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yenonnoff · 2 months

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h. iwaizumi — my time is important | part 3 (finale)

pairing: iwaizumi x gn!reader

content: mini smau series, university au, swearing, crack, fluff, friends to lovers

synopsis: you've always been a devoted volunteer; the university's bulletin board where all volunteer opportunities are posted, might as well become your second home. however, competition is high. iwaizumi hajime seems to appear out of nowhere and mercilessly fights over the last spot with you every time! why is a busy volleyball player like him spending so much time stealing your spot anyway?

a/n: dates are inaccurate but times are mostly consistent (word count: 6.8k pls forgive me)

...my time is important | part 1, part 2, part 3 (finale)

endless chatter. countless voices spilled onto the walls and tables of the cafeteria.

osamu occupied the seat next to you, his twin brother sitting on the other side. atsumu yawned, his outstretched arms almost knocked over your food.

“hey,” you frowned.

atsumu had annoyed you yesterday with one of his antics and you haven’t fully forgiven him for it. you couldn’t believe what you were reading when you saw his post about you and hajime. it’s safe to say you haven’t forgotten the incident and he hasn’t forgotten his lecture.

atsumu retracted his arms hastily, a playful “oops” escaping his lips. after another lazy yawn he asked, “do you think he saw the post?”

“no, hajime isn’t active on twitter,” you replied. “he only goes to check his messages sometimes.”

your response garnered a whistle from atsumu. “a true hajime expert,” he smiled.

sometimes you wished you could just throw him into an arena of lions and watch as he struggled. many times you thought this, however this time you were just being unfair. you were upset about how ironic the situation was. you know hajime so well and yet you haven’t properly talked to him in weeks.

sure there were fleeting moments: waves in the hallways, brief exchanges of smiles, but never full on conversations. none in person, none in text (at least none that didn’t involve the topic of upcoming volunteer events). rarely you’d stop him and engage in idle chit chat, but like always he was whisked away shortly after.

the universe was playing tricks on you. the desire to talk to him—ask about his day randomly, how his volleyball practice was, or simply talk to him without needing a reason—grew and grew. it would be unusual if you discussed these things with him. after all, you were just friends.

but you wanted to know. you wanted to ask him how he got into volleyball, ask about his high school experiences. you wanted to ask about him. was that so wrong? if you can’t do that as friends then you don’t want it.

you watched blankly as your food slid towards the right, osamu’s lunchbox coming into view.

“you’ve been distracted a lot lately, y’know that?” he said.

you smiled sheepishly. “yeah, i know.”

“here.” osamu opened his lunchbox and revealed pieces of homemade dumplings. you weren’t surprised at the display. he always made his meals from scratch and was working towards developing his own recipes. he even folded the dumplings in various fun styles. his skills truly know no bounds.

you were one of his many taste testers, and as always, there was nothing to complain about his cooking. while there’s always room for improvement, you were cont—

“this needs more salt,” atsumu said mid way through chewing.

you and osamu both looked at him. leave it to atsumu to ruin the mood.

“talk or chew, don’t do both,” you scolded.

“who said you could eat one anyway?” osamu asked, sliding his lunchbox back towards him.

atsumu swallowed the food. he pouted when his brother swatted his grabby hands away from the dumplings. he continued to frown, “oh c’mon. you know i have superior taste buds.”

“what does that even mean?” his twin sent him a look.

as they bantered, you finished packing up the remainder of your food, stuffing the container into your backpack. the two stared at you when you stood up, confusion evident in their eyes.

“you’re leaving already?”

you shrugged. “might as well get to bio early.”

you waved them goodbye and walked away from the table. the twins were going to leave soon anyway. usually you’d join them on their walk around campus or hang out with them and suna in the music room, but not today.

osamu’s words came rushing back to you: “you’ve been distracted a lot lately…”

you couldn’t deny it. this was starting to get out of hand.

in the corner of your eye you saw him. hajime iwaizumi, who you’d met coincidentally in front of your university’s bulletin board. he sat at a table a little further down from yours, his body facing your direction. he was grinning cheerfully—a rare occurrence but a striking one. you swear his gaiety could light up the whole room.

you saw the corners of his eyes crinkle. he was paying close attention to whatever seth was saying or doing—honestly you weren’t too sure. everyone else was blurred out, your focus was set only on hajime.

he laughed again.

your heart thumped chaotically and you found yourself wondering what was so funny. for a moment you’d wished you had made him laugh like that. even tooru who sat next to seth was pouting, upset that seth had said a good joke and not him.

then hajime shifted and glanced your way. first came his softened gaze, then a wave in your direction.

vermillion kissed your cheeks. you waved back hurriedly and beelined for the exit. hajime had caught you staring.

for the entirety of biology you couldn’t concentrate. your heart was still hammering against your chest and hajime stubbornly occupied all your thoughts.

the next day was solely dedicated to preparing for the festival. it’s an annual event that requires the full participation of every department; it’s an annual event that many students dread.

there are mixed feelings when it comes to the festival: the first half—setting up booths and decorations; navigating through the tight storage room; and working hectically in the heat—is a pain in the ass. this part requires the most heavy lifting and students despise the amount of work needed to be done. however, the later half—the festival fully decorated and finished with large crowds of people roaming the campus—is a wonderful sight. since admission is free to all students, they tend to have a field day after all their work.

as for you, you enjoyed every single part of the festival (both the beginning and the finished product). being able to provide assistance to other people brings you joy. the festival is just like volunteering except with the bonus of being surrounded by friends and classmates. what more could you ask for?

others were less optimistic however. all departments at Tokyo University were responsible for setting up food stands or activities. the profit made by each department goes to their respective budget; you’ve witnessed just how intense the competition gets between the different stands. the thought sends a chill down your spine.

certain departments like art, fashion design, and theatre are able to host exhibits and shows. essentially they’re exempt from having to run around in the boiling heat. but the most exciting part of the festival has to be the music concerts. last year, there were symphony orchestra and jazz band performances; this year, it’s opened up to students. your dear friend suna and his band are going to perform, and you can barely contain your excitement.

today is only preparation. the real panicking starts tomorrow, the opening day that lasts from 1 to 6pm.

you could already hear the groans of agony from students as you left your dorm. you couldn’t blame them, honestly you were sure you’ll be complaining later on as well. after all… your department along with a couple others were selected for the afternoon shift. unbelievable. extremely unfortunate.

shifts only last three hours at most and departments take turns setting up the festival. you couldn’t imagine spending the entire day trying to dig up dusty banners in the crammed storage room. still, three hours is a long time. your department just had to be picked for the shift when the sun’s at its highest. even osamu and seth weren’t this unlucky: their time slot was from 9am to 12pm. they bragged about it when they finished, sending you a selfie of them eating somewhere.

you arrived to see clusters of students spread all around campus. you rushed to sign in and meet with a Board of Activities member. the morning shift had already set up booths and stands, assembling games and activities. they had done all the basic ground work. the afternoon shift was responsible for organizing the storage room and preparing boxes of decorations and lights for the evening shift. then all they would have to do is unpack everything, set up banners and posters, and test the lights hung around the festival.

The BoA member gave you your first task: join the others in sweeping and cleaning the storage room. it didn’t take very long. everyone basically half-assed it, the room was going to become disordered and neglected again after the festival anyway. the next task was checking what decorations were available in the storage room. you were given a list of items and were instructed to find the boxes containing them. even with a group of people it took an extensive time to search the massive room. however your shift was quickly coming to a close; there was only one more task but you and the others were already drenched in sweat. hot air was constantly rushing into the storage room and it didn’t help that people were coming in more than they were leaving.

you gave yourself a pat on the back when you finally finished. the urge to take a nap and an hour-long break was strong, but there was only one more task before everyone could go home. at least the board was generous with their snacks and drinks.

when the last task came you weren’t sure if you should feel happy or exhausted. all the boxes that were checked on the list needed to be lugged to the front of the campus where it would be unpacked and assembled. it was the last task and the most laborious one at that. at least you could finally get some fresh air. you would be escaping from the suffocating and humid storage room, but your arms and legs would make you pay later.

students shuffled out of the room with boxes in their hands; many needed a partner, the trip was going to be a long and tiring one. you felt your arms grow weak just by watching your fellow schoolmates. it wasn’t like you could sit by and do nothing; BoA members were present in the room and they take preparations seriously.

you wouldn’t have minded doing the evening shift. putting up some posters and hanging silly banners didn’t sound so bad!

you could only sigh and lament on your terrible luck. you went to inspect the lightest box. someone else can get the heavier ones, it wasn’t like you had a partner to help you carry it anyway.

then voices and laughter distracted you.

it came from outside the storage room but was approaching closer and closer. suddenly you saw atsumu and other familiar faces step into the room. with his signature smug expression, atsumu waved at the BoA members. even from the back you could hear his obnoxious voice.

“yo! we’re finished with everything so we came to help.”

you shook your head in disbelief. usually he would run away from any unnecessary and taxing tasks, but look at him acting all righteous. you wondered who actually brought up the idea of helping the other group in the storage room. you would have to thank them since—

oh.

oh. he was here.

you weren’t sure why you hid, your body automatically reacted when you saw hajime enter the room. was that why atsumu was here? you were sure he had some ulterior motive.

more people were entering the space. they barely looked out of breath or covered in sweat. you turned to check the area that you were in: all the way in the back where the boxes were. there were only two or three people with you there. you needed to leave, exit the room before hajime could see you.

your thumping heart was betraying you. you knew how you felt. you were happy to see that hajime had the same shift as you; truth be told, you were hoping that he did the entire time. but not now. you couldn’t talk to him here, this wasn’t the right time or place. you needed to leave.

grabbing the lightweight box from earlier, you made sure to avoid hajime who was walking on the other side of the industrial shelves. you nearly escaped when you forgot about your annoying blond haired friend. he was still talking to the BoA member by the door, clearly trying to avoid helping out. when he turned and saw you, you regretted not staying put. everything was becoming a mess.

“y/n!” he’d sounded shocked but you weren’t convinced. he beamed, “if it isn’t my favorite person in the whole world.”

“liar. you said seth was your favorite last week.”

he winked. “this is a secret, don’t tell him.”

you rolled your eyes. compared to yours, his hair barely looked tousled. he wasn’t sweating profusely either (which actually might be a good thing). you attempted to sidestep him but he cut you off when you were about to say “goodbye.”

you stared at him. “what are you doing?”

“nothing!”

perhaps you should’ve pushed him out of the way. you should’ve distracted him and left, tell him that a pretty girl was coming and get him to turn away. but you didn’t. you fell right into atsumu’s traps.

footsteps approached you from behind and a familiar voice made you freeze in place. “y/n?” he called you. hajime was right behind you.

you couldn’t pay attention to what atsumu was saying. your eyes widened and your legs felt weak.

then, out of nowhere, atsumu snatched your box and flashed you a cheeky smile. you wanted to chase after him as he left the storage room, but hajime was watching from behind. that sneaky fox used him as a buffer! you weren’t going to forget this.

you peered over your shoulders and there he was. you felt a sense of deja vu standing so close to him in such a familiar place. the two of you were together during last year’s festival preparations as well. this’ll mark the second year.

“hi, hajime.” you hoped he didn’t notice the falter in your voice.

“hi, how have you been?” he asked and your shoulders lost their tension. why were you so nervous in the first place? there was nothing to worry about when you were with hajime.

“i’m fine.” you have no idea what’s happened since the last time we talked. “are you here to help us?”

he nodded. “i came to ask where the boxes were and saw you. i didn’t know you’d be here.”

he didn’t, but someone else did. someone who wasn’t going to get away with trapping you like this.

you weren’t ready to talk to hajime. you didn’t even know what to talk about. however you had to admit, this was the moment you’ve been hoping for. maybe it wasn’t too late to start remembering everything you’d wanted to tell him the past two weeks.

you tilt your head towards the back. “it’s this way, i’ll show you.”

“where were you guys before this?” that was the first question you wanted to ask him.

hajime chuckled, “a lot of places.”

the two of you were crouched in front of the boxes, both procrastinating on doing the task. the world seemed to slow down, the shuffling of feet in and out felt like a distant noise in the background. you both gazed at one another: hajime—who barely seemed fazed by the hot and humid room—and you—who felt time stopping, your stomach doing backflips at the way he looked at you.

“we were inside most of the time,” he elaborated. “we helped move some of suna’s band stuff into the assembly room, hung out for a bit, and then got caught by a BoA member.”

you stifled a laugh and said, “of course that happened.”

“then we were ushered to the black box and instructed to organize the backstage.”

your hand shot up at this. hajime raised a brow and watched you intently. “so while you were going from room to room with proper air conditioning, we were burning alive in this storage room?”

you stared at him with narrowed eyes and an envious frown. it wasn’t hajime’s fault but still; you wanted to visit the band room and black box too, perhaps even relax under the aircon before getting caught.

the corners of hajime’s lips curled upwards. it was subtle but you were close enough to see it. the motion sent an chilling shock through your body. your cheeks burned—either from the stuffy atmosphere or from your dark haired friend.

“it’s not as amazing when you realize how picky the theatre director was. she was basically supervising our every move.”

“oh,” you felt a wave of sympathy. “that sounds terrible.”

“can’t blame her. those props looked expensive.”

this triggered an old memory of yours, when you and the twins snuck backstage and atsumu carelessly grabbed an intricate looking sword. he swung it around like a small child who had just won a trophy. little did the three of you know, the sword was actually excalibur and was needed for a musical. nothing was damaged or broken, but you all learned a valuable lesson that day.

thinking back to that time, you realized how impulsive you were as a first-year. you laughed quietly to yourself, not realizing that hajime was still in front of you. he watched the smile creep onto your face and his features softened.

“that reminds me,” he said suddenly, “our group got to see glimpses of the rehearsal. the skits are cool, you should check them out tomorrow.”

“now you’re just showing off.”

“we also checked out the art departm—“

you nudged hajime with your shoulder. a mistake. you were both still in a crouching position and collapsed onto the floor. a thud reverberated through the room and the two of you erupted into laughter. somewhere along in the conversation you had forgotten about the blazing heat and beads of sweat that tickled down your back.

hajime helped you up to your feet, a slight grin still present on his face. you couldn’t believe you thought he was scary when you first met. standing at that bulletin board in the middle of the hallway, you thought he was intimidating—unapproachable with that surly scowl on his face. but there was more to him than you could ever imagine. you wanted to know him more; that grin of his carved a soft spot in your heart.

when you looked around, the storage room was deserted. there was only the two of you and two remaining boxes that laid on the floor. they’ve been waiting to be picked up. how long was your conversation anyway?

you chuckled hesitantly. “uh oh. looks like we should bring these out quickly.”

the walk to the front of the campus was unbelievably short. hajime listened as you rambled about trivial things: the show you watched before falling asleep last night; how ridiculous your professors were; and the meal that osamu made you last week.

the two of you arrived, passing a couple students on the way that were fanning themselves with their hands.

when hajime responded, you knew the conversation had ended. “i’d like to try that,” was all he said.

you laid the boxes on the ground, careful not to brush your fingers against the hot concrete. you heard a sigh from your left and turned. you shielded your eyes from the sun with your hand. hajime was staring at his phone, thin lines forming in between his furrowed brows.

“what’s wrong?”

he glanced your way, his hard expression easing. “it’s just oikawa.” a pause. “if you see him around, please cover for me or just ignore him.”

you tilted your head in confusion. you were about to comply when a blaring whistle caught the both of you off guard. silence, and then another one.

hajime smiled, “or not.”

once again you heard the groans of students as they scattered across campus. they weren’t groans of agony this time, they were sounds of relief. the whistle signaled the end of the afternoon shift; all tasks were checked and completed.

wait—you thought—not yet. not now.

things were starting to become normal again. there was so much more you wanted to talk to hajime about; you feared you wouldn’t have another chance after this.

you wanted to stay with him just a little longer but your body was betraying you. your legs ache and a throbbing pain was coursing through your brain. you needed a shower and a nap desperately. even if you could stay, you weren’t selfish enough to keep hajime here. while he didn’t show it, you knew he was exhausted.

crowds of students dispersed: some went back to their dorms, some went to eat, and some stayed. those with the evening shift were coming—there was no reason to stay anymore.

“y/n.” hajime called to get your attention. “are you going back to your dorm?”

you nodded.

