#principal hastings

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Just Perfect | Yandere Illumi Zoldyck

The heat underneath your turtle neck collar was sweltering. The coolness of the kitchen counter was unable to reach you through your jeans, only felt when you briefly let your hands brace yourself on it. The cutting board and toaster pressing against your back served as a minor obstacle, shoved to the side by the man enraptured by you. For you, it was a reminder of where exactly you were and the time of your ‘lonesome’ afternoon coming to an end.

“W-we have to stop soon.”

Your neighbor didn’t answer, instead busy himself with harshly biting your lip. Probing deeper into your mouth as he pulled at the loops of your jeans in an unspoken request. Your hands previously tangled in his hair were grabbing fistfuls of his tracksuit; passionately pulling as you felt the burning heat in your lungs as your kissing continued.  The haze upon your mind was addictive, thinking only of the way his mouth never stopped sucking–your tongue, your jaw, your neck. Barely registering his pale and masterful hands slipping under the form-fitting wool to squeeze at the fat of your waist. His hands are trailing upwards speedily making their way to your chest, it was almost enough to put all your worries to rest. 

The jingling of keys just outside the door stopped that immediately. 

With unimaginable haste, you unlatched and shoved the man away. Hopping down from the counter to pull your sweater back down and your pants up. Turning around to fix up the appliances on the counter. You quickly ran to the decorative mirror on the wall pulled the neck of your sweater up and inspected the marks on your face. Specifically on your lips while you sucked at the bloodied part of your lip. Lightly dabbing at it you sucking your teeth, cursing yourself before turning to the door swinging open.

“Welcome home Akaza!”

The black-haired boy didn’t look surprised to see you. Instead, he looked surprised at your state even though you felt like you fixed most of it. Watching him scrutinize your appearance, stopping at your bottom lips. You curled your lips in as though it would hide what was already seen. 

“What happened to your lip?!”

You chuckled nervously,” I bit it–on accident. Is it that bad?”

Adding the extra question you hoped would dissuade him from asking more. Instead, the second year marched further inside the home nonchalantly dropping his bag at the door; leaving it to you to pick up. After setting it nicely on a hook you came into the kitchen where your adoptive son was clutching at the tracksuit of your long-haired neighbor, practically growling in his face.

“How’d I know this parasite would be here?! Oi oi, you listening to me punk?! What’re you doing here!?”

You held the bridge of your nose. That twisted face and tensed posture matched the reports made by so many teachers. You knew this wouldn’t end like those situations in the past. Not if you had any say about it. Not that Illumi was going to let you.

“I think you know why.”

“GGRRRR!”

Akaza quickly reeled back to punch him only for your neighbor to dodge, and swiftly unlatched Akaza’s hand maneuvering him into the perfect position for a headlock. You figured it’d be best to end this now before one of them actually hurts the other.

“Akaza. Illumi. Break it up.”

The teen growled again reeling his fist in an awkward position. Illumi didn’t release him, anticipating the punch.

“Now, Akaza!”

The teen shook his head as he stomped away, avoiding eye contact with you. He headed up the stairs occasionally sneering as he made eye contact with the man standing unharmed and defiantly in the kitchen. Letting out a sigh you let your neighbor come in close as you apologized. 

“I’m sorry about him. I’m sure you know how he feels about you.”

Illumi didn’t bother sharing your worried gaze at the steps. Only intensely staring at you. As he usually did.

“Is that where you’re going this afternoon? To the principal’s office, again?”

Crossing your arms, you already recognized the annoyance in his voice.

“Yes again.”

“You’ve had 6 meetings this month alone. And they all happen on the evenings that are usually dedicated to us.”

You shrugged. “Yes well, that’s just the reality of it.”

“Isn’t there a seaside school you–”

The glare on your face made Illumi quiet himself. Clearly, the mention of that option was entirely off-limits. It’s exactly what he feared.

“Sorry. Maybe a meeting at the end of the month can be negotiated?”

“Unless you can convince Akaza to keep his confrontations to the end of the month, then I don’t see that happening.”

Illumi didn’t groan because he doesn’t groan. Instead, he crossed his arms to stare off to the side. He waited for you to hug his waist, shoving yourself through his locked arms to hold him tight. You enticed him to look at you, smiling when he finally did. 

“Depending on how this meeting goes you can come with us during our victory meal.”

“As if!”

No longer in his uniform, Akaza had returned. Looking disgusted at the affection you two displayed, he donned his shoes again and stood impatiently near the door. The teenager had you swallowing laughter, how could a little delinquent (as he portrayed himself to be) still be so polite? Despite his words, he was waiting patiently for you and he hadn’t gotten physical since he returned downstairs. You’d consider that progress.

“Well maybe during our consolation dessert?”

“Nuh Uh! Your boy toy is just awkward maybe if he didn’t stare at you like you were his dinner I wouldn’t mind.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter at his assessment, letting a cheeky smile spread on your face. Hugging Illumi tightly you kick up your foot to playfully bat your eyes at Akaza, delighting in the little twitch his nose makes when he’s angry.

“Awww~are you jealous?”

“Blegh! Get a room you creeps!”

“Hahaha.”

Releasing your boyfriend you went over to your son, scratching his hair affectionately before reaching for your coat and shoes. You smile at Illumi encouraging him to leave with you two as you pull out your keys.

“Well then maybe we’ll go see a movie together instead.”

Looking down to lock the outside of the door, you’re vaguely aware that the two of them are speaking. But you don’t pay any mind, you figure it’s a thing they feel like must be done. Talking about territory, counseling books would usually reprimand this kind of thing but Akaza was no doormat and neither was Illumi. It was actually emboldening to think you’d find someone capable of going head to head with your self-proclaimed bodyguard. And even better he was just next door. 

“Yeah, get running track boy.” 

“Don’t call me boy, boy.”

“Yeah yeah get off our lawn!”

You didn’t bother fighting them—this was a peaceful interaction more so than the others they’ve had and you could focus on starting the car while you waited. A few more insults were thrown back and forth between the two of them; finally ending when Akaza slammed the side of the door into the passenger's seat. Only then did you send him a look that had him reopening and closing the door—softly this time. Smiling at him you rolled your window to shout to Illumi,” I’ll text you afterward about what we’re doing.”

Illumi only nodded, watching still as you smiled and waved then you were speeding off. Didn’t want to keep the principal waiting any longer. 

_____________________________________________________

“Aka, don’t you think this is a little…excessive.” You finally allowed yourself to speak normally, now that you both were leaving the empty school. Your son also seemed to relax, putting his hands behind his head as he walked alongside you.

“No. I’m doing it for her. Those bullies made her transfer, it is all their fault.”

He skipped ahead to open the driver’s side for you. Ever so polite you shoo him away back to the passenger side. Back in the car, you sent a wave to the principal who stood concerned while watching you drive off. 

“I know but you couldn’t have a witness or someone recording you defending her?”

Akaza sunk into his seat, sulking a little. You weren’t trying to bring him down but you figured if you offered some playful jabs he’d get your point.

“Like that blonde kid! What’s–his–name is clearly high all the time, I’m sure you could pay him off to back you up.”

You spared a glance from the road, catching the laugh he tries to hide. He rolls down the window letting his hand get pushed by the wind being cut through by your speeding car. 

“Douma is too popular for that kind of thing.”

“But he seems to like you enough.”

“He’s just a masochistic freak. Totally get’s off on the way I hate him.”

“Well don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m serious–”

You two continued to talk as you’ve always done. When you first met him, he was some flea-ridden kid who you’d caught breaking into a neighbor’s house across the way. Come to find he was trying to pawn off what he stole to afford medicine for his father. You’d seen this kid get caught by the police before and to say they weren’t fond of him was an understatement. In an impulsive rush of good will you decided to be a an anchor for them–coming over with food and necessities. Soon you were paying for school supplies and signing for field trips. You were more than happy when the state offered for you to tak him in. Ever since you’ve been the guardian to a troublesome boy with an inclination for using his fighting spirit to solve all his problems. 

While you had no regrets about taking Akaza there was a glaring issue of your dying social life. Being in a small district for the school, meant familiar faces and a lasting reputation. While no one seemed to hate you for your son’s…unconventional problem-solving, they weren’t eager to get to know you. Those that were–usually romantically—would also start running because of some unknown force your son.

They were scared. 

You understood but it didn’t make anything better. Both you and Akaza only had each other and the few people who were crazy enough to interact with you. One of those being your new neighbor. 

“So icecream or churros?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

_____________________________________________________________

Watching the familiar car drive away from the entrance of the school parking lot, from his phone Illumi clicked it off. Looking back up at the blubbering woman and their teen, expecting something. 

“You stopped.”

The woman nervously brought her hands to smooth over dyed hair, hiding the silver strands that imminently began to appear. 

Shakily coughing she continued, “Right, well as a major donor to the school I’m sure they value me and my son’s opinion quite a lot. It’s nothing personal really—in fact we can make a donation in your name to support such a…troubled kid.”

Illumi didn’t care what she had to say. He has listened to hundreds of seedy or innocent targets try and rationalize their lives. Those in particular, that were lucky enough to get the chance to bargain. Just as usual nothing they offered was worth the pay. 

“Alright I heard you out.”

Unsheathing the needles from his cashmere classic coat, unbothered by the screaming family in front of him. Now he was thinking about who’d he’d kill first? Who was he kidding, he’d been trained to kill them all at the same time. He briefly thought of how inefficient he was when he hadn’t gotten his fill of his fiance. 

“WAIT! What if I got you a new principal!? Someone that could wipe his record! That’d be good ri—!?”

Illumi wasted no time flinging the needles into their necks. Their tied forms going limp on  the floor. That was a great idea, it’d be easier to orchestrate the vacancy of the principal than convincing his fiance to depart with their misfit boy. It’d be even better if the newly appointed  principal could avoid scheduling meeting on the days dedicated to pampering his fiance. 

Wordlessly the corpse of the woman rose like the undead. Standing, twitching occasionally the  corpse moved past Illumi with a mission. 

Illumi turned to join, stopping at a rock song coming from his phone. Letting his puppet unlock their phone, following through with their prior promises; he busied himself with the realization of his phone’s latest feature. The icon of a locator app took up his screen, his fiance’s face adorably holding up a piece sign above the car moving through the map. 

Illumi wasn’t aware that his love had, organized this app on his phone. Let alone made the . ringtone an obnoxiously inappropriate song. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to undo the effect. It was like his gifts. 

Secret and made for surveillance.

Recognizing the route, he sent a message to his contact there. Illumi texted his fiance, reminding them of their prior offer. Perhaps this evening would still be salvageable; that is if that child would allow it. 

______________________________________________________________

Akaza was planning a murder. 

He’d done his best to keep chatting with his guardian, distracting them from their vibrating phone. No doubt the leech trying to get their attention Long enough for him to silence their phone when they got gas. He’d hope that’d be the end of it. Have his churro–icecream-monstrosity while watching the latest movie for him to laugh at with the only person in his corner. 

But no. 

He couldn’t have that. 

Not with the leech, conveniently being at the theater after they got their tickets. Pulling his guardian into his side while he collects the ticket for the open seat next them. Instead of his parent already turned to snark to him throughout the movie, they were whispering in the ear of the neighbor. Whispering and laughing with the man who was staring blankly at the screen, probably not even watching. The frozen section of the dessert in his hands, melting was just an omen to the night ahead. 

Instead of raving about the movie and they’re parent talking about their favorite parts, Akaza was forced to listen to the flirting of the two adults. Watching his parent pull at the man’s hands asking all the questions that usually would be asked of him.

“What do you mean you weren’t watching?”

“I was too busy looking at you. I didn’t care for the movie, really.”

“Don’t say that, there’s got to be something you like-”

“You.”

“Illumi, I’m serious!”

It wasn’t so bad when they relented to Illumi taking everyone out to eat. It was worth it to see the apathetic man silently accept the addition of Akaza to a restaurant of his choosing. Part of what Akaza hated about Illumi was his lack of emotions or rather the lack of displaying his emotions. Those wide black eyes bigger than olives always staring at his parent with insanity. The man’s strange movements that made him look like a puppet. The very rare smile that has people screaming in public. 

He didn’t know what his guardian saw in him.

Or why Illumi was so dedicated to dating them in turn. Akaza knew he was intimidating enough to scare the people not worthy for his parent but nothing was working. When it came to Illumi the doll-like man seemed all together unphased. More often then not he was making his own veiled threats. 

Akaza knew this angle, well. Others have tried to slink their way, whispering grand ideas of sending him to boarding or military school. But everytime his parent had shut them down, usually sending them away the minute they pushed the point. Illumi was much closer, literally and emotionally. Too many times had he found the neighbor making his parent bashful or stare at their phone in anticipation for a call from him. 

Unfortunately it doesn’t seem like he’s going away any time soon so it was better to lay the law down now. He waited until (Y/n) had left the table, waving over their shoulder as they left for the bathroom. 

“Look stalker, what’s your end goal? Sex, half their estate, you might as well come clean now.”

The pale man’s face showed no indication that he was alarmed or that he was listening at all. It wasn’t until his small lips curved and twisted into something wide and frightening. People around were whispering and a child was crying somewhere. This man was like nothing he’d dealt with before.

“What I want,” Illumi laughed, “has been clear from the start. I have nothing but the best intentions for (Y/n).”

Akaza sneered,”Yeah right. I find it funny you consider…getting rid of everyone they occasionally mention as a problem.”

Illumi cocked his head to the side. The leak of information makes him wary of keeping the boy alive at all. Instead he’ll make a note to handle those listening later.

“You know of my occupation?”

Akaza sighed,”Anyone who lives next to you knows. The thriving garden, the burner phones, and the way you talk about anatomy it’s just too weird.”

“I told you I was a docter, did I not?”

“I looked for your name in the medical registery, there is no Illumi Reldyck. I checked. There is another identity with your name but there’s no online footprint and I’m guessing you paid someone off for the fake certificate.”

The teen had him cornered. He did decide to lighten up considering the man’s hands reaching under the table for something. The thought of him reaching for a weapon did cross Akaza’s mind and he was glad for the pocket in his bubble jacket. Flashing it’s insides, and the insurance he carried as he brought his arms to rest on the back of the booth. 

Illumi was no longer smiling, “I believe I underestimated you.”

Nothing more needed to be said as their food was finally brought by a shaking waiter. The glares exchanged across the table dissipating as (Y/n) finally returned. 

“Glad you two didn’t bite each others heads off!”

Illumi leaned into them, “You told me you would hate it if I did that so I didn’t.”

Akaza sighed,”And I know you’d prefer it if I didn’t beat your boyfriend to a pulp in public. I know better.”

(Y/n) shook their head at the both of them before digging into their meal. For now Illumi and Akaza would be civil, it wouldn’t help anyone to fight in public with all these witnesses around. They’d wait until later to sort one another out. 

Where they wouldn’t be held back by the person they were fighting over. Or the police. Or investigative hunters. Or the organization of slayers.

Yeah they’d have to wait. 

________________________________________________________________

Illumi treated his wounds with the precision an assassin should have. Using his trained eyes to properly stitch at the gash in his leg. He was far removed from the process, after all it’s been years since he allowed himself to agonize over the searing feeling of pain. Instead he preferred to let his mind wander (as it often did ) to the one he endured these very wounds for. 

Despite their inadvertent hand in creating more strain on his body for his next mission, he couldn’t help but let his obsession with them consume even more. To think even a child they hadn’t birthed themself was already strong enough to be an obstacle to a trained assassin. It only proved how perfect (Y/n) was just for him. 

He’d long ago gotten the approval from his parents and eventually the entire family. Sharing a fraction of his extensive dossier about his fiance. They retracted their interest after the 50th page but Illumi didn’t mind. For once he valued the private appreciation he discovered when he first happened upon them. 

It was a minor interaction. One that Illumi would have ignored on the route to a mission. They had smiled while passing by; a nice gesture they did on an especially good days. The assassin didn’t mind at the time. Many very observational citizens might notice him but very few actually acted on it. He didn’t care…at least not at the time. He did care when he found his mind flashing the image of their smiling face while he stabbed the needle into the subject’s heart. 

At first it aggravated him that his attention was divided because of some random person. From a distance he could tell they weren’t particularly strong or highly intelligent. Yet he found himself in a department store’s camera room going through the footage of the sidewalk. Taking the seconds of the meeting on the recorded tape, he began his investigation. His…colleague often spoke about getting enjoyment from his time with people of interest. That’s all he’d call his growing interest at the time. That’s what he’d call it. Even if his investigation had been going on for five years now—he was convinced it was just for an experiment about enjoyment. Escalating from their route to work, to their home, to their room. He watched the raggedy child become a member of their home. Watched them send the delinquent to school. Watched them cut their hair. Watched them crash their car. Watched them go to physical therapy.

Watched them get farther with a lover they’d ever had. He hated that part.

That was when Illumi felt the desire to get involved. To finally introduce himself. To show them the love none of their past flings could properly pretend to show. After a talk with his parents he stationed himself in (Y/n)’s neighborhood. It took a short while to rid the house next to theirs but when he did, everything just fell into place. 

Well almost everything. 

“Thank you for the new job. I was told you had a request for me?”

The voice coming from the burner was calm—the tone of a fellow killer. It was reassuring. 

“The student I informed you about shouldn’t need any guidance. No meetings with them or their guardian unless you confirm it with me.”

The silent static permeating from the phone filled the room. A great background to the alluring  sight through the window. Right across the way was the silhouette of his beloved fiancé, oblivious of his watchful gaze. He couldn’t wait to offer the ring.

“Perhaps I can do more…with the boy…keep him away for awhile longer. Would that satisfy our agreement?”

Illumi let a smile spread on his face as that obnoxious song play on his other phone. The blue light from the window across shining through the sheer curtains. 

“That would be perfect.”

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 15

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 15/? 10k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ The aftermath of a kiss makes thoughts come alive — both desires and fears. 

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

✏︎ Chapter CW: smut 18+ (imagined oral f!receiving, piv, creampie), cumming in pants, angst

Wednesday, December 11th 1985

The flag was whipping in the wind. Towering above the parking lot in a blur of red, white, and blue, it cracked against the pale grey sky. 

Meeting your eyes in the rearview mirror, you checked for any obvious signs of guilt. The harsh morning light made it clear what you’d missed in your haste to leave. You thought you had gotten it all, but the mascara resting in the lines beneath your eyes said otherwise. Truthfully, washing your face had been the last thing on your mind when you stumbled home after midnight, and it was clear you needed more than the five minutes you allotted this morning in front of the sink. After sleeping through your alarm, it was a miracle you were here at all. Swiping your knuckles across the bags under your eyes, you figured that would have to do.

With a final, bracing sigh, you opened the door and slumped into the freezing cold. Slamming the door, you marched across the snow-dusted pavement and hiked the heavy leather strap onto your shoulder. Students scattered around you with bright colored backpacks, rushing from their cars toward the squat, concrete building that loomed on the horizon. Eyes steeled on the glass doors ahead, you swallowed a sickness rising up from the pit of your stomach. Pebbles crunched under your boots as you dodged glances, offering little more than a timid smile and a raise of your hand at the greetings hurled your way. 

Pulling open the chilled metal handle, that school smell—indescribable yet unmistakable—gusted hotly over your numb cheeks. The office was abuzz with shrill ringing phones and gently chiding voices. Eyes glued to the long, grey weather mat below, you approached the clock-in station.

“Good morning!” the receptionist greeted cheerfully at the back of your head. 

“Morning, Judy,” you offered weakly, selecting your punch card from its wooden slot on the wall. With a shaking hand, you slotted the index card into the machine, lining it up with this week’s row of black-inked numbers. It snapped to life, stamping today’s date in a crooked line beneath the rest. 

