school and 18 years old, I should be used to getting up and introducing myself right? Wrong. I still get anxiety talking in front of friends but a full classroom of teenage assholes? No way.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. Have a seat back there by those boys" Mr. Rogers, the English teacher said. I weaved through the desks swiftly with my eyes glued to the floor. I sat down, took out a notebook and pen and started doodling. I was drawing a pretty flower when I heard snickering behind me. Those boys who Mr. Rogers told me to sit by were staring at me and laughing. The one with short black hair was talking to the boy with dirty blondish hair. One with short curly hair was laughing with a guy with long black hair. Then there was a guy right behind me with long curly blonde hair. He was boring holes in the back of my head. Lastly, the boy sitting across from me. He had ginger hair and was chuckling at a joke one of his friends made.

DING DING DING. The bell rang, signaling lunchtime. I got up and walked outside. I found a nice tree, sat underneath it, got my lunch out, ate, and just people watched. There was a group of girls giggling at a table not far from me. Then one girl caught my eye and came over to sit beside me.

"Hello. I'm Donna! What's your name?" "Y/N" She was really sweet and we talked for a while during lunch. While we were talking, the group of boys walked out the lunch room doors and everyone scurried to get away from them like they had some sort of virus of something. "Who are those boys?" I asked Donna. "Oh. Um, they're bad news. You should stay away from them." She said, quietly. "I will if you tell me who they are and why everyone avoids them like they have the plague"

"Ok. Well, you see the one with the short black hair?" I nodded. "So, that's Bruce Yamada. He plays baseball and is like a serious ladies man. He'll pretend to be your friend then totally stab you in the back. The one with the dirty blond hair. Not the one with curly hair, the one with the Letterman jacket. That's Billy Showalter. He's the local paperboy. He's kinda mean. They're all really mean which is why I said you should stay away from them." I nodded my head and waved my hand impatiently.

"And?" "And then there's the guy with short curly hair. That's Finney Blake. He's more low-key mean then the other guys. Like he'll degrade the shit out of you while his friends beat your ass. Then the little short one with ginger hair. That's Griffin Stagg. He's more of the stalker. He'll be the one to figure out where you live and what your schedule is so they can jump you without getting caught. The there's those two boys right there in the corner." "The one with the long curly hair and long black hair?" I asked. "Yes" she confirmed. "They are Vance Hopper and Robin Arellano. They're the fighters. They're the ones who fight most of the fights."

"So why does everyone avoid them? They don't look very scary. They also seem like an unexpected group of friends." I said. Donna gave me the side eye. "Well, something happened three years ago and nobody's really over it" Now we're getting somewhere. "There was this guy. His name was Albert Shaw but he was nicknamed the Grabber. He would snatch up boys from off the streets and kidnap them. What he didn't think through was he kidnapped too many boys at once." "Who did he kidnap?" " Bruce Yamada, Vance Hopper, Billy Showalter, Griffin Stagg, Robin Arellano, and Finney Blake." I nodded my head and snapped my fingers. "So that's why they're all friends. To bond over the trauma" We looked at each other a moment and laughed.

"In all honesty though, they look like a bunch of douches." What I didn't know was that their stupid group was walking behind us and heard the last part of the conversation. Then they went back there and started making a plan to jump me after school and teach me a lesson in front of everybody.

DING DING DING. The bell rang for last period. "What class do you have next?" Donna asked. I looked at my schedule and groaned. "Math." "Oh me too! We can go together then!" "Ok" We walked in and sat down together. I just doodled on my arm and wasn't really listening until I felt something hit the back of my head. It was a note from the boy behind me.

"Just warning you. The dead kids group plan to jump you after school and beat your ass in front of everyone to teach you a lesson. -Wyatt"

"For reals? Why? That's ok though. I can fight. -Y/N"

"All six of them? Because they heard you calling them all douches -Wyatt"

"I'll be fine. Thanks for the warning. Wyatt. -Y/N"

I was in the middle of an internal battle for the rest of math class. Anxiety and confidence were fighting. For a second I was like "yo, I got this." Then anxiety kicks in and now I'm thinking "in front of an audience? I've never fought in front of people before!" I was about to have a panic attack when I remembered something my dad said. "When you're fighting, remember to focus on your opponents fighting style. They use their fists often, go for the legs." I was so zoned out remembering all of my dads fighting tips I didn't even notice that the bell rang and everyone was filing out of the classroom.

"Y/N? Are you ok?" Donna asked sweetly. "Yeah I'm fine. Just tired." "Ok. Lets go then." We walked out together to the crowded parking lot. As I rounded the corner I saw the boys waiting for me. I decided just to try and walk around them just to test them. I swerved around but one of them caught me by my wrist. Robin. "Yes? How can I help you douches?" By then a large crowd was coming over to see the fight. For some odd reason all of them looked at me with pity. "What'd you say?" Robin said dangerously slow. "How. Can. I. Help. You. Douches? Did your dumb little brains get it that time?" Now, I may have been cool and calm on the outside but I was fucking terrified on the inside. Why the fuck was I making them even madder? Omg. I was gonna die. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die.

They all looked at me livid and red with anger. I was just waiting for someone to swing first. Finally, Vance did. He swung but he put too much emotion into it. Emotion is weakness. I dodged it easily, grabbed his arm and pulled it behind his back. Then I wiped his legs out from under him so he hit his head on the concrete, blacking out. I then felt someone grab my hair and pull me up. I looked up to see Finney with his hand in my hair. I whimpered quietly but he heard it. So now he thinks I'm submitting and giving up. Wrong. And now I just move a little bit to the side over here, bring the heel of my foot up and kicked him with my heel right where the sun don't shine. He doubled over, falling to his knees and letting go of my hair.

2 down 4 to go. Billy and Bruce both started swinging. Now, if I'm being honest, they got a few really good punches in. But I noticed that Billy was fighting leaning on his toes. So if I just slide under his legs and pull then he falls over. Now Billy's down too. I also saw that Bruce wasn't completely focused on me. He was more focused on the crowd surrounding us. So I ran and tackled him. He fell straight down and hit his head. Robin now. He was gonna be a tough one. He's a damn good fighter. I swung first just to test my theory. He dodged and punched back. Yup! My theory was right. He pulls his punches. They last too long and go further then necessary.

When he punched my eye, I won't lie. I almost blacked out. But I had enough in me to pull his arm and flip him across. He landed on top of Vance who was just coming around. They were all on the ground except for Griffin. I walked over to him and socked him straight in the chin. He walked backwards and tripped over Bruce's leg. Done. It was absolutely silent. As I was waking away, I heard someone say "how did she beat all six of them?"

I walked over to the boys helping each other up, furious. I pointed at Robin. "You pull your punches. It gives more time to grab it and get you back before you can punch again." I pointed at Billy. "You fight on your toes which gives you terrible balance. Fight on the balls of your feet, not your toes." I point at Bruce. "You kept focusing on the crowd, not your opponent. It gave me a chance to take you by surprise." I point at Griffin. "You rely too much on your friends. You can only rely and trust yourself." I point at Finney. "You need more confidence. Be confident in your abilities." I point at Vance. "Lastly, you. You fight with too much anger and emotion. Emotion is weakness." I walked away quickly to my car and hopped in. My parents were at work and so was my sister. When I got home, I went to the bathroom to see how bad it was. I looked and saw I just had a black eye and a bloody nose. And scratches and bruises all around but. I cleaned it and sat down to read, not knowing that at the moment, 6 boys were developing an unhealthy obsession with me.