“do you want me to walk you there?”

you swallowed hard. you never noticed how much affection he poured into his words when he was talking to you. it’s hard to notice but it’s there. your eyes traveled to his shirt where he neatly rolled up his sleeves, revealing his biceps. he was bothered by the heat after all.

you smiled at him. “i’ll be fine. thanks for the offer.”

then with a nod he left. “see you later, y/n.”

a part of you was elated thinking about the next time you’d be able to talk to him. the other part wondered if it’ll actually happen. he’d said the same thing last time and what happened? you were stuck running around in a loop, all your efforts and attempts completely shut down.

you watched hajime leave, the distance between the two of you growing more gradually. the sight left a bitter taste in your mouth. you didn’t want this. you had already come to your conclusion about your feelings towards hajime; you were just too cowardly to act on them.

he makes you feel a certain way: a desire to be close to him, hear him talk, and see him smile and laugh. you’ve never felt this way towards anyone before and that’s why you didn’t tell him. you endured weeks of pretending that everything was normal—that you were both okay with being just friends.

you were a coward, afraid that the feelings blooming in your chest would tarnish the friendship you had with him. if things didn’t work out and you had to go separate ways, you didn’t think you could handle that. not talking for weeks was bad enough; not knowing him at all felt hellish.

so you sealed away your feelings, or at least attempted to. hajime made it difficult for you to do so. everything suddenly reminded you of him and without knowing it, your feelings grew heavy in your heart until you felt it would burst.

you should’ve put an end to this a long time ago but you still had a chance. tomorrow was the festival and the perfect opportunity to confess. you’d swallow your cowardice and tell hajime your feelings. you’d face him and he’d give you his undivided attention as always.

if it’s with hajime, then you want to try.

on the day of the festival you arrived two hours before it opened.

you saw students scrambling from one place to another; it wasn’t as crowded as yesterday since coming today wasn’t mandatory. students in departments that were operating food stands or activities needed to come to organize their stations. it was ultimately their responsibility and no one else’s.

though not everyone needed to come. it only applies to those unfortunate enough to get selected or those with enough compassion to volunteer.

you came early for no particular reason. scratch that—you came hoping you’d see hajime again. you heard from tooru that he’d be here, but what did you expect when the universe’s hobby was to watch you get your hopes up? you haven’t seen him all day and it’s been weighing on your mind.

you worked under a canopy tent with the sides and back covered. kneeling over a plastic bag, you didn’t notice two sets of footsteps approaching.

“y/n!”

your head whipped to the side, your excitement giving you away.

“woah,” atsumu teased. “were you expecting someone else? what’s with the mopey expression?”

in a single moment your eagerness was wiped away and replaced with boredom. you saw atsumu pout; the pure disinterest written all over your face was enough to kill.

you went back to putting pancake mixtures on the foldable tables. “what are you guys doing here anyway?” you wouldn’t be surprised if they were picked to come help—it’s not unlikely that they were both cursed luckless at birth.

“nothing really. we came because everyone else was here,” osamu said.

“so you’re just hanging out?”

atsumu hummed. “what about you?” he was looking at the pancake mixtures on the table, his lips curled up into a smirk.

“helping out,” you said plainly.

“wha—unlucky.”

his sing-song voice received a glare from you. “i’m doing a favor for the art department.”

“and you’re gonna do their job at the festival too?”

you shook your head. when you arrived, some art students came up to you pleading for help. they were short-handed and too busy with the exhibit to set up their food stands. you couldn’t blame their desperation, this was going towards their department budget after all. “they’re coming back and taking over later.”

osamu stepped into the tent, his hands in his shorts’ pockets. curiosity coated his words. “they’re doing something different this year.”

“yeah, they’re making pancakes but you can ask them to draw stuff.”

atsumu came in after his brother, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “woah! like those videos online.”

“you think they’d be down to draw ‘tsumu’s ugly mug?” osamu pondered.

“the hell?! what did i do to you?”

you slide a cardboard box over as the two bantered. you didn’t doubt that they would: money was money and some of them were crushing madly on atsumu. they’d make him look ten times more attractive than he is and it’d unfortunately boost his ego. you shivered at the thought.

atsumu refocused back towards you, having enough of his argument with his brother. “sooo, where’s your lover?”

you stop momentarily. casting your gaze on the ground, silence overtook the tent.

“i don’t know.”

the twins shared a secretive glance at one another. they weren’t sure which was more surprising: you not correcting atsumu or the way you looked so distraught.

then atsumu’s eyes widened and he yelled, “y/n, do you li—”

osamu was quick to nudge atsumu roughly, getting him to shriek and shut up. silence sliced the air again.

“we forgot to mention that we’re looking for him,” osamu said suddenly. he turned to his brother as if trying to communicate a message. atsumu didn’t follow, only raising a puzzled brow and continuing to massage the sore part where he was elbowed.

“who’s we?”

osamu grumbled under his breath. the exchange almost made you crack into a smile.

“seth’s looking for iwaizumi and asked us to help.”

you and atsumu were now staring at osamu. confusion danced in the air.

“oh, okay.” you replied, still unsure where this was going. “oh, that thing!” atsumu bursted into laughter. nervous laughter. you eyed him weirdly as if he were a random stranger that’d just approached you. “i remember now. we seriously couldn’t find him anywhere. am i right?”

“yeah.”

you smiled. osamu didn’t hide his disgust towards his brother.

“y/n, please help find him for us.” atsumu clasped his hands together and peered at you with hopeful eyes. good thing he was aiming to play volleyball professionally; the acting industry did not need him.

“if you guys can’t find him, what makes you think i can?”

osamu shrugged. “he could be inside. we haven’t checked there yet.”

“but the stand…”

atsumu slapped a hand against his chest. “we can take over,” he cheered eagerly.

with those four words alone you darted to your feet and wiped down your clothes. even if it was awfully clear that they were lying through their teeth, you weren’t going to say no. this was an excuse to find hajime.

“perfect. just organize the food dye and squeeze bottles. then make sure to check that the pancake makers work properly.” then you were out of there, barely stopping to hear the twins groan with regret.

when you left, atsumu froze in shock at his newfound responsibilities. he didn’t sign up for this.

hajime wasn’t in the art or fashion exhibits. among the paintings and sculptures, mood boards and fashion sketches, you didn’t see anyone that resembled a spiky haired volleyball player. you continued to the theatre department where you didn’t see him either. he wasn’t in the music room; he wasn’t in the cafeteria. at some point you wondered if he had a secret hiding spot on campus somewhere, or if he had the ability to turn invisible.

regardless, you gave up and went back outside. to your surprise, you found seth standing alone by a tent.

“hi, seth. sorry, looks like i can’t find hajime after all.”

he turned around to face you. despite his clear confusion, he still smiled—typical. “what do you mean?”

“nothing,” you laughed tiredly. “this afternoon’s just been very anticlimactic.”

seth crossed his arms in front of his chest. “if you’re looking for hajime, he and tooru went to buy supplies.”

ah. your mouth hung open in realization. that's why you couldn’t find him anywhere, he wasn’t even on campus. you wished you knew that before walking all over the place.

“is that why tooru wasn’t answering his messages?” you asked.

“oh, that was because some girl asked for his number earlier and the dummy gave it. he’s probably ignoring his phone on purpose.”

you sighed. your friends were hopeless. “that’s good then. at least i know hajime isn’t hiding in a secret spot somewhere.”

“secret spot? oh, no—you’ve got the wrong person. that’d be tooru. he knows a bunch of amazing spots on campus.”

“and he didn’t tell me?” you huffed in disbelief. the two of you shared a laugh before silence washed over the conversation.

“i’ve come to my conclusion, seth. i want to try it, confess how i feel and pray things work out.”

seth didn’t respond at first, only staring up at the sky. today wasn’t as tortuously hot as yesterday; it was supposed to get cooler later towards the evening. “don’t worry. i know it’ll work out, it’s you and hajime after all.”

“and if things change?”

he smiled. “things are meant to change. even if they’re bad things, just know you tried, y/n.” then you saw mischief swirl in his brown eyes. “so, when did you figure out you like him?”

you blinked at his gleefulness. seth has always been interested in these kinds of topics. you tap a finger against your chin, thinking about an answer to give. truth be told, you weren't sure. was there a clear point where you realized it? you thought about hajime’s subtle but warm actions, his honest but comforting words. they’ve always made you feel some sort of way; perhaps your feelings towards him were developing slowly but surely this whole time.

but to answer seth’s question, you could only say, “i’m not sure. my heart’s become weak lately. whenever i see him, it doesn’t know how to act.”

seth’s smile widened when he saw your genuine expression. “yeah, that happens sometimes.”

a sudden notification on his phone disrupted the conversation. one moment he’s all cheery, and the next he’s rushing to type a message. he caught your confused stare and said, “it’s 1pm. rin’s texting me to come to the music room. sorry y/n.”

“music room? suna? for what?”

“oh,” he slipped his phone back into his back pocket. “that’s right, i haven’t told you yet. i’m performing with rin’s band as a guest singer.”

your eyes widened and an excited grin spread across your face. “an aspiring fashion designer who’s popular with everyone, is now performing with suna’s band—what can’t you do?”

“i can’t wait to see you and hajime at the show,” he winked.

you opened your mouth to reply but it never came. you only nodded and waved as he rushed away.

there were still things you wanted to talk about with seth—“what if” questions that still plagued your mind.

but you needed to hurry, the festival was already starting. you could only focus on the thought of getting to see and talk to hajime again.

you hoped at the very least that he’d still smile softly at you.

returning back to the festival was a chaotic nightmare. the campus was drowned in twinkling lights and hoards of people. some were students you recognized, others were random family members and high school students. this was the liveliest you’ve ever seen the festival got. people busied themselves in front of food stands and information booths; they blocked walkways and occupied the limited number of benches around campus.

lively but troublesome. your chances of finding hajime just plummeted to the ground.

you took out your phone and read the time: 3:30pm. before this, you stopped by your dorm to shower and get changed. your notification center was filled with old messages from an hour ago. a majority were from your group chat with the twins.

they had bombarded you with messages and pictures: one was of them with food stuffed in their mouths. you type back an apology and ask them if they’ve seen hajime. atsumu instantly replied: havent seen him

you start making your way down the endless aisle of food stalls. you steered away from large crowds, texting everyone you knew if they’ve seen him.

you were desperate. you wanted anything at this point, even a single clue about where he might be.

you stopped to scan your surroundings, a notification catching your eye. it was from osamu and sent to the group chat: i see him hes with oikawa

without skipping a beat you headed towards osamu’s location. you didn’t have a plan, you were going into this head first. you’d have to worry about what to say later, you just wanted to see him right now.

when you stopped again, you saw him standing alone. he was off to the side and away from the crowd.

“hajime,” you said, stepping closer. “you’re a hard person to find.”

he watched as you caught your breath. “were you looking for me?”

yes, you wanted to say. you were looking for him all day.

but you only nodded in response. there was no running away anymore, no more waiting around for something to happen.

“hajime, there’s something i need to tell you.” he nodded and crossed his arms, his unique way of telling you he’s listening. you shook your head. “not here. can we go somewhere else?”

you had no idea where “somewhere else” might've been. you saw people every turn that you took. hajime must’ve seen your despaired expression because he pointed you in a different direction: the back of the festival.

it was a grassy field that stretched for miles on end. you’d forgotten about this area, too exhausted and confused to think properly. you saw small groups of people set down picnic blankets and relax in the sun. they were sitting farther down the field and away from the festival. this was the perfect spot to talk to hajime one on one.

when he sat down on the grass, he patted the empty space next to him. you followed him, your heart suddenly heavy in your throat. what are you going to do now?

“is it okay here?”

you hummed in response. no more running away, you reminded yourself. no more waiting either.

“hajime, i’m sorry.” you saw him tilt his head towards you, his gaze intense. “i’m sorry for making you wait so long, sorry for not noticing everything sooner.”

something shifted in his expression then. the small smile that he’d always reserved for you and you only, faltered.

you rushed to clarify but he beat you to it. “so you know.”

yes, you knew. you always wondered what would happen if atsumu hadn’t accidentally told you that day. if he didn't have such a big mouth and if you continued to remain clueless about hajime’s feelings. would he confess? would your relationship never change?

but you were glad to know. you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that day.

you confirmed, “i know. i should’ve noticed it sooner; were you going to keep it a secret forever?”

“for as long as i could, yes. but it seems you already found out.”

you shook your head. “i didn’t find out, i was told on accident. i’m sorry. you’ve done so much for me and yet i didn’t even notice how you felt.”

“i did those things because you deserve it, y/n. you deserve that and more. i was fine with just being your friend.”

but what about now? how do you feel about me?

you swallowed the questions in your throat. “thank you for volunteering with me, for everything you’ve done. but—“

the words stopped. you could only look at him.

“but how do you feel now?”

the question barely left as a whisper, you wondered if he could even hear you from where he sat. even now there was distance between the two of you. you were sitting far away from one another.

it was a suffocating question—the answer would be much worse.

it took him a moment to reply. you both sat still but the world around you continued to move. the trees and grass danced in the wind, but your focus was on hajime only.

then he spoke gently. “y/n, do you feel uncomfortable by this? i was scared this would happen so i gave you space.”

space. that explained the distance between you two. everything was for you; he was always thinking about how you felt. god, you felt horrible.

the grass tickled your palm but you could only think about how to end this mess. you wanted to tell him everything: the butterflies he’s given you; the energetic beating of your heart whenever he was around; and the way you couldn't imagine being strangers with him.

distance. you hated it. you wanted to close the gap, reveal everything and hope that he’d accept you still.

you shake your head, hopefully for the last time. “no. i’ve never been uncomfortable by this. i was confused but not anymore.”

you inhaled deeply. “i like you more than you think, hajime. you’re so incredibly kind and patient. i want to try and make this work. if it's with you then there’s nothing to worry about.”

you weren’t sure if that was what you were supposed to say, but you hoped he got your message. you poured your feelings out to him. all that’s left to do was wait.

hajime had broken eye contact a long time ago, his focus was elsewhere. your stomach churned at all the poor ways this could end. then, hajime covered his face with his arm. you saw it: the bright smile he tried to conceal and the redness of his cheeks.

“you stole my line, y/n. i was supposed to say that.”

you thought your heart would burst. the sight of him smiling so pleasantly had you frozen in place. your heart really has grown weak.

you grinned at him, a similar reddish hue appearing on your cheeks. the feeling was mutual. everything was okay.

hajime stood from his spot and walked towards you. he lowered his hand and helped you up, just like that time in the storage room. then he interlocked your fingers together, his hand warm and inviting.

when you gave it a gentle squeeze, his unoccupied arm went up to cover his face again. you both knew this would take time to get used to.

you heard him mutter a small “thank you,” his face still hidden by his arm.

this was worth it. he was worth all the running around and confusion.

“you can tell me ‘thank you’ when we get to suna and seth’s concert. everyone’s waiting.”

hajime’s gaze fell on your smiling face and he nodded. you wondered how you didn’t notice his feelings before. they were so obvious, a single look into his eyes and you would know.

you also wondered how the others will react when they see this: you hand-in-hand with a flustered hajime. the sight would be priceless and the concert was the perfect way to end everything.

a/n: i am so sorry for the written portion. i was too ambitious. i am also very tired so i hope u liked this! @kqbukimono this one is for u <3

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #hq smau #hq x reader #hq x yn #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu comfort #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi smau #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff

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starillusion13 · 3 months

Text

FRIENDS!? Chapter 8

🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳

Series ML

Pairing: poly!ateez × f!reader (An ATEEZ Office AU)

Genre: Mature, Angst, Yandere, SMUT

Warning: none

W.C: 3k

For my beloved: @oreharuuu

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

[Reblogs and Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you for reading and have a nice day ahead. Please always take care of yourself everyone.]

Hello, Can we be friends please?

"You didn't have to cut the call like that."

Hearing your whining voice, the boy in front of you laughs out aloud earning a glare from you. He leans forward to ruffle your hairs, making you more annoyed.

"But I'm really sorry for that...I was half awake and didn't know what I was speaking so don't mind me if I had said anything weird." He pouts in the end.

"It's okay. I was asking why you told me that I have studied in that school since middle school but actually I have studied there only high-school. Do you know if something happened during the time when I was sick?"

"not really...I was a transfer student and I heard from you that you studied there since middle school. We used to sit together and gradually we became friends but why are you asking these all of a sudden?" He creases his brows.

"just asking." You sigh and look down to your smoothie.

"Y/n..."

"Gyu...I thing those CEOs are hiding something from me." You haven't look up but you can feel his stare on you.

"What makes you think like that?" he places his chin on the fist.

You pause and think of all the previous months, "Gyu...I started to get along with some of them who seem pretty friendly and they told me about our friendship a lot but every time their words felt like as if they were hiding some part of the story. And also..." you look around and leans forward to whisper, "I am remembering everything...and it's not like those dreams anymore. I can totally remember how I have spent my times with them. I can now see their faces and remember their voices and everything."