Tucking your thumb under the strap, you trudged along your usual path, raising your eyes just enough to see where you were going. Fluorescents danced over the polished tile, over the shimmering salt-stained boot marks and stray pebbles you were suddenly so captivated by. Past the glass trophy cases, inside the cafeteria, you crossed the row of principal portraits from years prior outside the teachers lounge. It was difficult to look at them today, the judgement painted so clearly on their features from inside their thick, ornate frames. Their eyes seemed to follow you as you passed. Dodging their scorn, you ducked inside the door.

Your soles met the padding of the threadbare carpet, marching toward the one thing you truly depended on, stationed at its post on the end of the long, veneer table — the coffee machine. The room was spinning with activity, a bustle of chatter you hoped you could hide in. Most were on their way out, making small talk and gathering belongings from their seats at the round tables. Your skirt swished forward as you halted before the machine, tapping the cuff of your tall boots. Grabbing a mug from the stack, you filled it with haste.

You wondered if anyone could smell it on you — the cigarette smoke that clung to your coat. Shrinking down into your turtleneck, you sidestepped to return the pot to the warmer. 

“Good morning,” stated a voice behind you with cold professionalism. 

The plastic slipped in your hand, coffee hissing against the metal plate as you fumbled it into place. “Principal Higgins! H-hi—good morning!” 

She always terrified you, even as a student here. Even before last night. Standing all of about four foot ten, her stern, nun-like demeanor and white cloud of hair remained consistent with your memory, as if she had reached a point in her aging where she just plateaued.

“How are you?” she asked. Not as though she really cared, just as something polite to say.

Whipping around as the blood drained from your face, you addressed her. “Good! I’m good. Just getting things wrapped up for the semester. You know how it is.” 

She nodded curtly. “Glad to hear,” she answered, though nothing about her expression seemed glad.  It never did. You thought you saw her smile once in September, but it could have been a trick of the light. Smiling weakly at the floor, you dipped around her and shuffled toward the open milk carton. The air was thick and stuffy, filling your lungs in shallow draws. Peeling back the soggy cardboard, you swallowed your hammering pulse. 

“Hey stranger,” Diane greeted warmly, grabbing a mug from beside you. “You ready for winter break yet?” 

Fixed on the coffee as the milk swirled like smoke, you couldn’t find the courage to meet her eyes. “I’ve been ready since October,” you admitted through a strained chuckle.

Diane tipped her head back, laughing into the fluorescents. “Oh man I feel ya, I’ve been counting down the days myself.” Steam rose from her mug as she filled it.

There must have been a sign on your back. Something like kick me. A bump from behind had you lurching into the table, sloshing coffee over the rim. Snapping your head over your shoulder, you glared at the culprit. 

“Jeez it’s crowded in here,” muttered Ms. O’Donnell as she lumbered over to the coffee machine. “Everyone mingling like a flock of hens, you’d think we’d all have places to be by now.”

With a sharp sigh, you grabbed a handful of flimsy napkins from beside the sugar. Diane glanced in brief annoyance before reaching through your line of sight for the milk carton. “So, did you catch Cheers last night?”

You froze, heat creeping up the collar of your coat as the coffee bled through the paper. Images of sweating glasses on cocktail napkins and plush lips clouded your vision as you blotted up the mess with a trembling hand. “No I uh, turned in early I’m afraid.” Your stomach curdled with the lie.

“Aww, well you’ll have to catch it on re-run because it was a good one. I won’t spoil anything,” Diane said, bringing the mug to her lips as she leaned against the table. 

Grabbing the handful of warm, soggy napkins, you pivoted to toss them in the trash. Finally, she caught you with her eyes. Rich umber, deep with caring and kindness, captive for anyone who needed a good listener, for you on so many occasions. Diane was good like a cashmere cardigan, like a box of tissues passed across a desk. Your eyes met the floor again quickly, heat rising in your face. You shuddered to imagine what she’d think if she knew. 

The room became a blur of scooting chairs, of vending machines whirring, of crackers and candy dropping into the bins below. Metal flaps whined and slammed as hands reached in to grab them. It was closing in on you — the copy machine ink wafting warmly across the room as it spat out stacks of tests, the hole punchers clicking and binders snapping open to devour papers with their jagged maws. You stood there in the middle of it all, spinning like you’d stepped out of a carnival ride.

Diane leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “You ok?”

Blinking rapidly, you snapped back to attention. “Yeah—yeah I’m fine.” 

Folding her arms across her sweater, she knit her brows in disbelief. As the school counselor, it was her job to see through bullshit, and she was good at her job. Before she could comment, the bell had your stomach lurching. “I have to go,” you said with as much of a casual farce as you could muster. “I’ll see you later.” You grabbed your mug, shielding your face with it as you sipped off the top before vanishing into the hallway.

-

The AV cart was heavy despite its wheels. Avoiding your tired reflection in the glass of the large television, you braced the metal frame and peered around it, marching carefully down the crowded hallway. At least you had something to hide behind now. 

There were footsteps all around you, weaving to accommodate the metal mass as you trudged slowly forward. What became unignorable was the set behind you, shuffling down the hall at an increasing speed, growing louder as they neared. Eddie halted just behind your shoulder, bumping it slightly in his haste. “Hey,” he breathed in your ear, curls tickling your cheek.

Sucking in a breath, you whipped your head around to meet his crinkling eyes. If he had a tail, he would be wagging it. “Eddie,” you hissed. “Get—” you elbowed him away, heart pounding into your temples as a hundred eyes passed by around you. 

He didn’t seem phased. Hovering at an uncomfortable proximity, his focus stayed glued to you as if the rest of the world had fallen away. “Here,” he offered, reaching over to take the reins. The meat of his palms grazed your knuckles; warm and pliant like you remembered them. 

“I’ve got it,” you insisted, gaze dutifully forward, gripping the metal frame firmly.

“Come on, let me help,” he muttered, leather forearms insisting against yours as he tugged the cart in his direction.

Face fully on fire now, you released your grip, repelling with a twinge of remorse from the solid contact of his shoulder. Head darting left and right, you scouted for faculty, keeping a steady pace beside him. Not so close as to draw suspicion, but close enough to feel his magnetism prickle your awareness. His fingers pinked under his rings, knuckles white in his grip as the strong angles of his hands kept the cart from veering. “It’s um—” Eddie started, dipping his head toward your ear again, “good to see you again,” he uttered with a fervency that could have evaporated you.

“Happy Wednesday!” chimed Ms. Click as she waved you down from outside her door. 

The blood drained from your face. Raising a trembling hand, you returned a weak smile before locking your vision on the end of the hall. It was closing in again; the lockers, the voices, the squeaking of wet boots against the tile. There was the potent scent of cigarettes, fresh on his hair like the snowflakes that clung to his curls. They were melting, dripping down his wild ringlets onto his shoulders with every step. It was beautiful, the way they bounced and swayed in the wind as he walked. The way the droplets settled in the wrinkles of his leather coat. The way it tapered toward his narrow waist. As he braced the cart, you selfishly admired the angles of his shoulders — broad and capable. Selfishly, you wondered what else they could accomplish, how they would feel, bare under your palms. Crossing your arms coyly over your turtleneck, you snatched your mind from the gutter.

Eddie lolled his head toward you, peering under heavy lids. His smile was lazy and generous, brimming with boyish glee. “God you look pretty today,” he sighed. Your uterus beat your stomach to a backflip. 

Halting outside the door to your classroom, you turned to face him. “Eddie, we can’t—” your desert mouth hung open as those soft umber eyes ushered your words into the din.

“I’m allowed to talk to you,” he asserted, shifting to the fullness of his height as he dropped his hands from the cart. 

“Not like that. Not here,” you corrected, just above a whisper. 

Brow lowering, he swiped his coat aside to access his hip, resting his hand above the chain that dripped toward his thigh. It was suffocating — the heat from his gaze, from your turtleneck, from the thoughts hammering like pinballs against the inside of your skull. 

“Listen, I just…” you swallowed, “it’s just—” you glanced around, meeting the waves and bright hellos that passed through your door with a vacant smile before lowering your voice, “—hard to be back here today.”

Eddie tipped his head forward, shifting on the balls of his feet with a subtle nod. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

You huffed through your nose, eyes pleading with him as you shrank toward your door.

“I’ll see you later,” he promised, drifting in by an invisible tether with every inch you moved away. 

“Yeah.” Your exhale was heavy, lingering in his gaze for an aching second before ducking through the threshold. 

______

The static from the television prickled your forehead as you rewound the tape, fussing with the buttons on the VHS player seated on the shelf below it. The screen fizzled grey as as your fourth period class filed in, shuffling feet and relieved exclamations echoing behind you as they passed.

You could have left it alone and walked away, but you would take any excuse not to face them today. Leaning against the cart as you stared into the crackling static, that telltale scent wafted in on the air, tugging at memories of smoke rings and stage lights, filling you with equal parts dread and aching familiarity. You could see his silhouette out of the corner of your eye; tall and dark with a halo of frizz, boots heavy against the tile as he approached you. Swallowing your rising pulse, you couldn’t help but indulge for a second, shifting just enough to catch the soft pink of his smirk before his shoulder nudged yours in passing. Desks squeaked against the floor behind you, yielding to the weight of twenty students as they filled the five tidy rows. When the bell finally rang, you shut the door and mustered the courage to address them.

None of your classes were studying To Kill A Mockingbird. Irrelevant as it was to your lessons, you would excuse it to all of them by citing it as a great example of storytelling. Weak, but it was the best you could come up with on such short notice. You doubted anyone cared, they all seemed just as relieved as you were for a break from the fluorescents. 

You flicked off the lights and pressed play on the VCR. The room was bathed in white and blue as the opening credits rolled, and you took your place behind the big desk. Propping your head wearily against your hand, you stared down at the sea of white below you. Eyes unfocused, black ink and graphite chicken scratch blurred together as a different film played out behind them. 

The set was dramatically lit; a spotlight of interrogation that beamed down on your small chair facing Martha Higgins’ desk. The props were hyper-realistic; files she flipped through with her spindly, arthritic fingers containing your teaching license and contract for the year. The prominent lines on her forehead were growing increasingly severe as she considered the delivery of your inevitable punishment. 

A jungle of items framed the papers that sprawled across your real desk — the spider plant Susan had given you when the leaves were beginning to blush with oranges and reds, the stapler you’d had since college, the mug with a quill printed on it which now held your pens. You wondered what it would feel like to pack them all into a banker box in the middle of a winter afternoon. To lug it down the hallway, dodging the scorn of your former colleagues. With a heavy sigh, you buried your spinning head in your hand.

Eddie was seated as he always was, cheek pressed to his knuckles as he watched you from his corner of the room. A straight shot toward your desk in front of him, he gazed with reverence as the white light from the television bathed your one exposed cheekbone in a holy glow. Picking at the chipped veneer on the desk with his restless thumb, he recounted the feeling of it in his hands. The angle of your jaw, the notch where it met below your ear, the soft skin of your throat that hummed beneath the pads of his frozen digits, warming them to life with every swell and swallow as his mouth enveloped yours. He’d played it over and over the whole drive home, every moment since he’d opened his eyes this morning, convincing himself with every replay that it wasn’t a dream. 

He’d gotten a taste. Not enough to satisfy him — the opposite really. Like first bites often did, it only brought awareness to his hunger. The light played softly on your stiffened jaw. How he ached soothe it with his lips again, to feel the hard bone under supple skin, to hear and taste your sighs again; more moving than any music he’d ever heard. 

The darkness gave quiet permission for his mind to play a film of its own. In this one, the room would be the same. Just as dark but empty, save for you and him. He would scale the isle in five swift steps. Lifting your worried chin with his knuckle, he would draw you to the fullness of your height, capture your body in his arms and pull you into a searing kiss. He knew what it felt like now, and that only fueled his wild imagination. He knew you’d melt like putty, let him be the only thing holding you together, keeping you from falling to the floor with the strength of his arms around your soft cotton waist. 

He had memorized the shape of your lips, how slick with hunger they were as they slipped against his. Your hums would be quiet here, timid and shy as you glanced over his shoulder toward the door with worried eyes. On this set there were no real hallways, no extras making noise or slamming lockers. Nothing in the script suggesting an interruption, only the pretend risk that made a thrill rise in him like the tent in his jeans. The way you would shyly toy with the pins on his vest, insisting that “we shouldn’t,” and “it’s just not right.”

You wouldn’t protest for long, not in this script. Not when his teeth found your neck again, dipping down below the collar of your turtleneck. It was a nuisance really, nothing but a sponge for his spit as his tongue soothed over where his teeth left off. You would be needing it later because he would leave a mark this time. Several, tasting every moan you offered as he sucked bruises onto your delicate skin. He hadn’t tasted nearly enough of you, hadn’t felt nearly as much as he’d wanted. 

Closing his eyes, he surfaced a touch-memory; the shape of you beneath your coat. He imagined the slope of your waist in his hands as it looked like today; where the cotton met the wool of your skirt, heaving against his palms as he left his sloppy trail. Impatiently, he would free you from the confines of it, tug at the cotton and greet your warm, soft flesh with his aching fingers. You, of course, would give him full permission to remove it once you felt the insistence of his touch, felt his thumb drag over the small of your back, across that dip he caught a glance of last night. 

Tugging the cloying barrier up and over your head, he would shield you from the door with his body, letting the mass of the AV cart block any eyes wandering the hall from what he was about to do next. In the soft, flickering light from the television, your chest would rise and fall, spilling over from your white lace bra as it heaved in anticipation. 

The real you sank deeper into your chair. Shoulders slumped, shielding your eyes with your knuckles as you stared blankly down into the sea of papers. There was a heat emanating from the back corner of the room, one you could feel with the crown of your head. You knew exactly where it was coming from, and from whom. Hesitant as you were to address him, it was burning too hot to ignore, boring into you with a palpable insistence. With a swift, upward glance, you faced off. 

Eddie’s lids were heavy, cheeks pinking at the sudden confrontation. He licked his lips, eyes darkening as he swallowed. You could almost feel them again, cradling yours in a phantom kiss just like they did fourteen hours ago. His mouth had been so needy. So hot and plush, tongue slipping against yours like he’d been starving. 

Eddie closed his eyes in a slow blink. When he opened them again, they were so heavy with want that it rippled from across the room, shooting straight between your legs. You’d never been kissed like that before. Kissed so hard it robbed you of your senses, of your oxygen, of your goodness. It was easy to imagine; doing it again. Especially when he was looking at you like that. 

You indulged for just a moment, joined him in the scene. Alone together in the dark, empty room. It was easy to imagine what those lips would feel like going further; sucking your collar bone, grazing it with his teeth, trailing his sopping mouth to the place where your neck meets your shoulder before his calloused thumb slipped the strap of your bra to the side. 

Wringing a hand behind your neck, you glanced toward the television with a sudden feigned interest. The feeling wouldn’t leave you though; clouding your mind with wet smacking lips and the chill of the air at your nipples. 

He knew they would be perfect. He could just tell. They would heave beneath his watering mouth, puckered and primed for him to latch. Capturing one of them in his wet heat, you would melt into his waiting arms. Back arched, mewling so needy and loud it would cause the door to open if the scene was real. He was certain he’d be able to taste your hums through your skin here too. Even better perhaps.

Eddie shifted in his seat with a mild grimace, hand darting beneath his desk in time with a swift raise of his hips as chair legs scraped the tile. He glanced at his lap, then back up at you. 

Your face became a roaring furnace, paling only to the heat pooling under you. The pale television light flickered across his flushed cheeks, his lowered brow, his smoldering eyes that held you captive. He wanted you to know. Indulging, you imagined what was going on under that desk. What it would look like if he were to stand, to scale the room in a few eager strides and show you up close. 

“Need you now, Eddie,” you’d croon with a swipe of your hand up the generous bulge he was sporting, punctuating it with a pinch of his weeping head through the denim.

Eddie took his cue. In one dramatic swoop, the papers fluttered to the floor, the plant made a mess of the tile, the stapler clattered beside your shattered mug as pens rolled down the isles. Backing you into the edge of the big desk, he kissed you again. Hot and slick, body flush with yours, pressing his need against your pelvis as he probed your aching mouth. Parting only to shed himself of his outer layer, to lay it down behind you like a blanket, shielding your bare back from the cold wood.

From the confines of his small desk across the room, real Eddie took a deep breath, lids closing heavy on the inhale, fluttering open to a pained pout on the exhale.

Seating yourself on the edge of your desk on set, you would free him from the confines of his jeans. Pawing at his belt, you would tuck your fingers beneath it and tug urgently, rattling metal and leather before working his button free. Slowly, your nimble fingers would locate and lower his zipper, and a sigh would be the second thing that escaped. 

You were an A-list actress, looking down at his proud length like you’d never seen a dick before in your whole life. The coyness with which you peered from under your lashes was thoroughly convincing. Oscar-worthy. With a timid, chalk-dusted finger, you would draw a line from base to tip, admiring the way it bobbed, the way your touch encouraged it to glisten. Real Eddie swallowed, drawing a deep, impatient breath. Convincing as you were of your innocence, he was certain those fingers would know what they were doing as they traced his ridges with a teasing curiosity.

Unable to take any more of it, his hands would find your knees; bare where the stockings left off. They would roam under your thick wool skirt, up those impossibly soft thighs and draw back the curtain as you braced yourself against the desk behind you. In this scene, of course, your costume called for nothing underneath. You would be ready for him. Back flush with his coat, legs spread, glistening with need in the pale light from the television behind him. 

Impatient as he was, he would be remiss not take this opportunity to satisfy a curiosity of his own. Crouching down to level with your sex, he would take in your scent first. Breathe in your delicious, heady pheromones, let it cloud his vision further, as if there was room for anything else other than the persistent thought of you. Eddie wondered what you tasted like. Your mouth was exquisite, so what must you taste like here? With a generous swipe of his tongue, he would find the answer. 

The real you crossed your legs tightly, as if that would stave off the throbbing between them. Real Eddie caught it, the shift in your seat, the subtle raise of your knee under your plaid skirt, the way you worried your lip with your teeth as you glanced shyly toward the papers still, unfortunately, on your desk. 

What might his tongue feel like there? The question grappled for your attention despite futile attempts to shove it away. His tongue had a certain talent, you’d noticed, as it probed against yours in the dark last night. A sense of rhythm was a hard thing to teach. His tongue would be warm, you were certain of that, saliva slick as he pressed it flatly to your heat. He would take his time, savoring every groove and fold across this new terrain as if he were committing it to memory. Propping up on your elbows against the satin liner of his coat, you would catch those deep brown eyes, peering into yours with a smoldering hunger, lower lids pinching in pleasure as he drew slowly upward.

You would paw at the crown of his head, rake your fingers through his curls and tug, feeling his approving hum against your core. Halo of frizz tickling your thighs, his tongue would lathe slow and steady, closing those plush lips over your aching bud before sucking a kiss where you needed it most.

Exhaling deeply, you toyed with a pen on your desk; pressed your thumb into the cold metal nub, studied the tension a moment before releasing. Eyes unfocused, you were helpless as the film played out behind them. Click. Click. Click. Light flickered from the TV, twenty eyes distracted and oblivious. Throbbing, you shifted in your seat and caught the scent of your own arousal. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks. Never in your life had you been so grateful to be in the dark.

Try as you might to gleam a single chaste thought from the words printed below you, there was no space in your head for it. Just Eddie, crouched over you like a preying animal, looking at you with those lust-blown eyes like he’d make you his meal. Wrapping those ringed fingers around your hips, shifting his to meet them as he stood. You could almost feel it; his cockhead pressing with insistence at your entrance. Almost feel the safety of his shadow, how his curls would kiss his cheekbones as he hovered above you, how his lids would flutter as he pushed in. That deep, relieved sigh you would both breathe together as the long ache was soothed upon joining.

It was a moving picture. 