So. This is my first imagine. It was kinda long and it sucked. But I tried. All parts up to 9 are posted! Love y'all! :) -Kaylin

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mx-julien · 2 months

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each ninja was a different kind of teacher (except Lloyd who basically went on a year long press tour) and it also explains why Rebooted and after they seem a bit more responsible than in season 1 and the pilot

Cole has my favorite teacher characterization because he's objectively an interesting person with cool hobbies but when he is responsible for a group of children he just becomes Dad Who Is Helping Out At The Summer Camp. we never see his classroom, but given his proficiency in the arts we can assume he's the English teacher

since he went to art schools, he's probably not used to kids who aren't actually interested in what's being taught. the louder kids seem to dislike him (ref: running gag of "Mr Cole is the worst"), but that doesn't mean he's necessarily a bad teacher- just not one to humor pranks

also his and Kai's teacher outfits belong in the 1970s. I like the touch of making their ties the same color as their gis

little bit of meta: most of the people who worked on this show went to school in the 80s/90s so to them "older/boring" teacher outfits would look like this. also, as someone who was in the intended age range and saw it at the time of release, this sort of clothing conveyed that the ninja were doing a stuffy adult job- juxtaposed with their colorful gis

Kai appears to be the history teacher? his teaching style is likely structured and straightforward. given his nontraditional childhood, his frustration with the kids likely comes from both his jealousy that they aren't aware of how valuable schooling is and that Nya was much easier to work with when she was their age. at the end of the day he's an older brother who's now in charge of a bunch of kids

he's using an old-fashioned projector with film, which I assume (1) shows how low-budget they are, (2) emphasizes that Kai is out of his element (pun not intended), and (3) juxtaposes them with New Ninjago City

Zane is the one who doesn't know what a vape pen looks like but will listen to you infodump for an hour after class, then drive/walk you home because you missed the bus. he probably doesn't get any of the classroom humor or notice if the kids make fun of him. I can't imagine him ever getting angry at the kids, and he probably is very good at keeping them to a routine and a schedule

in rebooted episode 1 he seems to be teaching science? and the use of catapults is actually quite endearing- he's probably explaining tension and going to get his kids to make little models, which shows that he both is a pretty good teacher and hasn't realized that giving elementary/middle/primary schoolers their own catapults will only lead to chaos

he and Jay have personality-based outfits, with the snowflakes being an obvious allusion to Zane's element and the zig zags on Jay's emulating lightning

the little bowtie on Zane reminds me of Bill Nye the Science Guy (program with a a host of the same name who taught kids about science in a fun and accessibly way- very nostalgic for kids who went to american public school)

Jay is the exhausted teacher who's more interested in his hobbies than class material, and if you get him talking about that hobby, he won't stop until the bell. as a jokester, I think he'd get along well with the kids and definitely encourage them to annoy the other ninja

we don't see his classroom, but given Jay's skills he's probably the math teacher. he'd have a difficult time explaining things in different ways- very gifted people who learn well on their own often find it hard to teach things to others, though he would make sure he doesn't leave anyone behind

Nya definitely teaches math classes, but she probably handles tutoring as well since she's well-balanced in most subjects. it would also give her an intelligence network- kids come to her room after class/during lunch to complain and gossip. she uses it in the noble pursuit to antagonize the others

i'm used this video and the ninjago wikia because I'm on mobile and finding other sources would've taken too long

extra group photo I found! love the detail that Zane blinked (Dr Julien probably took the photo)

#wu does all the admin i'm sure #ninjago #lego ninjago #zane julien #cole brookstone #nya smith #kai smith #jay walker #ninjago rebooted #ninjago darkleys #darkleys kids #ids in alt #image ids #ninjago headcanons

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honeymoonblues · 8 months

Text

Crash!

Remus Lupin x Professor!Reader

Summary: You're the new History of Magic professor. (Gender neutral reader).

Word count: 882

A/N: This is completely self-indulgent. Let me know if there are any spelling errors, English is not my first language.

Not every first meeting was interesting. Truth to be told, most weren’t. And Remus Lupin has never considered himself to be an interesting person, either.Getting to know you, however, felt like crashing against a wall. Because that’s exactly what happened the first time he met you.

In his defense, he got distracted while being a true gentleman, showing you the way to your classroom.He understood first-hand the nerves that came with the first day as a professor, after all, it was only his second year teaching at Hogwarts.

When you approached him, a radiant smile on your lips and asking directions, he suddenly he remembered what Minerva mentioned on one of her letters she sent him. ‘The new History professor!’ he thought.

Remus had never imagined he’d seen the day when professor Binns decided to stop teaching, but it had happened, and in the middle of last year, too. Binns had died while sleeping in the staff room more than a hundred years before, and he was already old when that happened! But his ghost just showed up to the next class like nothing happened, and he didn’t intend to stop teaching for a long, long time.

So, when Minerva said they had finally found a substitute for him, Remus assumed they would be an alive version of old Binns, or even another boring ghost. It was more than a pleasant surprise when you showed up. Young, colorful and full of energy.

He thought he was doing a fantastic first impression. He introduced himself, not stuttering once, walking alongside you and giving you a brief tour. He was captivated by the fact that you were not from the UK. Are there no history professor in the country? He wondered. But he was definitely not complaining. You had a distinct accent, and a sparkling way of talking, as if you were vibrating with enthusiasm.

“It’ll do the students a great good, you know.” He smiled at you. “Learning a little history, I mean.”

“But... I thought there was another professor before me, that’s what i was told!” You looked at him, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Oh yes, yes. But you see, professor Binns was, uh...” He shook his hand slightly, gesturing ‘so-so’. “Old.”

You mouthed a little ‘oh’ and nodded, understanding that an old-school teacher could get a little boring to the kids.

After showing you around the great hall, the staff room, the main hallways, and spending a good few minutes trying to help you figure out the moving staircases, you were finally on the way to your classroom and office. You two were talking non-stop the whole time, and he was glad to find you were quite the chatterbox.

It had been a long time since Remus had the opportunity to meet someone new, a potential friend, and he felt full of energy for once.

That’s when it happened. He was already leaving your classroom, after he’d been assured a few times that yes, you would be fine to move in without help, and no, you didn’t need anything else, thanks. He kept walking forward, but looking back at you, saying that he’ll see you at dinner. He felt pretty confident he was directed straight to the open door, but when he looked straight ahead, his nose was directly met with the door frame. Missing the exit for a few good centimeters.

You had the good grace not to laugh at Remus when he squeaked at the impact, but in the haste of getting close to help him, you stumbled and almost crashed into him. That got a fantastic laugh out of you, and he started giggling almost immediately, still covering his nose with his hand, his embarrassment slowly subduing. You both had to take a moment to recover after that.

Trying to quit grinning, you approached him.

“Goodness, do you feel alright?”

“Yes, of course! Don’t you worry... See? It was just a little bump.” He uncovered his nose to show it to you, bloodless and seemingly normal. “I had worse, I promise.” And he smiled brilliantly.

‘Of course you did.’ You thought, admiring his smile and the scars that littered his face. Trying to appease the curiosity that you felt bubbling up inside you. You beamed at him. Realizing, at that same moment, that you truly wanted to know more about this man.