You are taking medicines for last one month and it's really helping too fast to regain your memories. The doctor told you that it's only because you are surrounded by the people who are part of the memories. Their presence, their voices and their images are colliding with the barrier and making your past vision getting cleared.

"Like...everything?"

"not really...all the happy and fun times are there but still something is missing."

"Maybe there is something...bad and if anything triggers your mind then you can remember the rest." He raises his brows and you nod, "maybe possible."

"Do you want to remember them?"

"I don't know..."

"Hey Star!" your cheering voice startles the girl who was earlier busy talking to the receptionist and it looked as if it was pretty much important. She waves the woman away and run towards you to engulf you in a hug. You smile, "you are here? You didn't inform me about your coming."

She laughs, "Actually, I was here to deliver some of my father's document on my way to studio so basically there was no point in informing you." She glances at her wrist watch and sighs, "also I'm running late so gotta go y/n. Fighting for the day."

Nodding to her, you watch her almost running towards the glass door, her heels were about to slip at some point but still she is a person who will fall a thousand times but will not be on time anywhere. Shaking your head, you remember that Yeosang had called you earlier because he needs some help with his assigned paper works and well you as his secretary oh-no bestfriend should help him.

He asked you to help him as his dear friend not as an office worker-secretary.

You push open the glass door to his cabin only to be greeted by a silent room with no one inside it. You crease your brows and stepped inside, approaching the bulletin board to see if he has left any sticky notes about his whereabouts but nothing is there. You glance at all the previous notes still sticking and the various little characters drawn by him in the corner of various colour small papers -he refers those drawings of tiny characters as hehetmon. A little smile appears on your face but you were yet to notice that someone is standing behind you, very close to you that he himself is surprised.

The corner of the person's lip curls up too when his gaze falls on the same thing.

"He never wants to hurt you."

You get startle to the voice and quickly turns around, placing your clutched fist above your heart and wide eyes staring back at him, "when did you enter?" as much as you are gathering courage to ask him a question, deep down you are more freaking out with the fact that it's him who is standing so close to you and alone in this room.

"why do you ask?" he asks in a low voice, one hand fished his pant pocket. His white shirt perfectly hugging his body and your eyes really not leaving any corner of his body to appreciate them. Blinking away the thoughts, you look back at him.

He is smirking at you and you fight the urge to roll your eyes, "I must believe that you all are some kinds of vampires at this point because I don't hear a sound when you all sneak behind me. you all have same behaviours at this point."

"we are brothers though."

"what? Brothers?"

He rolls his eyes, "well sort of." He walks to the chair opposite to the main chair behind the table and swivels to your direction. "living together for so many years and getting adopted by the same man. yes we are brothers. But to tell you one thing, Jongho is my real brother though."

"Do you have fever?" your feet are still glued to the exact same place and he smirks when he heard your question, "why?"

You gulp and avert your eyes towards the door and hope to Yeosang come but no one comes across.

"what happened? I asked you a question."

"you...you are talking normally to me. this doesn't feel right. I mean like it's nice that you are being good to me but still..." you look down at your shoes and cursing in your mind for blabbering nonsense.

He chuckles, "y/n, look at me. are you scared of me?"

You shake your head but he is moving his head in every direction to get a glimpse of your face, "then why are you not looking at me?"

"Um...I need to find Yeosang..."

As you stepped forward, he blocks your view with his frame and smiling down at you. Your every movement is restricted by him. nervousness visible on your face, his finger curls your locks and tugs them behind your ears. Heart beating in your ears, blood pumping to your face due to the close proximity. "San..."

He leans forwards, humming in your ears "say my name again, pretty girl."

Should I say that I remember this name? Pretty girl...

"San...I need to go."

He holds you close, embracing you in a warm hug. Why is he acting like this suddenly? What happened to him? you slightly push him and step towards the door. His eyes go wide with the sudden action but he smirks while fishing his palms inside the pocket of his denims.

You look back at him for once before exiting the door and heaving a sigh. But to your dismay, he exits the door just behind you.

"do you need something?"

"yes...you."

You stare at him for a second before making your way towards Hongjoong's office. Yeah, that's the only safe option for you. No one would dare to do anything if he is around but why this person is acting like someone has possessed him. even when he is acting nice towards you, his actions are creeping you out.

The steps quicken but you can feel him trailing just closely behind you. A wide smile visible on his face, eyes following your each panic and nervous steps and turn towards the Hongjoong's cabin. You are now confused because you thought him to go away when knowing the known path but he is still in his way, following you.

Reaching near the red door, you pause and stare at it, questioning whether to enter or go anywhere else. He stops in his track and leans against the railing behind him, he is just a few feet away from you. You nervously glance between the door and him. when you are about to knock, his voice interrupts you.

"Enter the room...he knows you will be here."

Is he fooling with you?

"why are you following me?"

He starts laughing and brushed his hair back, "I can do anything in my office and you are my personal assistance so the boss can be with his assistant anywhere. Maybe doing anything. Also-"

You couldn't take any more from him, so without knocking you push open the door and are greeted with three persons already inside the room, staring at your direction. You send a smile towards them and awkwardly move forward but they are curiously watching your form.

Yeosang is smiling at you from the sofa and pats the place beside him and you approach him. Hongjoong standing behind his desk, is still in a serious mask but when he catches your eyes at him, he smiles back and Seonghwa across from him—well his expression is unpredictable. You don't actually know what he is feeling or why he is staring at you like this but you are sure about one thing that you are definitely freaking out inside because of his presence. Earlier, San was not enough that you have to face this man as well.

There is a really something about Seonghwa that is making you nervous.

"what happened, y/n?"

Hongjoong breaks the awkward the moment between you all and you shake your head, "ah..it's nothing." You turn to your side, "I was searching for Yeosang but he was not there in his cabin."

"oh! Yeah, I have given those papers to Jongho. No need to worry for that."

You nod with a smile.

Entering the room, you felt a tensed atmosphere inside the cabin and with you here, it's seemed to be more heavy air for breathing. The door opens slowly and enters the uninvited one. As if you are invited. Well, the first thing he did, winking to your direction and going towards the bookshelf near the wide glass view of the city. You glare at him but he is enjoying your silly expression and smiles at you again.

What is literally wrong with him?

Is he planning something to get rid of you?

Of course not. Right?

Hongjoong notices the interaction between you two when he suddenly said, "what is going on between you two?"

"Nothing!" you said too loud earning chuckles from two, Hongjoong raised his brow and having an amusing look and the last one enjoying the situation a lot.

"Joong, there's a lot going on in your office."

"what do you mean?"

"My pretty girl is being a curious one these days and asking about the childhood stories from others. Why?" he said and flips the page of the book in his hand.

Your ears perk upon the words coming out his mouth. Why is he saying it like he is suspecting you for something? Seonghwa smiles and stands up, he takes off his coat and walks towards you. You are attentive to his actions. He nears your form and kneels down in front of you, placing his palms over your knees. You awkwardly smiles towards him and glance at Hongjoong. Why is he not stopping him?

"do you remember our past?" he asks you softly. You lick your lips and bit the lower lips. Yeosang caress your head with a smile on his face, urging you to speak.

"I...no...nothing..."

You lied. Even if you can remember a lot of things but yet you are confused and don't feel like sharing anything with them.

"but you were asking about us." He tilts his head to the side.

"I was just trying to be friends...again."

Yes. That's true, even if you started to get to know them out of curiosity but gradually, you are feeling close with them. They are really making you feel like the most important part of their life. It's not good to hide from them. It's been days, oh wait it's been months that you are staying here with them. You have become some of their best friends all over again. There are some things you remembered. And also, Some things you need to get clarified.

"that's good."

You nod to Yeosang.

"Hongjoong...you asked me if I remembered something from my past right?"

"Yeah..."

"I can." You look at four of them preciously and gulp, "I can remember our friendship."

You add,"not everything...but a lot."

Hongjoong has a mixed expression on his face. You search for a particular emotion over his features but all you get is a tension visible.

Is he scared of something?

Seonghwa's grip on your palm above your thigh tightens to your words and Yeosang is shocked to hear the confession. But there is one person whose expression is unexpected, San. He is blankly staring at you but when he caught your eyes, he smiled at you. Now, it's your time to get shock. Why is he smiling?

"As far as I can remember, we were good friends...really good friends." You stare at Seonghwa, "more than just...friends."

"Y/n..."

"Can someone please explain me how come this happened?"

Seonghwa quickly asks, "what happened?"

You remain silent. You don't know how to say it. Previously, you didn't want to say anything about this to them. You were unsure of the facts being true but when you got to remember them, their memories, their every touch, their smiles, their laughs and their confessions. You are sure that all those are not just some dreams anymore but some realities that you had to forget for some reasons.

"y/n...please tell me."

You place your hand above his with a smile, "Hwa..." his breath hitches with you calling him with the nickname, "I was in relationship with you...all."

"love..." Hongjoong's voice is heavy and low but it's audible to all of you. You stare at him and lick your lips. He slowly steps forward and stands behind Seonghwa, "you remember us?"

You nod and cast a glance towards San. His gaze is fixed on you. Yeosang scoots closer to you and side hugs you with a smile. "we are together again. Now no one can separate us again, right?"

"but I want to ask you all one thing."

Hongjongs folds his hand above his chest and nods his head but a little smile visible on his face.

"what are you all hiding from me?"

"no-"

"Joong, you are. Even if there's these nice memories of ours but still there are these blur scenes which are itching inside me. Please tell me."

Seonghwa cups your one cheek, "it's better not to remember those things. Please, we are relieved that you remember us again but we are more than happy that you can't remember those parts."

"Is it that bad?"

He hesitates to reply but smiles, "yes. Please don't force yourself to remember it."

"I won't." you pat Yeosang's hand around you, "But if I remember them naturally, then?"

They are silent.

You suddenly laugh at them and they stare at you confusedly.

"what happened?"

"why are you laughing?" Hongjoong asked and furrowed his eyebrows.

"lets forget about this topic." You remove the arms from around you and also, remove Seonghwa's hands from your lap to step towards Hongjoong. Standing just in front of Hongjoong, you extend a hard towards him, "friends?"

He stares at your hand and blinks at you, "friends..." He holds your hand with a wide smile across his face. "but why are you asking this suddenly?"

"I want to start our bond again. We should start our relationship again from the first step of friendship. So, we are now friends."

He smiles at you but when you turn around, you come face to face with someone whom you were trying to ignore these days. Your heart ache to see him after confessing the truth to them. Tears welling up in your eyes. His every word, every affection, the love you shared, the times you spent, holding hands with each other, the smile you shared, the affection which is still lingering on your skin is burning all over your body and inside of your heart.

"Yunho..."

[I might be ending this series soon coz I have few other series going on and I have ideas for plots for them but Idk how to continue this one. this series might seemed a bit of rush though.]

Taglist :

@mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @vvshere @anyamaris @yeoobin @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @brrrkdslek-personal @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @luhwaine @ilove-taeyong @dinonuguaegi @endeav0rsb1tch @loveforred @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @sousydive @aliona124754 @tunaasan

(open! dm me/ send ask/reply here)

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

Text

Collapse of Paradise.

Yan Childe x M Reader. Commissioned piece.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, gaslighting attempts from Mr Childe. Word count: 3k.

It started with the small things.

Synchronicities, perhaps, little blips on a piece of paper that appear seemingly unconnected. No lines could be drawn between them at first glance. Some of these coincidences weren’t necessarily bad; if anything, it was as if you’d hit an unprecedented stroke of luck. When you went to buy groceries at the market, the second you’d go to get your money out, the store clerk would start rambling about how ‘he needed these goods gone anyway’ and lowered the price significantly. In the days that followed, he’d stopped charging you altogether.

You’d found it odd, but he was insistent, countless stories prepared to explain away his altruism.

Then there were the lines. It didn’t matter if they were long or short, many of the people in front of you offered their spot. At first, you hesitantly accepted, but it started to make you feel wrong, so you started gently turning the offers down. After that, you noticed the typically crowded streets of Liyue seemed easier to traverse. Others would scramble to move aside for you, apologizing under their breath if you so much as bumped shoulders or anything of the like.

Eventually, you began to wonder if this stroke of luck might be a veneer for something more sinister.

Were the rumors spreading that you weren’t privy to? Slander and gossip? You couldn’t fathom why, you’ve always kept to yourself, never troubling anyone. For days now, you’ve mentally combed through your memories, searching for any act that could’ve been interpreted as offensive. These brainstorming sessions always end with more questions than answers. You just weren’t the type of person to form ripples in calm water. You favor tranquility, going to lengths to keep it.

You shut the book in your hands with a quiet sigh. Despite having opened it an hour ago, you were only halfway through the first chapter. The plot and characters failed to transport you to another world as you hoped. You slide your bookmark into place — a narwhal-shaped piece, courtesy of your lover — then opt for staring at the ceiling. If you couldn’t distract yourself, maybe you could zone out and turn your traitorous brain off for a bit.

Should you post an apology on a bulletin board, where there’s bound to be lots of foot traffic? You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for, so it might not be the best idea. Maybe you could ask the next person to give you this unwanted special treatment? That doesn’t sound satisfactory either. It could make matters worse if they think you’ve remained blissfully aware of your offense all this time.

Having your home quietly turn hostile is a unique type of pain.

“Hey, what’s with all the sighing? Is the book that bad?”

Sunlight parting through storm clouds — that’s how you’d best describe Ajax. His warmth never failed to reach you. It sought you out, chasing after you for as long as necessary, maneuvering through obstacles like they were nothing. No matter where you hid, he always found you.

“I wish I could tell you. I haven’t made enough progress to determine that yet,” you give him a smile that must look as unconvincing as it feels. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you sooner. Have you been here for long?”

He juts his thumb toward your front door. “Just snuck in, actually. Not too stealthily either.”

You frown at the implication. Ajax had often playfully complained your front door was squeaky enough to alert the whole neighborhood of his presence whenever he opened it, a sentiment you agreed with. You must’ve really been out of it to not hear those decibel-breaking hinges.

The couch dips to accommodate his weight as he sits next to you. He props his feet up — his boots off, thankfully, you had to remind him countless times — and rests his arms behind his head. You both stay like that for a moment. Your eyes are on his side profile as he thinks, about you, no doubt, the grin you’re so used to seeing on his face uncharacteristically absent. You shift in your seat at the prolonged silence.

He just got back from a long day at work, you’d rather not bother him with your paranoia. For someone who acts so lackadaisical, he’s freakishly perceptive, picking up on your every nuance. He pointed out tics about yourself that even you were unaware of. It didn’t feel fair for him to have to keep guessing what’s been bothering you while you struggled to make up an excuse different from the last time he asked.

Ajax inspects you from the corner of his eye. “Feel up to going out to eat? It’s been a while. As much as I love cooking dinner with you, sometimes it’s nice to take the night off. How about it?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. He isn’t bringing it up out of consideration for you, you know it, he knows it. And still, it seeps into every aspect of your life. You’ve been avoiding going out. You aren’t a total recluse, there’s still work to be done, but you’ve been staying at home more often than not. At first, you told yourself it was unrelated to the strange predicament you found yourself in. You’d only recently come to terms with the fact that was a lie, meant to lull you into thinking things aren’t that bad.

“If you’re tired, you can relax while I whip something up,” you propose, sounding as cheerful as you can manage. His eyes narrow ever so slightly. “Oh, there are some leftovers from my lunch too. We can just warm that up and—”

“[First].”

You’re looking everywhere but his eyes. “Yes?”

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong,” his hand is on your forearm, serving as the anchoring force you so desperately need. His tone isn’t judgmental or irritated by how elusive you’ve been acting. It’s overflowing with patience so sickeningly sweet, that a lump forms in your throat. “You know you can tell me anything.”

The sensation of guilt that washes over you then is unwelcome. You wish you could both keep playing along, but all dreams are destined to end. This conversation and the doors it’d open were bound to happen.

He gives you a squeeze before you part your lips, having sensed your change of heart from the subtlest shift in demeanor.

“I’m not exactly sure how to explain it… I just get the sense people are treating me differently lately. Not in an overtly bad way, but more like they need to be careful around me. I don’t know. It’s weird.”

Another squeeze, this time to your hands, which he takes in his. “When did you start noticing this?”

It’s a question you don’t like the answer to. They’re unrelated blips, you remind yourself. This world you live in is filled with plenty of those. Correlation doesn’t equal causation and all that. Ajax’s gaze never falters from yours. He’s wholly concentrated on you as if nothing else could possibly matter more. This display of unflinching devotion brings forth a fresh sting of guilt. It tingles all over, pricking against your skin.

For a lie, your next words come out surprisingly easy.

“A week or so ago, maybe.”

Ajax is unabashedly inspecting your facial features. He studies every little counter, each dip and groove. The way he examines you now is different from his usual, loving stare. It feels colder, more critical, almost like he’s been charged with determining whether or not you committed a crime. You do what you can to keep yourself from squirming.