From the back of the room, Eddie watched your face burrow into your hand; fingers splayed across your forehead and eyes, shoulders slumping on your ragged exhale. How desperately he itched to ease them with his hands, his teeth, his tongue. It was painful; his cock straining against the confines of his jeans. Silently, he thanked himself for grabbing the black pair from the pile on the chair in his bedroom this morning, certain he was leaking through by now. 

Slowly, he shifted his hips upward, relishing in the drag of the fabric against his sensitive head as it moved toward his waistband. He paused before tucking it, arching forward again with sinful fulfillment. It felt good. Too good. Good enough to do it again. The way the cotton raked against the heart-ridge of his cock, the way the stiff bend in his zipper hit that sweet spot when his hips canted forward. 

Eddie glanced around the room, flushing furiously. All eyes were forward. No one seemed to notice.  Gripping the edge of the desk, he continued to rock his hips; slow and quiet micro-movements, careful not to creak the plastic chair. The shrinking, logical part of his brain couldn’t believe he was doing this. It was a new low. Perverted, even for him. But the tension was mounting, becoming unbearable, and the relief it offered was enough to drown out the shame.

He bet you would be so tight. He could almost feel those gorgeous legs wrap around his waist, your boots crossing at the ankles behind him, drawing him closer as you whined from the stretch. He could almost see you bite your lip and knit your brows, feel your fingers dig into his strong shoulders as you adjusted to his size. He would go slow, knowing it’s been a while for you. You would clench and arch but take him so well as he inched his way to the hilt. Then, bracing against the wood, he would happily give you what you needed — jack hammer hard, rutting like an animal in heat. You would be sinfully wet. He bet you were right now, sitting up there with your legs crossed and head down. Pity it would go to waste. If he had it his way it would be dripping onto the desk, slicking his balls as those pretty, perfect tits of yours bounced with every snap of his hips. 

The fabric was hitting him just right, scratching that itch with each flex of his cock against the dampened cotton. It was a slow mount, subtle and teasing, but it was enough. Anything would have been enough. A breeze. Eyes closed, forehead hung on the heel of his hand in feigned boredom, he imagined it what you would feel like under his thumb; rubbing that little button of yours that made you squirm and moan so deeply he could feel it from the inside. 

The hardest part was steadying his breath. He supposed he couldn’t fault his body, it was just doing what was natural in a place he shouldn’t be doing it. He couldn’t fault his heart for hammering, or his hips from wanting to buck, or his hands for itching to expedite the relief. What he would give to crank the volume on the television, to draw a curtain and just get it over with. God forbid you wisened up to his antics, although the thought did send a jolt to his dick. He knew he should stop before he did something utterly shameful, but the spot he was hitting was just too sweet, a feeling he was helpless but to chase.

He would give you everything you ever wanted. With gritted teeth he would ream you until you came undone, make that pretty face of yours contort over and over as you writhed against the desk, howling his name into the drop ceiling. The slap of skin on skin would echo off the tile until he’d rendered you utterly stupid, which was difficult to do.

“You want it, huh?” he’d huff into your ear, peppered with nip of your lobe. “Want me? Want my cum?”

Tugging the hair at the nape of his neck, you’d mewl your answer. “Yes. Please.”

Slumping forward in his desk, Eddie buried his head in the crook of his arm. Fuck. His boots dug into the tile, thighs straining, lip pinched in his teeth, desperate to restrain the bucking of his hips. There was an animal inside him, tugging like a rubber band waiting to snap. His aching balls begged as they drew upward, cockhead so sensitive it could feel every stitch. Eddie burrowed his nose into the desk, both chasing the feeling and running from it.

He would show you how much of a man he was, paint you with proof on the inside. Remind you as it slicked your thighs with every click of your boots down the hall.

Huffing into the dark cocoon, his free hand gripped the metal legs below him, holding on for dear life as the wave approached its crest. Hips stuttering, breath fogging the desk, he hit the wall. The one that made his mind go blank, his eyes roll back, his whole body tense and tingle like a yawn. 

It came out like a whimper. Warmer and wetter with each pathetic spurt. A small, strangled sound threatened the back of his throat. It tried to escape his gaping, downturned mouth, but he choked it back. It was a relief to get it out, like a dirty confession. Wave after hot, thick wave of frustration pooled in his boxers, clung to his balls as he emptied them completely. When the last of it crested with nothing more to give, his hips rocked to stillness, and the rest of his body went limp. 

He looked like a puddle of leather and hair. Squinting as you peered around the student in front of him, you wondered why his back was heaving like he had been running. 

Eddie peeled his face up from the desk; cheeks flushed, mouth slack, looking at you in a way you could only describe as absolutely fucked-out. A stray ringlet swayed in his ragged breath. There was that feeling again, that pulse between your legs that made you clench them. Quickly as he’d met your eyes, he blinked away as if it burned.

Eddie was a mess. Shifting in his seat with a grimace, he could feel the cotton cling to his skin as he sobered to the chalkboard, and the desks, and the twenty other people he prayed were oblivious to what he’d just done. It was like he was waking up from a wet dream, only he had never gone to sleep. He blinked down at his desk, mortified as his cock softened happily, lolling in its sticky puddle. It was seeping through the denim, cooling in his lap as the seconds ticked by. Glancing at the clock, he calculated another twenty minutes before he could clean it up. Twenty whole minutes to sit with the consequences, to stew in a puddle of his own shame. He supposed he could excuse himself to the bathroom but that would, of course, mean addressing you. It would mean getting up and walking in front of your desk, and the entire class, while you handed him a hall pass like a fucking child. He would rather sit.

Blinking back your thoughts from the gutter, you righted yourself in your chair, chastising yourself as you uncrossed your legs, your own mess trailing cooly against your inner thigh. It was uncomfortable, embarrassing, but there was nothing you could about it now. Flipping through your Rolodex of thoughts, you searched for anything. Anything at all that was chase, or sensible, or mildly interesting. 

Looking down at your naked hands, another scene fell open. This time the set came from memory. A pawn shop in early summer. It was vivid — the rain beating against the large window framing the on-ramp of the highway, Frank Sinatra mocking from the dusty speaker in the corner. The diamond sparkled magnificently as you passed the ring over the glass countertop. Brilliant rainbow fractals brought out by certain lights. They would catch you by surprise sometimes, tickle you with delight in the supermarket or the mall. It winked at you under the fluorescents then, a fleeting goodbye. In the moment, you weren’t sure which was worse — catching your own pained reflection in the glass below you or the pity in the eyes of the man who took your once-prized possession.

You left with twelve hundred dollars in an envelope, a fraction of what it cost him. The banker box rattled in the passenger’s seat as you slammed the door. Stuffed too full for a lid, your quill mug clattered against the plates your grandma gave you. You’d run out of newspaper wrapping your knick-knacks, resorted to your clothes to pad the rest.

The mug cast a shadow across your desk now, flickering in the light of the television. 

You clenched your fists, fighting the touch-memory of Eddie’s ribs under your palms. You’d felt safe for a moment; nestled in his coat, in his hair, melting into the heat of his mouth. What you would give to live it all again, right now. What you would give to have him all to yourself, every day. For the luxury to go on a date, to be seen in public together, to explore where this was going. Glancing across the sea of twenty desks, reality stared back. Where did you think this was going? 

Eddie’s pencil clattered to the floor. His curse was audible, even from the front of the room. Was this where you would place your trust? Your career, your future? In the reckless hands of a twenty year old man? He could ruin you. With a bold move, or a misplaced word, or a drunken gloat one night with his friends. Or god forbid it all went south and in a blind fury he lashed out and retaliated somehow. He wouldn’t do that, would he? You thought you knew him well enough to know that he would never, but did you really? You’d known Eddie Munson for all of four months, which felt strange to consider. It terrified you, the depth of your feelings in so short a time. Terrified you almost as much as the consequences for them. 

Your hand twitched beside the green grading pen resting on the pile of tests you’d barely touched in the last thirty minutes. There were more in your bag to be graded — the stack you’d abandoned on your coffee table last night. It would all catch up to you eventually. The homework, the papers, the secrets. After all you’d been through, had you learned nothing? No one really knows what they want at twenty years old. You certainly didn’t. A head full of fantasies is what you had. Snatching your pen with a firm click, you slashed an X through one of the questions on the test below you and buried yourself in your work.

When the bell finally rang, Eddie hung back in his seat like he always did, waiting for his moment with you. But by the time he had stripped himself of his jacket and secured his flannel around his waist, you had already made for the door.

______

The metal serving spoon smacked the plastic tray, leaving behind a glob of tomato sauce over the tangle of limp noodles. With a tight-lipped nod of thanks, Eddie took it from the lunch lady and made his way into the settled cafeteria, finding his place at the end of the Hellfire table. Steamed carrots bounced from the tray onto the sticky veneer as it fell from his hands with a clatter. Slugging off his backpack to the floor, he slumped into the empty chair that had been waiting patiently for him for the past twenty minutes. 

“There he is,” Jeff nodded to Dustin across the table.

“What’s the story this time? Got abducted by aliens?” chortled Dave.

He would think they would stop asking questions by now, but apparently he needed to teach them a lesson. “Nah, just… jerking off,” Eddie said with a deadpan shake of his head before spearing a meatball with his fork.

The half-truth earned him a rowdy chuckle from the peanut gallery, a gag from Mike. He would spare them the uglier details, like the balled up boxers shoved in the bottom of his backpack or how awkward it was to strip them off in the stall of a bustling bathroom. Glancing down at his lap, he checked that the flannel was still cloaking the drying white stain. 

Jeff’s leather jacket squeaked from the bend in his arm as he leaned against the table. “I was just filling the boys in on the show last night,” he said with a glint in his eyes.

Eddie looked up with a full mouth, eyes like saucers. 

“Yeah, told them about our special guest,” Dave added with a raise of his eyebrows.

He could only respond with a nervous huff, turning back to his tray as his stomach did kick flips. 

“Is it true?” Mike asked Eddie. “She seriously got up and danced?”

Eddie swallowed the whole mouthful at once. He couldn’t lie his way out of this one. “I mean, nothing too crazy. Just for a song.”

“Yeah a song Eddie made us play for her,” Jeff said with a wink. Dustin and Mike’s mouthes fell open simultaneously.

“Think I saw her tits at one point,” Dave reminisced. 

Eddie scoffed. “You did not see her tits, dude. You’re so full of shit.”

“I dunno man, her shirt was pretty short,” Gareth added with a playful nudge. 

“They’re both full of shit,” Eddie shakily assured to the two youngest members. 

They barely paid him a glance, chuckling amongst the rest while Dave rubbed lewd circles over his chest. 

“HEY,” Eddie barked. “Look at me, all of you. This doesn’t leave this table, do you understand me? If I catch wind that any of you went and told anyone about last night I’ll skin you alive, I swear to god.”

Gareth shot him a tired look. “Jesus, dude. Nothing even happened.”

The knot in Eddie’s stomach released slightly. “That’s right. Nothing happened.”

Dave snorted, stabbing his bendy straw into a leftover carrot. “Yeah man, chill out. Nobody’s gonna get your girlfriend in trouble.” 

The blood drained from Eddie’s face as the whole gang erupted in laughter. The uproarious, table slapping kind. It was a joke. A good one, it seemed. The word echoed like the pulse pounding in his ears. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. A warm, gooey word. One that made his stomach churn with longing. Biting back venom, he wondered how their faces would change if he slapped them with the truth. Would they still be laughing? Would they even believe him? They could laugh all they want—for your sake at least—but it stung nonetheless. 

Dave caught the bitter shift in his expression. “What? You clearly have the hots for her.”

“Who doesn’t?” Jeff laughed.

“ANYWAY!” Eddie punctuated with a smack of his hands against the table. “Gareth, you’ve been awfully quiet about your date this past Sunday. Please, regale us,” he gestured grandly.

Gareth chuckled nervously, pushing a noodle around with his fork. “Oh uh, nothing really happened there either.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Seriously dude? You’ve been on like three dates and you haven’t even made it to first base?”

“I told you, Cindy’s not like that!” Gareth defended before glancing around sheepishly. “But we did…kinda… hold hands on Sunday.” 

A long oooh emanated from the table. “Hands cupped or laced?” Dustin asked with a raise of his eyebrows, demonstrating with his own hands.

“Ok so,” Gareth began with an emerging smirk, “you know the Large Marge part of Pee-wee’s Big Adventure where her face goes all,” he demonstrated with a bug-eyed look, hands splayed on either side of his face. 

The table responded with chuckles and nods. “Gets me every time,” muttered Dustin.

“Well, Cindy’d never seen it before, so she jumped and like, grabbed my arm,” he paused for effect, “so I just went for it.”

Approval bubbled up from his captive audience. 

“Cupped at first,” he clarified, cutting through the noise, “but after like ten minutes she didn’t pull away, so,” he laced his fingers triumphantly. There was a barking applause, fists rattling the table. Jeff clapped him on the back with a blinding grin. 

Eddie was an island. Oceans away, he managed a soft smile. His night had been far from innocent — a frantic tangle of hands, and tongues, and teeth in the frigid darkness. Phantom feelings that tugged at his lips and fingers, at the forefront of his every thought. Thumbing at the rubber rim of the lunch table, he dreamt of a universe where the walls and roles fell away, one where he could speak of his firsts too. 

______

Eddie had been watching the clock all day. In eighth period trigonometry he watched second hand crawl around the clock face fifty times as his thumbnail worked the paint off a pencil, chipping at the indents his teeth left behind. The final bell was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. Slugging his backpack over his shoulder, he didn’t even bother to stop at his locker before ducking down the hall where your room resided. He almost collided with a straggling sophomore exiting your door on his way in. 

Perhaps he had arrived too early. It wasn’t the scene he was accustomed to — you, standing at your desk, shoving folders into your satchel like you were trying to make a run for it. His small wooden chair still leaned against the wall. The AV cart still towered where it was when the lights were off. Glancing down, he quickly checked to make sure the flannel was draping correctly. 

“Going somewhere?” he teased, unable to hide the concern creeping in.

Your smile was a coy, fragile thing. Chest rising with the kicking of your heart, you opened your mouth but had no words to show for it. Fumbling with an overstuffed folder, you hovered it over the opening of your bag before sliding it in with a sigh.

Eddie shut the door. 

Turning over his shoulder, he snatched your eyes with a startling hunger. Your hands went slack, leather slumping against the desk as his heavy boots met the tile. He was slow in his approach, stalking past the empty rows, parched eyes drinking in every detail of your features. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you met him at the edge of your desk.

His curls were wild, chocolate eyes fiending, a soft concern weighing his brow. Under the fluorescents you could see very clearly what you’d felt last night. The shadow of stubble, the dip of his cupid’s bow, the soft ball of his nose that was cold against your cheek. Under his jacket, the taught landscape of his chest rose and fell. You swallowed, toying with the wool of your skirt. 

“Hey,” he half-whispered, lids drooping ever so slightly. 

“Hey,” you replied, like your tongue was feeling the word for the first time. It tugged a gooey softness from the corners of his mouth, and you cursed yourself for the pang to taste it again. So plush and pink, drawing your gaze long enough for him to notice. 

Eddie dropped his backpack to the floor, tossing it hard enough to collide with the wall below the chalkboard. Shoulders unburdened, he rolled them back to assume the fullness of his height. With pupils blown, he darted out his tongue to wet his lips, looming like a wolf that sees a rabbit. 

He closed in with a step, to which you retreated. The edge of the desk bumped the back of your thighs. Heart hammering, you peered into his hungry eyes. You’d been here before. Not long ago, in your imagination. Different, darker, quieter. 

Eddie drank in the sight of you — your tight cotton shirt and your soft heaving chest. How the band of your skirt hugged the curve of your waist. You, woman.  

Like a false sense of safety, his scent enveloped you. It was dizzying, how badly your hands burned to trace the swell of his pecks, to tangle in his hair, to capture his hot, slick mouth again. Terrifying, the part of you that begged for him to press forward, to tumble you backward, to take his place on top of you. Timidly, your fingers curled over the corner of the desk. 

As he leaned closer, you could feel the tingle of heat from his chest, the ghost of his breath on your face. His arm became a cage as he steadied his palm against the wood behind you. “Been thinking about you all day,” he murmured in your ear. 

You shivered, lids fluttering closed for a selfish, greedy moment. Glancing over his shoulder at the narrow sliver of a window in the door, you peered at the lockers on the other side of the hall. There were some still slamming, slowly petering out as voices drifted further with each passing second. “Eddie,” you warned, placing a hand over his sternum. Eyes dipping slightly at your touch, the solid swell of his chest expanded under the cotton. He stepped back with a gentle push, your palm lingering before falling away. 

A deep breath fumed through his nostrils, heavy and tired. With a tight lipped nod, he backed away, pivoting toward his folded chair beside the door. It screeched as he dragged it across the tile, past the rows of desks, in front of yours, all the way to his usual place beside you. He snapped it open and paused, gripping the wood in his palms, staring down at the place where he’d sat countless times. How small it was compared to yours; padded with armrests and wheels. 

“So we just…” he flexed his fingers and shook his head, unable to suppress the sting in his voice, “go back to normal then?”

Eyes cast down at the empty seats, you sighed. “I don’t… think we can.”

“Good,” he stated, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Come on, let’s sit down.”

It was enticing, that chair with its worn leather padding. What was more enticing was the space beneath the desk; a safe haven for hands and arms, for cupped palms and laced fingers. On top of the desk lay your bag, and your keys, and the plant still alive in its unbroken pot. Your head was pounding; a dull ache that had been radiating from your temples since lunch. Lockers slammed outside the room, fluorescents hot on your skin. With a deep, lamenting sigh, you gave him all you could manage — your honesty. “It’s been… a hell of a day for me—”

“You could say that again.”

“I—” you sighed sharply, “I really think I just need to go home a-and… think things through.”

“What’s there to think about?” The words tumbled out like an avalanche he couldn’t chase. Your balking expression made him wish he could suck them all back.

“Oh gee, I don’t know,” you gestured wildly to the classroom, “we could start with my job.”

“I’m sorry that was—y-you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” The steam from the pressure could have burned him.

“We—we both clearly have feelings for each other,” he explained, lowering his voice. “I just… thought we would figure it out.”

There was a gap between you, cluttered with papers and pens. Your bag slumped in the middle of the mess, gaping and stuffed to the brim. Pulse hammering behind your eyes, you blinked them slowly with a pained sigh. “I know,” you admitted, toying with the strap. “Eddie, please, I need some time to think about all this.” 

It hurt to imagine. You, going home, sitting there in your slippers at your coffee table and deciding that he wasn’t worth the risk. Closing the flap on your satchel, you tugged the leather heap across the desk, but Eddie’s hand was quick to pounce. “No, we need to talk.” 

Frustration pinched your brow. “I know but—”

“Then let’s talk, yeah?” he gestured to the chairs.

A cluster of shadows passed by the window over your shoulder. “Not here, not right now.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Then let’s get out of here.”

“And go where? A table at Benny’s?” you snapped.

“You’ve got a place, right?”

Folding your arms, you shot him an incredulous look, though the thought was both thrilling and terrifying. You lowered your voice. “What happened last night was… impulsive.”

“I’d say it was a long time coming.”

You sighed. “Regardless, I think that’s enough for this week.”

Eddie would disagree, but his tongue had a wrangle on the words this time. In the pause, it was easy for both of you to picture; his clothes on your bedroom floor. Easy to picture the ways he could ruin you in private — fold you like the chair under his wringing palms. Still, the ways he could ruin you in public were equally vivid. 

You turned to grab your coat, brushing past him. The arm of his jacket was smooth against yours. Electrified by the contact, you lingered for a moment, unable to abstain from drinking in his form, his scent, from basking in the prickle of his aura. 