Remus finally left your classroom, he said goodbye one more time, assuring you that yes, his nose was completely fine, and no, he didn’t need any help, thanks. Then, he walked all the way to his own office smiling, forgetting about the pain almost without realizing it.

Oh, how long had it been since he felt like this?

You too, even occupied with unpacking and organizing, couldn’t help but giggle at the memories of the morning. Most of the nervousness you were feeling earlier was smoothed, and the only thing left in you was excitement. It was definitely a great start.

Even when your first meeting hadn’t been all that eventful (if not quite embarrassing), and while Remus still considered himself a boring person, he was sure none of you would would forget the first impression of each other. (He was also incredibly glad he had the whole year to get to know you.)

#remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus x reader #oneshot #x reader #my writing

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carolmunson · 1 year

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baby, as if (the flashbacks)

the flashbacks: part one. baby as if: masterlist (read with caution.) i looked at that poll and i said 'absolutley not, you'll take what i give you.' jk, but i realized it'll just be easier for me if i take this a few chunks at a time, so i give you the beginning of 'the flashbacks'. here, you'll see eight, six, and five and a half years ago. a little entry way into how reader and (not so) f!boy eddie met and started getting involved. tw: 18+, oral (f recieving), not much in terms of tws for this entry, discussions of drugs and drug dealing -- otherwise pretty fluffy. our timeframe setting starts out in 2007-ish. (take all actual year timelines with a grain of salt, i just like incorporating the early aughts into shit.) but here we go, i give you the beginning of baby as if: the flashbacks.

8 Years Ago You didn't really know each other when he started working at the shop. Your dad had mentioned 'my daughter' in passing, but you didn't go to Hawkins High or middle, you went to the highschool in the next town over using your aunts address because it was a better school. Your parents didn't want you to end up stuck like them, but you'd already beaten them by not getting pregnant at nineteen. He knew you went to college in Fort Wayne to study English -- he thought that was stupid since you spoke English already. Why would you have to spend all that money to study it? That didn't make sense to him.

He did know your little brother, Beau, often found small and sugar high at the end of a long day at kindergarten being dropped at the shop by your mom so she could take more clients at night in the salon. Eddie would take the morning shift on cars and then the afternoon shift as a baby sitter until the shop closed at 5:30. He'd take that time to teach him how to read -- but only the best books. He started with the Hobbit and went from there.

On one particular hot summer night, your mom didn't come by to drop off your brother which made sense since it was the summertime -- but he still heard the pitter patter of his light up sneakers against the concrete floor.

"Beau, don't run please!"

He hadn't heard that voice before, it wasn't nearly as nicotine soaked as your mom's or your aunt's. Eddie feels the slam of a tiny skull against his mid thigh and looks down to see Beau looking up at him with his big baby eyes.

"Hi," Beau says -- breathless in the way little kids are when they run or take a big gulp of water. He reaches up at him with his arms over his head, "I didn't wanna go home yet so I asked sissy if she could take me here after camp."

"Sissy?" Eddie asks with a quirk of his brow, hoisting him up onto his hip, "You're gettin' big dude, I don't know if I can keep pickin' you up."

"My sissy," he says, pointing over to the office your dad normally spent the afternoons in, but there you were right outside of it. Summer sun soaked, shorts tight over your thighs, run down sneakers and an old weathered sweatshirt completed your look. Eddie gulped at the sight of you but you were too preoccupied with your phone to pay attention.

"Mumma, can you tell Eddie about the dragon I saw at the zoo?" Beau asked, shimmying down Eddie's body to get back down on the floor to run to you.

"Okay kid, is she your sister or is she your mom?" Eddie asked, trying to hide confusion and surprised. You look up at him with a gaze that immediately makes him feel stupid, but intruiged.

"Ew, no, I'm definitely his sister," you answer while snapping your phone closed, hand falling onto Beau's head, "Can you guess which one of us was the mistake?"

Your playful grin makes him laugh, "Sorry, he called you mom so -- I just didn't know."

"Don't worry -- it's sorta like when you accidentally call your teacher 'mom' when you're a kid. He just gets confused," you shrug and introduce yourself before asking, "What's your name?"

"I'm Eddie. I uh --"

"Oh! You watch Beau when he's out of school!" you interrupt, "He talks about you all the time."

"You're not telling him about the dragon, sissy," Beau whines and squirms, "I seen a dragon today."

"You saw a dragon today, B," Eddie corrects, "I saw, not I seen."

"Still seen one," Beau crosses and uncrosses his arms with a dramatic eye roll, already bored with the conversation enough to scurry over to another co-worker.

"He saw a bearded dragon lizard at the zoo today," you smile.

"I swear he's five going on fifteen with all that attitude," Eddie says with an exasperated sigh through puffed out cheeks, "Gives me a run for my money..."

You laugh a little out of your nose and flip your phone open, he's stunned at how fast you text. Your thumbs flying over the keyboard of your Sidekick iD. All he had was some Nokia burner from Rick and an iPod he stole at the gym.

"Uh, your dad's in there, by the way. Like, you can just go in," he says. His coverall feels too hot and scratchy, noticibly concious of how much is pools around his sinewy frame. He doesn't look like a man the way the other guys who work here do, he doesn't really feel like one either. Too soft. Too gentle. Even when he was lugging around tires and getting into fights at The Hideout.

"He's on the phone," you scrunch your nose while you point at the door, keys in your hand jingling. He thinks about what you'd do if he reached forward and tapped his finger on it. If he traced down the bridge gently. You look so touchable.

"How come I've never seen you around before? I've been here like, almost a year," he says, running the rag that was over his shoulder through his hands to occupy himself.

"I'm not around a lot, normally in Fort Wayne 'cause I go to school there. I stay with a friend and work at the school over the summer to make some money," you explain, "Trying to save up for my own place."

"Oh, cool," he nods, swallowing the disappointment in his tone. Of course you don't want to stick around this shit hole town. You have better things to do. You're literally in college.

"What's your SN? I'll add you to my buddy list and tell you all the weird shit Beau says this weekend," you giggle.

"What's an SN?" Eddie asks, throat running dry. Is this some kind of joke? Are you trying to make fun of him or something? "SN? Your screen name?" you reply, cocking your head when he still doesn't know what you mean, "Like your AIM screen name?"

"Oh!" he says, embarrassment continuing to creep up on him, "Like, on the computer? We um -- I don't have one at home so I never really signed up for it."

"Oh," you say softly, nodding, "Um, well like, what's your number then? Gotta keep up with Beau's replacement older sibling."

He internally gags when you refer to him as your replacement. Did you already put him in that catergory? The friendzone? That's what they called it at the comic book store when they had their D&D nights and just talked about girls.

"Here," you say, handing the phone out to him with the 'New Contact' page up. He takes it, albiet shakily, unsure if Rick would want him to be giving out his number to just anyone -- but you're so cute and girls never ask for his number. Not even after they hook up with him in his van outside of the bar. Rick would understand.

"Thanks, it's saved under Eddie M," he replies sheepishly, "In case you know any other Eddies."

"I don't," you smile, "But I'll keep the M."

The door to the office opens and your dad appears, tired and disheveled but glad to see you.

"Hey kid, where's the gremlin?" he asks you gruffly.

"I don't know, probably doing something illegal," you shrug, but the pitter patter of light up sneakers on concrete starts up again across the garage.

"Let's go, buddy," he says while Beau leaps up into his arms.

"That was a big jump dude. What, are you half spider monkey or something?" Eddie teases.