You have an easier time breathing when he pulls back, apparently satisfied with the outcome of his search.

“I can’t imagine why that’s happening, but these things naturally tend to resolve themselves with time. Maybe someone overheard something out of context or got overly chatty while drinking. The people of Liyue are reasonable. Keep being you. They’ll see through any of the mistruths they came across.”

His lips curl into the lopsided grin you’re so used to seeing. A part of you is relieved by how he’s handled your admission, though you can’t fathom why. He’s a good man. It doesn’t matter how many hours he’s worked, he’ll stay up late into the night to write replies to his siblings, insisting he wants them to receive their presents as soon as possible. He cares for you, dotes on you, going above and beyond without needing to be asked.

You don’t want to think about the small things if you can avoid it. You want to think about the upcoming trip to Snezhnaya he’s planned, insisting his family wants to meet their future brother-in-law. How he took time away from his busy job to nurse you back to health the last time you fell ill. The almost magical way he can distract you from your problems, whether it be through witty banter or exciting adventures into nature.

He brings your head to rest on his shoulder. You accept the gesture, knowing how he favors being physical with you. Letting him have this seems like a good idea.

Your eyelids flutter shut and you’re back to where you started — struggling to quiet the desperate whispers of your mind. The voices grow more hoarse from how loud they must strain to try and be heard.

Trust is built on open communication, you know this, yet you’re holding back one piece of critical knowledge from him.

That you know all these peculiar interactions began around the time Ajax started courting you.

You’ve watched people convince themselves of things in the past.

It was a sight that brought out a myriad of emotions, namely confusion and pity. Should you let them carry on in their misguided ways? Hope that maybe they snap out of the reverie of their own volition, or someone better equipped might happen by and lend a helping hand? You’d witnessed it in grief-stricken mothers who lost their sons at sea, refusing to attend the funeral while claiming ‘he’s still out there’. Then there were the failed entrepreneurs who put everything into a business for it to just go bust. They’d swear that their investment will pay off eventually, that economies change, it isn’t a total lost cause; the justifications never ended.

It’s strange, going from being an audience member to these predicaments to landing the lead role for yourself.

You see the script, know that the words were written in advance, yet still try clumsily acting through them all the same. What else is there for you to do? Ajax has never harmed you, never given reason for you to openly doubt him. These suspicions were spun by you. His job at the Northland Bank was never a secret, neither was the financial prosperity it brought him. Their collaboration with the Fatui is similarly public knowledge, though the degree of which is unknown.

Picking up a rock, you test its weight in your hand, then give it a calculated toss. It skips across the clear, shimmering water, then plunges into the depths.

“This would certainly make for a nice fishing spot,” a voice casually quips from behind. Your shoulders go stiff. It didn’t take long for him to find you, it never does. “What do you think? Should we make a date out of it?”

You feel the point of his chin press against your neck. “I, uh, might not be the best fishing partner. It requires waking up early and sitting still for hours, doesn’t it? That sounds difficult.”

“Patience is always a good thing to hone, it’s practical. I’ve found mine being tested lately,” he taps you on the side. Once, twice. “That’s the thing, though! It’s important to get pushed to your limits. You’ll never know what you might be capable of otherwise. Wouldn’t you say so, [First]?”

There’s an attempt to turn around and face him, yet what your body wills doesn’t come to fruition. Ajax’s body might appear lean, but it’s strong, almost inhumanly so. It requires no strain on his behalf to keep you rooted in place. You have nowhere to look aside from ahead. The sun is setting now, molten gold easing into shades of amber. You squint, finding the scene both beautiful and difficult to stare at directly.

Sunlight could be as painful as it is beautiful.

“We aren’t right for one another,” you mumble, almost grateful you can’t see his face. “I don’t want to keep doing this. I don’t know what to do.”

He laughs, the sound ringing hollow. His warm breath tickles your ear. “You don’t have to do anything. Neither do I, for that matter. Everything was fine. Everything is fine. What have I done to you to earn this cold behavior, hm? Would you care to tell me?”

Your palms might bleed from how harshly your nails dig into them. “… You haven’t done anything to me.”

“And I wouldn’t, either,” he seems to take pride in confirming. The fact he has to say this in the first place is reason enough to worry.

Waves brush against and retreat from the sandy shoreline. The breeze carries with it hints of the ocean, tousling your hair, ensuring it’ll maintain the scent of saltwater for hours to come. This place that would set your heart at ease any other time fails to comfort you now. Each breath you take grows increasingly unsteady. A damning word that’s been floating around in the recesses of your mind grows louder and louder, demanding your attention. No longer do you have the energy to hush it.

“Ajax,” you begin, fighting through the impulse to say nothing, for your mouth is terribly dry, “Are you familiar with the alias ‘Childe’?”

A spray of water droplets kisses your cheek after a particularly sizable wave comes crashing down against the shore.

His hands are on your shoulders. Your sense of equilibrium is thrown off by how sharply he turns you around, forcing you to confront a reality you can no longer ignore. The rays of the dying sun are bright, yet his eyes do not reflect them. You’ve never seen those pools of bright blue turn so dull. His lips are set in a straight line, his face mere inches from yours. What you would’ve once considered an intimate moment feels like a perverse invasion of privacy. He’s giving you no space, no time, no air.

You have to remind yourself to breathe, the action no longer involuntary.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” his fingers are on your chin. You wonder how much blood has been shed due to the very hand cradling you. “I keep that portion of myself separate from those I care about.”

He isn’t denying it.

“That isn’t something— something you can just clock out of. People are scared of you. Because they’re scared of you, they’re scared of me.”

He sighs then, the closest thing you’ve gotten to resignation from him so far. “I know, I know. I really did want to avoid that. It isn’t anything I can’t fix. Still, you need to work with me on this.”

“I… what?”

You don’t want to believe you heard him right. You try to take a step back, but he doesn’t allow it, his grip unrelenting. The skin beneath his eyes crinkles when he smiles.

“You were happy,” Ajax states. When you voice no dissent, he continues on. “You must’ve been, if you were willing to overlook your suspicions for as long as you did. Maybe you should be scared of me… maybe you will be, if you keep looking into things you shouldn’t. Or you could make this easy for yourself. We can take things slow, work it out a day at a time.”

Toward the latter half of his proposal, he finally lets you go, yet you don’t make any move to run. It’s as if the sand beneath your feet has been replaced with iron shackles.

You need a moment to compose yourself for your next words to come out. It’ll be the most confrontational you’ve been yet. That thought alone is almost as frightening as the situation itself.

“What makes you think I want to work this out?”

His toothy grin never falters at your challenge, instead, it grows wider. You shiver at the possibility your unusual resistance excites him.

“Do you have what it takes to go the other route?” His voice takes on a condescending lilt. When he sees how you bristle, he laughs, shaking his head and putting his hands up in mock defense. “C’mon, I’m joking. Don’t look at me like that. You’re a smart man, I know you’ll make the right choice.”

You’re not sure what other options you have.

Ajax bends over to grab some stones of his own, just as you did before his unwelcome arrival. He winds his shoulder a few times, then gives it a toss, the rock skipping too many times for you to count. It goes out impossibly far before finally succumbing to its watery prison. He tries to hand you one. You stare at it unblinkingly.

“Something tells me this might be our last romantic outing for a while. Might as well make the most of it,” he nudges it closer.

With some reluctance, you take the rock into your hand. He’s back to throwing the few he collected, beaming while he does so. You thought you were growing adept at playing pretend — that pales in comparison to his abilities. Pleading his case is no longer of any interest to him. He knows what you’re going to choose, he could always read you, and he’s only going to get better at it.

“Nothing about this is romantic,” you finally murmur. This rock fails to glide over the water, plummeting immediately. “That’s a word I’ll struggle to associate with you... Childe.”

He winks and replaces the rock you just threw, his fingers brushing over yours.

“Well, it's a good thing I just love challenges then.”

#childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #commissions #my stuff

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agent-love-101 · 11 months

Text

Yandere Johnathon Ohnn Headcanons

an: I am quite bored and I'm very desperate for content of pre-collider spot/Johnathon, so I must deliver!! it may be a bit ooc and have a lot of my own interpretation, but it's a fun concept to imagine what he'd be like as a yandere! I might do regular headcanons and a draft of what I think he was like before the collider incident. also yay! experimenting with a new format!!

in comparison to his post-collider self, Jonathan is a bit more of a tame yandere, but due to one of his only friends being liv, he's still not a normal romantic guy. Sometimes he can think realistically and know that you and him aren't meant to be, but other times he really believes it.

he uses his intelligence to his advantage. He is fairly calculated in his decisions. He knows what he can get away with and exactly how to do it.

He knows he should steal your dull dirty clothes rather than your brightly colored ones because they blend in easier and are more likely to go unnoticed when missing.

he will also occasionally take a gamble and steal your comfort shirts or your pillows. you'll always find a new pillow in it's place.

it comes to a point where he can't sleep without the presence of your scent somewhere. he gets distressed whenever the scent of you fades from the stolen items he has, and he can't swap out the items.

He knows your usual pattern in the day, and what circumstances could possibly change the outcome. I wouldn't be surprised if he had a whole bulletin board hidden in his closet. Maybe even a whole shrine of stuff he has stolen and was able to keep.

he's still very capable of being a sweet and sappy romantic though.

He'll angrily and anxiously chew on his pens thinking about how to kill a man trying to get close to you,

But he will also use his lunch break to go and buy you a gift if he notices you're sad.

He'll comfort you or offer support when you're freaked out over someone trying to break into your home, all while being that person. Either it was an accident for you to come home when he's intruding and he was able to get away, or it was carefully planned out so that he can use that stress to comfort you.

he definitely gives off a nervous kind of demeanor when you engage with him— hands trembling, excessive sweating, stuttering, and such a goofy grin plastered on his face.

you might think he's nervous— and that could be part of the reason he's acting that way— truth be told he's excited. overjoyed that you're talking to him.

he'd hang out with you every second of the day if he could.

as for how he'd get rid of someone that he thinks will damage the relationship (either non-existent or genuine) can vary.

the thought of murder crosses his mind many times a day.

whenever you exchange greetings with a coworker, laugh at someone's jokes— he always thinks something bad is happening.

but it takes a lot for him to actually act upon it.

if it's a coworker of his he has many opportunities to stage work accidents. and sometimes the opportunity is so great it would be foolish not to act upon it. so he does.

nsfw continued below!

He also knows that towels go in the wash at the end of the day, but they have enough of your scent on them to help him "get off".

I think used towels are one of his favorite things of yours to steal and smell. They're clean but they also have your scent clinging onto them...and the implication that your nude body was all over it. huffing the scent as he fondles himself—the humidity coats his throat, it's almost like he can taste you.

and those pillows of yours? there's a multitude of reasons as to why he doesn't return them— the main one being what he does with it.

the cuddling isn't an issue. but sometimes he just cant help himself and he grinds against the pillow— sometimes clothed, sometimes nude. and it just wouldn't be right to return it afterwards!

if you're coworkers, sometimes after a conversation, even just an email reply, he has to excuse himself for a quick break in the bathroom to regulate him— and by that I mean stroking himself.

#tw murder #tw stalking #tw yandere #nsft #near the end #johnathon ohnn #johnathan ohnn #spiderverse #yandere johnathon ohnn #yandere x reader #yandere #johnathon ohnn x reader #johnathan ohnn x reader #the spot #atsv the spot #atsv #the spot x reader

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hyprfixate · 10 months

Text

soul vine ↝ [L.M.] :: part one

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: when you decide to get an ear piercing as part of your transition to adulthood, you expect a lot of things, like the pain and the high price tag. what you don’t expect, however, is finding out you’re soul-bound to the angry blonde from the parlor. or that you’re technically not human.

but hey. adulthood, right?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing: lee minho x she/her reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ chapter word count: 4.3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ chapter warnings: mentions of needles, only for piercing purposes

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags: magic au, grumpy minho, fantasy, medium burn, strangers to enemies to friends to lovers, soulmate au (will add more as i think about it)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ author’s note: hope you guys enjoy this chapter! i wanted to preface and say, if you feel like you’ve read something similar to this before: do not panic, i am not stealing lmao. this is an old BTS fic of mine that i’ve reworked to become a SKZ fic. fret not lovelies.

also please ignore formatting mistakes <3

part one - part two - part three - part four

Just at the end of the block was the last thing standing before you and adulthood. Tatt and Body Works Piercing Parlor had been in your sights for weeks now, and today was finally the day that you would start your journey into real adulthood. Not only because it was your birthday, but because you were about to do something your mother would never let you do.

Pausing outside a dark storefront, you peered at your reflection and wondered if you really looked your age.

You knew you probably didn’t, that the high ponytail and bright pink headband probably set you back a couple years, but you hoped it wasn’t enough to get turned away at the door. What was the point in walking all the way here for them to just send you home?

After a few more steps, you reached the large black awning, standing idly outside the door for a second. You chewed on your bottom lip with more vigor than intended, as you shifted from foot to foot in front of the piercing parlor. It looked empty, with vibrant LED lights reflecting off the sparkling floor. There was no one at the front desk, no one standing anywhere nearby to greet you. The cold emptiness of it all made you want to turn around and go home. You glanced back in the direction you came from and noticed the slight uphill trek you’d be subjected to.

Alright. Whatever.

With a sigh you pushed open the door, the overhead bell jingling to alert those inside to your arrival, wherever they may be. The front desk was still empty, save for a hefty amount of papers scattered around haphazardly. There was no little bell to ding for service, and you couldn't see any rooms anywhere to call for someone to assist you. Just a dark wall lined with pictures, posters, and various quotes.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you decided to go to a body works shop, but something about the atmosphere of the store felt off. Not in a scary way, but almost the complete opposite. It felt comforting and homely, despite its emptiness.

You took it upon yourself to find a seat to wait for assistance. There were three chairs off to the far left of the room, one of which was positioned under a large bulletin board with photos stuck to it. Looking around once more to make sure you didn’t overlook a person in the dim light, you walked over to sit.

As you sat at the edge of the couch, you peered up at the bulletin board to pass the time. There were various pictures of models showcasing tattoos that the parlor had done. They were all extremely intricate, it was obvious they were made with precision and all the attention one could sacrifice. You enjoyed looking at the art, and though you weren’t ready for a tattoo just yet, you could still admire the craftsmanship.

Off to the corner of the board, a rather small picture of an earring caught your eye. It was industrial style, spanning from the inner corner of the model's ear to the outer, curving and wrapping around like it was made for their ear. Upon tilting your head, you noticed it was shaped like a key. The head crested above the ear in the shape of a heart (sort of), and the blade weaved in and over the shell of the ear shell perfectly.

It was a beautiful piercing, to say the least.

Something about the earring looked familiar, like images of a dream from childhood that began to blur around the edges. You searched deep within yourself to find a piece of memory to hold on to, to see if you could figure out what it meant, but you came up short. You were so focused on the photo that you didn’t hear footsteps making their way into the lobby and taking their place at the desk behind you.

"Hey! I’m so sorry for the wait, how can I help you?"

You whipped around to see a heavily tatted, and equally heavily pierced man now perched on the edge of the front desk. His uneven brown hair was parted on the side, framing his face perfectly like drips of brown candle wax down his face. He smiled at you, a warm and inviting smile enveloped by thick, plump lips. Silver balls adorned his dimples as he waited for you to speak.

"Uh, hi," you stuttered out. You tried to shake the dreamy feeling away from your head. "I, um. I came for a piercing."

The man in front of you raised a single eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise. At this expression, you felt panic rise in your chest.

“You guys… you do piercings right?”

He blinked before nodding quickly. “Yes! Sorry, yes we do. We usually get more requests for tattoos so I was a bit surprised.”

He shuffled around some papers on his desk as he continued to speak. “The guy who does lobe piercings isn’t in today. I know it seems like something anyone can do, but I swear Felix must possess a talent none of us can achieve. I can schedule you for tomorrow maybe, if that works?”

“I actually wanted an industrial piercing.”

"Industrial, huh..." The man muttered. “But you don’t even have lobe piercings…”

He stared at you as you stood in front of him, a bit perturbed to say the least. With a final shrug, he nodded. "Okay, that works. We have a guy who can do that. If you step over here we can pick out the bar that’ll get put in afterwards.” He rummaged around on the desk, his eyebrows knitting together. “If I can even find the stupid book.”

Your mouth moved faster than your brain, and before you knew it you heard your voice in the empty space around you. "Can I have the key?"

The brunette paused his actions, confusion shrouding his features. "The...key?" He asked. At least you assumed it was a question, it sounded more like a statement of disbelief.