He could see it clearly in the harsh light — the shadow that clung beneath your lower lashes, the sagging exhaustion in your eyes. Gravity tugged at the corners of your natural lips, so different from how they appeared last night — dark and dusty red, framing a smile that outshined the moon. His fingers twisted against the wood. “Please stay,” he begged softly. 

Your eyes drifted shut, a split-second relish in the sweet pang of his voice, though the words rung a different bell; a different man saying them. In a flash, another scene appeared — you, at the door of your old home in Indianapolis, cradling the last of your belongings as your free hand gripped the knob. 

Opening your eyes to the radiator, and the windows, and the pale grey sky before you now, you relinquished a shaky sigh and tucked your fingers under the thick collar of your coat. It still held a subtle fragrance, clinging to the memory of last night, desperately as you were. Eddie watched with rapt attention as your brow pinched in pain, fingers twitching under the wool he’d memorized the shape of you through. When your lip began to tremble, his hand lost control. 

“Hey,” he whispered, meeting the soft cotton slope of your shoulder with his palm. 

Your head snapped toward his umber eyes; warmer than the hand that thawed your shoulder, callus catching on the cotton as his thumb soothed over it. You followed it down to his wrist, to the tendons flexing beneath the chain, dipping under the sleeve of his worn, leather coat. How desperately you longed to wrap yourself inside it again, to nestle into his beating chest and hide there forever. 

A voice crackled over the loudspeaker, and reflex had you flinching. “I’m sorry,” you mouthed, tears burning behind your eyes as you snatched your coat off the hook.

Bitterly, he dropped his hand. The contact hurt to break, almost as much as it hurt to watch you don your coat, to snatch your bag, to sling the heavy strap over your shoulder. Helplessly, he stood there, feeling like a fool until the welling of your eyes made it unbearable not to advance. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” he pleaded. “Like—like a big deal. Not if we don’t make it one.”

You froze, eyes narrowing as a pained fume left your nose. “That’s easy for you to say.” With a bitter huff, you turned on your heel and left him in the classroom with only the echo of your footsteps. 

______

A/N: Yes, in my story Principal Higgins is a woman. I know in canon Eddie says “flip him the bird,” but for some reason my brain didn’t register that until literally two months ago. I always pictured Higgins as a stern, ancient, nun-like woman and I can’t seem to shake that characterization from my brain. Perhaps I’m just scarred from Catholic grade school. I think it works well for this story, so Martha Higgins it is. 

Also sorry I never stated this in the tags but the upside down does not exist in this universe.

The smut is coming very soon. Pinky swear. Our Lady of Internal Conflict is just having a moment. 

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @mantorokk-writes @storiesbyrhi @trashmouth-richie @carolmunson @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @mrsjellymunson @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @barbiedragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @sllooney @lunaladybug734 @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins

______

MASTERLIST ⎮ AO3 ⎮ KO-FI

[wingsofimagery]

Bucket of Surprise

✴ Summary: To say you're surprised is an understatement when a student's prank has led to you breaking down in private. Yunho would rather drown in your tears than let you cry on any longer. ✴ Characters: PE Teacher!Jeong Yunho x Teacher!reader ✴ Genre: Hurt Comfort ✴ Warnings: Kinda bullying, not really. ✴ Word Count: 744 ✴ A/N: Just a little short writing for my friend!!

“I’m so sorry; he made me do it.” 

Yunho’s eyes were uncharacteristically widened as he stared at your figure drowned in ice-cold water. The students laughed at you while the culprit looked ashamed of what he had been dared to do. You were shocked, to say the least. You did not think your students would do this to you, as most behaved well. You did not know whether to scold them or run off unprofessionally in embarrassment. 

“Uh,” Yunho began, grabbing one of the extra towels he had laid out for students that may need it. He was a well-prepared PE teacher, one many students were fond of. His priority at this moment was to get you out of the room and dried up before you caught a cold. The room had air conditioning, so the longer you stayed, the more susceptible you got. 

He swiftly asked the teacher that walked in to collect their group of students to watch over the remaining kids before grasping your hand in his larger one. With a soft ‘come with me,’ the two of you left the room with kids oohing scandalously at both of you. 

He took you to his office, where he grabbed an extra set of clothes for you to change into. You stayed quiet the entire time; the situation continuously played in your head, leading you to question why your student did that to you. Why were you the victim? They said they did not mean to, but it happened; that was something that could not be changed. Were you overthinking this? It was an innocent prank, after all. You were not physically harmed, so you thought you could let it go—

“Hey, change into these. The bathroom is across the hall; will you be okay?” 

Maybe it was because of how gentle Yunho’s voice sounded, but the tears you unknowingly collected at the bottom of your eyes began to spill. Yunho frantically tried to reassure you. He did not know exactly how to handle this but he did his damnest to calm you down.

“We can scold them later! You’re okay! Look, it’s my fault that I let this happen. If I had been more observant I would have noticed and prevented it from happening.” 

“What are you talking about?” you sniffled. 

He pulled you into a hug, startling you since this kind of display of affection was reserved only for outside of work. 

“Yun-” 

“Shhh. Just take it in. I know how you feel very comforted by my hugs.” 

So you listened to him and squeezed your arms around him tightly. You were going the milk the love out of him from this hug that would otherwise had to wait until you got home. The two of you were silent until you realized you got his clothes wet too. You immediately pulled away. 

“I’m sorry—” he cut you off again.

“Princess, it’s okay. Just go, and get cleaned up. We have one more class and then it’s the end of day. Let’s get through this so we can get out and I will treat you to something good. How about it?” 

You laughed gleefully, nodding as you pulled away. You liked the idea a lot. Getting to spend time with your favorite puppy and getting to eat good food was always a hit for you. So you made haste with changing out of your wet clothes and into his extra set. 

When the two of you walked back to the gym, your arms folded before your chest. 

“Alright, now I need you all to cooperate and tell me whose idea this was. Either the entire class is being punished, or you tell me who it is, and I’ll only punish that one person.” 

A few students were quick to spout out a name. Yunho wrote up a slip for the kid and instructed them to go to the principal’s office. 

With that resolved, you started to gather your students and made your way out of the gym. You sent Yunho a sweet smile, then waited for your students to all exit the room to blow a flying kiss his way. The way he caught it and smacked his palm against his lips as if that was you kissing him made you laugh. You gave him a wave before leading your students back to the classroom for the last period. 

Neither you nor Yunho could wait for the end of the day.

[lavendercharm]

Linger, Chapter 1: She's So Mean

Summary: From the moment you meet her, you can't stand Melissa Schemmenti.

Warnings: Strong Language

----

You’ve always been one to go above and beyond. Whether it was because you were truly an ambitious go-getter, or because it was actually rooted in a deep-seated fear of letting others down, who can say? What mattered was you were reliable. You did your best to stay organized and on top of things, despite the fact that you struggled with it. You thrived when it came to creative problem-solving. And you were never, ever late.

At least, that’s the mantra you repeated to yourself as you mentally practiced the apology you’d be giving Abbott Elementary’s principal. Glancing at the watch on your wrist as you burst through the front door, you curse under your breath. Arriving almost a full 45 minutes later than you were supposed to was not the way to make the first impression you wanted. You’d been a bundle of nerves the night before, prepping the following day’s lunch as much as possible. You’d made a concerted effort to get to bed at a decent hour, you’d laid out your “first day subbing at a new school” outfit, and you’d even set a few different alarms in order to prevent this exact situation.

It might have slipped your attention that the alarms you’d set were actually for the PM.

The surge of adrenaline when you’d seen 7:02 AM blinking back at you from the digital clock on your bedside table as you woke was more effective than any cup of coffee. You were barely finished dressing before you were out the front door with your shoulder bag in tow - hair piled in an unkempt mess on your head and makeup, socks, and half-prepped lunch forsaken in your haste.

Mercifully, most subs had pre-planned lessons to follow, so you didn’t have to worry about throwing off your student’s schedules too much today. But seeing as this was your first day at Abbott, you weren’t familiar with the building layout. Even worse, you’d never met the principal, which means you have no idea what kind of reaction to expect in regard to your tardiness.

You knew students started to arrive at Abbott at 7:30 for an 8 o’clock start to the day, and you’d been instructed to arrive no later than 7:15. You looked up from your watch to get your bearings in the unfamiliar environment. Just up the hall from the doors you entered, you saw an office with glass walls and what looked like a check in area where there stood a tall, stunning black woman.

She was dressed stylishly, shockingly so for someone who works in an elementary school. A form-fitting olive green dress hugged her curves, which were emphasized by the large brown belt around her waist. Her hair was long and looked right from a salon, her nails meticulously cared for. She wore red lipstick and her eye makeup could easily be seen on the cover of a magazine. Her face was buried in her phone, so she hadn’t noticed you enter the building. You approached her, your hectic morning creating a distinctly frazzled air around you.

You felt silly and underdressed standing next to her, your normally put-together appearance ditched in favor of time. You silently thanked your past self for having the foresight to lay out your clothes for the day. Even still, your plain black work trousers, white button-down, and sneakers felt distinctly out of place next to this woman. As you stood there, she didn’t look up from her phone.

Unsure what else to do, after a moment you made yourself known by clearing your throat. Without looking up from her phone, a single, sculpted brow raised in question, followed by a short, “What do you want?”

Taken aback, you stuttered, “I-I, uh, I’m the principal- I mean, I’m looking for the principal.” You felt heat rising in your cheeks at your mistake. ‘Good one,’ you thought.

At least your slip-up gained you some ground. The woman lowered her phone and glanced at you, giving you a once-over from head to toe. “What do you want with the principal? If you’re here to complain about something, you’ll have to send it in an email or Instagram DM, she’s on vacation.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach - the principal wasn’t even here? You weren’t sure if Abbott had a vice principal. You were already late, you didn’t know where you were supposed to go, and you weren’t sure if the vaguely-unfriendly woman in front of you would be able to help.

“Oh, actually I’m a sub-” you started.

You were cut off by a loud, “Oh! Well, why didn’t you say so? Why are you dressed like a waiter?”

You frowned. She was right. You did look like a waiter.

You were stunned as the woman’s entire demeanor changed. A large smile graced her features as she held out her hand. “Ava Coleman, principal of Abbott Elementary.” You stared at the outstretched hand before taking it, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Wait, did you just lie to my face about being on vacation?”

“Usually when someone introduces themself, you’re supposed to do it back. Unless you’re like Leo DiCaprio levels of famous, obviously,” she prompts you, entirely ignoring your question.

You give her your name, overwhelmed by the whirlwind that has been this morning and the whiplash of the woman’s sudden change in attitude. “Nice to meet you,” Ava says with a glowing smile as she releases your hand. “You know you’re late, right?”

You nod, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. All things considered, Ava didn’t seem upset, or even remotely reprimanding, for that matter. She might as well have been asking about the weather she was so nonchalant. Having braced yourself for a lecture or a raised voice, you found yourself feeling just the slightest bit relieved. “I’m sorry about that. This isn’t… it’s not the norm for me, I promise. It won’t happen again.”

“Girl, I am not pressed,” Ava says, brushing off your apology with a wave of her hand. “At least you showed up at all. Trying to get a sub lately has been like trying to get Taylor Swift tickets - a whole lot of waiting just to find out there aren’t any left.” She gives a cheesy grin at her own joke, not waiting for you to react before continuing, “You’ll actually be with another teacher. Her aide has appendicitis, she’s out for at least the next week and a half.”

You were surprised, not unpleasantly so. You’d expected to have your own room, but there were plus sides to subbing in for teaching aides. “Oh, okay. That will be good actually, I can get a feel for things and watch how she runs her class, maybe ask her for pointers,” you state as you start to follow Ava down the hall.

Ava glances back at you, a look you can’t quite discern in her eye. “Uh, yeah,” she said, entirely unconvincing. “I’m sure she’d love to share pointers. She’s been a teacher here for a long time, so she does stuff a certain way.”

Ava’s words reignite some of the anxiety you’d felt starting to dissipate. You thought having another teacher to lead the class and watch would be a good thing, but Ava is making it seem like this teacher would be difficult. You’d had plenty of old, strict, mean teachers as a student. When you first started subbing, you’d met a teacher at another school who went through teaching aides like Duracell batteries. She’d been in the same school for well over 35 years, so it was essentially her way or the highway. She was so strict and particular, most people ended up taking the highway.

Ava stopped at a door on the right side of the hall, and as she pulled the door open, you heard a chorus of tiny voices say, “Good morning Miss Schemmenti!” At least you’d managed to make it before any actual instruction began.

Popping her head in the room, you heard Ava say, “Melissa, you got a sub today.” A ripple of ‘oohs’ and giggles spread throughout the class. Kids were always interested in a new face.

“Oh really?” came a dulcet voice with the strongest Philly accent you’d heard in a minute. It was tinged with incredulity and annoyance. “A sub who can’t be bothered to show up on time?”

Your stomach churned with anxiety and shame, but you felt a slight spike of annoyance as well. You suppose you couldn’t blame her, but you hadn’t even met this woman yet. You pushed these feelings aside as best you could as Ava replied, “You’re lucky you got a sub at all girl. I didn’t have to put her in your class. You’re welcome!” Stepping aside, she gestures you into the room.

The first thing you notice is the sheer amount of kids crammed into one room. There’s a division in the center and one side seems to be slightly older. The confusion must be evident on your face, because Ava chimes in, “We lost a third-grade teacher last minute and we couldn’t afford another one, so we combined a second and third grade class. You get two for one! I love a good deal myself.” Her joke doesn’t land.

Two grades in one room was really unconventional. How could both classes be receiving the right instruction? You couldn’t wrap your brain around it. Either the second graders had to be feeling left behind, or the third graders were learning the same things they’d learned last year. Not to mention the number of kids presented a challenge itself. ‘There have to be close to thirty kids in this room!’ you thought.

The velvety voice from before chimed in, “You could at least try not to look overwhelmed. Jeez, how old are you anyway, kid? I’m not gonna be able to tell the difference between you and the students.” Some small giggles echoed around the room as you turned.

Whatever you had been expecting, this woman was not it. ‘Is everyone working in this school hot?’ you grimaced to yourself as your eyes took in the gorgeous red-headed woman who stood before you. She was older, which in your mind only enhanced her beauty. She was a few inches taller than you, although you noticed the heeled boots she wore. Her deep red hair was luscious, with soft waves begging to have fingers combed through them. A single eyebrow was raised and a decidedly unimpressed expression graced her face, a dusky rose color painting her pursed cupid's bow lips. Her nose was soft yet prominent - it suited her immensely. Her eyes were slightly close-set, a captivating green-hazel color. They were rimmed with a subtle smokey shadow that made them pop.

She had on a long-sleeved black shirt and a few necklaces decorated her collarbones. But what caught your attention most were the leather pants that clung tightly to her soft hips.

You’d always been a sucker for a woman in leather.

“You gonna acknowledge me or not? Do I need to get you a copy of the lesson plan, or a coloring sheet?” She asked, hands on her cocked hips. Another ripple of giggles ricocheted throughout the room. Your cheeks flame with embarrassment. You were used to being teased about your height and young appearance by people you knew, not by strangers using it as a way to question your position at work.

Feeling a surge of indignation and annoyance, you opened your mouth before you could stop yourself and shot back, “I’m 28 years old - how old are you?”

A loud chorus of “Ooooh!” from the class, and in a split-second, you knew you’d fucked up.

A fire ignited behind Melissa’s eyes, her eyebrows coming together and her weight shifting forward. Her posture was rigid, coiled like a rattlesnake, ready to strike at any moment. Her nostrils flared as she bit out, “I’m none-of-your-business years old.” Her tone was dangerous and sharp. The class waited with bated breath to see what you’d do. Would the new sub start a fight with Miss Schemmenti? The tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

You heard, “Neither of you swing before I start recording!” from Ava.

Your heart was rattling inside your chest. ‘And I thought being late would be enough to make the wrong first impression.’ But you didn’t feel sorry for what you said. It wasn’t fair for her to be so critical. If she wanted to play the age card, then you’d meet her where she was at. She had no right to belittle you, even if you were less experienced.

You decided then and there that you didn’t like Melissa Schemmenti.

But you needed to get past this - you both had a class to teach, after all. Standing your ground, you managed to hold her gaze as you said evenly, “If you would be so kind as to point me to my desk? I believe we have a school day to start.” You were immensely proud that your voice didn’t tremble, despite the way your pulse thrummed in your ears.

Glaring at you for a moment longer, you knew you’d live to see another day when Melissa shifted her weight back again, arms folding across her chest. 'Her well-endowed chest,' you thought. You immediately chastised yourself. You needed to get a grip. This was your workplace and you should be keeping things professional, although that had almost gone out the window already. Even if she was alarmingly hot, she’d disrespected you without so much as a “hello.” The woman had been ready to tear you limb from limb a moment ago, and not in a sexy way.

Melissa tilted her head with a pointed look toward the back corner of the room, and you glanced over to see a small desk. You met her gaze once more and muttered a “Thank you.” But as you started to turn, you realized neither she nor the class knew your name. Stopping, you introduced yourself, instinctively holding out a hand.

It occurred to you how incredibly awkward it was to offer to shake the hand of the woman you’d just slighted, and you’re thankful you can write off the heat still lingering on your cheeks as your temper.

For a moment, she stared disdainfully at your proffered hand, but she sent a furtive glance toward the class and a look of realization passed over her face - her students had been watching all of this unfold. Maybe she wanted to set a good example, or maybe she just wanted to move on, but she took your hand begrudgingly. Her grip was a bit too tight. “Miss Schemmenti,” she said, and you noted the lack of a first name. Her teeth were gritted behind a strained smile. The flash in her eyes made the message clear. You are not on my good side.

Ava made a disapproving sound. “Man, I thought I was gonna get something good,” she said, and you caught the light glinting off of what you suspect was her phone camera as she turned and walked away.

You released Melissa's hand and retreated to the back of the room. As you deposited your things on what was now your desk, Melissa began, “Alright my little cannolis, enough dilly-dallying. Shawnte, will you please help me pass out these math sheets?” Her irritation was masked impeccably behind a practiced teacher's voice as she split a stack of papers with a small girl from the third-grade side of the room.

You exhaled deeply. It was only 8:15 and you’d managed to make your first enemy at Abbott. Unpacking your things, you found you couldn’t resist watching Melissa as she made her way around the room. You didn't consider yourself quick to anger, but somehow this woman had managed to piss you off in a matter of minutes. And you were supposed to spend at least the next week and a half with her?

As she passed by you, her eyes shot up and briefly made contact with yours. You felt the heat of her glare piercing into you. It seems she couldn’t resist another pointed comment on your tardiness. “Maybe tomorrow, you could get here on time and do your job, so I don’t have to ask a student to help pass out papers.”

This was going to be a long week.

[formulawolff]

a little sneak peek :p

here is a little snippet from the finale of alkaline!

i am about 2.8k in the chapter, and nowhere near finished. so, i figured i would give y'all a little preview before i post it!

for everyone who asked to be added to the taglist, i will ensure that you're listed! i can't wait to share the final product with you guys :') <3

“you should have seen the way i was tearing at the car,” alex remarks, putting his hands behind his head, “i felt like goddamn superman.”

“he sure was,” lily lets out an airy giggle, “speaking of which, where is your–”

“guten abend,” an oh so familiar voice interrupts, thick with the accent you adored so dearly. 

your head swivels towards the entrance of the room, toto standing in the doorframe. in his hands is a bouquet of flowers, a bag slung over his shoulder. the moment your eyes meet, he softens, his lower lip quivering. 

“and he brought a friend!” lewis chirps, poking his head out from behind the team principal, “how are you feeling?”

“tired,” you blink, face scrunching into yet another yawn, “they gave me some muscle relaxers for my soreness.”

toto crosses over to the bed, pulling up a chair. placing the flowers on the nearest table, he sets his bag on the floor. although the actions were simple, it felt like minutes until two hands found yours, bringing it to his lips. 