"We saw them at the zoo, today!" he calls out, before turning to his dad, "And I also saw a dragon."

"That's very cool, you'll have to draw me a picture when we get home," he says with a nod before putting his attention on Eddie.

"I'm gonna head out, but are you good to lock up here with Mark?"

"Yeah, for sure," Eddie nods. A smile spreads across his lips, maybe you'll think he's important or something, "It was um...it was nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," you say softly while you head toward the door with your dad. He tries not to look, but there's something about the way your cut off shorts hug your ass that has heat rushing to his cheeks.

You turn back as the door is about to close behind you and grin, "I was the mistake, by the way. I'll shoot you a text after nine!"

You do text him after nine.

'heyyy. how r u? :)'

No one ever really asks.

Six Years Ago

He didn't mean to fall for you, but how could he not? Your weekly to bi-weekly phone calls during your senior year of college were all he looked forward to. Outside of pay day and parties at Rick's. And D&D campaigns. And shows at The Hideout. You were up there, you were top ten. He swore it.

He knew when you came home for winter break last year, helping your parents bring Beau to swimming lessons and indoor soccer. It started with small, yearning, glances when your daddy would invite him home for dinner, or you'd drop off lunch for the guys. Soft little flicks of brown eyes from under envious full lashes to watch you watching him, leaning over his work bench to ask him a question for your dad. Watching you live your life in your family’s small house while he ate brisket and showed Beau how to do shading in his coloring books. He nearly died when you grabbed his hand in the kitchen, manicured nails dancing over the new burnished silver jewelry on his fingers and asked, ‘Are these new rings? Where’d you get them?’

He'd survey you while you helped your brother with his math homework when your mom was busy with her fourth haircut that night -- your aunt who wouldn't pay her and your dad too burnt out to do anything but drink in front of the TV in his recliner.

"Oh, no, that's not right," Eddie pipes up gently. You looked up at the sound of his words, sitting across the kitchen table while you stood over your brother's shoulder.

Eddie blushes, scrunching into his shoulders, "Sorry, sorry, it's just, you're a little off -- when you're converting ounces to pounds you--"

"I don't need you to teach him about grams, ounces, and pounds, Munson," you say softly, a little giggle escaping your chest. He flushes deeper than before, "I think he's a little young for that." Everyone knew what Eddie did on the side, it didn’t take much to find out what he always had hidden away in his beat up backpack. Your daddy said that it taught him good entrepreneurial skills and as long as he wasn’t getting into trouble or selling to kids, he was fine to work at the shop until the cops came knocking – and they never did.

"Sorry, I just -- Just because it says 5 doesn't mean it's a half pound. 5 ounces isn't a half pound, it's like a 'gotcha' question," he explains. Your brother's eyes are glued to Eddie, his cool rings and long hair, his leather jacket, the soft stubble on his chin. Eddie was the coolest guy your brother had ever met, so if it meant he had to learn weight conversion from a drug dealer, then so be it. He'd listen to him before he’d listen to you.

"How many ounces are in a pound, bud?" he asks.

"Sixteen," your brother replies.

"What's half of sixteen?"

"Eight."

"You're so sharp, dude," Ed encourages, "You should skip second grade, for real."

"So even though it says point five, it's actually eight ounces? Not five ounces?" your brother asks, pencil tracing over the question on his work sheet.

"Exactly," Eddie grins, "See, you get it."

He meets your eyes for your approval and when you nod, running a hand over your little brother's head comfortingly, he has to hide the giddiness on his face in his hands.

"How come Eddie's good at math and you're not?" your brother asks. You laugh, Eddie's snort comes out from behind his hands, dancing through his silver rings.

"I haven't taken a math class in a while, Eddie does math every day," you say, like a kindergarten teacher trying to explain bomb drills.

"How come?"

"Oh, um," you look at Eddie, his flushed cheeks and boyish smile, "He's just -- Eddie's really smart."

You stayed out in Fort Wayne for six months after graduation until your mom got let go at the salon. 'Making room for new talent', they'd said. She'd developed joint pain, recurring carpal tunnel -- she couldn't do as much as she used to. So, like every good first born, you moved back home to help out -- taking whatever job you could find. At first it felt bad to be back in your childhood bedroom, forced back into the mundanity of the world around you. The embarrassment of running into people you knew at the mall or getting gas. But at least one thing was fine, you got to see Eddie -- and he was kind of exciting. Way more exciting than your job at the diner you picked up back in May. It worked out fine, you guess. You'd have mornings off some days to take Beau to school and to soccer, or baseball, or whatever sport he was into that season. Your mom would do hair in the kitchen for the older ladies -- roller sets, perms, colors. She could take her time with them, they had no rush. Then you'd leave for the diner when Beau came home and your mama would take more clients in the evening. Your daddy would be home at five thirty to take on the heat.

Things were easier on your parents when Eddie started coming around to keep Beau occupied. The second grader had a lot of energy, even after sports practice or game days. Eddie's personality matched his in intensity -- always finding new ways to keep him engaged in his homework, in his reading, in the way he navigated the world. Beau was at a fourth grade reading level by the end of the school year and whipping through math like he was born to know it. Your daddy started taking Eddie to boxing matches and monster truck shows with Beau. Your daddy started to forget you were there, too.

Except when Eddie’s big brown eyes started to linger a little too long at you one night when you were at work.

“Munson, I’m old. I’m not stupid,” your dad’s voice grumbles like a bad engine when he talks, “You wanna ask my daughter on a date, don’t you?”

Eddie sputters into his orange soda, smattering it onto Beau who throws into a fit of giggles.

“Uh – what?” he gasps, “Sir, I – excuse me?”

“I see how you’ve been lookin’ at her since you saw her two summers ago,” he shakes his head, coughing a cigarette cough into his fist, “You’ve got the most love sick eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie can’t help the blush that grows in his cheeks, “Sir, I dunno about that.” “Everyone knows you have a huge crush on sissy, Ed,” Beau says matter of factly, taking a big gulp of his chocolate milk. Ed reaches for the cup as he goes for a second gulp and eases it out of his hands. “Slow down, kid,” he huffs, “And gross, dude. Girls have cooties.”

“Sissy has her cooties shot,” Beau shrugged, “She told me when I said there’s no way you liked her, ‘cause girls have cooties.” “Did sissy ask if I told you I liked her?” Eddie asks with a smile. Beau smirks and giggles, tiny teeth shining back at his dad – he’s a troublemaker but he’s no good at keeping secrets. Your dad smirks into his coffee mug, too.

“Did she ask you if I liked her?” Eddie’s heart pounds in his chest when your dad nods at his question.

“Did um – did she say if she liked me?” he stammers out. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to squeeze out any remaining moisture as he saw you walk out of the kitchen to one of your tables. Two regulars, construction guys -- Bryan and Charlie, always come in at the same time and always tip big cause they think you're pretty. Eddie hates that he hates when you talk about them -- you aren't his, it shouldn't make him so upset. He smiles to himself for a minute when you press a hand to your lower back, scrunching your face in pain. He can tell it’s because you always pop your hip to one side when you take an order.

“She might’ve mentioned something,” your dad shrugs, “But I asked you a question, kid.”

The sticky heat from outside flows in through the door and into his chest, “Am I allowed to ask her on a date?”

“She’s twenny-two, she can do what she wants,” he laughs, “Just don’t have her coming home in a cop car and you got my blessing.”