At his confusion, you pointed behind yourself at the small picture in the corner of the board. The man at the front desk squinted to see the picture you were referring to. Once his eyes settled, he pursed his lips, and an untraceable emotion flitted past his dark brown eyes. He blinked harder than normal before speaking.

"That's, um, that’s not—"

His eyes flickered back to yours, and you could tell he was thinking about how to turn you down gently. However, at your disappointed face, he quickly cleared his throat, whatever he was planning on saying dying in his throat.

"I mean, that’s not a problem at all. Yup, we can do that for you. Definitely.”

He cracked the fingers on his hands as he continued to stare at the photo. After realizing the silence turned awkward, he quickly shook his head and tried to gather his thoughts. Once he recovered, he ran his fingers through his hair and smiled. “I'm Chan, by the way. I probably should've introduced myself first."

"Nice to meet you," you said back. His eyes sparkled as he held your gaze for a moment, before dropping it to sift through papers on the counter in front of him once again.

"This is gonna seem like a dumb question but, you’re at least 18 right?"

You nodded, the image of your outfit skittering across your memory like a rat. You internally cringed, sneaking a hand up to yank the headband off of your head. You stuffed it into your pocket with a mental note to throw it away later.

Chan grinned happily as he found the form he was looking for. His lip ring gleamed in the bright lights of the parlor waiting room, and he clapped his hands together. "Perfect. I'll take you to the back room, I think Minho would love to work on this for you."

He motioned for you to follow him through thick black curtains that led into another, larger room. You blinked in surprise as you stepped through the threshold. How did you not notice the black space in the wall was a curtain? It seemed like someone had started a paint job and abandoned it, not a three dimensional object. You looked back at it quizzically, watching the curtain flap back into place and remain motionless.

The two of you passed a few rooms with open doors where a couple people were scattered about. One room in particular held a red haired man working gingerly on the abs of another, the whir of a tattoo gun covering any and all conversation they could be having. The red head looked up and caught your eye for a brief second before going back to his work.

"We're here."

Here was the biggest door in the area, and notably the only closed one. Chan raised a gloved finger to his lips before knocking gingerly on the metal of the door.

Surprising to both of you, the door remained shut with no sign of life on the other side. Something in the air electrified, and you felt all the hair on your body stand at attention. The air felt thick, almost like the air before a thunderstorm. Anxiety boiled in your gut as you stared wearily at Chan. The cheerful smile on his face faltered as he stared at the unmoving door, but he cleared his throat and tried again.

"Lino," he called, the nickname a small attempt of lessening the intensity of the air. "I have someone here who needs a piercing done."

After another anxiety filled beat of silence, the door creaked open to reveal thin, catlike eyes. The eyes shifted from Chan to you and back again, and for a second you thought you wouldn't be getting your piercing done. But, thankfully, the owner of the eyes opened the door and allowed you both to step through.

Once you were both in the room, you found yourself standing between Chan and who you assumed was Minho. The latter had a scowl that could pierce glass, though it wasn’t directed at anyone in particular. The tension that enveloped you outside the door was no weaker here. You felt like you were choking on the air around you, and it nearly caused tears to pool in your eyes.

You noticed Chan’s gaze lingering on you for a moment, before he nudged Minho with his foot. The taller of the two glanced up, and they had a wordless conversation before you felt the air around you relax.

Odd.

"This is Minho," Chan spoke up after a moment. His happy tone seemed extremely inappropriate for both the general ambiance of the shop and the thick tension that once coated the room. You felt extremely out of place here, not only because of your clean and un-pierced skin, but there was a hint of something in the air that you couldn’t place, almost like Minho did not want you there.

The man in question had platinum blond hair that was a stark contrast to his dark, shifting eyes. His small lips were etched in a permanent pout that seemed to curve deeper with every passing second. He licked his lips, and you could see the black ball of a snake eye dart in and out his mouth.

“That’s my name,” he said lowly in response to Chan. “What do you want?”

"Oh I don’t want anything,” He chuckled. He turned his attention towards you and continued talking. “Minho here is the maker of the earring you were interested in. He’ll be doing your piercing."

At this, Minho quirked an eyebrow up. His slow drawl sharpened to a sarcastic blade. "Come again?"

Chan shrugged simply. "She picked your key, Lino."

You noticed Minho had piercings of his own: an industrial, a double lip ring, a septum, the tongue piercing, and of course, simple lobe piercings. But, his industrial piercing was a simple bar. If Minho made the key, wouldn't he want to wear it?

The taller man scoffed, his pout turning into a full blown scowl. He threw the cloth in his hands down on the chair in front of him and shook his head. "The nose ring? Nope, that’s Jeongin’s department. He should be finishing up with his client soon.”

Chan said nothing, just stared.

A dozen emotions flickered through Minho’s eyes before he settled on disgust and anger. “Wait. Chan, you can’t possibly be talking about—” He cut himself off, raising his eyebrows as a completion of his sentence.

Chan nodded.

Minho scoffed. “I’m not making that earring, Chan. No way.”

Your heart plummeted from its cavity as you looked to Chan for answers. The brunette met your eyes, and he rolled his own playfully, signaling for you to pay no mind to the other man's attitude. Minho caught this, of course, and his frown deepened.

“Chan I told you a million times, I was never making that earring again. I didn’t even know the stupid picture was up on that board.”

“Oh, come on Minho.”

“That piercing is nothing but trouble and so are the people who want it.”

You blinked, confused and a little offended.

“I don’t think she’s one of those people.”

Minho whipped around, his dark eyes boring into yours. You widened your own eyes, face flushing as you quickly averted your gaze.

"Come on, Lino. You’re the only one who can make that piercing happen, and she really wants it.”

“Well, I don’t really hav—”

Your words died in your throat as Chan put a single finger to his lips to silence you. The dynamic of the room shifted, and all of the power and command attached itself to Chan. Minho seemed to notice the shift as well and he shrunk into himself.

He sighed, his pout twisting until his lips were pursed in thought. "But Chan…."

"Um.” You found your voice again. “Should I have picked another design? It's okay, really."

"No," Chan said, his voice more firm than before. "Minho will do it for you."

Minho opened his mouth to argue, but closed it forcefully under the other man’s red hot glare. He looked like he wanted to say something, or a lot of things, to his counterpart. But something about his glare kept Minho quiet.

Chan’s final input seemed to knock the final brick of Minho's tower over, and the blond haired man let a sigh rip through his chest. "Fine. I’ll do it."

The cheerful attitude returned to Chan as he clapped, the abrupt change in the atmosphere almost giving you whiplash. You felt mildly dizzy as the brunette stepped quickly towards the door, the face splitting smile back where it belonged.

"Thanks, Min! I'll go fill out the paperwork, you can get started.”

He turned to you with a soft smile, lowering his voice so only you could hear. "Don't let this grump get you down. He's really sweet under his mean ol' face."

You weren’t sure how much of that you believed, but you nodded anyway. Chan shot you a wink, and with one final glance at Minho, he stepped out of the room.

You were too anxious to turn around, but you could feel the blonde’s eyes digging holes into the back of your skull. You swallowed thickly and prayed to every higher power that the appointment would go quickly.

Minho let out an exhausted sounding sigh and started moving around the room. When you gained the courage to turn around, he motioned vaguely for you to take a seat in the large chair in the middle of the room and turned his back to you, pulling out a thick strip of metal and a pair of pliers from a drawer and beginning to work on the design.

He paused for a second, barely glancing over his shoulder. “I have to make the earring from scratch, since the one in the picture is the only one that currently exists. Just sit, I’ll be done soon.”

After that, nothing.

The silence was deafening. Every breath in the room echoed and radiated off the walls and bounced right back on your ears. The man was no help, working silently with his back hunched over his work protectively. There was no room to peek, no room to ask questions. After opening and closing every app on your phone for 10 minutes, you fiddled with the flaps of your jacket as a means to occupy yourself. You willed yourself to stay quiet, but your curiosity was sparking with each passing second.

His words from earlier worked their way back into your brain.

“That earring is nothing but trouble and so are the people who want it.”

What did that mean?

Part of you worried that you were in over your head. You hadn’t done a very good job of researching when you were looking for a place to pierce your ear, besides a customary search on google maps to make sure the shop actually existed. You started to worry that maybe the shop was a front for some kind of deadly mafia, or illegal trafficking ring.

You shook that thought out of your head. You were being ridiculous. That type of stuff was reserved for TV dramas and the fanfiction you read at night.

An agonizing 5 minutes later, Minho put his pliers down for good. He wiped his hands with hand sanitizer before spinning around in his chair to look at you. The scowl was no longer present on his face— in fact, his features as a whole softened. He looked at you and tilted his head quizzically, like he was studying a painting.

“You ever got a piercing before?”

At your head shake, he let out a dry laugh. “Why am I not surprised.”

The drawer next to his workspace opened to reveal an array of needles and various other piercing equipment. A cold chill ran down your spine at the looks of the needle sizes. Minho, noticing your apprehension, rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’m not a jackass, so I’m going to pierce your ear with a needle, not the gun, and then feed the earring through. Okay?”

You didn’t really know if she could say no to that. He was a professional after all. You nodded anyway, watching as he prepped his station.

He rolled his chair over to where you sat, dragging along a small metal tray table with him. The earring sat in all its glory on a cotton swab doused with rubbing alcohol. On the tray, it didn’t look much like a key— it didn’t look much like anything really. Sort of like an abstract painting. you wondered if maybe it was an optical illusion.

Minho followed your confused gaze to the earring and kissed his teeth. “It's not going to look like… a key yet,” he muttered. “It has to be in your ear first.”

His features may have relaxed, but his tone was harsh. A part of you wanted to shut up and let him do what he needed, but Chan’s voice rang in the back of your mind.

‘Don’t let him intimidate you.’

You’re an adult, for goodness sake, and Minho couldn’t be that much older than you. You counted to 10 in your head to give yourself the courage to say something.

“Does no one else think it looks like a key?” you piped curiously. “Chan didn’t know what I was talking about until he saw the picture, and you seem like that wasn’t what you wanted it to be.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “It's whatever you want it to be. Some people think it's a heartbeat, some people think it’s just a squiggle. You think it's a key, and that’s fine.”

He wiped a needle down with an alcohol pad. “Well. I hope you have a high pain tolerance. Industrials hurt.”

“Um…”

Minho rolled his eyes. “Never mind.”

He scooted his chair closer and discarded the soaked cotton ball. He pulled a marker from behind his ear and marked two dots where the earring would go through.

“Alright, take a deep breath in for me,” He muttered, his face dangerously close to yours. You followed his directions, and on his command you let the breath out. Immediately you felt the sharp sting from the needle, and you gripped the arm of the chair with force.

“Fuck,” You hissed, arching off the chair in pain.

“That wasn’t so bad,” He muttered. “Besides, that was only the outter corner. I still have to pierce the inside.”

“Of course you do,” you muttered.

The traces of a smile pulled up on the corners of Minho’s mouth, but just as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared. He wiped down the next needle and adjusted his chair so he could reach his target.

“Alright, same process. Deep breath in.”

You sucked in a breath.

“And--”

The door to Minho’s workspace slammed open, and an unfamiliar face stood in the doorway. The sound caught both of you by surprise, and the needle went through your ear before you could prepare. You hissed out in pain and slapped Minho’s hand away. Minho himself seemed terrified, but soon his eyes settled and he recognized the face at the door.

“Fucking-- what Hyunjin?”

The man at the door, Hyunjin apparently, had the same crown of red hair you saw on your way to Minho’s studio. Just like the two men you met previously, he was adorned from head to toe in tattoos. Under the bang of his hair was a shiny silver eyebrow piercing. His plump and full lips were slightly agape, staring at you two with quick, shifty eyes.

“Sorry, Min,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t know you had a client. Chan told me someone was getting the… what is it?”

“A key,” The blond muttered.

“Right. A key…”

Your eyes shifted between the two men, who seemed to be communicating wordlessly like Chan and Minho did before.

What is with these guys?

“Am I missing something here?”

Hyunjin broke from his staring match with Minho and smiled at you in the chair. “Oh! Sorry, I’m Hyunjin,” he grinned. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before. Or in any of the local shops. Are you new in town?”

“Oh no, this is just my first piercing.”

Hyunjin’s eyes were soft and kind, and you felt yourself drawn to them inexplicably. He radiated comforting energy, and for the first time since you stepped into the shop, you could feel your body relax.

“First piercing, huh?” His smile turned teasing. “And you didn’t go for a lobe piercing?”

Behind you, Minho broke away from the distraction of the conversation and remembered his task at hand. He let out an annoyed hum and went back to work, grabbing the earring from the tray and preparing to feed it through the holes he just made.

“I wanted something a little more rebellious than a lobe piercing.”

Hyunjin’s smile turned into a full smirk “Of course,” he teased. “An industrial piercing, the most rebellious of all. Next on your bucket list must be jaywalking, huh?”

You returned his teasing smile. “Oh, for sure. And after that I’m going straight to littering.”

Laughing gently, the redhead found an empty portion of the counter and lifted himself up, scooting closer to your spot in the leather chair. “So, what made you pick Minho’s earring?”

You thought back to the dreamy feeling you got in your head upon seeing the picture. It seemed to call out to you silently, but you didn’t know how to say that without sounding like a lunatic. Instead, you shrugged lightly, jostling Minho’s hands as he worked on your ear.

“Keep still,” he hissed.

Hyunjin chuckled. “I wish I knew how to do ear piercings. You wouldn’t have to suffer with the grump here.”

“Can everyone stop calling me grumpy?” Minho slammed a hand down on his tray. “I am not grumpy because I’m 24 years old and not a toddler. Excuse me if I’m in a bad mood once in a while.”

Hyunjin’s sparkling eyes held an air of amusement. “S’okay Min,” he smiled. “You’re grumpy. It’s okay to be grumpy.”

Flipping Hyunjin off, Minho huffed and pushed away from you, reaching for the cloth on the metal tray. “Done,” he grumbled.

The redhead hopped off the counter and made his way over to your side, peering curiously at your ear. His brown eyes widened in surprise, a smile curling on the corners of his lips.

“Well done, Minho,” he grinned. “It looks even better than the picture.”

The man in question was too busy putting together a care kit to acknowledge the compliment. Absentmindedly, he thrust a hand mirror in the direction of the pair of you, mumbling something about checking it out. Hyunjin grabbed the mirror and handed it to you, smiling cutely as he cupped his chin in his hands. “Take a look.”

You lifted the mirror to your ear, turning your head to examine the new addition to your appearance. It really did look like a key now that it was in your ear. As you moved your head around to examine it, you noticed that its shadow held a peculiar shape to it as well.

You lifted the mirror higher to let the light hit the perfect spot. The shadow of the earring sort of looked like letters. You squinted carefully and shifted the light around to put the letters together to form a word.

M. I. N. H. O.

Minho.

As quickly as the name processed in your brain, the metal of the earring started to burn red-hot, and the mirror fell from your hands and shattered on the ground.