“ich hoffe es geht dir gut. die blumen sind nicht die besten, aber sie reichen aus.”

“mir geht es nicht so gut,” waves of drowsiness crash over, your head meeting the pillow as toto chuckles, kissing each one of your knuckles. 

“zumindest hast du medikamente und gute freunde.”

“ich liebe dich,” you whisper, tears welling up as he leans over the bedrail, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. 

brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you swear you can see the hint of a sparkle in his gaze as he gives you one last kiss on your temple, trailing down to your cheek, “und ich liebe dich.”

[sumeruin]

♫♪: minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!

♫♪: warnings: written by a minor, afab reader, size kink, fingering, overstimulation, biting, slight marking, aftercare, if i missed anything pls let me know!! <3

♫♪: pairing: basketball player itto x reader

♫♪: a/n: i’m on a school au kick apparently. anyways hope you enjoy!! sorry if it’s bad the demons took over

basketball player itto, who doesn’t have the best grades, but is just too good at sports for the school to lose him.

basketball player itto, who is eventually given an ultimatum by the principal, either he gets his grades up before midterms, or he has to leave the basketball team.

basketball player itto, who is recommended you as a tutor by one of his professors, and he quickly seeks you out after classes to ask you to tutor him. he knows he doesn’t have the best reputation with his grades, but he *has* to pass these tests, basketball is his life! he doesn’t know what he’d do if he had to give it up, so please help him! you give him a small smile, hesitantly agreeing to tutor him after school every day, and itto wastes no time in inviting you over to his place to get more comfortable while you tutor him.

basketball player itto, who practically drags you through the door when you get to his house, and you start to set up all your textbooks on his table.

basketball player itto, who just doesn’t understand any of the complicated concepts or equations you show him, even after three weeks of after school tutoring.

basketball player itto, who comes up with another idea for how to retain the knowledge while you’re over at his place one day.

basketball player itto, who brings up the idea of you rewarding him every time he gets a question right. he suggests you let him play with your cute little body a little bit, and if he does well on the exams you let him fuck you! you, of course, get flustered at the idea, and itto just doesn’t understand what’s so embarrassing about it. he knows you think he’s attractive, he sees the way you sneak glances at his muscles and he can smell your arousal every time he leans in closer to you. he thinks you’re really pretty too! it’d be a win win situation, he gets to stay on the basketball team, and you get to fuck the guy you have a crush on.

his eyes light up when you agree, and he immediately starts trying even harder to get the questions right. he starts getting more and more questions right, and you start to look forward to cumming your brains out after school every day, his much bigger fingers able to reach parts so deep inside you you didn’t even know they existed before him.

basketball player itto, who eventually has to take his exams, and is so nervous before them that he just has to seek you out to relieve a little stress. you don’t want him to fail after all the hard work you did making sure he knows everything, do you?

basketball player itto, who ends up acing his exams, the added incentive of finally getting to fuck his cute tutor enough to make him more motivated than ever.

basketball player itto, who immediately finds you after classes, cornering you in the halls. you could tell by the smirk on his face that he had passed, and you felt your cheeks heat up at the thought of what you’d do with him once you got back to his house. he smiled, his teeth sharper and more menacing than usual, as he grabbed your wrist and drags you into his car.

basketball player itto, who wastes no time before stripping your clothes off once you enter his house, leaving bite marks and scratches all over your body in his haste.

basketball player itto, who effortlessly picks you up and carries you to his room, almost throwing you on the bed.

he reaches his hand down and feels your cunt, deeming you wet enough to continue, he quickly takes off his belt. he collects both of your wrists and ties them to his headboard with the piece of leather, before pulling his cock out and lining himself up with your entrance, ignoring your panicked little cries of “wait- itto- that’s not gonna- it won’t fit!”

he starts carefully pushing himself inside, and pauses after the first couple inches to look up and gauge your reaction. he takes your widened eyes and the breathless gasps that fall from your swollen lips as a good sign, and continues until his hips are flush with yours.

itto lets out a relieved sigh once he’s fully inside you, finally content deep in his sweet little tutor’s guts. he slowly start moving, just barely pulling out and then slamming himself back inside your pussy, before speeding up and moving on to harder, more aggressive thrusts. he lets out a growl at the way you moan his name, a chorus of “itto itto itto!” filling his ears and making it hard to think straight. his thrusts start to get more intense when he feels you suddenly get wetter and clench around him even more, and when he looks up and sees your eyes rolled back and the trails of drool and tear running down your cheeks, he finally loses it and cums deep inside your cunt, biting down hard on your neck while he releases in you.

basketball player itto, who cleans you up so gently, he knows he’s big, you must be really sore.

basketball player itto, who offers you stay the night as his place, it’s already much later than you usually leave, and he’d feel bad making you go home this late when he’s the reason you were out in the first place.

basketball player itto, who cooks you some dinner and cuddles up close to you when you finally go to sleep together.

basketball player itto, who introduces you as his partner to everyone at school the next day, a huge smile on his face as he wraps a protective arm around your waist and leans down to press a light kiss to your forehead <3

[calabria-mediterranea]

Reggio Calabria, Calabria, Italy

In their haste to reach Calabria’s beaches, many travelers mistakenly overlook the region’s largest city, Reggio. This handsome and little-touristed place of around 200,000 inhabitants is built on slopes overlooking the Strait of Messina (the strait between Calabria and Sicily).

The city was founded by the Greeks around 730 B.C., who settled this strategic location at the exact center of the Mediterranean in the 8th century BC. They called their colony Rhegion, which was subsequently Latinized by the Romans and transformed through the ages under the area’s various rulers.

Later, Reggio became an important center of Byzantine culture until being occupied by the Arabs in the 10th century. Spanish rule ended with Napoleon’s invasion in 1806.

The city thrived during the late 18th century, when the Lungomare Falcomatà, “the most beautiful kilometer of Italy,” a long seaside promenade, was constructed.

On a visit in 1847, the English artist and writer Edward Lear wrote: “Reggio is indeed one vast garden, and doubtless one of the loveliest spots to be seen on earth. A half-ruined castle, beautiful in colour and picturesque in form, overlooks all the long city, the wide straits and snow-topped Etna volcano on the island of Sicily beyond.”

An earthquake destroyed large areas of Reggio in 1908, and much of it was rebuilt in the art nouveau style. Lining the Corso Garibaldi, the principal thoroughfare, these elegant buildings give the city its singular charm.

Reggio is home to one of the most important archaeological museums, the prestigious National Archaeological Museum of Magna Græcia, dedicated to Greater Greece (the name given by the Romans to the Greek-speaking coastal areas of Southern Italy).

The Museum houses the Bronzes of Riace, rare examples of Greek bronze sculptures which became one of the symbols of the city.

These statues spent more than 2,000 years submerged under the waves of the Ionian Sea. A diver discovered the pair in 1972 and within a week the bronzes were recovered by an elated Italian government. How often do you get a chance to see two 2,500 year-old bronze warriors from classical Greece?

Follow us on Instagram, @calabria_mediterranea

[mackeydoodledoo]

My Sweet Dove: Chapter 2

Pairing: Larissa Weems x (Fem! Vampire)Reader

Summary: You're the only vampire in existence that is basically immune to Nightshade Poison. When your supposed soulmate is injected with such, you go feral.

Warnings: WEDNESDAY SERIES SPOILERS, Near-Death, BLOOD

Chapter Key: Italics = Thoughts, Bold/Italic = Flashback, Bold = Letter, Cross Out = Demonic

Chapter Theme: Judas - Lady Gaga

A/n: None

Taglist: @bxtrflyr​, @mymommawanda​, @agathasslutt​

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

"For the record Y/l/n, I did miss you. Terribly.”

“You are incompetent. A stone around my neck.”

You sit on your windowsill; basking in the moon’s light, the memories you shared with her when you two were young; happy, times were easier. Now, the memories you share with her when you two are now older, the Outcast community in jeopardy due to recent murders on Normies, Eugene’s attack... 

“Here I thought you called me back here because you missed me.”

Maybe she didn't miss me after all...

Fortunately you packed light... You begin to shove everything into your backpack. 

“Y/n?” A familiar voice calls from the other side of the door

You didn’t want to talk to her... You didn’t want all your pent up anger be taken out on her. Plus, you just didn’t feel like talking after all. In a quick haste, you swiftly shove your backpack underneath your bed and land into bed, hiding yourself underneath the covers just as your door opens. 

“Y/n? Are you awake?” Weems calls out

Obviously I’m not...

Of course, you were faking on being asleep. You felt a weight sit right against your back as you continue to act like you were sleeping, nearly sinking against the weight.

“Oh my Sweet Bat,” She sighs

Your eyes nearly shot open as you listen to her say her little personal nickname for you.

“No Larissa, for the last time I can’t turn into a bat,” You sigh

“But, your favorite mammals are bats aren’t they?” She asks

“Just because they are, doesn’t mean that I can transform into one,” You say, “My dad used to have that ability, so did my mom. But, I only developed a gross, rare genetic that no other Vampire had ever developed.”

“Well, you’re still a Sweet Bat to me,” She says, with a smile

You stir in your bed when you felt her hand brush hair behind your ear; nearly making Larissa jump off of the bed. She clears her own throat and swiftly exits your room. You wait an extra couple minutes for good measure. When you could no longer hear the clacking of her high heels, you spring yourself back out of your bed and slide the backpack over your shoulders. Slowly, you open the window and hoist your leg right over the edge. 

I’ll miss you... My Sweet Dove...

*Larissa’s POV* You had long since thought about what you last said to Y/n and your felt guilty for calling her incompetent. You patiently wait for Y/n to walk through your door so you could give her a proper apology. 

However, seconds turned to minutes... Minutes turned to an hour... 

It’s not like Y/n to be late...

You stand from your desk and begin making your way to her quarters. You look down at your watch; making sure that you're giving yourself time to visit Y/n before personally taking Wednesday to the station. Once you reached Y/n’s door, you brush anything down and compose yourself.

“Y/n?” You call, gently knocking on the door

There wasn’t a call back. 

You knock again...

Again, no response to your gesture. 

Panic sets in as you burst through the unlocked door. No one was in her room. Not even Y/n herself.

“Y/n!” You shout

You try to look through her room just in case she was hiding. But, the room you had given her didn’t have the luxuries that your room did. You fall onto the floor, tears streaming down your face.

*Wednesday’s POV* “Principal Weems, you seem on edge,” You say, breaking the awkward silence to the hospital, “What’s bothering you?”

“Y/l/n left in the middle of the night...” She sighs, “After I called for your expulsion, we had gotten into an argument about you and... I had something that I now regret...”

“Which is?” You ask

“I called y/n incompetent...” She shudders at the memory, “And... That she was a stone around my neck...”

“Yes, there were times where she is a pain,” You explain, “But, I see how she would go the extra mile for you. Even if it would be against your own better judgment. I take that you and her had history while you two were students yes?”

“That is classified,” Weems tries to downplay the fact she did have feelings for Y/n when they were students.

*Larissa’s POV* “You like the most useless vampire in the entire school?!” A ‘friend’ asks Weems, “Lame.”

“It’s not about what type of vampire she is,” You say, “She would always go out of her way for me and no one has ever done that for me.”

“It’s because you ask,” They add

“That’s the thing, I don’t,” She says, “It’s like she simply does it because she wants to.”

“Talk a bout a stalker,” They say, trying to joke about it

“Okay either she’s lame because she’s not as cool of a vampire as every other vampire here, or she’s a creep because she's more than willing to be there for more more than you have all four years we've been here?” You ask 

“Principal Weems,” Wednesday’s voice calls you out of your memory lane

You look down at her.

“Are you coming in with me or not?” She asks, “Worried I may run off?”

“Not at all,” You clear throat, “Let’s go.”

You follow closely behind Wednesday as the both of you enter the hospital: Eugene’s moms outside of his room.

“Principal Weems,” They greet you

You greet them back but make sure to keep an eye on Wednesday as she advances into his room.

*Wednesday’s POV* You briskly walk back up to the principal, the look on your face (despite you barely show any form of emotion) told her that something was wrong.

“It’s always the ones who pass off as overly kind...” You sigh, coming to walk over to the principal, “It was Thornhill behind the murders and she controls Tyler. Eugene told me everything: the person that blew up the cave, he said he saw red boots. Who else in the school wears red boots?”

You watch as the Weems’ face changes from concern, to distraught. 

I was right... Sort of...

“We have to confront her,” You suggest, “Make her pay for harming humans and one of our own.”

“You know she will deny being the mastermind behind these murders and the control of the Hyde,” Weems says

“We’ll bring in Tyler,” You say

You look at her, in a way that Weems finally catches on.

“Pretend you're him and make her confess everything,” You explain, “I can instigate her into confessing, all you have to do is act.”

“Alright,” Weems sighs, composing herself

*Y/n’s POV* You sit at the Weathervane as you take a last cup of coffee. However, you spot Weems and Wednesday even for a split second, driving. Something about the look on their face made your fangs itch with discomfort. 

Something isn’t right...

+*+

From a distance you begin following the two size dynamic duo as you follow them back to the school; following them to the greenhouse.

You look at the outer structure of the greenhouse as you hear muffled conversations going on.

“Where... Are you...” You speak to yourself

When you would need some time to think to yourself, or just need silence, you went to the greenhouse. However, with time you found a secret spot within the greenhouse not even the former Botany teacher had found when you were a student there. It gave you an entrance to the class. However, this time, you were keeping to the shadows. 

“You were never getting on that train,” Thornhill explains, “I’ve sent Tyler to intercept you.”

“I never made it to the station. Heard enough?” Wednesday calls towards “Tyler”

Thornhill turns to him as she watches him ‘turn’.

“After Eugene told me everything Principal Weems and I decided to confront you ourselves.” Wednesday explains

“Don’t make this harder than it already is Marylin,” She says

For a second, you saw something gleam against your eyes as you see Thornhill reach into her pocket.

“My name is Laurel!” She yells

It all happened in a flash. You heard the Nightshade Poison beginning to course itself through Larissa’s entire nerves system.

"No!" You shout

You come out of hiding as soon as The Principal fell to the ground, heaving for air. You shove Thornhill away from the three of you.

"Principal Weems!" Wednesday tries to call out to her

“It’s gross, my rare genetic,” You explain to Larissa

“Why?” She asks

“I basically have to suck on the person’s blood to extract the nightshade poison form their system,” You say

“Have you ever had to do that?” She asks, “Suck on someone’s blood?”

“Nope, I don’t plan to,” You say

I gotta plan to now...

"Move aside Wednesday," You say, slowly leaning down

"What are you going to do?" She asks

"Making use of my rare genetic," You say

Gently, you turn Weems slightly; exposing her neck, where the injection point had been. You gently lift her neck towards your mouth.

"I got you Larissa," You whisper as your teeth breaks her skin

You felt the initial sting of the poison but due to your protective saliva, you felt nothing. You lift your head and spit out the first batch and go back in one more to make sure the remaining poison gets out of her system. However, the second initial sting didn't show. But you spat it out away; seeing the glow of the poison. However, once you went back in for a third time, something felt different...

"Y/n?" Wednesday calls out to you

You don't respond. Your vision: hazed... Her blood was addicting...

It's like... Sweet tart cherries...

*Wednesday’s POV* You could hear the feral coming out of Y/n as you watch her continuing to drink the principal’s blood. Normally, things like that didn’t phase you. But, the darkening of her eyes, the growl coming from her throat every time she took a sip... Scared you. Not in a good way.

"Y/n snap out of it!" You push her, firmly

*Y/N’s POV* Your fangs loosen themselves from Larissa’s flesh as you spit out the last of her blood infected with nightshade poison. However, you didn’t see shades of blue in the last batch....

Oh... Did I nearly kill her?.... Is that why it tasted like sweet tart cherries?...

“I’ll take her to the hospital,” You say, “I almost killed her...”

You remove your inner shirt and place it over her wound to 

“Kick Thornhill’s ass for me kiddo.” You look at her

Even for a second, you hear Wednesday’s facial muscles push themselves into a devilish smile.

+*+

You exit the hospital... You felt anxiety course through you: Weems in the hospital in critical condition, the school is in danger... There was so much going on your emotional state couldn’t handle it at all...

Thornhill needs to pay...

You break into a run back towards the school... 

You were fast... Heightened agility was one of the many perks of being a vampire. But, it didn’t fully develop until after you graduated from Nevermore. You technically never needed to drive to get form one place to another... For a short distance. 

I still don’t condone showing my vampirism... But, desperate means calls for desperate measures. 

*Wednesday’s POV* You watch as Crackstone begins to shrivel away. However, the moment of relief 

“THORNHILL!” A booming voice echoes through the courtyard

You, Thornhill and Bianca look over and see Y/n... But, something was off about her. 

“What happened to Y/n?” Bianca comes up to you

“I... I think she went feral...” You say, wide-eyed

*Y/n’s POV*  In the blink of an eye, you were directly face to face with Thornhill. 

“So you decided to stick around and find out of what happens when you decide to mess with us outcasts?” You ask, a devilish smile forming

All of your teeth were sharpened to a point: durable enough to tear through metal. Your eyes were heavily dilated. 

“I-I-I-”

“SILENCE!” You screech

She shuts her mouth. 

“Would you like to see what happens to vile creatures like you mess with something that I hold dear?” You ask

She shakes her head.

“WRONG ANSWER!” You shout

You grab Thornhill by the chin as you begin lifting her off of her feet effortlessly.

“Doc, what do you mean I could go ‘Feral’?” You ask

“It’s an extremely rare case,” They explain, “But, it mostly happens when you would drink blood. But, one that would taste like a sweet tart kind of deal.”

“Doc, I only drink any type of red drink,” You explain, “No human blood in my diet.”

“I suggest being careful form now on,” They say, “Drink a certain person’s blood and you could end up going feral.”

*Wednesday’s POV* “She drank Weems’ blood,” You conclude

“What does Y/n’s basic vampire anatomy have to do with this?” Bianca asks

“She was the one who extracted nightshade poison from Principal Weems’ body,” Your explain, “But, there was a moment after, where it looked like she became animalistic.”

Bianca looks over to Y/n, clawing at Thornhill’s chin. blood seeping through her fingers.

“I have to stop her,” You state

You run over to Y/n and practically bodyslam into her. You coil your arms around her midsection. The simple thought of it being considered a hug was making you vomit.

“Get a hold of yourself Y/n!” You shout, “Principal Weems wouldn’t want you to turn into a murderer! It’s over!”

*Y/n’s POV* “Y/n,” A voice calls out to you

Larissa?!...

You drop Thornhill onto the ground as your blood begins boiling again. You let out a yelp as you begin clutching your head.

+*+

You watch her as she lays unconscious in the hospital room bed, in particular her bandages covering your bite marks.

"How is she doc?" You ask the doctor brushing past you

"She's stable," They explain, "But, we aren't sure when she'll be conscious again."

"I see, thank you doc," You say

You watch them beginning to check Larissa's vitals, all the doctor-things you were never smart enough for. 

“Help!” You shout through the hospital, “Help!”

Some nurses instantly bring you a gurney to place Larissa upon as they bring her into an open room. 

“What happened?!” The doctor comes rushing in

“She got infected with Nightshade Poison,” You say

“And how the hell did these teeth marks get here?” He asks, beginning to properly clean it

Your eyes widen as you notice the nurses eyes on you. Although it wasn’t uncommon for the Outcasts to be among humans, you didn’t find it so ethical to show any hints of your vampirism to humans. 

“I uhhh... May or may not have sucked all the poison out of her blood system but also began drinking her blood after the fact...” You say, wiping your mouth

“I see,” He clears his throat, “I will need you to step out so we can get her looked at.”

You nod as you make your way out of the room.

That was when you unknowingly became feral and... Nearly killed Laurel Gates whilst Wednesday was occupied with Joseph Crackstone. 