“I promise I won’t have her come home in a cop car,” he breathes out. His excitement outweighs his embarrassment when you come over to the table. To him, your diner dress fits you just right. To you and your dad, you wished it was a little looser. He swallows hard when you plop your hands on the linoleum and lean forward on your palms. Your manicured nails click on the plastic when you drum them a few times, the pen in your hand shines.

“Anything else I can get you boys?” you ask with a smile.

“I think we’re heading out, pum’kin,” your dad’s jagged grin shines through his eyes while Beau crawls over Eddie to get out of the booth, “Gotta take this rugrat to the movies for his friend’s birthday party.”

“But um,” your dad chuckles while he stands up, stretching a bit before adjusting his biker vest, “I think Ed’s gonna stick around. Said he had somethin’ to ask you.”

Five and ½ Years Ago Money flows when he makes it. Your first date was to the movies, nervous hand holds on your knee – uncertain arm around your shoulder. He smelled like Suave body wash and cigarettes. Your second to some restaurant out of town, he stumbled over his drink order and yours but it made you giggle in a way that made him giggle too. He wore a ‘nice’ shirt that Wayne let him borrow but he shifted in it all night – rolling up the sleeves and opening up the collar. Some chicken scratch tattoos on his forearms. He kissed you in the van with warm full lips and smiled all the way home. But as the months went on and Rick started giving him bigger plays, bigger bricks to move – two years in the trenches had his seeing stacks he had only dreamed of before. You got to reap the benefits. A pair of earrings, nicer dinners, paying for your manicures every now and again. New tattoos on his arms, on his chest, littered in them – good ones too, he’d go out to Ohio for them. He’d work his shifts at the garage with your dad and then on some nights and weekends do his business. Your daddy still looked the other way, if the cops weren’t knocking then it didn’t matter. Eddie was making you happy, he was making everyone happy, so there wasn’t any reason for him to worry. You spent your shifts at the diner thinking about when he’d come pick you up. Thinking about when he’d come in during your opening shifts and flirt with you while he had a cup of coffee – sometimes in his coveralls, sometimes in his clothes from the night before. He smelled good, new colognes – he got a couple. You liked the one he wore on date nights and loved the one he wore during the day. Got some silver chains to match his rings – subtle upgrades. He’d started to fill out some – making more money, eating more, more muscle, more cash, more confidence – still yours. Still lovesick. ‘The most lovesick eyes I’ve ever seen.’

His hair tickled your thighs while he had you splayed out on the mattress in Rick’s guest room, the ‘welcome to the weekend’ party still raging down stairs as the night begins to approach the early hours of the morning. Perks of living on the outskirts of town – no neighbors to call the cops to tell you to shut the fuck up. The thud of the music makes the walls vibrate, putting you in a steady trance in the dark. The joints you were passed earlier had made their claim, body languid and floaty — he could have you just how he wants you.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he whispers into the crease of your thigh while his hands push your knees apart further. His tongue is his best feature, and he knows it now. Easily his strongest muscle with the way it’s started to get him in and out of anything. Sweet charm turned as silver as his rings as he got more and more successful, more and more of Rick’s approval. His tongue lies flat in slow intentional drags between your legs, spit pooling out in its wake. He likes to take his time here to build you up, your soft ‘hm’s encouraging him to keep his pace.

“It’s nice like that, huh?” he asks gently, pressing a kiss to your clit, “Using my tongue on you?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, eyes closed and sleepy. His head pokes up from between your legs when he notices your body reacting less and less to his mouth. Your sounds get progressively quieter, losing enthusiasm.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, crawling up over you.

“Mhm,” you respond, eyes still shut.

“You fallin’ asleep on me?” he laughs, thumb coming up to run over the side of your head, “You little lightweight.”

Your lips stretch into a smile, the weight of your high pressing you further into the mattress. Each time you take a breath you feel yourself falling further and further away, it’s almost scary until it's not – because he’s there. You feel the pad of his index finger run down the bridge of your nose and slide over your bottom lip. He quietly eases off the bed, grabbing your panties and jeans from the floor to put them back on with the finesse of a person who’s had to redress their passed out friends many times before. You’re almost out like a light when he drapes the throw blanket over your legs, adjusting it to slouch messily over your shoulders. You barely feel the kiss he leaves on your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispers, before heading back down stairs for a drink. You wake up to the music still blaring downstairs, mouth dry and disoriented – realizing that what woke you up is the sound of the door opening.

“Hey sleepy, didn’t mean to wake you,” Eddie whispers, wincing a bit as the music gets louder. He closes the door with his hip, clicking on the overhead light making you both squint, “Well, technically I did, but I didn’t mean to wake you up like this. I brought you some food, baby.” Heat rushes to your face at the name. Baby. No one had ever called you that before. Not other hookups or boyfriends - always ‘babe’, never ‘baby’. Always ‘babe’, never ‘angel’, never ‘sweetheart’, never ‘my girl’. Eddie called you every sweet name he could think of. “Thank you,” you smile, eyes falling on the ringed hand cradling a paper plate with two slices of pizza, dripping in grease. The other held a can of Pepsi that he watched your eyes fall on for a brief moment.

“They didn’t have Coke, m’sorry,” he scrunches his nose, leaning in to give you a kiss while he places the plate and can on the side table, clicking on the lamp.

“That’s okay, this is fine,” you smile, he smiles back while clicking the big light back off. He crawls onto the bed next to you, the warmth of him enveloping you in his scent, his body heat, his essence. Things moved fast since your first date. You’d never felt loved like this, you’d never been kissed how he kissed you. It’s like he wrote the schematics for your body and kept them a secret until the day you let him touch you in the back of his van. The day you let him take you in your bedroom when your parents went to watch Beau’s baseball game. Even his stare made you flustered. Eddie would say the same about you. Gareth and Jeff would label it as lovedrunk, Rick said he was more addicted to being with you than he was to making him money. Sandra at the diner said he’s obsessed. Obsessed with you. It had a nice ring to it.

“Thank you again,” you nod, cracking open the can of Pepsi that soothes your dry mouth instantly.

“Anything for you,” he smiles while his hand reaches to yours, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I heard what you said, by the way,” you smirk, “When you left the room.”

His face somehow blanches and fumes red like sweet cherries at the same time, “You weren’t supposed to.”

“Didn’t want me to know that you love me?” you tease, shoulder bumping him with a laugh. He doesn’t laugh back, he just looks at you with soft eyes – big and brown, begging.

“Is that stupid?” he asks softly, disappointment weighing heavy on his tongue.

“No! No! It’s not stupid,” you quickly assure, “No, I um –” You smile down into the can of Pepsi, manicured nails on your opposite hand drumming on the aluminum. “I love you, too,” you whisper, “I was nervous that maybe it was too soon. I didn’t like…I didn’t wanna scare you.” “Scared by my girl saying she loves me? Nah,” he shakes his head, teeth gleaming in a smile that hurts his cheeks, “That’s the best shit I’ve heard all year.” “Why don’t you eat first,” he starts huskily, taking your Pepsi can and placing it on the side table. The cologne on his skin had mixed pleasantly with tobacco, enveloping you in sandalwood, fruit, and smoke. His lips were plush as he pressed first against the corner of your mouth and then the other, holding his index finger in the center of yours. He nuzzled your nose gently before easing himself into a deep kiss, index finger tracing down your cheek. “As I was saying,” he starts again, a light giggle floating out of his chest and escaping pink cheeks, “Why don’t you eat first and then maybe we can go to mine and I’ll show you how much I love you.” “What about Wayne?” you ask, looking at his distorted face with your foreheads so close together. He steals a quick kiss from you again, another on your cheek. “Wayne’s staying close to the plant to do a morning shift, so he won’t be home until tomorrow night,” he grins, “We can play house all day tomorrow.”