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 9 months

Text

tuesday again 8/29/2023

my ENTIRE SUMMER has been either worrying about moving or actually moving. ALL OF IT. however an incredibly hot butch milf on the gay community bulletin board/dating app lex has finally answered my piteous call for gun safety classes with an invitation to her private range. unfortunately she is a landlord who owns a VERY large apartment complex. houston is a land of contrasts

listening

more joywave! one of my favorite bands bc they are best listened to in full album format, and i did a fuck of a lot of driving this weekend. little lies you’re told has an opening like a big machine warming up while you are in a control room way high up on a gantry somewhere. spotify

reading (2x bonus round)

All The Trimmings by Tesni Morgan (published 2001 in the UK) is a gift from @believerindaydreams. it is “erotic fiction written by women for women” (debatable) and “the publishers recommend that this book should be sold only to adults”. also, “Black Lace novels contain sexual fantasies. In real life, make sure you practise safe sex.” idk i’ve ever seen that kind of notation on an american novel before? fascinating precursor to the saccharine little “stay safe kids” ao3 authors notes

i do find the premise genuinely fun and compelling— two divorced milfs opening a hotel/bordello with historically themed rooms. i have had to look up a lot of british purple prose and i refuse to believe anyone says “rogering” in real life.

im being edged with glimmerings of bisexuality. every time one of the milfs gets turned on and goes out roaming to distract herself from being turned on, i go “oh?” like at a pokemon go egg, but so far all the dalliances and encounters have been dudes.

had a very strange experience with cormac mccarthy's blood meridian. i don’t normally interrogate whether or not i am the intended audience for a work except when it’s literally made for children, bc i as a modern bisexual woman am the intended audience for vanishingly few works. for example, many entire genres (westerns) are very challenging to enjoy.

a western has never made me go "wait so why DO i like westerns at all" so hard. like, what AM i doing here in this genre that is often deeply fucking uncomfortable to consume as a woman, and where the most foundational american and european works of the genre often uncritically embrace the worst parts of the american mythos in the most violent way possible? i do believe critics when they say mccarthy is not embracing violence for the sake of, and in fact has something to say with his revisionist western, but my god is it hard to wade through. anyway, dad media will not fuck me and i still have only a tenuous grasp on why i try so hard to glean enjoyment from it.

i know what mccarthy is trying to do and the overall tone of “weird old maybe-uncle” spinning a yarn to a big group of you and your cousins around a fire somewhere is pretty effective. unfortunately I have less tolerance for mccarthy’s style now than when I read The Road thirteen years ago in high school. i was immediately super invested in The Road’s single dad and how he and his kid were surviving, which does not need a lot of interiority.

blood meridian also has very little interiority. the first five chapters are a teen falling in and out of various fights. i was not, and am still not invested. if im reading A Man Goes On A Journey western (as opposed to A Stranger Comes to Town western) i would like to know two or three things about the man, especially if it seems to be angling at a bildungsroman. i don't typically care for third-person objective narration when it is this closely focused on one guy, and i really don't care for loving descriptions of maggots. comforting to know a lot of critics were also squicked out by this book. so it goes.

watching

finished watching s1 of spy x family! a Legally Not West German spy in Legally Not East Berlin has to go into deep cover and pose as a family man in order to gain access to Legally Not Erich Honecker, because the only social events Legally Not Erich Honecker goes to are the ones at his son's elite prep school.

this man FLINGS himself into being the absolute best husband and father possible. for the mission, of course.

i found the first few episodes the best, which is generally the opposite of my normal anime experience. i think it does a really good job of balancing high-octane spy hijinks and chases and explosions with very domestic concerns (he PROPOSES. with a THE RING OFF A HAND GRENADE. AFTER THROWING IT), and once you're really hooked on these characters it turns into a bit of a curtainfic. curtainanime? i had fun with all of it and anxiously await season two, but the actual applied spycraft does drop off significantly as the series goes on.

playing

we're going to continue with out of context genshin screencaps for the duration. the watery land of fontaine has a neat smorgsabord of visual style-- freshwater but also saltwater but also the aquarium section at petsmart.

making

unpacking mostly. acquired this coffee table and its mother. needs a very deep cleaning and some touchups but is intact. the individual tables are a bit large for like individual party drinks tables but all six together are QUITE large. four tigether would be a comfortable coffee table size for many apartments imo but! bc everything truly is bigger in Texas including my apartment it works for right now. for the first time in my life i am considering a sectional sofa bc the living/dining room is that dang big.

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

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seanfalco · 1 year

Note

Hi! You asked for requests and I’m going to request a nanthan x reader with prompt 53 “I just want to be swept off my feet…is that so bad? I’m fed up of being alone.” If that’s ok please?

Nathan Young x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k Tags/Warnings: none Prompt: I decided to participate in @/yearoftheotpevent‘s Year of the OTP (except using reader inserts). For February’s prompt I chose ‘Valentine's Day’, even though it's a little late;;; a/n: I had this prompt in my askbox for a while;; I hope you still enjoy it!

“So, how’s thing’s goin’ wif you and Nathan?” Kelly asked, nudging you with her elbow as you held up the Valentine’s Day event poster for her to pin to the bulletin board in the Community Centre lobby.

Her question caught you off guard and you nearly dropped the curling paper before you shrugged. “It’s good,” you answered, trying to think of something better to say. You could practically read your friend’s thoughts from the skeptical look on her face.

“I mean, he’s fun, and I like snogging him,” you elaborated quickly, trying to keep your own thoughts to yourself, though Kelly heard them anyway.

“But–?” she interjected and you winced, finally letting out a sigh.

“But… he’s not exactly th’romantic type,” you admitted reluctantly.

“I coulda told yeh that,” Kelly pointed out, and you couldn’t help but sigh.

“I mean, yeah… though sometimes he’s really sweet… in between bein’ an arse.”

Kelly snorted, ambling toward the next bulletin board down the hall. “I don’t even wanna ask what you’re doin’ for Valentine’s day.” You groaned, kicking the toe of your sneaker against the scuffed tile beneath your feet. “I just wanna be swept off my feet for once, is that so bad?” you huffed, hanging the next poster. “He doesn’t even hafta buy me anythin’. I just wish he’d put a little effort in, that’s all…”

Unbeknownst to you or Kelly, Nathan had overheard your conversation from the mezzanine, your voices carrying in the empty halls. Chewing his lip, he took your words to heart and began planning the most sickeningly sweet romantic evening he could think of, not wanting to let you down.

By the time Valentine’s day had arrived, you made your way to the Community Centre to meet Nathan for your date, not expecting much. Opening the door he’d left unlocked for you, you were in the midst of mentally preparing yourself for disappointment when the lights suddenly flickered on and you were met with the sigh of hundreds of paper hearts hanging from the ceiling.

“What th–?” you breathed, gaping at the unexpected decor when Nathan’s voice echoed down from the balcony above you.

“Happy Valentine’s, y/n!”

“Nathan?” you called, pulling back some of the streamers and suspended hearts to look up at him, leaning against the balcony railing in an outfit you’d never seen him wear before.

“Yes?” he replied, raising a thick eyebrow at you and grinning bemusedly.

“Did you do all this?”

“Course!” he exclaimed, shrugging like it was nothing.

“All by yourself?” you asked skeptically.

It was certainly exceptional, but it had to have been a lot of work, especially for one person, and you knew how lazy Nathan could be.

“What, y’don’t think I could’ve done this?” Nathan exclaimed, clapping his hand over his heart in faux offense as he descended the stairs to join you.

“Well…” you trailed off, still doubtful, but not wanting to hurt his feelings.

“Well, I might’ve taken ‘em from th’daycare room and made Barry help me hang ‘em,” he admitted, quickly dodging your lighthearted smack at his shoulder.

“You stole kids’ crafts?” you exclaimed, trying to fight back an amused chuckle. Also, if you had to guess, Simon did the brunt of the work, but still, you were touched.

“They weren’t usin’ ‘em!” Nathan cried. “Plus, I thought it’d be romantic and shit,” he added, taking your hand. “C’mon, there’s more!” he exclaimed, pulling you toward the stairs to the roof.

Nathan burst out onto the rooftop and spread his arms wide. Candles flickered in a haphazard circle around what looked to be a small eclectic picnic laid out on the weathered coffee table across from the threadbare sofa where you and the others often snuck off to after and sometimes even during your community service hours.

“So, what d’yeh think?” Nathan asked hesitantly, his gaze darting between you and his little surprise.

“This is…” your words melted on your tongue as your boyfriend pulled you toward the moth eaten couch and the bottle of cheap champagne sitting between two mismatched glasses from the Community Centre’s kitchen.

“Shit, hold on,” he mumbled, hastily reaching into his pocket to grab his ipod and plug it into the little speaker on the table. The next thing you knew Endless Love was playing softly.

“There! Pretty impressive, huh? Romantic as fuck, yeah?” Nathan supplied, grinning nervously, still waiting for your approval.

“It’s lovely,” you finally murmured, lowering yourself to the seat.

Nathan’s grin grew and he scrambled to sit down next to you, grabbing the bottle of champagne and wrenching at the cork. “Help yourself to some cheese and fruit,” he said, gritting his teeth as he struggled to open the booze. “Watch out for bits of mold though,” he warned and you grimaced, dropping the strawberry you’d picked up.

“Uh, Nathan, this is very sweet and all, but where’d you get this stuff?” you asked.

As soon as Nathan opened his mouth to answer, the cork shot out of the bottle followed by an eruption of bubbles splattering all over the crotch of his jeans.

“Shit!” he yelped, jumping to his feet, but it was already too late, his pants were soaked, making it look like he’d just pissed himself. “Jay-sus,” he huffed in annoyance, letting out a defeated sigh as he collapsed back into his seat.

“Guess that’s what I get for tryin’ so hard,” he muttered in frustration, setting the half empty bottle back down and shaking the alcohol from his hand.

“Did you really do all this for me?” you asked, turning toward him.

“Well… yeah,” he replied, as if it was obvious. “I might’ve overheard what y’said t’Kelly th’other day and I wanted t’make today special for yeh, sweep yeh off your feet like y’wanted,” he explained. “I’m no good with th’feelin’s and th’romance and shit, y’know, all that mushy stuff,” he muttered, looking down at his hands.

Letting out a soft huff of affection, you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, taking him off guard. “I dunno about all that,” you murmured as he turned to gape at you. “I think it was sweet of you to put the effort in,” you said with a shrug, your gaze lingering on his lips. “I think you’re pretty romantic in your own way.”

Nathan’s mouth stretched into a lopsided grin, straddling the line between cheeky and sincere. “I can still sweep yeh off your feet if y’want,” he said, grabbing the bottle of champagne round the neck and bringing it to his lips before offering you a swig which you gratefully took.

“Oh yeah? And how y’gunna do that?” you asked, biting your lip coyly.

“Like this,” he replied, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you, his lips descending on yours before you could reply, and you kissed him back, matching his exuberance with your own.

Your heart pounding in your chest, the alcohol on his tongue went straight to your head, making the world spin, or maybe it was just Nathan’s fervent kisses. Either way, everything else fell away and all you could think about was how much you loved him.

@super-unpredictable98 @salvador-daley @elliethesuperfruitlover @firstpersonnarrator

#misfits #nathan young #nathan young x reader #joz.fic #robert sheehan character fic

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lilaccatholic · 1 month

Note

Here to bother you. Pls tell me about your sacraments fic? If you want? Or any creative project you’ve got going

Okay I'm going to tell you about it because I'm so so stuck on how to end chapter one, but I have PRACTICALLY ALL OF CHAPTER TWO WRITTEN IN MY HEAD.

I'm going to be alternating povs (to who knows what effect, because while the illustrious Megan Whalen Turner is able to switch easily between third and first-person points of view in A Conspiracy of Kings, I am not her and merely a loyal subject) between Lucy’s first person point of view and the third person limited pov of Father Frank Carmody, a Canadian, and one of the first priests to brave coming over to England since The Problem reduced to nearly nothing. He's pretty much clueless about ghosts, but he has a whole lot of spirit (pun *absolutely* intended) and fire in his heart for the Lord. He's only intending to be in London for a few years, but I have a surprise for him 😈

The fic is going to cover Lockwood's experiences, either for himself or through other people, with each of the seven sacraments, and also last rites because I've got to make you all suffer (no telling WHO died though :) hehe) as seen through the eyes of Lucy and Father Frank, who is definitely going to become his spiritual father.

Other things I will include:

- George the chastity police!

- at least one joke about NFP because I'm nothing if I'm not traumatizing people with talk of cervical mucus

- angst and fluff!

- Holly as wedding planner

- Carlyle sisters!

- so much grief!

- Lockwood being so dad coded

- Easter Vigil!

- statues (insert gif of Sister Michael here)

- godfather!Kipps

-and so much more!

Also, because I've been taking five million years to get this out, here's the (unedited) first few paragraphs (subject to change!!!):

It was a nervous, if excited, trickle of faces that streamed into the parish hall at St. James’s one bright and blustery early October afternoon. Like all parish halls, it smelled faintly of chafing dishes and stale donuts, with a smidgen of whichever bulk cleaner was least expensive at the shops when the annual order was put in as an undercurrent to it all. Coloring pages of St. Francis of Assisi surrounded by animals graced a bulletin board near the entrance, courtesy of the youngest catechism class, with projects by the other classes lining the rest of the wall. The creaky wooden canteen tables which some parishioners swore were as old as the parish itself found themselves pushed to the side in favor of a large circle of folding chairs. Off to the side, a small table with tea, coffee and biscuits sat neatly by itself, ready to be partaken of. This was the scene Father Carmody entered into the day of the first meeting of the couples to be married in the next year at St. James’s.

Two by two, fourteen couples peeked into the room as though they weren't quite certain if they were in the right spot for marriage preparation, or would instead find themselves in the middle of the frowning semicircle of grannies in charge of plotting the advent coat drive and be drafted into their ranks. Relieved smiles bloomed on their faces as they spotted the cheery, sweater-wearing personage of Mrs. Hubbard, the parish secretary, at the attendance table. Once checked in, name tags written askew on, and pinned to shirts, they ambled across the chipped linoleum floors to snatch some refreshments, and mingled together until the newly familiar voice of Father Carmody called them all over to the circle of chairs that a Knight of St. Columba murmured he and his brother knights had a bloody awful time assembling the evening before, and took their seats in curious anticipation.

#lilac rambles #scribbles and snapdragons #Anthony Lockwood and the Seven Sacraments #asks #answered #answered asks #and rohan will answer

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deada55 · 8 months

Text

The Clicking of the Chain (The Silence of the Lambs Parody) (#1 of 2)

for kloktober day 11: horror movie crossover

It's a parody, not a crossover, and I used a lot of the original script for this sequence to make sure it 'accomplishes' similar things for the main plot. I've always wanted to do this sort of thing... I like doing kloktober pieces that are for me more than the audience, but I hope you enjoy this retelling of one of the most quoted scenes in The Silence of the Lambs featuring Charles Offdensen and Magnus Hammersmith.

tws: body fluids, sexual harassment

At the bottom of the stairs was a left turn into a dingy cream-colored space kin to a car rental window at a crusty regional airport. A bulletin board held seven year-old thank you cards and a sign-in sheet for personal visitors. From a slim staff door came a short man in his sixties in an Orioles ball cap and white coveralls and an extended hand.

“Hi, I’m Mashed Potato Johnson. He told you, don’t get near the bars?” Damien Cornickleson’s footsteps were still volleying down the stairwell.

“Charles Offdensen.” He took the handshake with a bit of a dip. ”Yes, he did.”

“Okay. Past the others, he’s in the last cell. Stay to the middle, now. I put out a chair for you.” He pointed through the door to the gray wall of the corridor, where there was a security camera mounted to the wall. “I’m watching. You’ll do fine.”

His even steps echoed down the dim corridor, lined on one side with cameras and the other with iron bars holding back men of all sorts of shapes and sizes and muttering. Right before he’d reached the end of the hall, a green, black, and white blur threw itself against the bars, bearing wet, darkly streaked, yellow teeth. The white cast on his face rubbed off on the iron, and his crudely-colored green mane of matted frizz was trapped in his grip on the lock.

“Cocaine!”

Charles flinched hard enough to set his glasses off-kilter, but he only stalled on a single step before he was standing squarely in front of Magnus Hammersmith behind bars.

His cell was kept more lit, and had the addition of nylon netting on the exterior side of the bars. The inside of Magnus’ cell was covered in swaths of butcher paper decorated with black and white modern art patterns of various scales, with or without interlocking phantograms of all manners of polygons.

Charles cleared his throat and lowered the briefcase in his hands. “Mr. Hammersmith, my name is Charles Offdensen. May I speak with you?”

Magnus looked up from his magazine, eyes shining behind the tight waves of his hair. His ankles stretched at least a foot past the hem of his hospital pajamas and his skin, historically photographed to be a warm medium tone, was bleached and dusty from the windowless basement floor. Despite the menacing angles of his face, his voice was indignant, not commanding.

“And good morning to you, too,” he sneered, then went back to his reading.

Charles took another step forward.

“Magnus, we’re having a hard time with a case, and we believe you might have some guiding information. Do you mind answering a short questionnaire?”

“ ‘We’ being the Behavioral Science Unit at Quantico… But what’s a suit like you doing there? Huh? Fraud investigation wasn’t the thrill you expected?” He chuckled at his own joke and tossed the magazine on the floor with a resonant slap. “You’re one of Roy Cornickleson’s, I expect.”

“I am, yes.”

“Show me.”

Charles whipped his wallet out of his pocket and opened it to his IDs, holding them out in front of them.

“Closer, Charles. I have two eyes, but only one of them works.”

Charles clenched his teeth so he wouldn’t make a face and inched closer each time, but didn’t dare lean.

“Expires in a week. You’re not real FBI yet, are you?”

“I’m still in training at the Academy.” Charles pushed his glasses back up to his nose and squared his feet.

“Old Roy’s showing me off to a trainee? Well-”

“We’re talking about investigation, Magnus. You can decide for yourself if I’m qualified.”

“Smart, Officer Offdensen. Sit down.”

The rusted hinges of the chair bent when he sat down. If he were any heavier, he’d have been tipped into the floor. Magnus mirrored him and sat back down on his cot.

“Now, what did Rockzo say to you? Don’t look stupid– Dr. Rockzo, the Rock n’ Roll Clown in the next cell. He lunged at you. What did he say?”