*Larissa's POV* You slowly open your eyes as you wake to the sound of the IV monitor beeping at your side.

"Principal Weems, you're finally up," the Doctor sighs

"How long was I out?" You ask

You try and use your arm to help you sit up but the pain in your shoulder made you lay back down.

"Several days," He explains

"Several days?!" You ask

"You were injected with Nightshade Poison," He continues, "But, something or someone was able to get all of it out of your system. But, it barely made it just before it had all of your systems shut down. So yes, it took awhile for your body to build its own immunity back up."

"Who on earth had the ability to do all of that?” You ask

“It may have something to do with that one person who brought you in here,” He says

“Who?” You ask

“Never left a name but left you a letter,” He says

He hands you a decently folded letter before he turns to step out of the room. Your eyes travel down to the creme colored sheet of paper; slowly unfolding it. 

My Sweet Dove,

If you're reading this, good. The doctor remembered to give my letter. When we were students, times were easier... We were young, living our best lives, making promises to each other for the future... Now that we’re older however, I realize now that we shouldn’t have made such promises that we couldn’t keep to each other. But, nonetheless, you are right about me. I truly am the most incompetent being to be around... But, fortunately you won’t have to deal with me any longer. By the time you read this, I’m already at the station... I’m leaving Jericho... I don't know if I have a plan to come back. I’ll figure that out... Eventually.

- Y/n Y/l/n

Tears stream down your eyes as you make yourself remember the last words you told Y/n: that she was incompetent and that she was a stone around your neck...

+*+

You were changing out of the last outfit you were in as the other was set out along your bed. However, when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you notice the maroon red scabs that sit against the base of your neck into your collarbone.

Those teeth marks look like...

You gently run your fingers over the semi-healed marks. Your mind then goes to the letter Y/n left for you...

Maybe you could catch her before she’s gone... Possibly for good.

Chapter 3 (Epilogue)

[gayandfairycore]

Do you see right through me?

A/n: I am back! Restarting my streak of posting a fic every few months, XO kitty is my new obsession atm and I have seen no fanfics about the loml, so here’s an unrequested kitty x femreader! This doesn’t really follow everything in the show, but nevertheless I’m happy with it! As always all chaste aged up side note I am curious of your thoughts on the show? I’m sad people disliked the show as much as they did, I actually thought it was pretty alright? cringey at moments, but isn’t that all Netflix’s shows…

Summary: falling in love with kitty covey when she comes to K.I.S.S and your fellow students surprised by your care for the girl. When kitty hears Minho talk about how untouchable you were to anyone. She begins to hope that you feel for her what she feels for you.

Warnings: bullying, panic attacks, mentions of slurs but no actual use of slurs, (not so) unrequited love, homophobia, internalised homophobia, purposely getting someone drunk, daes a smidge homophobic in this fic, this fic is also not proof read because I’m lazy 😌

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You knew she was with dae, hell you knew since the moment she met you, rambling excited about her true love, and The fact that she had flown half way around the globe for a boy.

It felt blaringly obvious that if she were to do that there was no way that she would be into women. Plus you’d never. Ever. Want to steal someone’s partner That was just wrong.

So you would watch from afar, hold on to any touches the girl would give you, and you would force yourself to feel happiness for the girl. Force down any feelings of bitterness when she would stare at dae with love in her eyes.

Kitty song-covey was just so magnetic. It was like she vibrated on a whole different plane of existence. No matter how hard you tried You couldn’t stop half of your heart from breaking whenever she told you the details about her quest to get back dae.

You felt anger burn in you, boil your blood at the audacity of the boy lucky enough to hold her heart. To cheat on her it made you feel sick.

She deserved better, you hoped that maybe better would be you… from the moment you saw her she caught your heart. The illusive y/n l/n.

If she were to ask any student at KISS she would find out the rumours of your name. You were the girl who was smoking hot and yet had never had a boyfriend, despite many boys asking you out in grandiose ways.

You were, too many, The untouchable girl.

And for a girl with such a reputation It felt embarrassing how quickly you began to feel things for her. Non platonic things.

you felt a sense of duty when you saw her slip in those cupcakes. you moved without a second thought the click of your heels on the polished floors as you bent to her level.

“Are you okay?” You’d ask the girl

No reply left her lips, with orange frosting sticky and coated to her dress, tears shone in her eyes. As she looked up at you, with a tearful gaze, her eyes glazed over in embarrassment as she searched her surroundings. Staring down the lens of a phone camera she started to think maybe coming to Korea was a mistake.

The girl begun to replay every unfortunate incident over, and over in her head. There was virtually no one good here.

From her meeting with Minho at the airport, being swerved by principal Lim about her mother, meeting yuri, meeting her long term boyfriend again in person only to find him with a different girl she felt ridiculous.

As the lenses of cameras continued to stay pointed at her, kitty appreciated your kind smile as you pushed yourself off from being knelt beside her

“hey! Nothing to see here people. Go about your merry business.” Youd announce loudly to the leering students as they stared at the girl.

Feeling exasperated when no onlookers attempted to look away you spoke again. With a demanding and expecting.

“Go on! Shoo.” Only turning back to the red head once they made hast to look away, sighing and brushing your hair from your face you took the girl by her fore arm and pulled her up.

Before you could speak daes figure had made himself comfortable at her side rambling on about how it wasn’t what it looked like.

Kitty was clearly overwhelmed, from the jet lag, and the terrible experience she endured it was almost as if the room was closing in on the girl, the crushing weight of what seemed to be her mistakes crashed over her in unkind waves.

When the girl looking around the room, daes rambles became almost muted to the girl as the murmurs in the crowd of people were the final straw for the girl. Your hand on her arm the only thing grounding her from her onslaught of tears, And embarrassment.

Breaking your hold on her arm as the girl ran out of the room you sent an angry glare to the boy standing next to you, sending him a look that says something like ‘aren’t you going to go after her??’

Shaking your head at the raven haired boy when he averted his gaze as yuris perfectly manicured hands wrapped around his arm and lead him away sending an almost apologetic smile towards yourself it wouldn’t fix this mess.

Taking a deep breath you made a move to go after the girl, walking steadfast towards the exit your steps only faltering when the murmurs of the party goers no longer pertained to just kitty.

Gossip started far too quickly for your liking, their words thick with speculation as they questioned your sexuality, slurs muffled by hands into friends ears targeted at you made you begin to feel sick.

The beady eyes of students set heavily on you. The air thick, with each click of heels on the floor, and fast beat of your heart you felt bile rise to your throat. panic set deep in your heart.

Shaking your head and taking a breath, you wanted to leave, no. You needed to leave. With every watchful, beady, speculatory eye that stared seemingly right through you.

The thought kept repeating through your head they see right through you. Slamming through the door to the corridor, kitty is of course long gone, yet you still crane your neck in hopes to catch a glimpse of her. When you come up empty you hasten your steps rushing into the stall of the girl’s bathroom setting down the lid of the toilet and stifling your sobs with your hands stop crying. Stop crying. Stop crying.

You repeat it like a mantra, you know you look like a mess, but all you care about is not showing that they’ve gotten to you. Hardening your expression they will not look right through you, you won’t let them. You can’t.

But for this moment you will not hide. Leaning your head against the stall walls, you say it for the first time.

“I’m a lesbian/bisexual/pansexual/your identity”

“I know.” You hear through the door, fear spikes ypur heart jumping to your throat as Q pokes his head over the stall.

“Q? This is the girls bathroom?”

“Yeah…I just wanted to you know make sure you’re alright?”

“I’m not but- how are you in here? Minhos outside distracting the girls from entering the bathroom…”

“Really?” You mutter wiping your eyes with the back of your hand

“Yeah sweetheart, open the door and we’ll take you back to your room.”

“Okay” you chuckle, unlatching the lock the sound of minho frantically trying to come up with excuses as to why the girls toilets are off limits won’t hold out for much longer.

His voice getting increasingly higher as he scrambles to block the door, sharing a look with Q you both grab the door handle, Minhos figure stumbling backwards into your body’s, you and Q both look to the ground grabbing his hand and bursting through the crowd of girls.

Their outraged cries consisting off “was that a boy in the girls bathroom?!?” And “what was he doing in there!” All three of you begin to laugh at your heist.

All three of you trying to catch your breath outside the auditorium, dae comes walking hastily towards your group pointing a finger back in there he asks “why did I just hear one of the girls say Q was in the girls toilets?”

“And that they couldn’t enter because minho said he was hiding a giant cake in the bathroom…”

“A giant cake?” You and Q both ask the boy turning expectantly for an answer

“This feel’s suddenly very judgemental, I didn’t have to help you, you know.” Minho defends, his face hard before dropping his facade after minutes of awkward silence.

Locking arms with the boys you make hast towards the dormitory’s as a teacher locks eyes with the four of you.

“Go, go, go, go” Q pushing, at first your group speeds off with small hurried steps, getting faster until it’s an all out run, when the teacher bursts out of the door. Laughter fills the cool night air as you all rush to your dorms.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The loud ring of your alarm clock waking you up, your roommate still not here, you began to strip yourself of your dress from the night before. Instead sporting the school uniform. Slinging your bag over your back you set off to the cafeteria to buy yourself breakfast.

Your converse scraping against the ground, as you walked the path. A familiar head of hair came into view, biting down your smile you stepped closer.

The sight of Her cannery yellow suitcase bringing a frown to your face, along with the silouette of the boy next to her. You watch in discomfort, hesitant to move, to speak, to breathe. As you watch them embrace, the expression of hesitant love on the boys face is painful. You are painfully aware of just how in love they look.

when the sight of a black car and a silhouette of a girl steps out, you Release a breath you didn’t know you were holding when yuri breaks the two apart and steals dae away. It’s almost as if things aren’t so bad, You suddenly aren’t suffocating. Your converse clad feet walk closer to the red head, calling out her name.

A smile forms on her face as she sees you “y/n! Hey..”

“Covey, it’s nice to see you.” You smile rocking back and forth on your feet. Sizing her up you speak again with a shy smile

“I’ve got to say orange is not your colour.”

your eyes glance down to her suitcase as you tease the girl, any semblance of humour fades as she catches your gaze.

“Oh! Don’t worry!” The bubbly girl reassures “I’m not leaving, atleast not anymore.” She persists smiling with her teeth.

A soft look crinkles your eyes, you’re dead serious when you speak “good im glad you’ve decided to stay here.”

A bashful smile overcomes her face as she takes a look around you both. It’s silent for a few moments. It’s not an uncomfortable silence. Throughout that minute of silence you both seem to rake your eyes over eachother.

You’re the first to break it when you clear your throat. “Um you might want to take your things back to your dorm before classes. here I’ll help you.”

You nod toward her suitcase, and before she can stop you you’re picking up her suitcase, she smiles kindly. The walk to her dorm is quiet, you don’t mention the boys dormitory. Instead you bid the girl goodbye at the door.

And just like that time begins to fly with the girl, Days turn to weeks, stray touches and friendly hugs begin to linger too long. Far too long to be friendly. Atleast from your side.

Something held you back, from telling her, her relationship (if you could call it that) with dae, the fact she wasn’t into girls, or the fear of coming out.

And as Kitty spends her time chasing after dae, you spent your time chasing after kitty, whilst she was determined to be proved right that yuri & daes relationship was fake.

A part of you hoped it wasn’t, it felt cruel to think that as you were actively helping her, but part of you wished on every stray fallen eyelash, and every shooting star you saw. That maybe she’d like you too.

Maybe your touches set her skin on fire like hers did for you. When the day of Minhos party arrives and kitty asks you to do her makeup you jump at the opportunity to be closer to her.

With every stroke of your makeup brush against the apples of kittys cheeks it felt like you were buzzing with excitement just being so close to the girl.

Wanting to savour this moment you went slower, when kitty asked the harmless question of is you could do her lipstick your cheeks almost grew just as red as the blush you applied.

Before you started to dab the red pigment on your finger, tapping it gently against her lips the pads of your fingers bouncing off of her plump lips.

You couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to kiss her, your gaze lingered on her lips as your finger slowed its movement.

Turning your gaze up to meet kitty’s eyes, only to find the girl was already staring back at you.

Q watched intently from the doorway of his room, before he broke your stare on her lips with a “everybody ready?” Both kitty and yourself breaking eye contact simultaneously you Fling yourself away from kitty. Embarrassment begins to creep up your cheeks at being caught.

“You okay Y/n? We don’t have to go if you’re feeling sick.” Kitty speaks her eyes searching yours for any semblance of a lie.

“No, no! I’m alright let’s go.”

And with that you made your way to the door Qs hand gripped your upper arm with enough force to stop you but not hurt

“Hey y/n, yknow I saw you looking at kitty’s lips. If it’s any consolation I think she likes you too.” He smiled, his voice soft and comforting.

You wanted to say ‘really? You think so?

But instead your gaze dropped to the floor and you say an emotionless “she doesn’t like me like that.”

With a sigh from Q he opened his mouth as if to say more, his words dying in his throat as you broke his hold making your way down the hall to kitty’s figure.

Side stepping the girls attempt to hold your hand, her previous excitement dropped from her face for a moment before she cleared her throat “I’ve ordered us an Uber so let’s-let’s go.”

Walking ahead of the girl in a hurry, you miss the disappointed glance she shoots Q he rubs her arm in a comforting manner.

When you arrive to rubik the air is hot and stuffy, sweaty bodies dancing and drinking when florian orders you a fruity mock tail spiking it with what you assume to be vodka you drink it in silence, florian whispering to Q if you were okay.

You block them out, opting to instead dance your feelings away when you begin to dance to whatever was playing you began to feel a sense of freedom, your dance wasn’t anything special, wasn’t even particularly graceful. But you still felt eyes on you, as you turned to look to the pair that was staring at you eagerly you instead are met with the leering face of a fellow kiss student the buzz of alcohol dimming your senses as he leans down to whisper to you.

“We’ll aren’t you just beautiful, tell me can I buy you a drink?”

You don’t think. The alcohol numbing you, all you think is what can you do to take your mind off of kitty.

And before you know what you’re doing you grip his hand and lead him towards the bar, he buys you a drink, the familiar burn of some cheap vodka dances over the back of your throat before youre gripping his hands and you’re dancing with him.

And you dance for what feels like hours, and when you aren’t dancing you’re drinking, the burn of the alcohol stings the back of your throat.

And yet you keep drinking, seemingly oblivious, blissfully unaware of the fact he’s been buying, and buying, and buying, you drinks. And yet he hasn’t once touched a sip of alcohol.

The red flags aren’t red to you anymore, YPU can’t even hear the alarm bells ringing.

Sometime through the night you come to the realisation you’ve lost your friends, you’ve danced for as long as you can your feet aching and now all you feel is sick and exhausted.

“H-hey I think I’m gonna find my friends.” You tell your date, your words slurring together as vomit rises to your throat you take your hands off of the guy.

Ready to go back to your friends, even with dulled senses you’re on high alert when his soft smile leaves his face and his gaze hardens on your chest, his hands spring out to grip your arms in one hand. With bruising force, tugging

before Q sees you begin to wobble as the boy leads you to the exit of the club he walks past Q and florian.

The boys feel an immediate sense of urgency to protect you. They ask if you want to go with this guy, when they get your shaky “no” it’s enough conformation. Florian is pulling you into him as Q is telling the guy to leave you alone.

Breathing shakily, bile rises to the back of your throat, your eyes burning, as you gaze up at the boys their sympathetic faces giving you a once over.

“I just wanted to stop thinking about her.” You cried, slamming your head into Florian’s chest

“Oh dear” florian says looking you over “find kitty.” And just like that Q’s off in search of the girl, when teachers burst through the doors of the club. Principle lim pulling the plug to the speakers.

The club grows silent before the onslaught of people start running for the door, Florian leads you toward the exit. He doesn’t mind listening to your drunk rambles as you walk. Your legs unsteady, your mainly being supported by florian.

Taking the water he hands you with gratitude you take slow sips. Time seemed to barely move, as your memory felt funny. One moment you were in the club a flurry of lights disorienting you the next in your dorm bed room.

Cracking an eye open and groaning from the splitting headache behind your eyes you sluggishly roll out of bed.

Opening the bedroom door Qs figure slouched over the arm of the couch as minhos making coffee in the kitchen.

“Hey, y/n. We have Saturday detention by the way. Since someone got the party busted.”

Watching kitty on the stage her hair pinned up, you think she looks gorgeous in traditional clothing, adoration clear on your face.

Time seemingly slows as you watch her perform, with each movement of the fan your stare is still looking at the girl.

Conflict I’d happening on the stage, you can’t hear what they’re saying but you’re already concerned for the girl. Your heart leaps to your throat as you watch her trip.

Loud cracks of fireworks fill the gymnasium, time stops slowing, your ears block out the sound of scampering feet trying to exit the gym. you’re fully competent and you know what you’re doing when your shoes squeak against the floor you’re running toward the panicked girl.

Ripping off your jacket you throw it over the girls flaming skirt, easing her to the ground as you do so.

Kitty is panicked, frantic breaths leaving in puffed out pants, looking up at her through your lashes, your heart clenches at the sight of her scared face.

“Hey! Hey! I got you, you’re alright.” You state, your fingers that were previously patting wildly at the skirt, stop.

“Th-thank you.” Kitty whispers gratefully, her body visibly relaxing, yet She still looks scared with an emotion you can’t quite make out swimming in her eyes.

you make a move to comfort her more but your hand still’s outstretched towards her when dae comes rushing to her side.

His eyes wild, as he asks the girl if she’s okay, he lets out a breath when she tells him you helped.

“Yknow I would’ve helped her-“ nodding at his words, you feel guilty that you don’t quite believe the boy.

“I know. but I got here first.”

“I’m here now.” He exclaims coldly, his eyes nonverbally telling you to leave, bowing your head you look at kitty,

“I’m just glad you’re okay” and with that you turn and make your way of stage, meeting up with Minho by the door.

A knowing look on his face prompts you to ask “what’s that look for?”

“Nothing! No nothing. Aside from the fact you practically raced up there to save her…”

“You didn’t even think you just…went.”

Trying to no avail to hide the blush dusting your cheeks you cross your arms over your chest “well what’s it too you? I mean you’re famously anti kitty.”

“Mm you’re right, i don’t think she’s right for dae. I think she’s right for someone else…” he trails off making eye contact with you.

He sends you a comforting smile. His eyes flicker to dae as he marches up to both Minho and yourself. slamming Minho into the wooden wall dae sneers out “a you call yourself my friend” In Korean.

Minhos confusion seeps out as he asks “what’s all this about?!?” Also in korean, dae sees red slamming the boy harder into the wood before continuing “don’t pretend like you don’t know!”

Looking frantically around you, you decide to try and pry the boy off calling out a:

“What are you doing dae? let him go!” You cry pulling at the boys arm to get him to loosen his grip. His eyes hard as he turns to you, flinging his arm out, your feet falter at the abrupt movement when he pushes you off him His push sending you colliding with the gymnasium floor. Your hands slap against the ground, tears well in your eyes at the sting of your hands. and the bruise forming on your butt.

Despite your efforts Dae is still glaring at the boy infront pf him, Seemingly not caring that his shove sent you to the floor. “Dae, stop. Stop it! it’s not min Ho!” Kitty cries, “this has nothing to do with him”

“What you’re gay?” Dae laughs, sparing a glance at your form on the floor, Confusion and realisation dawn on the boys face before he mutters an apology to Minho.

sparing a hateful glance toward you on the floor, looking kitty in the eyes, the girl is clearly distraught in her hanbok. Her makeup runs down her cheeks as embarrassment boils. Dae shakes his head as he bursts from the door to the room.

Minho does a double take before giving you his hand, asking tentatively “are you okay?” His eyes rake your figure trying to asses the damage.