“You’re stupid,” you laugh, leaning back to take the pizza off the side table to take a bite. “What? You don’t wanna be my baby all day?” he gets on his knees on the mattress to lean into you, lips finding their way to your cheek and jaw. You squirm under his touch, a feather light gasp coming out of your mouth when he nips at the spot at the top of your neck. “What’s got you so flustered, hm?” he teases into your ear, his ringed hand trailing up your thigh. Your hand covers his and he stops his journey, pulling back a little. “Nothing bad, s’just – I really like it when you call me baby,” you hide your face with one hand, “I don’t think I’ve said that before. It’s just really nice.” “Baby,” he pours out like warm syrup, it sounds so natural in his nicotine soaked voice. He pulls your hand away, smattering slow soft kisses across your cheeks. Mumbling between each one, “Baby, baby, baby.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #dark!eddie munson #dark!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #dark!eddie munson x you #modern!eddie #modern!eddie munsn #baby as if

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narrans · 26 days

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My Borrowed Son | 21 | Lyn-ding A Hand

Chapter Twenty-One | Lyn-ding A Hand

The summer came and went and, before he knew it, Parker was a sophomore in high school as a thirteen year old boy.

The fallout with Selina had almost no affect on the overall friend group except for Spencer, who decided to stay with the friend group despite his twin sister’s pouting. Spencer said that his sister was just trying to be nosey and that while she did have a massive crush on Parker, he knew because she wouldn’t shut up about it, it was only part of her motivation to ask Parker to be her boyfriend.

Her curiosity got the better of her and it divided some of the friends for a short time while their versions of the event circulated.

Regardless, summer made for some great movie nights for the group of childhood friends and all of them managed to find time to see Parker virtually. There were large gaps of time where Parker wouldn’t hear from anyone, but that was okay.

The incident with Selina made Parker feel a bit more reserved and protective of himself, specifically about his condition. More time was dedicated to writing and studying late in the evenings because of it. The fallout initially left a bit of a hole in Parker’s chest, but it was something Parker felt himself getting over quickly.

Selina always had a flare for the dramatic and now was no exception.

Parker also knew that the frustration of people not knowing about his condition and keeping it a secret would take its toll on him. It made him feel lonely and guarded, which combined during the new school year as Parker being a lot more quiet than he was in his previous grades.

Some of his friends did ask why he was reluctant and if he felt comfortable with sharing more, but Parker quickly shut all of it down and retracted into himself.

That is… until it came time to partner up in one of his English literature classes.

Parker had hoped that he might be left to his own devices and write a story on his own, but there was an even number of students in the class which dashed his hopes. Parker sighed and leaned back in his chair. If he knew the general pattern, he would be writing the entire story alone along with the report and someone else would get a piece of the grade he earned.

As his teacher read off the names of his fellow classmates, Parker heard his name called along with the name of a girl he had become acquainted with last year because of her writing. They had actually been at the same middle school as well and even shared a few classes now that Parker thought about it. They had never officially met, but that didn’t stop him from knowing her name.

Lyndsie Sullivan.

She was a bit of a quiet, pensive girl, but her poetry was absolutely flawless. It reflected a spunky, upbeat kind of girl who was mature far beyond her years. Parker didn’t need to be an adult to tell that Lyndsie was well spoken and knew exactly what she wanted and was willing to wait or do whatever was necessary to have it.

She also had a subtle boldness about her. During a few instances where one of the other students was being picked on, it was Lyndsie who helped come to that student’s aid. There was a subtle intimidation that loomed behind her bright green eyes, and she knew it.

So, when Parker heard his name paired with hers, Parker felt a mild sense of unease settle over him. There was something about her that, when they had class discussion together, that made Parker feel like Lyndsie could see right through the camera.

Still, this was just for class. He wasn’t going to talk to her outside of class. They were meant to talk for assignments and that was all.

Lyndsie came over to her new desk in front of Parker’s camera that was set up in class and smiled politely as she organized all of her books and notes on the desk.

“Hey, Parker. It’s nice to meet you finally,” smiled Lyndsie. “I think we’ve had a few classes together last year and in middle school, but we’ve just been ships passing in the night.” Parker looked into her eyes and saw a bright spark of creativity blooming in those green eyes of hers.

He smiled back politely, readjusting his tie and nodded. “Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing. It’s nice to meet you too Lyndsie.”

“Lyn, please,” emphasized Lyndsie as she began tying her thick brown hair into a low bun. “Don’t get me wrong. I like my name, but I let my friends go by my nickname.” Parker snorted in amusement.

“Are we friends?” he asked. Lyn smiled and leaned forward on the desk, resting her chin onto the palm of her propped up hand.

“I think so. We have each other’s names and we’ve had a few classes together. We just need to find out our favorite colors and we’re basically besties,” grinned Lyn. “Unless you’re not comfortable with that and prefer to be strictly professional; but where’s the fun in that?”

Parker felt his cheeks getting a bit warm. Something about her features and her easygoing personality suddenly made him remember those nervous butterflies he felt when he and Selina talked all those months ago and, instantly, he felt himself wanting to retract. The last time he was asked his favorite color was when Selina went into that random rant about how boyfriends and girlfriends told each other things, and Parker didn’t want a repeat performance.

“Um… well… we’re at school and it’s supposed to be more professional,” stated Parker. Lyn sighed before shrugging her shoulders and snagging what looked like a fountain pen from her desk.

“Fair enough, Mr. Silverstein. Now, onto the assignment. We don’t have a lot of time in class to finish discussing what our story is going to be about, and I don’t want to have to work extra after school on something we could’ve knocked out right here and now,” stated Lyn as she began making notes at the top of the page.

Her go get em attitude was something Parker wasn’t familiar with from his fellow students. Many of them took their education seriously, yes; however, it was usually Parker who had to bring the conversation back on track. Rarely did they delve immediately into the assignment.

It was also odd that Lyn didn’t ask anything about his condition. Parker’s experience was that ninety-nine percent of people, when one-on-one, would ask him at least something about why he was behind the camera at home and not in class.

Not her.

It was, in a word, refreshing, and soon Parker found himself enthralled in their conversation about what kind of story they were going to create for their literature course.

“So, part of the rubric says that we have to do extensive research in the area of our choosing. It must be ‘historically accurate’ within reason for a fantasy novel. So, to me, this could mean a lot of things, and I can send an email regarding it, but I’m thinking that we need to find something we’re both interested in that could potentially involve a lot of research.

“We also need to cite our sources for whatever we choose, which will be fun. So, what do you want to do some research on? What do we want our story to be about?” asked Lyn as she tore her eyes away from the screen and onto Parker.

Parker, whose eyes were mostly scanning the rubric, glanced over to catch her eyes again. A shiver crawled down his spine as he glanced back at the digital checklist their story needed to achieve.

“Well, I know what I would want to do, but it’s not for everyone,” muttered Parker as an idea was already formulating in his mind.

“Oh? Let’s hear it. No bad ideas, relatively speaking,” stated Lyn.