“He said, uh, ‘cocaine’.”

“Of course he did. He does cocaine. Or did. Whatever. But you… you don’t have that kind of money, do you? You brought your best briefcase to see me today, didn’t you?”

Charles pulled at his tie before he remembered to stop himself. “Sure.”

“It’s better than your shoes, but not great. Not the cocaine type.”

“Not now, no.” Just like that, Magnus was out of things to say, and started to bounce his leg. The movement of his subway-sized foot was comical… if he had a pair of spoons in his hand, they’d click together nicely. The nervous bouncing on such a long, flimsy frame made him look like a dancing toy.

“Did you do those drawings?”

“Yes. Do you care much for contemporary art?”

“I’m not familiar… they allow you to keep a compass?” One of the works was a system of interlocking circles, some of them chained together in links, and others that looked like they were out of a spirograph.

“No. The scratching of the pen is what I have instead of a tune. Can’t let me get a hold on wood or string, can they?”

Charles looked down as if bowing his head in church before taking out a questionnaire from his briefcase. He held his chest higher.

“Magnus, if you’d please…”

“I’ve had my fair share of shrinks and investigators, Offdensen. You’ve been courteous, you’ve established trust and complimented my art, but this segue into your little survey is a bunch of bullshit. It’s boring, it’s stupid, and that’s not going to cut it.”

“I’m asking you to look at it. Either you will or you won’t.”

Magnus snorted and stretched his legs out in front of him, ankles crossed. “Roy Cornickleson must be strapped for time hunting down the ‘Metal Masked Assassin’ if he needs help from the likes of amateurs like you. Did he send you here to ask me about him?”

“No, I-”

“How many people has he used up so far, that Assassin?”

“Five, so far.”

“Flayed?”

“Partially, but that’s an active case, and I’m not involved, s–”

“Do you know why he’s called the Metal Masked Assassin? The newspapers don’t say.”

“I’ll tell you if you look over this form.” Charles passed it into a metal hatch which opened on Magnus’ side when the door to the outside was closed. Once Magnus picked it up, Charles began…

“It, uh, started as a joke, about wearing their faces, like that one movie…”

“And you can’t remember the title.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Right.” Magnus set the questionnaire on the cot beside him. “Show me what you have to offer. Why do you think he takes their skins, Officer Offdensen?”

“Uh, well, most serial killers take a trophy, sometimes for excitement or-”

“I didn’t.”

“You ate them.”

“So it would seem.” He smirked and picked the forms back up, only to begin tearing them in a frenzy that exploded out of nowhere but the air around them. As he struggled, his grunts and the struggling, shearing sounds of ripping copy paper volleyed in the stony ward.

“You think you’re so clever, so ambitious, don’t you Chuck? You’re a fraud dressed like a bourgeois bagman. Good nutrition has given you well-fleshed features, but you’re not more than one generation from salty white trash, are you? That New England accent you prune so delicately to hide all the junkiness of Maine fishmarkets– What was your father, huh? Did you have one, or did he roll from his bed into the sea like every other frozen drunk on his lobster boat? I bet the other boys without fathers found you just fine in locker rooms, with wound, wet towels and cracked lips, while all you could think about was a less physical path of being, of being at all… and power. Powerful as the F.B.I…”

“You see a lot, but are you strong enough to look at yourself? Write it on the piece of paper.”

“And you’d love it, wouldn’t you?”

“If you weren’t a coward.”

“You think you’re tough one, aren’t you?”

“... I decline to comment.”

“Oh, but you’d hate if I thought you were anything but superior! It’d break you to little fucking pieces. Don’t worry, Charles. If you hold your head high enough, everyone will assume you’re tall someday soon.”

“And the questions?”

Magnus turned his back. Charles leaned forward in his seat and slammed the door of the meal hatch open and shut again. Magnus was up and snarling at the bars in a flash.

“A census taker once tried to test me, Charles. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. I hope a degree from Harvard will help you piece together that fucking around making noise in a ward of prisioners and psychos won’t give you a bigger dick! Go back to school. The boys miss you!”

He retreated from the bars to stand in front of one of his works, and Charles took his invitation to leave.

“Ooh, hoo, hoo, hoo!… Dr. Rockzo don’t feel so good. Ohh, it hurts, it’s all infected, shit all over this mess, ooh-hoo! K-k-k-lookit-”

When Charles paused at the cry, he took half a load of semen into his face from Rockzo’s hand. While he howled, Magnus bellowed, “You stupid fucking clown!” Charles fumbled in his pockets for a frayed pink tissue and tried not to let the clown’s cum anywhere closer to his eyes and mouth. Just when he’d passed Dr. Rockzo’s cell and saw the light streaming in from the room he was in before, away from the din rising up in the corridor, he heard Magnus shouting above them all.

“Officer Offdensen!”

With burning eyes and sharp features as contorted and pinched as the acid-trip Devil that leads partygoers to slit their wrists or jump out of bedroom windows, Magnus stood again at the bars of his cell. Charles hurried himself back over, although he couldn’t see further than his armspan while he carefully wiped the body fluids off the lens of his glasses.

The veins in Magnus’ neck were thick as snakes. “Look, I didn’t want that for you. Excretions are disgusting to me, and bad manners-”

“Then do the survey for me.”

“No, but I’ll do you one better. Advancement. Go to Split City, check on an old bandmate of mine, Ravenwood. Just like you think it’s spelled. Now leave. I don’t think Dr. Rockzo could manage again so soon, even if he is crazy. Don’t wait around to see– Go!”

#my writing #metalocalypse fanfic #magnus hammersmith #charles offdensen #dr rockso #kloktober2023

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eustassslut · 1 year

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Hi, for the biker gang kid pirates, I can see them gathering at an habitual club for having beers all together (beers and liquors would be a lot in their style). They know very well the owner (or he/she can be one of them) and they do reunite for many parties or just for spending the night. I think it could be the perfect place to get to know them better and get closer to them (in every sense 😏) because when they go there, they drink and have fun so they're more laid back than usual. The place would play rock and heavy metal music and the parking lot is full with their motorcycles. Everyone in town know that is "their place" so if someone is up for trouble, they think twice before going there. I think, as you said before, that a lot of their groupies and suitors would follow them. Some of the members of the gang had also create a little band and they sing original songs or covers of their favourite songs. In those nights they do have like little concerts with a good crowd cheering them and having mosh pits in the most dynamic moments. If you want to catch their attention, go in their club and be bold enough!

i love this!

i can see the owner of the club belonging to the s/o of one of the members (probably Reck's girlfriend) but some members like Reck and Emma work there instead of in Kid's mechanic business. the club is owned by Reck's girlfriend but the gang often regularly help to pay the bills and fix up faulty sections for her. all renovations are down by the crew personally for free because they don't trust anyone else to be as careful with the club.

it usually opens as Kid's mechanic shop closes and stays open until the sun comes up. however, they're not always at the club and not all members are there same time unless it's an event, celebration or a meeting. the club is definitely their go to place for business meetings with other gangs since it's in the middle of their territory and the staff are almost all in their gang or support them, although there are a couple of regular people on the bar staff and technical support crew for the stage. when they are there, their bikes are locked up outside in a custom built bike rack (made by Kid) and they can be spotted in the VIP section of the club taking up all of the seats.

i feel like the band that you mentioned would likely consist of Killer on the drums, Boogie as the vocalist, Papas as the keyboard player, Moai on bassist and Heat on guitar. however, the band probably switches members depending on who is available that night and what songs they're playing. the mentioned members above are the founding members of the band.

but the band is incredibly popular, especially with people who are considered outcasts or with queer youth. Reck's girlfriend advertises the band by putting up fliers on bulletin boards and attached to the windows of shops that approve of the gang. the fliers are often collected by groupies to the band since each week's is different (courtesy of Heat's photoshop skills).

#please keep submitting more about this au guys #I LOVE IT #kid pirates #biker gang kid pirates #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #eustass kid #eustass kid x reader #reck one piece #emma one piece #moai one piece #boogie one piece #papas one piece #heat one piece #killer one piece

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kahatesevryone · 7 months

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Heyyy I had a lil fanfic idea and wrote a lil bit of it I haven’t written in a while so it might not be to good lmaooo

A lot of typos prolly lmao I’ll fix that if I decide to continue this :p

The light you gave

Drew goes threw the 5 stages of grief over his best friend,(bf lol/j)Jake.

Drew had denied any problems in His friendship with Jake. He didn’t want to believe that his friendship was going to end; he believed that it would ultimately remain the same.

But it didn’t. He didn’t know how to keep a healthy relationship let alone know how to be a good person. His whole life he’d never been tought how to handle his emotions;his father would always just buy him things in hope that it would help whatever problems he had, I mean he was a busy guys he didn’t have time for drew.

So drew thought hey maybe if I buy my friends things I won’t have to worry about there problems and that’s how he became friends with Liam and Henry even worked for romantic relationships he got a girlfriend that way! Well she did… uhm cheat on him and only use him for his money… BUT that’s besides the point.

When drew first met Jake it was like something inside him clicked. He was quite literally absorbed into this guys life, he wanted nothing more than to be by his side. He didn’t know what it was about him, That made drew so captivated by his presence. He wasn’t anything special in other peoples eyes he was considered a freak to some people. But not to drew, Jake was… everything to drew. It was weird cuz.. drew didn’t take a lot of interest in people if anything he didn’t even care about most people(except for his two close friends Liam and Henry but he won’t admit that).

So when Jake spoke up to drew he was more than happy to start a conversation with him. They talked about lots of things but the most prominent thing he remembered was the fact he played games and talked about the latest luniswitch.

He made sure to ask he’s dad for one when he got home.

A few days of being aqantances and talking during class drew called out to the taller boy who seemed to be looking at a bulletin board crowded with papers of different clubs; beckoning ppl to join.

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thestrangestthing89 · 1 year

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Mike Character Analysis - Season 4

Season 1. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Season 2. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Season 3. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Part 1 (of 4):

I already wrote a few posts on a couple moments in season 4 so I won't repeat myself. There are plenty of other things to get into. A lot of this is going to include El and Will too because they are so closely tied together this season and it reveals a lot about Mike specifically. You can find them here:

Makeover's and Identity (El, Mike, and Will)

The painting reveal and why Byler makes sense pre-time jump

Conversations in Lenora

Mike and Will don't only talk about El

The first scene we see of Mike in season 4 says a lot. Let's start with his room, because this tells me about Mike and how he views himself (like everyone else's bedrooms/homes do). First of all, there is nothing of El's anywhere around the room. This is telling because when we see El's room she has Mike everywhere. There are pictures of him and a Valentines Day card from him. We know she's saving his letters and she spent time doing crafts and making a box? diorama? with Mike's picture and things he sent her. Most of this is typical teenage girlfriend stuff (though I will say the diorama is a bit much. Especially when you compare that with the fact that she's upset with him and knows something is wrong). She has other things in her room too that have nothing to do with Mike - which is good and healthy. Back to Mike's room. He doesn't have anything of El's but he does have a drawing of Will's on his bulletin board. Not surprising considering we have seen Will's drawings all over his house (and El's room, Jonathans room, the Byers fridge, and the party members have some too - Will draws/paints for the people he loves). It means something to Mike that Will gives him these drawings. We saw in season 1 that he saves them in a binder. They are special to him. We haven't seen Mike's room in a while (I think season 1 was the last time) and the last time we did he had bunk beds. Which was always stood out to me because no one shares his room. But now he has a double bed. He's getting older now. The party is in high school and 15 years old.

There are other indications that he's gotten older too. Because now he has a couple posters on his wall that are of shirtless, muscular men (I'm not sure what these are from-video games? movies?). Since he didn't just accidentally put random shit on his wall (because who does that?) we know this means something. Because people (especially teens) decorate their bedrooms with things they like. Things that represent them. Things that reflect their personalities. The thing that sticks out the most here is the One Way sign. I have so many questions about this sign. Mainly where he got it - did he commit a crime? Was a store randomly selling it? Did he find it on the ground outside and take it home? It's not a thing you see on the wall of someone's room. It's noticeable. They want you to see this sign. Because this sign is pointing toward his closet. And this didn't happen accidentally. Things don't magically appear on your wall without you thinking about it.

The scene where we are shown this sign has the closet door open. All of these things indicate to me that Mike has accepted his sexuality and is somewhat comfortable with it. At least within the confines of his own bedroom. Anyone can walk into his room and see this (and we see Nancy hovering in the doorway) so he's comfortable enough that he's not hiding it. Will's room on the other hand tells us something else. He has movie posters and artwork around and all of these things tell us something about his interests but he doesn't have posters like Mike. He's more contained. The audience knows that Will knows he's gay. He has internally accepted this part of his identity but he's still not comfortable with it. The only thing he has on his wall that maybe indicates he is gay is the Little Shop of Horrors poster but that isn't as directly a reference to his sexuality as Mike and his shirtless, muscular men.

There is another indication of Mike getting older and it's the fact that he's in his underwear in this scene. It's a little jarring at first just because we've seen these kids grow up. But I think what they are telling us here is that not only are they getting older but that all the themes of growing up are present here and they aren't shying away from it. It's a coming of age story. This scene isn't exploitative and it's not pointless. There is a reason they are showing him like this. And this combined with the posters and the sign are saying that Mike is getting more comfortable with his sexuality.

This combined with the fact that El has a Valentine's Day card from Mike that says "I like you" tells me that Mike is very conscious of the fact that he isn't in love with El. He wasn't writing that for a reason. Because how did he manage to find a store bought card that didn't have the word love on it. He had to have looked in multiple stores. He is trying very hard to make sure she doesn't think he loves her. Mike is staring very intently at the letter El wrote to him. He clearly read it several times. He looks like he's concentrating hard on something. El let slip a line about Will - that he's acting weird and painting something and won't let her see. She thinks it means he likes someone. Maybe a girl. It has to be this line that Mike is so focused on not only because there is nothing else of significance in this letter but because it's the only thing that explains Mike's behavior when he first gets to Lenora. Mike is jealous. He likes when Will's artwork is for him. And if Will has a girlfriend or likes someone than Will won't reciprocate his feelings. And Will only makes artwork for the people who are important to him. So it says something big if he made something for someone.

There has been about 5 months since the end of season 3 (that was October and now it's the end of March). I think with the way things ended in last season Mike spent this time thinking about his feelings. A much easier thing to do with El and Will both gone. I think it gave him a chance to clear his head and think about what they both mean to him and get more comfortable with himself. We see a different Mike in this first episode. He's confident in his nerdiness (at least until he gets around El). He's dressing differently and his hair is longer. He's playing D&D again and he's happy about it. He doesn't care if other people at school think he's lame for playing. He very excitedly goes around trying to recruit people to their game. He's explaining how cool he thinks dice with 20 sides are. He's not ashamed that he's a nerd and he no longer thinks playing games makes him childish. Part of this is because of Eddie. Seeing someone older play board games had to have helped Mike realize there is nothing childish about this. Part of this is because of Will and the fight they had in season 3 that first prompted him to get to this point. Because not only is Mike acting like himself again (at least somewhat - he's also acting like Eddie) but he's hanging out with Dustin. Will accused him of not caring about Dustin anymore during their fight. So he clearly spent time thinking about this. Something else that is different is that Lucas and Mike are no longer on the same page like they were in season 3. Lucas still doesn't want to play D&D. Which is fine, he could have grown out if it. It's ok if he has other interests that his friends don't share. But he clearly says he's doing this because he wants to fit in. Which is not necessarily a bad thing but it does indicate that Lucas is still on the same path he was last season and Mike isn't. Mike got tired of pretending to like or not like certain things. D&D is often used as metaphor for Mike and Will's relationship and here it's a little more direct. Mike isn't pretending to not like D&D (Will). He's accepting that he's a nerd (gay).

And then there is the fact that Mike is checking out the basketball team, and interrupting the wrestlers practicing (he is making different recruitment choices than Dustin), and clearly idolizes Eddie. Now it's possible he doesn't have a crush on Eddie. We don't see enough of those two together. But we do see that a lot of the changes in Mike -his clothes, hellfire, his hair, possibly the guitar that is in his room - are all influenced by Eddie. So he has a significant impact in Mike's perception of himself at this point. Now I don't believe anyone else knows Mike is gay. I doubt he's told anyone. But he's happier than we have seen him in a while when he's playing D&D.

The conversation Mike and Dustin have at the pep rally is about their girlfriends. It's clear Dustin brought this conversation up himself because he's telling Mike about his morning. And Mike responds with the thing he says a million times - El's a superhero! We could turn this into a drinking game at this point. I get the impression that Mike probably hasn't been talking about El too much, or at least not bringing her up himself. If he's more comfortable with his identity, it's probably a conversation he wants to avoid. And there is no indication from his friends that he talked about her.