“I’m fine, I’m okay.” You stress putting yours hands in the air in attempt to reassure the boy.

“Good, good.”Minho mutters, clearly not believing you in the slightest. pulling you up, He shares a look with kitty watching as she diverts her gaze.

You shoot a glance to the red head, as Minho leads you away. Your concern for the girl outweighs any confusion about dae.

The cool air stings your face as Minho leads you outside, sitting you down on a concrete seat, “are you okay?” He asks.

Sighing shakily you look him in his eyes “yes-“

“And don’t lie to me.” He cuts you off, pointing his finger, he nods for you to continue his hard serious face still there.

“No? I mean! Ugh I really like her? But she clearly likes someone else…and she still has dae. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do?”

“I’m failing pretty much all of my classes, and I’m gay. But I can’t be.”

“Oh you sweet thing.” Minho says pulling you into his chest, running his hands over your head as sobs break from your chest, wetting the boys suit.

“You know it’s okay to be afraid of your feelings for someone, but I can see it Kitty likes you, Not dae.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“God are you really so oblivious?!?” Exasperation reeks from the boy as he stared at you.

“She’s in love with you, you didn’t see it but her face when you saved her was enough to make dae realise she doesn’t like him anymore.”

“Oh my god. That’s what that was?”you question, your stomach dropping in anticipation. Vomit rising to your throat,

“I have to go!” You call breaking from Minhos hold,

“Another job well done” Minho smiles, shaking his head at the wet patch on his suit.

Your feet slam against the ground as you run to find the girl, bursting back into the gym she of course isn’t there.

Doubling over breathing heavily, panic grips your chest, as you look around. Closing your eyes you feel defeated.

“If you’re looking for kitty she’s in the dorm.”

Your eyebrows furrow, as you turn to face dae, an apologetic and yet reserved expression takes over his face.

“I-what? How did you-“

“It’s pretty obvious… no offence. But hey I’m happy for you.” The boy smiles, before turning to go

“How do you know she’ll like me back?” You whisper, daes steps halt as he turns to look at you.

“I’ve seen the way she stares at you when you aren’t looking, she used to look at me like that…” he looks sad as he remarks the girl’s feelings. but when he smiles at you with a watery smile and the nod of his head it’s his way of giving you the go ahead. And suddenly everything lightens up, the weight on your shoulders suddenly dissipates as you accept daes consent to make a move.

To let yourself be happy.

So you do, turning around you jog up stairs, and dodge various people as you make your way through the crowds of students in the halls.

Making your way to the boys dorm had become like a ritual, it was no longer buzzing with joy and laughter as a game or movie was in full swing Minho cooking something in the kitchen or rambling about the films his mum was in.

Instead the warmth in your chest was no longer there, You suddenly feel apprehension, as you stand there, your hand hovering over the door handle, you question if kitty will want this, if you should just turn around and couch surf until you go home.

When the door swings open to a sad kitty, in comfortable clothing, her hairs a mess, and she’s wearing an old ratty tshirt, but she still looks at gorgeous as ever as she stares up at you.

“Y/n?” She asks, her eyes glancing you up and down.

“Hi.” You whisper, bringing your hand up to caress her cheek, you ask her “can I kiss you?”

When she nods it’s all the permission you need, before you place a passionate yet gentle kiss on the girls lips, you pull away when the girl doesn’t move to kiss you back.

Only to be pulled back in my kittys soft hands against both of your cheeks pulling you in her lips crash against yours, the kiss isn’t perfect the techniques all wrong, and it’s sloppy, but you can’t help caring because you’re kissing her.

Tangling your hands in her unruly hair, you smile into the kiss.

When kitty pulls back, you look alarmed the girl feels a sharp guilt at breaking from the kiss, the pads of her fingers run over your cheek gently as if she is afraid you’ll break. The girl takes a breath in

“I’ve begun to learn a lot on Korea, about my mother, my friends, myself. And more Often then not my friends helped me realise things.” Kitty breaths she looks almost afraid to speak as she collects herself you can visibly see the cogs turning in her head as she speaks.

“And well, Q made me realise my feelings. They were confusing, and fun, and scary? But I think i really like them?”

“I think I really like them as well.” You smile, placing a kiss on her lips before continuing “And hey remind me to thank Q for all this.”

“No need you two, this is all the thanks I need.” Breaking from her hold you both turn to face your roomates their smug (mainly Minho) proud faces staring at you both.

“You know For a match maker you’re a bit oblivious.” Q speaks before planting himself on the couch

“I- what do you mean?” Kitty exclaims offended

“Kitty I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you...”

“WHAT!” Kitty exclaims in outrage “but- no- I’m supposed to know these things!!” The girl slumps over dramatically

Sharing content looks with your fellow roommates, none of you can hold it in bursting out in laughter.

It made you realise how much you wish you could stay in this moment forever before tomorrow comes and everything good hangs in the balance…

For now, you all were happy.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[acesw]

new year, new angst

happy new years yall, if there is information that i never dropped here its the fact that im highly biased towards vertin and sonetto's relationship and i feel like i should drop a little scenario i wrote for the sake of it. its how i celebrate as an angst dweller :)

questions and questions. - A.D.

I didn't understand back then. I did not see you much after the incident, after Ms. Z had brought you back from the outside, drenched in rain. I would have gone to you if it were not for the guards that swarmed you both. You were the only one that came back. Why? Where did the others go? Did something happen to them? To you? What did you see in the outside?

I got the answer to my first few questions the following morning. When you came back, you did not talk for days; Did the things you would normally avoid. It was unlike of you, and I could not tell at that time if I felt relief or remorse. You didn't come up to me until the last night we saw each other up close.

On the night you left, you asked me to fix your hair, which was also an odd request. You normally didn't like doing this, but didn't exactly hate it either. (Perhaps I noticed too late that the reason you didn't hate it was because I was the one doing them.) I helped tie it into that rough and messy half-bun you only began to warm up to; I know you did, as it was the only way you could ever really stay still. You would talk about the frogs and the bugs you found near George the Oak, but you didn't. Not that night. Not in a time of wounds forced to be left unrefined by the white hands. When I made sure that the half-bun looked like the flowers you drew on your papers, you got off my bed and left with most of your things.

Why did you have to leave the dorm in such haste? Even left the toffees and pebbles on your night desk. I kept it for you when I thought you'd come back sooner. The frog was here, too. It croaked and whistled, jumping around the dorm and scaring the other girls. Then the janitor took it out the day after you left. And eventually I hid away the pebbles, ate the toffees. I accepted that I wouldn't feel the warmth of rough hands, showing me pieces of the outside for a long time to come.

There were no answers to the rest of my questions until graduation, and I saw you for the first time in a while. Your hair is fully tied to a side bun, the tiny freckles had faded, your hands rested on the hat on your lap. You wore an intricate suit that even I would have never guessed fitted you. You stood out amongst the black and white crowd as an indigo pawn. You looked far older, mature for our age; As if you had graduated years before. But I still saw the softness in your face, the baby face still made you look like the reckless child you were long ago. You looked…elegant and mysterious. Were you the same deskmate I grew up with all these years?

You graduated with us. A "special student'" like the principal called you once. They announced that you had become the first "Timekeeper" in the Foundation, a title of reverence and importance. You tipped your hat forward and placed your closed fist on your chest, finally speaking. "May the peace be with us." Those were the first words I heard in your low, gentle, and firm voice.

After that, you disappeared. Worked diligently, but left no trace around the Foundation until you came back to report weekly. We never spoke to each other until that fateful week in London, and the time that passed after that. Back then I did not understand what that title meant, but I do now. It sparked new questions full of wonder. And that wonder came with its concerns.

What did you really see outside? In the "Storm"? How much more did you lose? What will it take to break from the weight of the world on your shoulders? When will you realize it's okay to be vulnerable again?

More and more questions arise the more you shroud yourself into melancholic mystery. Perhaps, as time passes, all these will be answered and land into place.

But for now, I just want to spend more time with you, and rebuild what we lost. Make up for what could've been and discover new things together again.

[kfkr1ze]

[002-A02] Welcome to the Mammoth School

Summary — ✈︎ Kaede enters Hama Asunaro High School. When entering the school, he stumbles upon students arguing with a rough atmosphere around them. Then, he sees a familiar face…

Characters— ✈︎ Sakujiro

Location: Hama Asunaro High School

Kaede: This is Hama Asunaro High School huh…

As you would expect from a mammoth school[1]… It’s big.

Umm, Kafka’s message saidーー

Kaede: He still has me left on delivered…

He’s probably purposefully ignoring the messages.

(The school’s already been informed I’m coming… right?

First, let me find a security guard or a receptionist robot. )

Student A: You guys should get lost already!

Kaede: (Hm…?)

Student A: We of “The Weavers of Light and Shadow using Ptolemaic Theory[2] Club” already reserved the time slot for this spot!

Student B: Hah? I haven’t heard anything about that though.

ーーWell, it’s not like whatever you’re saying matters in this situation. You know what this is, don’t you?

Student A: That’s…!

Student B: Yuuup～. That’s a Class 3 badge～.

Everyone on the soccer team here is a Class 3 or higher. Aren’t you guys Class 2 or lower? You sure are acting all high and mighty.

Why don’t you and your lower Class club go play around in the Old Building?

…Ah wait, that just exploded the other day though.

Student A: Guh…!

Kaede: (The atmosphere’s kinda rough over there…

That conversation had a bunch of dangerous words like Classes[3] and explosions too…)

(I’ll just stop eavesdropping and leaveーー)

Wah…!

Student B: Uwah…!? What’s that, all of a sudden!?

Kaede: (A volleyball got spiked from above…)

Student B: Hey, watch it, Volleyball Club!

You have some nerve underestimating people from Class 3… Come out already!

???: It is not just the “Volleyball Club”.

It is “The Liberated Volleyball Club with Liberated Bodies”.

Kaede: Sa-Sakujiro-san!? Wow, that was a sharp spike considering how close to the edge of the roof you areーー Wait no, what are you doing here!?

Student B: Karigane-sensei…!

Kaede: Huh? S-Sensei…?

Sakujiro: Hup!

Kaede: Wow, what a beautiful jump and landing… I mean! Why is he being called Sensei…?

Sakujiro: I could hear your conversation all the way from the roof.

That Class badge, did you obtain it for the sole purpose of belittling the people around you?

Student B: Uu…!

Sakujiro: You did not, correct? Thenーー

Both of you, please put your hands together and make up with a handshake.

Student B: M… My bad.

Student A: Nah, I was going a bit too far.

Kaede: (Seems the issue got settled… somehow. But, calling him Senseiーー)

Sakujiro: Yesterday’s enemy is today’s friend. I hope you’re able to get along well with each other.

Now! Members of the The Liberated Volleyball Club with Liberated Bodies, I shall return back to the rooftop, so please wait for me!

Kaede: (As expected of Sakujiro-san. Dashing right back to the sceneーー)

No, hold on a second. Sakujiro-san, don’t leave!

Kaede: So in other words, you’ve been working as a part-time undercover teacher for the past 3 months?

And Kafka didn’t order you to, you chose to on your own?

Sakujiro: Correct. I’ve been preparing for a situation such as this to occur.

After knowing the Young Master for so long, I’ve developed something of a sixth sense for these types of situations.

Kaede: Amazing… Even though they’re happening separately from each other, everything ends up connecting back to Kafka.

Sakujiro: Much obliged. 

ーーWell then, this way if you please. Let us make haste to the principal’s office.

While en route, I shall tell you more about this school.

Sakujiro: Hama Asunaro High Schoolーー Currently, there are 10,000 students currently enrolled.

It is a very big mammoth high school, with around 83 classes per grade level.

As society develops at a high paced rate in technology, the school prides itself in believing that human value is found in “spontaneous individuality”. Therefore, in the early stages, it focused on developing this through professional education in club activities.

Kaede: “Spontaneous individuality”...

Sakujiro: It is the individuality one gets from honing themselves while receiving guidance from their teacher.

Sakujiro: In Asu High, there is a system in place where that motivation is channeled into club activities and thus evaluated.

Various results were received, and thus a variety of different students with a range of personalities gathered all over the country to attend here.

The enrollment rate is said to be 80:1 compared to other schools.

Kaede: It’s a pretty difficult high school huh…

(Now that I think about it, didn’t Yuki-nii and the others graduate from Asu High? As I thought, they’re amazing…)

Sakujiro: After graduation, you can pursue many different careers. Such as politics, baseball, academics, and a variety of others.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that earning a degree at this school is synonymous to a better life.

And the person who’s at the foundation of the school of such a unique system isーー

Sakujiro: Please excuse me.

The man who runs such a school has worked in HRD[4] jobs at widely renowned IT companies across the globe. He has been described as a coaching god and a prophet in human resources.

Sakujiro: He has a background that can only be described as one of the best in human research development. That is our principalーー Principal Naoe.

Principal Naoe: … Please excuse me, due to various circumstances, we will only be able to talk via audio. Thank you for meeting with me. I’m sorry for making you come all the way over here.

Kaede: Please don’t worry about it. …Nice to meet you, my name is Kaede Hamasaki.

(His icon in the call says “love”...)

Principal Naoe: Hahaha… There’s no need to be so worried. Let’s talk casually as people who share the same ideas.

Kaede: Ah, yes…

Principal Naoe: I received a call from the president at the place you workーー Kafka-kun. It seems he wants to select the next ward mayors for HAMA tourism from the younger generation.

That is a brilliant idea. I strongly agree with that decision.

After all, I believe the future lies with the younger generation.

Young people should want to shape the world that they live in. It falls on us as adults to lend them the support to do so.

Wouldn’t you agree?

Kaede: Yes, I believe that’s true.

Principal Naoe: Haha, that’s good. As long as you share the same feelings, it’s more than enough. I have high hopes when it comes to what you can do.

Then, as for students who may be candidates for ward mayors, we established a club called the Community Revitalization Club and have gathered potential students already.

As for you, you will be enrolled as the club’s outside club instructor.

Kaede: In-Instructor!? That’s a big role…

Principal Naoe: What of it? You have Karigane-sensei to lend you a hand as well, so there shouldn’t be any issues.

I’ve already told you, haven't I?  As long as you share the same feelings, it’s more than enough.

Kaede: …

Sakujiro: Principal, if I may?

Principal Naoe: Go ahead, Karigane-sensei.

Sakujiro: If I’m not mistaken, the students who are enrolled in the Community Revitalization Club were Class 1 students, were they not?

Kaede: (Class 1 students? Oh right, the kids outside were also saying something about Classes…)

Sakujiro: Although Kaede-san is someone with strong ambitions, and I hope I am not being frank when I say this, he is still an amateur at teaching.

I fear that if he were to be put in charge of Class 1 students, he would become overwhelmed.

Principal Naoe: Ah, now that you mention it, you’re right. Butーー

Here’s what I think. The Class 1 students are diamonds in the rough.

Kaede: …

Principal Naoe: From here, they could become gemstones which shine a variety of different colors. To put it in another way, there are endless possibilities with them.

When you see the possibilities they hold, the lovelier they are. I’m sure that Kaede-san will come to realize this. 

Kaede: Yes…

Principal Naoe: By the way, Karigane-sensei.

What do you say? Will you finally accept my offer of the position to be a full time teacher?

Sakujiro: I thank you for the opportunity, but I’m afraid I will have to refuse that offer yet again.

Principal Naoe: Hahaha! You’re as cold as ever aren’t you?

Well then, as I recover from the heartbreak of getting rejected for the 67th time, feel free to show him around.

Please excuse me.

Kaede: Yes! Um… Thank you very much!

Principal Naoe: Good luck, young man.

Kaede: (He left… He was a little strange…)

Sakujiro: Let’s hurry to the club room, shall we?

Previous — ✈︎ Masterlist — ✈︎ Next

Notes — ✈︎

A mammoth school is a huge school that has an enormous amount of students and classrooms. Sakujiro explains the size of Asu High, but “mammoth school” isn’t the most common phrase ever so I thought I should explain

Ptolemaic theory is the theory that Earth is at the center of the universe while everything else revolves around it. “The Weavers of Light and Shadow using Ptolemaic Theory” is a fancy way of saying they’re just using the shadows and sunlight to test this theory.

Sure you’re aware by now but just in case you're not! Classes in this case are basically referring to social classes. In Asu High, there are Classes 1-5, 5 being the highest of the Classes. I’ll always capitalize Classes when I’m talking about the hierarchical system as opposed to the regular school classes.

HRD - Human Resource Development, IT - Information Technologies

The chat image has a description in case you can't read it! I'm not sure how that looks like on tumblr so I hope you're able to access it! If needed, I can add the transcript here as well.

[buttercupp-baby]

Getting in Trouble

Characters: Gojo x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 963

Trigger Warnings: bruising, cuts

“What are you doing here?” I said a bit shocked to see Satoru there.

“I’m here as Megumi’s dad, obviously” He smirked. 

“You’re not my dad” Megumi swiftly replied. 

“Shut up kid”

“Don’t talk to him like that,” I took a deep breath, “I meant, I thought you would be on a mission this whole week?”

“You underestimate my abilities, sweetheart?” he replied cheekily. 

“It’s only been three days, you mustn’t make haste with these sorts of things, you could hurt yourself”

“Why are you talking like that” he made a face

“Sorry, I came from your mother's” I explained as I sat down next to Megumi ready to inspect him for any damage.

“Ah, how was it? More baby talk?” he rolled his eyes as he began texting on his phone. 

“We’ll talk about that later” I glared at him. I turned to look at Megumi.

“Does anything hurt?” I asked. He looked down, but silently exposed his cut and bruising knuckles. 

“They haven’t given you anything for this?” I asked a bit angrily, and he silently shook his head, still avoiding looking at me. 

I sighed, “Gojo go ask for an ice pack”

He slumped back in his chair lazily, “Ugh, do I have to? It doesn’t even hurt that much right Megumi?,” he whined. 

“Now” I said more sternly. He let out a dramatic sigh but got up nonetheless. I looked through my bag and pulled out an alcohol wipe to clean his hand. 

He hissed at the touch trying to pull away, “None of that young man, I’m very upset with you” 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized gently, still refusing to meet my gaze. 

I sighed deeply, gently wiping his hand with the wipe, “we don’t solve issues with violence Megumi”

“You hit Gojo”

“That's different, he’s my husband. If you decide to get a husband you can hit him too” I said sternly, “Look at me” 

He very slowly lifts his head and I see his bruised eye. I take a deep breath and Satoru returns with the ice packs and sits beside Megumi. He gives him an ice pack for his hand and helps him put the ice pack on his face. Before I can speak, the principal comes in.

“Afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Gojo,”

“Afternoon, I apologize we are meeting each other under these circumstances”

“Yes, I as well. While Megumi is an excellent student, he struggles to get along with his classmates. While he has never exhibited violent behavior before at our school, I dug a little deeper and noticed this seemed to be a trend at his previous schools. And due to this, we have decided to suspend him for a week”

“You’re not even going to investigate what or how it happened,” I said a bit angrily.  

“Due to his history, we can’t guarantee this won’t happen again, and we can’t have this become the usual. He must know serious punishment comes from our end”

“Megumi, did you hit him first?” Gojo spoke up. He slowly shook his head.

“Had anyone even asked him? If he says he didn’t do it, he didn’t do it. He simply defended himself from a bully. One thing my boy is not is a lair. Don’t you dare insinuate otherwise.”

“I apologize ma’am but I have already-”

“I don’t care. Do you have any idea how much money my husband and I donate to this district? I’m sure the superintendent wouldn’t be happy to know how unjustly their biggest donators were treated”

“I apologize, ma’am. We will launch an investigation immediately, I had no idea. You have my deepest apologies”

“I don’t need your apologies. Apologize to Megumi.”

She looked shocked and ashamed but bowed nonetheless. “My apologies Fushiguro, I hope you are alright, and we can put this behind us.”