Parker bit his lip and glimpsed his space poster in the corner of his study room. He sighed and thought there was no harm in suggesting it. It was an idea he had already, but he planned on this being part of an independent series he would publish on his own.

“Well… okay… hear me out…” started Parker before taking a breath before the plunge. “I’m really into space and satellites and everything. Could we do some kind of space adventure?” Lyn hummed contemplatively before nodding slowly.

“I… think we could do something with that. I don’t know much about space. Would this be about some kind of technology AI thing that finds a civilization? Or is it like Star Trek where you’ve got a captain of a ship and they go exploring around?”

“Um… maybe a mix of the two? I was just thinking about topics in general,” said Parker, surprised that Lyn was so easily convinced. Lyn hummed again and scribbled something into her notebook.

Passively, she remarked, “Personally, I’m kind of into pirates and all of that. Hey! If you’re not totally sold on a futuristic era, do you want to do a little combination of the two ideas? We have precedence with that one show ‘Firefly.’ Have you ever seen it?”

Parker had actually seen the show recently, but he didn’t see the very end of it because he had just started it.

“You want to do space pirate cowboys?” asked Parker, finding the idea amusing and alluring at the same time.

“Something like that. ‘Firefly’ mixed with a touch of ‘Treasure Planet’ and all of a sudden we have a hit. What do you think? Originality points and all that. Plus, we can each do research and break up the work if we want. I don’t know. What are your thoughts?” asked Lyn.

Parker thought about her proposition and already his mind was coming up with a bunch of fun ideas. He could see a crew of space pirates going around breaking all of the rules on different planets but also helping everyone. A kind of Robin Hood like character came to mind, and Parker found himself not opposed to the concept.

“Alright,” he said finally, noticing that Lyn had torn her eyes away from her writing to look up at him. “Sure. Let’s try it out.”

A beaming smile from Lyn suddenly made Parker’s cheeks very warm all of a sudden, making him look away from the camera as he quickly tapped away on his keyboard and shared his screen as a document.

It took only ten minutes for the two of them to come up with a solid concept for a story.

Together, they decided that the Galactic Federation, the overall ruling governmental body of the Interstellar Collective, had been corrupted by career politicians who had forgotten what it was like to scrape up a living. As a result, piracy and black markets blossomed in the oddest places – and space was no exception.

Captain Orion Zane, a charismatic leader with a true heart of gold, decided he wouldn’t stand for the injustice. He and a group of eleven others ran a ship that they collectively named “Karma” to intercept convoy ships and break up blockades of oppressive spaceships.

The announcement of class ended their creative flow, but Lyn offered her number and Discord username if Parker wanted to add her as a friend and talk more about the story later. In the meantime, she would start investigating the definition of “pirate,” marine laws that would apply in international waters as well as space, and weapons that traditional pirates used to see what they could futurize.

“Okay. Sounds like a plan to me. I’ll talk to you later Parker. I mean… Mr. Silverstein,” said Lyn.

“Bye, Lyn. Oh… sorry… Ms. Sullivan,” said Parker before exiting to the lobby and preparing for his next class.

For whatever reason, Parker suddenly found himself completely distracted for the rest of the day. He was researching space during math and history, and when he wasn’t doing that he was thinking about the way Lyn looked at him over the screen.

Every time he thought about her, everything in him tingled and made him almost uncomfortably warm. What was almost alarming was that Parker liked this feeling. Just thinking about her dark green eyes flicking up from her paper made him shiver.

Class continued as normal, and Parker found himself eagerly awaiting his English class just to talk to Lyn again. He even dared to add her on Discord so the two of them could talk after school ended. Their conversation were primarily about their collective story, but the conversation would often drift to other topics by the end of the evening when they had to go finish work or eat dinner.

Parker liked talking to Lyn. There was something about her that drew him in regardless of topic. What made it better was that they were similarly aligned in how they thought class should be conducted, what they thought about different elements of life, and even their favorite activities which were numerous and all over the place.

She was a fascinating person to talk to, and Parker realized later that his face would ache from how much he was smiling.

It wasn’t until dinner nearly four weeks later that Parker found himself snapped out of his stupor when his mom asked how he was feeling and if there was anything wrong.

“Your cheeks are so pink. You’re not running a fever, are you?” she noticed as she dished out a bit of fish, greens, and rice into a small dish for Parker.

“Oh um… well… I was just thinking,” said Parker.

“Thinking? About what?” asked his mom. Parker took the dish and sat down at his place on the table while his mom fixed herself a plate.

“Well… we got new partners today for English class and… well… she’s… really nice…” said Parker. The gleam in his mom’s eyes was undeniable as she sat down at the table and smiled knowingly.

“Oh? She?” prompted his mom. Parker felt his cheeks blushing harder than ever. He knew he must look as red as a cherry tomato as he quickly blessed his food and began eating.

“Y-yeah,” he said as he shoveled a part of rice into his mouth.

“Really? What’s her name?” asked his mom. Parker knew he was busted at this point. It wasn’t like he was keeping a lot of secrets from his mom, but he also didn’t mention his adventure into the walls or the breakup with Selina.

He licked his lips and kept his eyes averted ever so slightly, wondering why he was feeling suddenly shy about talking to his mom, as he said, “Lyn. Technically, it’s Lyndsie Sullivan, but she likes her friends to call her Lyn.”

Amanda smiled as she brought her cup up to her lips and took a drink. Parker unknowingly had been talking a lot about Lyn recently, but the context was usually class and how good she was at pretty much everything. Amanda suspected Parker might be developing his first real crush, but actually hearing it was both exciting and worrisome.

Amanda worried about when this day would happen. She wanted her son to develop feelings for someone in his own time, but she also knew the complications of his size when talking to someone who was much bigger than he was. There were so many factors when developing a crush and getting into a relationship, and Parker’s size was one of those factors; though he didn’t really know it yet.

It wasn’t something that would come up in normal conversation. Plus, there were complications when it came to how tall Parker was.

It pained Amanda to no end, but a worry she had was that Parker wouldn’t find someone his size who he would like.

Now wasn’t the time to talk about that – or maybe it was.

She would have to read some of her parenting books later to see how to talk about these topics with Parker later tonight.

In the meantime, she decided to celebrate his feelings and encourage him. These feelings were natural after all.

“Well, Lyn sounds like a wonderful girl,” remarked Amanda. At this, Parker’s eyes changed. His mom swore she saw what she could only describe as “dream eyes” as Parker thought about his friend.

“Yeah, she’s great. She’s into photography and showed me some of her stuff. It’s really awesome. She does these cool perspective shots of flowers and all sorts of other things. I need to show you some of the things she sent over Discord,” said Parker, a bit too eagerly as he suddenly realized and went back to eating, cheeks bright scarlet.

“Yeah?” asked Amanda, hoping to prompt further reaction from her son. Sadly, Parker only elaborated a little as they finished their meal together. Parker was in a bit of a hurry because, according to him, he had an important assignment he needed to finish before the end of the night, but Amanda suspected that Parker simply wanted to get online and see if Lyn was online and available to chat.

He excused himself from the table hurriedly and vanished back to his room, jogging to cross the floor and taking the stairs two at a time to make it back to his space.

Amanda cleaned up after dinner, conflicting emotions swirling inside her. It was only a matter of time before Parker started asking the hard questions about why he couldn’t go see Lyn in person.