Edit: I want to add something about Mike's room - it's messy. And this is out of the ordinary. We know this because we saw his room neater before and because Will looked worried when Nancy mentioned it. And like every other instance of Mike's behavior getting dismissed as him just being a teen, this is actually a mental health issue. While he is dealing with his feelings about his sexuality he is struggling with the supernatural stuff still - bad grades, sleeping in the basement, messy room (not all teens have a messy room and some adults do. It's not an age thing, it's personality. Or in this case trauma, because he can't find a reason to bother to clean it). It's no wonder he is still struggling with this because his emotional support - Will -isn't there and they aren't communicating. They've talked about this stuff before and aren't now. While Mike is a little more confident and comfortable with himself than in S3, he's still dealing with a lot of the things that have happened. It's not magically cured and we see that when he responds to El after the skating rink. It's a trauma response.

Part 2

#byler #gay mike wheeler #mike wheeler #will byers #mike x will #anti mileven

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greenishghostey · 2 years

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A Tuesday in '83

Author's Note: Saw this post, got sad, had a brainstorm with myself while doing a face mask, and now here we are. This is super dialogue heavy but I felt that was the best way to approach this idea!

So, here's 17-year-old Eddie helping with the search for Will Byers and helping cheer Jonathan up, at least a little bit.

Word count: 3,120

///

The news of little Will Byers vanishing into the aether of Hawkins spread like wildfire around the town. Storefronts were covered in missing posters, with the kid’s cheery little smile beaming away. Everyone around Hawkins High School spoke in hushed tones and stole unsavoury glances towards Jonathan Byers.

Eddie didn’t do this, though. Eddie was far too used to dirty looks and pointing from other students. He was the town’s punching bag - the weirdo who lived in the trailer park and worshipped the devil. The brother of a missing kid didn’t deserve the same treatment he got. Even if said brother listened to The Talking Heads, that was something Eddie had to judge at least a little.

Eddie had made a point of “freaking out” anyone he caught being less than civil towards Jonathan. The two boys weren’t friends, they’d never spoken, but they were both dubbed weirdos in the eyes of the student body.

Since middle school, Eddie knew that he was a caring person. He was too aware of the sour attention that clung to him. It was a lonely experience for him when he was a little kid, so he found ways to make it better. Gathering up his fellow freaks, geeks and weirdos had become his life’s calling. It didn’t just stop with Hellfire Club - Eddie could take every figurative and literal punch and kick from the town when others couldn’t. Therefore, he took his “freak” and dialled it up to eleven.

Being dramatic was one of Eddie’s favourite hobbies. He had increased the frequency of his cafeteria table speeches and taken to drumming on locker doors super close to the many whispering groups. His toothy manic grin worked a treat at drawing attention away from Jonathan. A lot of people despised his smile - but it was okay; it was all part of his show.

It was a dull Tuesday lunch period, and students were mulling around in the hallways. Chattering, giggling, and the squeak of speakers surrounded Eddie as he organised the small pile of dealing notes in his locker. He would have appreciated it if the notes were a little more polite than just having a name and a time messily scribbled. Wasn’t his humble drug service worth a “hi” or a fun doodle?

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie noticed the sandy, messy hair of Jonathan Byers. He had prominent dark circles under his eyes and appeared to be wasting away under his denim jacket. Poor dude already had a rough time in high school. That Harrington guy and his minions took a little too much pleasure in messing with him.

Jonathan hauled a fresh stack of missing posters out of his bag, along with a small box of pins and tape. “Have you seen me?” Those words stared at Eddie from the bulletin board near his locker. He’d seen the description of Will Byers everywhere, making sure to read each missing poster he saw in case new information was added.

“Hey, Byers?” Eddie voiced, shutting his locker quietly. “How many of those posters you got?”

Jonathan jumped at Eddie’s voice, flinching away slightly. Eddie couldn’t blame him. It was a standard reaction to the town’s pariah’s presence.

“Uh, my mom gave me thirty,” Jonathan mumbled, avoiding eye contact. Eddie had an intimidating gaze; he was almost too aware that his eyes were huge - Wayne always told him he needed to remember to blink more.

“Need help putting that many up?” Eddie asked, raising an eyebrow at the bulletin board. “Not really feeling the mental strain of History next period. So I got time.”

Jonathan’s stare was trained on Eddie’s beat-up sneakers. He was in shock, quite frankly. Why would Eddie Munson offer to help him? Hell, why was he offering to help full-stop?

“Um, no, it’s fine. Really.”

“No worries, man. I get it. Oh, but I meant to ask, though, are you guys doing a search tonight?” Eddie spoke as softly as he could. It was an almost jarring surprise for Jonathan - truth be told, he found Eddie sort of scary. “I know the woods like the back of my hand, so I wanna help out.”

The two boys finally made eye contact, and Eddie’s pure intentions were made clear. He wasn’t looking at Jonathan in jest or with pity. He looked hopeful. Jonathan hadn’t seen a lot of hope since Will disappeared.

“It’s just a citizen search tonight. But - but the help would be great.” The younger boy’s voice faltered ever so slightly, his hands' grip on the posters loosening. “You know much about the woods around Lover's Lake?”

“Know it? That’s my stompin’ grounds.” Eddie laughed. “Dude, I’ll be such a big help. My uncle’s got this huge camping torch too. He won’t mind me swiping it for a few nights.”

“A few- you’re gonna help more than once? Why?” Jonathan pressed. He couldn’t really believe the conversation he was having. Eddie didn’t care about anything or anybody, so why would he help look for Will? Jonathan prided himself on never judging people too harshly or without good reason. But maybe he had messed up when it came to Eddie. Listening to the hums and haws of Hawkins never was the best idea.

“Your little brother’s missing, Byers. He’s a kid. Course I’m gonna help,” Eddie gestured for Jonathan to come closer. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not actually a vessel of the damned.” He tried not to sigh when regurgitating one of the lines that the god squad of Hawkins liked to throw his way. Jonathan was still hesitant towards Eddie’s casual demeanour, rightfully so since they knew nothing about each other. But that hope was still present in Eddie’s eyes - it was optimistic, and lord knows, did the Byers family need some positivity in their lives right now.

Jonathan turned to fully look at Eddie - taking in his heavy leather jacket, his t-shirt that had some kind of shrunken-skinned zombie on it, and his long shaggy hair. The people of Hawkins tended to act like the metalhead was the second coming of Charles Manson - Manson was even a taunt he got fairly regularly - but Jonathan was beginning to see past that illusion. It only took a peak behind the mask to see that Eddie was a good guy. He really wanted to help out with the search for Will. Sheriff Hopper was going to flip his shit.

“We all meet at my house at eight. We have to have a register since Sheriff Hopper’s got to be there, but he won’t bother you.” Jonathan explained, noting Eddie’s alarmed expression at the mention of the cops. “He’s sorta scared of my mom right now. I promise he won’t say anything to you.”

“Thank christ. At least it’s him. He caught me setting off fireworks behind the trailer park last fourth of July but just yelled at me and marched me home. He said he liked my t-shirt, though. Weird guy.” The little anecdote made Jonathan laugh, it wasn’t more than a breath, but he laughed. It had been the first time in a long time. However, the image of Eddie being hounded and dragged back home by Hopper was too funny to let slide.

Jonathan gave Eddie the rest of the information about the search party - the Byers’ address, supplies that would be helpful to bring, and another reassurance that the police and other residents wouldn’t make any comments about him.

Before the two parted ways in the emptying hallway, Eddie swiped a few missing posters from Jonathan’s loosened grasp. “I’m gonna steal some tape from Miss O’Donnell and get these up ASAP. See ya later, Byers!” Eddie took off around the corner in a flash. He was heading in the direction of his history class; he wasn’t going to stay in there for more than five minutes.

Jonathan was left beside the bulletin board, down twelve missing posters and having recruited the most unlikely member of that evening’s search party.

The small group gathered outside the Byers' house made their dislike of Eddie’s presence all too clear from the second he turned onto the street. He had quietly walked up to the group in one of his uncle’s old high-vis vests from work and with his large camping torch. Eddie knew that his dramatics didn’t need to make an appearance while searching for a potentially dead kid. But the grimaces and dirty looks being shot his way had him itching to act out - whether it was in defence or defiance, he wasn’t sure which it would be.

The whispering was painfully obvious. Eddie knew that people probably thought he’d sacrificed Will Byers to the devil to pay for his guitar or something equally as demented. It took a monumental effort to avoid eye contact with everyone besides Jonathan. Honestly, Eddie hated that he had become the centre of attention when he should be the least important thing on anyone’s mind. It made him feel sick.

Sheriff Hopper was there like Jonathan had said. He nodded at Eddie while listening to a short brunette woman, likely Mrs Byers. The silent reassurance from the police sheriff was something Eddie never thought he would experience, but then again, the situation was far from normal. Hawkins had become far from normal.

Mrs Byers started approaching Eddie across her lawn as his gaze remained firmly trained on the browning, dry grass under his boots.

“Hi, you’re Wayne’s boy, Eddie, yeah?” Mrs Byers asked, her voice sounding a little hoarse and tired. The amount of stress the woman must have been under made Eddie feel even worse for drawing attention away from her youngest son. He’d even made a point of dressing in his plainest clothes, but unfortunately, they were all black.

“Hi, ma’am. Uh, yeah, that’s me.” Eddie mumbled, meeting the woman’s gaze but fidgeting with the heavy rings on his fingers. “I wanted to come lend you guys a hand with all -” Mrs Byers raised her hand and gave Eddie a warm but tight-lipped smile.

“Jonathan let me know you were coming along. Also, you can call me Joyce.” Joyce said gently, waving to other search party members who arrived. Before she could continue speaking, Eddie blurted out a thought that had been swirling around in his brain.

“I know me being here is a bother, but I’m only here to help.”

“Eddie, as I said, Jonathan told me everything. He said you helped put up the posters. You’re the first person outside of Will’s friends to do that for him.”

“He had like thirty of ‘em; can’t be fun having to put up that sort of stuff,” he grimaced at his words. No shit putting up missing posters for a twelve-year-old wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. “I mean, I know none of this is fun -“

“You don’t need to worry so much, I promise. You’re here to help, and that’s all that matters. Besides, I know you’re a good kid. You wouldn’t have shown up and stood here otherwise.” Joyce soothed. It was impressive how well she was holding up, all things considered. Maybe it was a “mom thing”? She saw a gangly teenager getting too much in their own head and had to intervene. Eddie couldn’t remember “mom things”, but Wayne tried his best to replicate them when needed.

Eddie couldn’t hold back the bashful smile on his face, “I’ve got a weirdly good lay of the land all around town. The woods are easy to get lost in, but there’s a good amount of places where a kid would be able to rest.”

“You can’t imagine how nice that is to hear.” Her big brown eyes were shining, possibly from blooming tears or a beat of relief.

She was right. Eddie couldn’t imagine it. But any comfort Eddie could provide was better than nothing. Since Will had disappeared, Eddie had seen Joyce and Jonathan around town much more. He had never seen people look so much like husks of humans. It was almost like seeing ghosts haunting the streets. How the entire town wasn’t standing outside of the Byers’ house was beyond him.

“If there’s an overhang or crevice in those woods, I’ll be able to sniff it out. Oh, yeah! My uncle wanted me to say that he’s gonna come help too - when his shifts get shuffled around anyway.”

Joyce didn’t say anything; she simply brought her tight-lipped smile back and squeezed Eddie’s forearm slightly.

The search party was quite small, so everyone was put into pairs for safety. Eddie had nearly clung to Jonathan when everyone was paired up and sent on their way. The area of ground that was being searched that night was the lake shore and the forest surrounding it. Everyone was silently praying that they weren’t going to find the pale, bloated body of Will Byers in the freezing water.

Eddie took the liberty of driving him and Jonathan to the area. It was the least he could do. The journey was silent. No talking, no music. He felt that the situation called for quiet. Eddie hated quiet; it made him restless and uncomfortable.

Once the van was parked, the two were off, marching through fallen leaves and solid mud. The somewhat comfortable silence between the teenagers continued for some time after that. The only noise from either of them was the occasional call for Will, which echoed off the towering, inky forest walls.

The harsh, bright beam from Eddie’s torch startled many squirrels trying to gather up their dinner - he shot them apologetic looks as he wandered by. Jonathan caught each of those looks and his mind continued to reel even more than it had been for the past week. Out of everyone in the entirety of Hawkins, one of the few people to actually make an effort to show was the most hated teenager within a ten-mile radius.

“Hey, um - your club at school, it’s not really a cult, is it?” Christ Jonathan was awkward at the best of times, but he was reaching new lows trying to think of small talk. Searching for Will was disturbing for him, but Will had always said he needed to put himself out there and make some friends. “Like it’s just an edgy name, right?”

Eddie was hit with a wave of shock from the line of questioning. “Uh, yeah. It’s just a name I thought sounded cool. No demon summoning or blood rituals. We just play D&D,” Eddie replied, kicking some crunchy leaves as they continued walking. “That’s Dungeons and Dra-”

“Will never shuts up about that game. It’s like his whole life lately.” Jonathan snorted. “Him and his friends camp out in the Wheeler’s basement and play it for, like, eight hours.”

“No way? You know what character he plays?” Eddie said in a curious tone. He tried to squash down his immediate excitement at being able to discuss a hobby that was so special to him.

“He plays a wizard, Will the Wise - might be a sorcerer, actually; I know the classes are a little different. He’s got a whole costume for when he leads their games - which is most of ‘em.” Talking about Will with fondness was cathartic for Jonathan. Everyone only wanted to talk about his little brother in the past tense - like he would never come back or was already dead. That wasn’t true. Will was going to get home soon, and his D&D costume would be waiting patiently in his closet.

Eddie’s eyes had filled with that bright hope once again, “He’s a magic user and the Dungeon Master!? Shit, this kid’s gotta be really good if he can balance all that!” The excitement couldn’t stay contained, no matter how hard Eddie tried. However, Jonathan appreciated the outburst of happiness. The constant sombre cloud that hung over his and his mom’s heads day in and day out was getting harder to deal with. Getting to be Will Byers’ biggest fan again was a good feeling. It was the first time Jonathan could feel himself cheering up, even a little bit.

“He’s crazy about it, man! All he wanted for Christmas this year was more of the books for it.” Jonathan enthused, his eyes still shifting around the illuminated forest for any movement. “I eavesdropped on one of their sessions a few weeks back, and it sounded so fun. Something about demons and gorgons following Vecna - not sure what that is, but Will made it sound like stuff straight out of a book.”

“Going for a Vecna storyline with a buncha twelve-year-olds? Fuck, your brother is a hardcore little guy.” Eddie grinned. He used to be the same when he ran campaigns back in Middle School. A Dungeon Master, as well as Edward, the half-elf bard that gave the most metal inspiration during battles. “You ever thought about trying your hand at it?”

Jonathan hesitated. “Thought about- uh, going to one of those open Hellfire things you guys do at the start of the year, actually,” he mumbled, starting to feel embarrassed. It was true. He had considered going to Hellfire once or twice to understand D&D better for Will’s sake. Any time he proofread Will’s campaign notes, he was lost on its details.

This conversation was strange, but a good type of strange. Jonathan had been dreading the night search, as he always did. However, having the company of a high-vis-clad metalhead was surprisingly nice. Jonathan knew not to entertain the idea of friendship; Eddie was two years older than him, after all. But the brief moments of comradery and compassion were rare in Hawkins.

“Huh. Well, we’re a “the more, the merrier” kinda crowd. So don’t be a stranger, Byers.” Eddie smiled, nudging Jonathan’s side with his elbow. “We meet after school on Fridays. Make sure to bring Will the Wise with you too. I wanna see this kid absolutely destroy everything I have planned.”

Will Byers was a lot more than a missing little boy. Eddie felt that when he met the kid, he would see a scary amount of himself. Jonathan and Eddie had silently agreed that Will couldn’t be dead. It just wasn’t a possible outcome to the chaos that spread across the town.

Jonathan and Eddie continued to chat about anything and everything - D&D specifics, music, school, and their hobbies. Both boys continued to be ever vigilant for even the smallest rustle of leaves or shift in their surroundings. Bright beams from their flashlights continued to scan the pitch-black forest - fading away into the depths of Hawkins.

It was almost like walking straight into hell, but at least they wouldn’t have to do it alone.

///

Tags: @vigilanteshit @lunatictardis @chainsawmunson @mantorokk-writes

#eddie munson #jonathan byers #will byers #stranger things fanfiction #fluff #angst #fic #eddie munson fanfic #i did iiiiiittttttt #this kind of sucks a bit but I wanted it to be quite dialogue heavy #my writing

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