“Thank you, I want to go home now”

“Of course Megumi,” “We’ll be taking our leave then, Satoru” I called for him

“Yes my dear” he said a bit cheekily. 

“Please make sure our monthly donation is withheld until the investigation is completed.”

“Of course my dear” he replied obediently. 

“You have a nice rest of your day ma’am and I hope to hear good news the next time I hear from you”

“Of course ma’am”

“Let's go boys” I let Megumi lead us out and Satoru followed behind me with his hand on the small of my back. 

He leaned in to whisper, “That was so hot sweetheart, I love you” and he gave me a quick peck on my cheek. Still, after so many years together, he knows exactly how to make me blush.

“Stop it,” I said, a bit flustered, and a weak smack to his chest. He just chuckled as we made our way to the parking lot to my SUV.

“How did you get here so quickly?” I asked

“How do you think” he raised an eyebrow as he opened Megumi’s door. 

“You shouldn’t be traveling such long distances like that”

“I love it when you worry, but I’m fine. Honestly, it’s an insult how little faith you have in my abilities,” he said as he moved to open my door.

I sighed but accepted his gesture. We drove in silence for a while before I asked, “Did that boy actually hit you first?”

“Yes, I didn’t lie” 

“And you let him?” I asked a bit suspiciously. He’s been training with Gojo more often and from what I had heard he was improving rapidly for someone his age. 

“Gojo told me to let the punch come first from someone else before I got myself in trouble again.”

I looked at Satoru with a glare, and he smiled at me sheepishly. 

I took a deep breath before I spoke, “Good”

[thebrickinbrick]

The Vulture Become Prey, Part 1

We must insist upon one psychological fact peculiar to barricades. Nothing which is characteristic of that surprising war of the streets should be omitted.

Whatever may have been the singular inward tranquillity which we have just mentioned, the barricade, for those who are inside it, remains, nonetheless, a vision.

There is something of the apocalypse in civil war, all the mists of the unknown are commingled with fierce flashes, revolutions are sphinxes, and any one who has passed through a barricade thinks he has traversed a dream.

The feelings to which one is subject in these places we have pointed out in the case of Marius, and we shall see the consequences; they are both more and less than life. On emerging from a barricade, one no longer knows what one has seen there. One has been terrible, but one knows it not. One has been surrounded with conflicting ideas which had human faces; one’s head has been in the light of the future. There were corpses lying prone there, and phantoms standing erect. The hours were colossal and seemed hours of eternity. One has lived in death. Shadows have passed by. What were they?

One has beheld hands on which there was blood; there was a deafening horror; there was also a frightful silence; there were open mouths which shouted, and other open mouths which held their peace; one was in the midst of smoke, of night, perhaps. One fancied that one had touched the sinister ooze of unknown depths; one stares at something red on one’s finger nails. One no longer remembers anything.

Let us return to the Rue de la Chanvrerie.

All at once, between two discharges, the distant sound of a clock striking the hour became audible.

“It is midday,” said Combeferre.

The twelve strokes had not finished striking when Enjolras sprang to his feet, and from the summit of the barricade hurled this thundering shout:

“Carry stones up into the houses; line the windowsills and the roofs with them. Half the men to their guns, the other half to the paving-stones. There is not a minute to be lost.”

A squad of sappers and miners, axe on shoulder, had just made their appearance in battle array at the end of the street.

This could only be the head of a column; and of what column? The attacking column, evidently; the sappers charged with the demolition of the barricade must always precede the soldiers who are to scale it.

They were, evidently, on the brink of that moment which M. Clermont-Tonnerre, in 1822, called “the tug of war.”

Enjolras’ order was executed with the correct haste which is peculiar to ships and barricades, the only two scenes of combat where escape is impossible. In less than a minute, two thirds of the stones which Enjolras had had piled up at the door of Corinthe had been carried up to the first floor and the attic, and before a second minute had elapsed, these stones, artistically set one upon the other, walled up the sash-window on the first floor and the windows in the roof to half their height. A few loop-holes carefully planned by Feuilly, the principal architect, allowed of the passage of the gun-barrels.

This armament of the windows could be effected all the more easily since the firing of grape-shot had ceased. The two cannons were now discharging ball against the centre of the barrier in order to make a hole there, and, if possible, a breach for the assault.

When the stones destined to the final defence were in place, Enjolras had the bottles which he had set under the table where Mabeuf lay, carried to the first floor.

“Who is to drink that?” Bossuet asked him.

“They,” replied Enjolras.

Then they barricaded the window below, and held in readiness the iron cross-bars which served to secure the door of the wine-shop at night.

The fortress was complete. The barricade was the rampart, the wine-shop was the dungeon. With the stones which remained they stopped up the outlet.

As the defenders of a barricade are always obliged to be sparing of their ammunition, and as the assailants know this, the assailants combine their arrangements with a sort of irritating leisure, expose themselves to fire prematurely, though in appearance more than in reality, and take their ease. The preparations for attack are always made with a certain methodical deliberation; after which, the lightning strikes.

This deliberation permitted Enjolras to take a review of everything and to perfect everything. He felt that, since such men were to die, their death ought to be a masterpiece.

He said to Marius: “We are the two leaders. I will give the last orders inside. Do you remain outside and observe.”

Marius posted himself on the lookout upon the crest of the barricade.

Enjolras had the door of the kitchen, which was the ambulance, as the reader will remember, nailed up.

“No splashing of the wounded,” he said.

He issued his final orders in the tap-room in a curt, but profoundly tranquil tone; Feuilly listened and replied in the name of all.

“On the first floor, hold your axes in readiness to cut the staircase. Have you them?”

“Yes,” said Feuilly.

“How many?”

“Two axes and a pole-axe.”

“That is good. There are now twenty-six combatants of us on foot. How many guns are there?”

“Thirty-four.”

“Eight too many. Keep those eight guns loaded like the rest and at hand. Swords and pistols in your belts. Twenty men to the barricade. Six ambushed in the attic windows, and at the window on the first floor to fire on the assailants through the loop-holes in the stones. Let not a single worker remain inactive here. Presently, when the drum beats the assault, let the twenty below stairs rush to the barricade. The first to arrive will have the best places.”

These arrangements made, he turned to Javert and said:

“I am not forgetting you.”

[billiedeansbitch]

𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

a/n: this is a part of a collection of one-shots called fifteen years and counting. so it's like a series? but the timeline may vary depending on the plots. so yeah. and oh, my heart was in the mood for some fluff so here you go.

warning/s: just kissing.

While Larissa was heavily convinced she was being overlooked despite her towering stature, you stood there, in the quad among your peers, only having eyes for her. It was unthinkable how day by day, the tiny, merely a weak spark she elicited with one stupid smile she gave you, progressively grew into a wildfire in your chest, entirely inescapable.

Wherever you went she was there, ready to greet you with an enticing smile, effectively melting your heart, her gaze burning your cheeks and all you could do was sprint off like some mad cat. But that day though, when The Ravens won the annual race in celebration of the Poe Cup, and she stood behind their captain, Morticia Frump, with all smiles and giggles, you knew it was a window of opportunity to approach and congratulate her. Maybe also try to clarify your unconventional way of liking people which was really to avoid them hoping they could figure it out themselves that you liked them.

Just then, Marina, the school’s self-appointed photographer, nudged you hard, disrupting the daydreams in your head. “Let’s go, the Principal’s speech is over. This is your only shot. Don’t. Fuck. It. Up.” Her words were punctuated with light jabs of her pointer finger on your shoulder.

 “Right. Yes. I will not fuck it up.” Marina, eager to get this over with, pushed you through, toward the front where Larissa and her team were gathered. “I will not fuck it up. I will not fuck it up.” You kept murmuring like a mantra, believing the more you said it aloud, the less it would be a disaster.

“You will not fuck up what?” Larissa interjected, confusion etched on her face.

With a wide-eyed gaze, the words sprang out your mouth in haste, “You—hey! Larissa, hi. I just wanted to say hi.” That wasn’t so graceful, was it?

Marina clearly didn’t think so. She then intervened, “She wants a picture with you.”

Larissa raised a brow, “With me?” her scepticism hurt a little bit if you were being honest.

“Yes, I do.”

“Okay.” You did not fail to detect how she sounded marginally hesitant. So, to assure her this was what you wanted you gave her a smile, a weak little one, nevertheless still a smile and most of all, genuine.

It seemed to work when the frown lines from her forehead disappeared, her shoulders relaxed.

"This is disconcerting given that you've always avoided me as if I were the plague." She muttered under her breath, you could feel the sadness she disguised as annoyance in her voice.

“Sorry.” You said meekly, trying to formulate a logical explanation to ease her doubt, “Truth is…I like you.” You felt as though you shrunk in size beside her. The cat leapt out of the box. It was out.

“Closer.” Marina instructed, oblivious to conversation existing in between you and Larissa Weems.

You inched closer, but quite not as close. Larissa’s stunning blue eyes were pinned on you, searching the honesty in your words from your eyes. If she was diligent about finding the truth, she would always search for it through the eyes.

“You do?” she asked, her gaze burning holes on your skin.

“A little bit more.” This prompted Larissa to make the move, inching closer until you were both skin to skin. You looked up, “Yes.”

Without knowing where the courage came, you pulled her by her waist pulling her flushed against you. “I hope this is fine.” She didn’t say a word, but the blush was giving it all away.

“Perfect! Now, don’t move.” Your hand was shaking, sweating. Larisa felt the tremor so she steadied your hand with hers. “It’s okay.” Larissa’s fingers would have left melted marks on your skin if you were made of wax or worse you would have fucking combusted.

“Look at you two. You look like a picture perfect couple.” The comment intensified the blush on your cheeks, as well as the flushing of Larissa’s skin, the heat was so apparent that it put the sun to shame.

When you took the chance and looked up to admire Larissa from your angle, your breath was knocked out of you. She was already looking down at you. You reciprocated the smile she displayed, noticed it was wide enough to flaunt the straight alignment of her teeth, the faint lines around her mouth that weren’t there before. That was when it downed you she was giving you her true smile. “I really like you.” You confessed once more.

“Done!” Marina said looking at her camera reviewing her shots with a proud smile.

Begrudgingly, your body peeled off from her side. Larissa did the same. “Thank you.” You told her.

She gave you a final look—well, it kind of seemed like it was, before she looked straight at your friend, “Give me a copy?” She’s asking for a copy?

Even Marina seemed to need a moment to process that, “Ah-yes, sure!” Then her eyes found you, something behind those siren eyes was a brewing plan, “She will give it to you.” Well would you look at that, if the evil works hard, Marina works harder.

“Great. You know where to find me.” Could you blush any harder?

You gave her a nod, not trusting your voice right now.

Just as when you were about to turn, a hand stopped you. You looked down to your wrist where she was holding you, “Hey.”

You were quick to turn to her and almost breathlessly said: “Yes?” with so much anticipation in your voice you should be ashamed.

Larissa did not say anything, instead she bent to your height and kissed your cheek before she jogged after her team leaving you alone.

The hot wet feeling of her lips lingered on your skin. You savoured the feeling, touching the spot where her lips had been. Fuck, you were far too smitten.

And then a camera flashed.

-

The flash of light reflecting on the glass was almost the same as the one that blinded you for a fraction of a moment, staring at you friend in horror before you scurried off to chase her around the quad. You placed the frame back on top of the mantelpiece where it belonged for fifteen years now.

You stared at it, the smile on the photograph was just as sweet and beautiful as the one on your lips, plus a little bit more lines and wrinkles. Then your eyes moved a little over to her face, even then she had the most attractive smile. She was a sunshine personified, your own sunshine. Your lips stretched a little wider, wiping the frame once more before stepping back a little to admire your work.

As you were reminiscing some memories, you felt strong, but gentle arms pulled you from behind. Familiar soft lips kissing the side of your head, before resting her chin on your shoulder. “You did an excellent job of preserving this. It has been fifteen years and yet it still looks crisp and vivid.”

“Mhmm. I still remember how nervous I was.” There was a string of light chuckles that followed.

She agreed, “You were sweating all over.” And was met with a playful smack on her arm, “Liar, it was only my hands.”

“Not in my recollection.” The playful banter echoed around the house, bouncing off the well-lived walls.

Eventually, you shifted around to meet those pools of sapphires. Suddenly you were sixteen again, holding her close with your arms around her neck, and standing on your toes to reach her height while the two of you slow danced together during the Raven’N Ball. You pulled her in just as tender, taking in her lower lip to nip.

It was hypnotizing, knee-bending, so, so, warm and full of desire. To be desired this much was heart-stopping, and it felt insanely good to be loved this much, especially by Larissa.

It felt too good for Larissa that her body had to take a pause, marvelling at the sensation your tongue was doing with her ear. The heavy breathing and whispers of sweet nothings made her whimper. She mumbled your name, begging. She tilted her head further to the side, surrendering as much as skin for you to devour. “Yeah—Oh God, fuck.” It was breathy and hot, so hot it had you moaning her name.

And just like any other soft start, it escalated quickly into a feral make out session. As Larissa’s breath picked up, her hands slid down your body to your bottoms, and urged you to take a few steps back until your back was pressed on the wall giving you both some support. Her leg then invaded the space between your thighs.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy! I’m ready! Let’s go!” The little voice pierced your ears, causing Larissa’s body to pull away on instinct, you chased her lips but to no avail.

The child giggled, “Kissy, kissy!” with a swift motion, Larissa wiped the sides of her lips, hoping no stains were left. Going down on her knees, she gestured to the child to come closer.

“Yes baby.” She confirmed. Larissa avoided lying to your kid as much as possible, and she tried to always explain things in a way little Brielle’s five year old brain could grasp, but it didn’t mean you weren’t practicing discretion with your wife around little Bree, what happened was merely an error in both of your parts.

“You were kissing mama, mommy!”

“I was, baby. I was showing her that I love her.” the child giggled again, “Kiss me, too! I want a lot of kisses. So many kisses, please.” And knowing Larissa, your dear wife, could never say no to your child. She smothered Bree with kisses until she was thrusting off of her mother’s arms, “Mommy! No tickles!” she yelped. “Help me mama!”

You swept her off from her feet in an instant, “Kiss me mama!” and you did.

She glanced over the picture frame, her heart swelling in pure joy. Right then, Larissa knew she made the right decision when she kissed your cheek fifteen years ago.

[thecampbellowl]

Charlie Campbell's arsenal

Arco de bronze celestial (arma principal)

O arco de bronze celestial foi a primeira arma que Charlie possuiu no Acampamento e a que mais utiliza até hoje. Foi adquirida no seu primeiro ano como campista, forjada pelas mãos de um de seus melhores amigos, Kit Culpepper. O arco pequeno e leve, feito sob medida para o corpo igualmente pequeno da garota, pode não ter nenhum poder especial, mas se torna mortal nas mãos precisas da filha de Atena.

Flechas mágicas (recompensa pela task 2)

Como recompensa por seus esforços no Acampamento, Charlie recebeu um conjunto de flechas que têm o poder de causar doenças e feridas em semideuses. Além disso, as hastes das flechas são feitas de ferro estígio, o que significa que também matam monstros. Até o presente momento, Charlie não precisou usar nenhuma dessas flechas (mas com as coisas como estão, quem sabe...).

Lança de bronze celestial (recompensa pela dinâmica dos conselheiros)

A lança de bronze celestial foi um presente por ter se tornado a conselheira do chalé 6. A princípio não soube bem o que fazer com ela, visto que é uma arqueira, mas pediu impulsivamente para que Aidan O'Keef a treinasse com a arma em troca de algumas aulas de meditação, e agora ela está em processo de aprendizagem com ela.

Escudo de bronze celestial (oficina de Hefesto)

A arma que criou na oficina de Hefesto em Waterland com a ajuda de Stevie Rowe, Charlie viu a necessidade de um escudo por ter começado a usar sua lança. O escudo é redondo e perfeito para o peso e força de Charlie, com uma coruja gravada na frente para representar a sua mãe. Tem muito carinho pela arma por ter sido algo completamente idealizado por ela.

Adaga de ferro estígio (regalia do drop)

Arma encontrada danificada no arsenal, foi reformada por Kit para que Charlie pudesse usá-la. É feita de ferro estígio e tem marcações na lâmina que se assemelham a cobras, além de uma espécie de rosto na empunhadura. Há o boato de que a arma tenha sido amaldiçoada por Atena.

Semideuses citados: @kitdeferramentas @aidankeef @vitorialada

[mollywobbles867]

I am writing this on my laptop so you know I'm srs

So, I am going to out myself as a former hardcore real people shipper. OGs remember. @ginasaurrr, @gleefullysupernaturalpop, @risti7, @wholove

It was 2009 and my dad had died two years prior. I was a fucking mess. I was a teacher when he died, two months into my first teaching job (that I started a month into the school year so I was fighting for my life when it came to lesson plans). I went back for two weeks after he died, but I was experiencing heavy suicide ideation and was fighting tears through every class. (Note to alert bots, I am okay now after a lot of therapy and medication). I was of no use to those kids and I am so sorry that they had such a shitty teacher that year. My principal was extremely unsupportive, so I went to my union rep and got out of my contract post haste. I started having panic attacks on the regular (figured out much later that I have PMDD so that's why it came in two week cycles).

Anyway, I was unemployed, living with my mom, and extremely lost. Then one night in 2009 my sis was over and insisted on watching American Idol because she was obsessed with Adam Lambert. I loved his voice so I started watching every week and grew to love a few of the other contestants too. I paid attention to the American Idol posts on ONTD on LJ. There were soon posts shipping Adam and Kris Allen, even though Kris was married to a woman.

ONTD got annoyed with all the posts, so someone started ontd_ai where we posted to our heart's content, a good many of them about shipping the two singers. We broke the fourth wall way too much for sure. (#gokeyisadouche). I have actually blocked out a lot of the details, but one thing I remember is that soon there was an AIM chat (yeah I'm old) dedicated to talking about our ship. And unfortunately, we also talked about Kris's wife's mental health struggles. No idea how we ever even knew about them. While I expressed empathy for her in the chat as did most of us, someone took screenshots and said we were bashing her. It blew up and made it to fandomwank. At some point we started our own LJ community too. We put tinhats on our profile pics, etc. We were tinhatters instead of delulus. I wrote Kradam rpf as well as flashfic for other fandom ships. Astolat herself wrote Kradam fic! (shout out to the cowboy fic, that hurt my feelings).

All this is to say that I know how you can get obsessed with solving some sort of story you have invented, looking for clues in song lyrics, performances, interviews, etc... and ignore reality. Really what you're searching for is answers for your own life.

Through post after post saying how it would be totally okay for Kris to come out as bi, I finally came out to myself, then my bff, then my sis, then my mom and nephews, and now whenever I feel safe with someone and online strangers.

After a year I applied to grad school and got my life back on track; went back to therapy, got on meds, found other hobbies, made new friends, eventually started working again even if it was just retail.

What are you searching for?

What are you struggling with?

What about Luke and Nicola's interactions or as individuals draws you to the ship? Are you projecting your own insecurities and identity struggle onto her? Are you projecting someone who hurt you onto Luke? I promise that Nicola is not crying herself to sleep every night because she's not with Luke or because he's with a thin woman. Luke is not a fuckboy or disingenuous just because he's with a thin woman.

I encourage you to take a step back and self-reflect because you are the ones who are doing the hurting.

P.S. We tinhatters were always publicly nice to Kris's wife on his and SM pages and when we met him after concerts and she was there. Why? Because she's a person too and I honestly hope they are the happiest they have ever been. Kris still makes (great) albums and they have kids (two unless they had another and I didn't know). Adam has been touring with Queen and I have no clue about his love life. It's nice.

However, I do think our fourth wall breaking made it so they stopped being public with their friendship. Just sayin'.

Look at the beauty we deprived the world and weep.