Drying her hands on a crumpled dish towel, Amanda retreated to her own room to do some research about talking to your children about difficult topics such as puberty, romance, and, most crushing of all, adoption.

~~~^*^*^~~~

“Well, I think we’ve got the chapters outlined well enough. How did your research go by the way? Did you find the original case about space being international waters?” asked Lyn. She was laying on her stomach with her laptop propped up on some pillows and a lap desk as she scribbled and wrote in her notebook. Their conversation had been going on for three hours after dinner, and both of them were obviously starting to droop. Still, neither wanted to be the first to relent and hang up first.

“Yeah, I did actually. It’s actually kind of a combination between two or three different laws if I’m reading everything correctly. One of them is the Outer Space Treaty, the Accords, and the Moon Treaty. There are a bunch of laws and rules to go along with it which I have in the shared document I shared with you,” replied Parker as he stifled a yawn.

“Oh, perfect! I love it when nerds to their work,” teased Lyn as she made a goofy face at the camera.

“Ha ha. I could say the same to you. How much did you have written about pirates in your math class when you were supposed to be paying attention? I know because I checked the document and saw you typing away as soon as we left English,” Parker said, flipping the tables on Lyn.

“Oh! You hush! I passed my test with flying colors, didn’t I?” she shot back. Parker chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah. Like you said. Nerd.”

Lyn rolled her eyes and vanished from view as she stretched before popping back up to the camera. They stared at one another for a minute in silence, each holding the other’s gaze, before bashfully glancing away simultaneously.

It took another minute before Lyn looked back at Parker and cleared her throat, obviously preparing to ask a question. “Um… Parker? Do you… mind if I ask you something?”

The tiredness banished instantly from Parker’s eyes as the question sank in. This was something he usually asked his mom, and she usually replied with “you can ask me anything,” but only now did Parker realize how nerve wracking that question could actually be.

He bit his lip, feeling himself bristle and those precious walls he had slowly lowered begin to raise once more.

“Um… yeah? I mean, I guess. What’s up?” asked Parker. In the back of his mind, a flashback of Selina’s conversation ran right through him. Was Lyn about to ask him if he liked her? Was she going to ask if they wanted to be boyfriend girlfriend only to immediately turn it on him? Was she going to ask about his condition? Would she ask why he wasn’t ever at school? What if she wanted to meet up to write together in person or study together?

His nerves started to make him squirm and sweat. Parker honestly didn’t think it was that noticeable until he saw Lyn’s curious expression.

“You okay?” she asked. “I mean that’s not my question, but you’re acting a bit weird all of a sudden. You can say no, ya goof.”

Parker squirmed again and tried to shake his nerves away.

“Um… no. I mean, I’m okay. It’s just that the question could mean anything, so I’m just preparing for whatever,” mumbled Parker. Lyn eyed him again but shrugged and continued.

“Well, you can always say no or abstain from answering. I hope you know that,” stated Lyn in her usual matter-of-fact tone. “Anyway, I wanted to ask you something.”

Parker held his breath as Lyn eyed the camera and watched Parker’s reaction to her question.

“Are you the author of ‘Welcome to My Little Life’?”

The question threw him so off guard that his expression was obviously a dead giveaway. Relief. Curiosity. Excitement. Nervousness.

“Um… yeah. I mean, of course. It’s just a bit of a side project and everything, but I like posting there. It’s a good space for exposure and everything,” Parker replied. The tenseness in his body dissipated and the young teen could once again relax with his friend.

The look on Lyn’s face mirrored his own as she propped herself up closer to the camera, saying, “I knew it! I mean, I thought it was you, but didn’t want to make things weird or bring it up. Dude! I totally follow you for your story about your Dungeons and Dragons character. Tal’el, right?”

Parker had never really met someone who knew about his blog. He’d chatted with his followers like Karl, Zel, and so many others, but never someone he was already friends with.

“No kidding?” asked Parker in a bit of disbelief. “You like it?”

“Dude! Of course! And you’ve liked some of my stuff too. I posted some pictures and you liked them. That’s why I wanted to ask – to see if you knew,” said Lyn. “I’m Lyn_see Photography.”

Parker felt his eyes go wide as he remembered the exact posts Lyn was talking about. The perspectives Lyn took was from the edge of a television stand that showed the depth and vastness of the living room while keeping everything in focus.

“That’s you? Dude! No way! I thought the style looked like yours, but I didn’t know that was you!”

The two of them laughed at the strange coincidence.

“How’d you even manage that perspective?” asked Parker.

“HDR mode. Basically had to take two identical pictures and blend them together,” said Lyn. “I could show you one of these days on my camera. I also had to blend it in Procreate, but it didn’t require a lot of editing which was nice.”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot,” agreed Parker, the last of his tension leaving his body.

“Definitely,” grinned Lyn. “If you don’t mind my follow-up question, but you looked tense earlier? What was that all about?”

Parker squirmed again and tried to shrug it off as he contemplated his reply. Bringing it up might pick at the scab that was over the sensitive spot surrounding his whole interaction with Selina and not telling her more about his condition. He didn’t want to lose Lyn as a friend and he wanted to keep his condition close to his chest, but he also wanted to trust Lyn. She was someone who he cared about.

Selina was right about one thing – you tell people you trust.

And Parker felt like he could trust Lyn; at least, he thought he could trust her enough to talk about it a little.

“Well, I mean… I thought you were going to ask about my… condition,” said Parker. He braced himself for whatever Lyn was going to say next and hoped he hadn’t accidentally ruined something good.

“Oh, that makes sense. I mean, I’m sure it’s a sensitive thing for you and everything,” replied Lyn. “Did… someone try and pry?”

Parker felt himself nodding before he even realized he was responding.

“I see. Well, I’m sorry that happened. I mean, I can’t say that I’m not curious, but I wouldn’t go asking questions unless you wanted to talk about something about it. I hope you’d be comfortable enough to talk about it with me if you needed to,” stated Lyn.

Parker couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Was it that easy?

An announcement of curiosity accompanied with an invitation to refuse.

The smile that spread onto Parker’s face stretched from ear to ear as another wave of genuine relief filled him. This was exactly what he hoped Selina would say, and now he was hearing it from Lyn – someone who he cared about very much despite knowing her for such a short time.

“I… yeah… I would feel comfortable with that… you know… if I needed to talk about it and everything,” muttered Parker. Was it warm in the room? Or was it just him? There was a moment where the two of them made eye-contact through the lens of the camera and, for a moment, Parker could have sworn she was right there looking at him.

His entire body felt tingly and excited. It felt like electricity was filling his body, pouring itself over him and making his heart race and pound.

Another minute passed before Lyn cleared her throat and continued their conversation.

“Good. Now, you have to tell me more about your story and where it’s going to go. I swear your updates are so chaotic that it drives me crazy. What’s going to happen with that princess? And is he going to cure the plague going through the community? I have to know!”

Parker laughed and shook his head.

“You know I can’t spoil anything,” Parker teased.

“Oh! Spoil sport! You’re either saying it because you’re cruel and want to torture me or because you don’t know the answer!” accused Lyn, obviously playing in a tone that made Parker’s heart race.

The two of them continued talking for the next hour where, reluctantly, Parker revealed a few details of his story to appease Lyn before the two of them signed off simultaneously, accidentally falling asleep for a moment before startling awake and saying goodnight. Parker crawled into his bed, face hurting from smiling so much, and drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

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